Something Fishy?

     I like fish.  I have had it many ways and prefer a good red snapper grilled on the bar-b-que.  When I was in WINCO, our local grocery store, they had fresh snapper in the seafood display case.  It looked very fresh, and was.  I asked Denise if she had ever had grilled snapper, and she said no. Ah ha! Time for an experiment.  I will introduce her to the delicate and subtle flavors of grilled red snapper.
     I think it should be said that I am of Greek and Italian extraction.  We Mediterranean types eat a lot of strange things.  Who would of thought that wrapping up rice or meat in a grape leaf would be appetizing?  Oh, but it is.  What about goat's cheese, AKA feta? Yum!  How about squid or octopus, you say?  They are the ugliest creatures on the planet, but stuffed squid in sauce over fettuccine-to die for. I'm not much of an octopus man myself, its too tough for me. I think you get the point.  Who would have thought that combining egg and lemon in chicken soup would taste so heavenly?
     I dearly love my wife.  So much so that words can't express.  We have much in common and enjoy being with each other.  There is one thing though that I must say.  Her epicurial tastes are fairly limited.  I have sprung some different things on her for dinner.  Some were hits with her, some were dismal failures.  I know now that grilled red snapper is not on her #1 hits list.  She ate it, she didn't want to hurt my feelings but I know it was pure torture for her.  Oh well, cross red snapper or any other fish off the list of menus. That's OK.

Fish comes from the ocean and are caught in boats like these.  Some fish come from fresh water and are caught in rivers, streams and lakes.  This is a boat filled with brave men who are going out to catch red snapper.

     

Monday

     I don't have much to write about today.  I am doing OK and My Dad's funeral has been scheduled.  My kids have all been told when it is, but I don't know if they all will be there. Denise may be doing the music.  That's it for now.

Passages and Memories

     This post is going to be very different than most of the posts you are used to.  As You can see, I am even posting on Saturday, which I normally don't do. Today is different.  There will be no funny stories, no puns, no irreverent humor, no sarcasm or wit.  This is a different day.  My father passed away on Thursday night.
     Dad was many things.  I was proud of him, although it was clear that I didn't want to take the same path in life that he did.  He was an entrepeneur, in the truest sense of the word even though he worked as a manager in a grocery store. His gift of buying and selling real estate and investing was exceptional. His job was a base for his other dealings.
    He was a man who could effect others, and mentored others. I still remember many of their names. Stan Johnson, Jim Mille, Neil Bering, Ken Gayer and Larry Armstrong were just a few that dad groomed and mentored.  He always saw the potential of a person, and brought that potential out.
     Dad was a member of  "The Greatest Generation" who fought and won WWII.  As a machinist living in Connecticut after Pearl Harbor, dad was working in a job that was deemed necessary for the war effort.  He was safe from the draft and going into the military. That wasn't enough for dad, as he wanted to do serve his country to the best of his ability, even if that meant dying for it.
     Dad liked flying.  He decided to enlist in the U.S.Army Air Corp to become a pilot.  Funny thing is that he was a few pounds under weight--dad was a small man at 5'7" and 130 pounds almost all his life--and remembers eating bananas before his physical in order to get up to weight.  Dad was always a determined man and would do what it took to get the job done, including eating a hand of bananas to put some pounds on to pass a physical.  I remember him telling me about after that physical and that he barely made it by about half a pound, and the results of eating all those bananas.  But, he had made it.  He passed his physical and was on to army basic, and then on to flight training school.
     Dad told many stories about his time in flight training, but there is one that he always came back to. He told and retold this one over and over.  It seems as though he was on a solo flight when he was stationed in Florida during his flight training. He was up in a PT 17 biplane doing aerial maneuvers when the cap came off the engine oil tank.  Oil came spewing out of the engine and he was pretty much blinded by it.  Dad managed to get the plane back on the ground after a heroic fight with the airplane to save it--and him.
     Unfortunately, dad didn't make it into the cockpit as he washed out of pilot training.  The war was winding down and the need for pilots wasn't as critical as it was, so standards were very high.  One small mistake and you failed. Dad moved on to gunnery school and became an armorer on heavy bombers.  He never went overseas and spent the duration of the war here in The United States. When Germany surrendered, his unit trained to go to the Pacific, but by the time they were ready to go, Japan surrendered. Dad also built in me a love for airplanes.
     Dad was most proudest of his military service.  It was a great time in his life.  His request is that he be buried in his Air Corp corporal's uniform in the Veteran's Cemetery at Santa Nella, California with full military honors.  As it stands now, that request will be granted.
     I have many fond memories of Dad.  I remember the many baseball games that we went to in Candlestick Park watching the Giants.  Oh the stories I have of those trips.  How about the time he took me on my one and only "Deep Sea" fishing trip.  Everyone on the boat got sea sick except me and I think I caused most of them to get sick because I was continually eating.  It was exciting, especially when the captain of the boat let me steer the boat underneath the Golden Gate Bridge.
     Our back yard was a great place.  We would play catch after he would get home from one of his long, hard days at work.  One night, he missed a throw from me which careened off his glove, over the fence and into the neighbor's widow.  Crash went the glass.  Dad was a little embarrassed and our insurance agent said the he couldn't say that dad was the culprit, so I took the hit.  That's OK.
     We also set up a badminton court in our back yard. That was fun.  I still remember the summer nights of beating the pants off my dad, and him wanting to play one more game so that he could have bragging rights.  I let him win a couple.
     The back yard was also the place where we would pull up a lawn chair and watch the stars at night.  He taught me where the big dipper was and we would look to the night sky for satelites.  I had a small telescope that we would gaze at the moon and the planets.  You could make out Saturn's rings and the stripes on Jupiter. I miss that.
    Life has moved on and things have changed.  I have my own family now, and have made memories with my own family.  The cycle of life continues

 Hope you enjoy these pictures Dad. As you can see, you gave me a love for airplanes as well. THANKS! 

and the wheels of time keep moving on.  Dad, you have given me many memories which I will cherish.  The cycle of life for you has come full circle, but a new journey is about to unfold for you. You will be missed but I wish you the best of luck on that new journey.    
     





 
   
     

Guess What Day It Is...Friday!

     Yes, it is Friday.  This is the end of the workweek and the beginning of the weekend. I hope that you will get out and do something fun this weekend.
     Here's the problem with that for me.  I'm retired.  If you look at that closely, it can be said that for me every day is Saturday. In all actuality I write every day, so it can be said that everyday is a Monday.  Let's not say Monday, that is just too scary.  How about we say Tuesday or Wednesday.  I like Tuesday because it is a good TV day.  I like Thursday as well because I know that the next day is Friday and there is a feeling of anticipation and excitement that the weekend is coming the next day.  Hey wait a minute, I don't have a weekend because I'm retired and I still write

This picture has got nothing to do with today's post.  I just thought I would show you where old pianos go to die,and share the picture for no real good reason.

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     I feel sorry for the Japanese.  In all honesty, I feel sorry for all those west of the International dateline.  It is tomorrow there today. They spend their Saturday nights dreading the next day because it is Monday when they wake up and have to go back to work.  We here east of the dateline still have a day off, Sunday. Of course, when we are making our weekend plans on Thursday, it is Friday and they are getting a jump on the weekend. Are you all following my logic here.
     Now do you want the truth behind all of this? Truth is that I am tired of the Airwolf rerun on TV and thought that I would get this post out of the way and written.  When I came to my computer, I realized that I couldn't think of anything to write about. If you can figure out what I have written today and why, you will be a lot further along and ahead of me.  

King Kong Lives!

     I want to shout it from the mountaintop!  This is great news.  There is good stuff happening in the world, not just the old negativeness that we have been accustomed to.  Here it is.  King Kong lives!  I know because he lives in my office.
     It is time for the story to be told.  King Kong did not die on the Empire State Building as is generally thought.  After all, there is no such thing as a 20 foot ape.  Come on people, where is your sense of reality?  We all know that was just a small ape that they used to distort perspective.   After the filming the producers of the movie had no use for Kong so they let him go.  From there, his history is a little bit clouded.    
     What do we know?  First, it was believed that he went to Las Vegas and gambled all his fortune that he earned from the movie.  He became homeless and drifted around the country, trying to find work in traveling carnivals and circuses. The war hit, so his gigs became few and far between.  From there, the path goes cold.
     A few years ago, I visited my daughter in Missouri.  There is a shop located between Fulton, Missouri and Jefferson City, Missouri that is called "The Swap Meet Shop".  We stopped there right after doing some wine tasting in the Missouri Wine region. Don't laugh, they do have a wine region and we did go wine tasting. I won't say anything about the wine, me being from California and all, but it tastes a little like Welch's Grape Juice and is said to be "fine wine", at least that is what the advertisements say. That is all I will say about Missouri wines.

He is alive and well! He misses his old home though.  

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     There, in the back of  "The Swap Meet Shop" he was.  A little rumpled but there none the less.  Our eyes met.  He sort of knew that I was from California-We Californians have that look you know-and his eyes said, "Take me home."  I knew that I had to comply with his request. He looked lonely and forlorn-without a friend in the world. I had to do it. He is with me now and we have developed a deep and lasting friendship. I am glad that I did what I did and am not ashamed.
     In case you are wondering, yes I did have my coffee this morning.  I bought some beans and made a pot earlier this morning.  I even had a bowl of Cherios.    
 

Coffee...NOW!!!!!!

     I know that I have posted before about my relationship with that wonderful dark brown hot liquid called coffee.  I also wanted you to know that I totally intended that today's post would be on a subject that would have you rolling in the aisle.  It was going to be hilarious even if you didn't have an aisle. All that went out the window this morning when I went to my secret hiding place for my coffee bean stache and the container was BARE...NADA...EL EMTIVO......Uh Oh.
     Who's fault was this.  Who allowed this disaster to take place. Who did not have the foresight and brains to take a good look at the supply of coffee?  Who did not check the coffee bean level? I would like to find the culprit that did this. That person will be severely reprimanded and punished. You are off the hook Denise, you drink Diet Coke--by the way, when are we going to have the intervention in order to get you to kick that destructive habit--so you are off the hook. Oh Ya, you don't even know where my coffee stache is.
     Let me see, what kind of punishment awaits the culprit after I catch them? How about tying them to a chair and forcing them to watch the highlight film of this year's San Francisco Giants season--over and over again.  No, that would be cruel. I've got it! How about tying them to that same chair

I said coffee, not margarita.  See what happens when I don't have my coffee.

 and making them listen to either the you tube disaster that I made or to hours of my best puns and silly stories. That would do the trick.  That would make them remember to check the coffee bean count.  Ah, my demented mind.
     Wait a minute, it is my job to make sure we have coffee. Never mind.      

Different Is OK

     I like being different.  Is it wrong that I take a hard look at the world around me and see it in a light that many would consider a bit tilted?  I'm sorry but that is just me.
     Don't get me wrong.  I know that there is a time and a place for everything and in most circumstances I am very much the conformist.  For example, I wore a shirt, shoes with socks and long pants to my mother's funeral.  I had to fight off the urge to wear black shorts and sandals, but I totally knew that would be inappropriate. Give me some credit for crying out loud.  But I did go with tradition.  However, what is wrong with shorts and sandals in church? I know the difference between a regular Sunday service and my mom's funeral.
     The world to me is a playground.  Besides, why not be happy and enjoy life.  I suppose it is a "Glass half full" type of thing.  You are on this Earth, why not enjoy it to the fullest.  And why does some set of arbitrary rules set down by who knows dictate how we live. There are some rules that we are fortunate to have in place and to understand and follow that have to do with the makeup of the universe such as me not working on cars.  That is an absolute. I do stay within the limits of natural law sometimes.
     Bungie Jumping--now there is something that I draw the line at.  It is not that I am a coward, its that I have a bad back and the force of the cord snapping would just about end my career in walking and maybe living as well. I do exercise some discretion and honor some boundaries in my life.  But I would like to try parasailing.
     You kind of get a sense of my "differentness" when you come into my office.  It is a strange place. Denise wanted to shoot the decorator and has said that it is "too full and busy".  However, if she shot the decorator she would have shot her beloved husband--me.  I like it and is full of some of my most prized possessions.
Each of these has a story, real or made up by me.  My "Dogs Playing Poker"

No, That isn't me parasailing.  Besides, how would I have taken the picture?

painting inspires me everytime I go to write.  What can I say.      

Time To Get Back To Work

     Have you missed me?  I bet you thought that I took that trip to the Himalayas and was eaten by a Yeti.  No, but close.  I really am not going to get into all the good stuff of why I have not posted in a long while.  Let's just say I'm hungry and I need some cash.  If I don't work, I don't get paid.  My Obamacare bill is in the mail and I have to pay for that.  That was a cheap shot, and I know it. Anyway, back to posting as I know that you have missed me and your lives are not complete unless you read my posts.  Seriously though, thanks!
     What got me started today was Airwolf.  I love Airwolf and for the longest while you could not find it on TV. It seems as though the Esquire channel is running Airwolf re-runs all day.  I am in Airwolf heaven.  Many of you don't have the faintest idea of what I am talking about, do you.  Just go with it.  It was a series about a  top secret classified helicopter that was built by the CIA and was taken by a former CIA operative and operated for the good of the country, not the devious schemes of the hated CIA. It is truly 80's TV heaven. Jon-Michael Vincent starred in it, at least on the days he was sober and my favorite character actor Earnest Borgnine.
I miss Earnie.
     One problem though.  I found myself mesmerized by these reruns and was doing nothing but watching Airwolf reruns all day.  This can turn into a problem.  Denise was getting a bit...um...let's just say pushed out of shape that all I was doing was watching Airwolf all day. Wanting to keep the peace on the home front, I decided to turn off the TV and post. I am glad I did, because it seems as though, just like a chameleon, my skin is turning a strange color of brown, almost like the couch.  I was becoming one with the couch. That's not good, is it?
     I have got to run.  The next episode of Airwolf is about to begin and Denise is going to be gone for a couple of hours so I am safe. For those of you who don't know what Airwolf looks like I am including a picture.




                                                       CLASSIFIED!!!!!!!!!!!







That should just about do it.  Hope you liked the picture.  I snuck it in and I hope that the government doesn't find out.  Just a minute, there is a knock at the door.  I guess I'll go answer it....