Getting Old Is Hard--But Consider The Alternatives

     Getting old is hard, but if you consider the alternatives, it's not that bad at all. It actually has it's advantages. Besides, I don't feel a day over 60.  Oh, wait a minute I am over 60.  That may explain the reason my back is hurting a little today.
     Once I turned 55, I qualified for some very nice discounts. I can order off the senior menu at Denny's. That omelet that they overcharge for in the first place which costs the regular customer $9 costs me only $6.  That is a savings of $3.  That is a pretty hefty savings.  The omelet is only two eggs instead of three, but for three dollars, I can live with that.  There is no discount for the coffee, by the way.  We all know how I feel about coffee.  Do they have Denny's in Poland?  I don't know.  See, I got you in here Poland because I appreciate you.
     As you get older you develop an appreciation for the finer things in life, like waking up in the morning. That is a very beautiful thing and I can get very poetic about watching the sun come up and such, but I won't. Waking up in the morning means that you get to spend another day on this wonderful planet, enjoying all that it has to offer, like bill collectors calling you but that's another story. Hey, the sky is blue, the coffee is done and I will pour a myself a cup. Let's sit down on the couch and enjoy another episode of "The Price Is Right". Why is the car they win always a Fiat?
    Ah yes, the life of a Senior Citizen is grand isn't it? Honey, will you hand me my cup of coffee please? I'm a Senior Citizen.

I think I'll do some yard work today.  Maybe not.

     
 

Coffee--Part Aren't You Tired About Me Writing About Coffee?

     All right, here it is.  This is my last post about coffee.  I would think that you are getting tired about reading about it and that I am getting a bit repetitive. I promise that this will be the last post about coffee--maybe.  Considering I don't know what I am going to write about until I actually sit down and start writing, that's a tall order.
     I will give it to you straight.  I just don't approve of flavored coffee creamers. It's called cream, and that's it.  You ask for coffee--cream and sugar--not an Almond Joy flavored with a little bit of coffee. If I wanted an Almond Joy candy bar--I had to throw that in there in case those of you in Poland didn't know what an Almond Joy was (welcome back, Poland) and wouldn't catch that comment--I would go down to the 7-11 (store) around the corner and buy one. I mentioned 7-11 here because I get a kickback from them every time I mention them. I am a starving writer, you know.
     I realize it all started with Coffee-Mate. By the way, I hate Coffee-Mate. I want the flavor of the cream in my coffee, not the flavor of some unknown powder made from who knows what.  I want to know that I can trust what I put in my coffee--cream or milk and artificial sweetner. It's just that simple. I want to taste the coffee, not the cinnamon.  I want my coffee to be coffee, not hot chocolate with a touch of chocolate which brings us to mocha.
     Starbucks will destroy this world, I'm telling you.  Coffee is coffee, cream and sugar and that's it. Espresso is pushing the outside of the envelope. I admit that I love a good cup, if you could call the drop of coffee that it truly is, of Greek coffee. This is still coffee.
     Starbucks on the other hand is an affront to coffee lovers everywhere with their frilly concoctions based on coffee. They pollute the very nature of the dark liquid brew we love. Even more than that, they charge a price for this that even royalty thinks twice about investing in. What is a carmel machiato anyway and do I really need a iced coffee latte with whiped cream and chocolate on top? I don't think so. If I want a coffee flavored cup of hot chocolate, I will make one.
     Coffee is coffee.

All those coffee choices to make.  I like my coffee with cream and sugar, very simple with few choices.  Now, which cup do I use.

Coffee--Part 28

     Obviously, this is not Part 28 of my coffee series.  I think this is the fifth maybe sixth time I have written about coffee.  You may need a fifth to get through this one, but that's up to you. I am ready to write and there were no weird dreams last night, other than the one where I dreamed about running out of coffee.  Come with me now into my world if you dare.  Sometimes I don't want to go there.
     Again I say strongly, coffee is coffee. I will give you the fact that the beans can be roasted longer to provide a slightly different taste in the brew.  Why would you want to add flavoring to this wonderful brew that God has given us. No matter what the roast, French roast, American Breakfast or medium, the flavor is in the coffee. That flavor is just what it is, you do not want to add or take away anything.  Yes, you can add some milk or cream and a touch of sugar but that is still coffee. Why would you ever want to add flavors?
     When I go to the place I buy coffee, I am confronted with a myriad of coffee flavors.  There is chocolate flavor, Vienese Cream flavor, Carmel flavor and my out and out favorite--not--cinnamon flavor.  Think about it, if I wanted to have chocolate flavored coffee, I would buy hot chocolate mix and put in some instant coffee.  I think it is called mocha.  Why is it called mocha when it is made with coffee and chocolate? Go figure.
     One last question and that's it for today because the sippee cup guards are about to find out I am posting again.  They don't like that very much.  They think I am writing about them. Why do they take perfectly good Dark French Roast and add cinnamon?

I suppose that this post came up a little flat.

It's Saturday, My Day Off

    This will be a very short post as last night's was.  All I have to say is "Welcome back Poland"!

Oops, sorry wrong picture.  That's a pizza, not Poland.

"We" Strike Again

     Oh my gosh, I can't believe I said that today. It's true, I did.  And, the kids that I said it to weren't even my own or were they related to me. Old age has taken its toll on me finally.  I said it and I admit to it. I ask the forgiveness of the "theys" in the world.  You must know though, it just slipped out.
     "We" don't jump down off the stage like that. There it is. Forgive me, for I know not what I do.

I don't mean to have a blow out about this "We" thing. 

Coffee--Part You Figure It Out, I Can't Remember

     It is truly time.  I have decided to finally discuss my true feelings about coffee.  There are some truths that have to be brought out in the open and I know you are wondering what those are. The first of these is very basic, and that is coffee is coffee.
     What exactly am I saying?  I ask myself that very question on many occasions, and often can't come up with an intelligent answer, so you will have to bear with me here. At any rate, I hope you can follow me on this one. Coffee is coffee.
    Let's start this one from the beginning, shall we? You have beans--which aren't really beans by the way and that could be the subject of another post but I won't go there now--which are harvested and dried then roasted and ground.  You can talk to Juan Valdez in Columbia on this one, although the best coffee doesn't necessarily come from Columbia--we can also talk about this later as well. Those grounds are somehow placed in a coffee device--and there are many and we can talk about those later--called a coffee maker and hot water is run over the grounds.  Out comes a wonderful dark brown in color elixir which has marvelous curative and restorative properties.  Maybe not curative, but it sure is good for waking you up in the morning and it tastes good too. That hot brown liquid which is what we call coffee is what is the final product and fills our cup.
     I am not a total purist.  If I was, I would drink my coffee black and would savor the rough flavor of the roasted bean and the brown nectar that running the hot water over the ground beans produces.  I am not a purist.  I admit to adding some milk and sugar--sweet'n'low if you must know as I have to protect my girlish figure and am trying to cut down on sugar although that doughnut yesterday sure was good--and that is it.
Coffee, milk and sugar--uh, sweet'n'low--that's it. I want to savor the natural flavor of the brew as much as possible.  I can drink it black, but don't.
     That, my friend is coffee.

OK, so it's not coffee.  Sorry, this is the only picture of any kind of beverage I have. 

   

Weird Dream--Part 2

    I can honestly say I didn't have any weird dreams last night. Didn't sleep very well. This is a short post today because this is Music Camp week. Don't forget to watch my U-Tube videos and you can find them on my golf website, http://the-golf-course-travel-bag.com.  Got to run, the choir director is calling.  She runs the music camp.

Here's the golf course.  Where's Gary Player?

Who Is "WE", Part--Heck, I Don't Know and Do I Care?

     I said I was done with this topic.  I guess not and it had to happen. When it did happen, I knew that I just had to share it with you. "They" struck again and "We" had to say something about it.
     My grandson had to get something out of the refrigerator.  He's three going on twenty-seven you know. He found what he wanted after staring into that great empty space that is our refrigerator right now and got what he wanted.  Denise was standing very close when he slammed the refrigerator door shut. Are you waiting, here it comes.
     "Timmy (the name has been changed to protect the innocent), WE don't slam the refrigerator door."
     This kind of makes you wonder. Is there someone, the reviled "they", out there sneaking into people's kitchens or wherever they have refrigerators and slamming the doors. As I have said before, "they" are really bad people aren't they? From what I gather "they" also have a lot of fun too that "WE" don't get to have. Getting back to the slamming of the refrigerator, do they have heavy duty refrigerator doors in "they" land.  The world of "they" must be very specially made to compensate for all of this. "They" probably build the doors heavy duty to withstand all the slamming.  I thought that I would give you something to think about.
     On a totally unrelated matter I thought I would share one last thought about last night's dream.  I know why I was naked.  I don't know why I was up that ladder and what the rest of that dream was about.  I really don't want to know. I was naked because I was hot sleeping and needed to take my shirt off so I would be cooler. No, I don't sleep naked if you were wondering and shame on you for even thinking about that. That is a scary thought in and of itself. At any rate, I think the mystery of my being naked on that ladder has been solved.
     Last night's dream was pretty strange as well.  It was something about taking a "selfie" with famous golfer Gary Player.  You figure it out.  I'm not even going there. I'm just glad I'm awake having my coffee now. Am I awake?

This is our kitchen.  Timmy (the name has been changed to protect the innocent) is not in the picture but the refrigerator is.  "WE" don't slam the door on the refrigerator.

     

Weird Dream

     Yes, I know it is Saturday and I should be in bed still. The bottom line is that I am awake and my brain is rolling down the track like an unstoppable freight train. I hate it when that happens. Such was the case this morning, although I have been getting up earlier and earlier since it gets lighter earlier. Actually, I do like the quiet of the early morning.  Besides, the sippee cup guards are still asleep and I have a sort of feeling of freedom until they wake up.
     Today, I am awake for a couple of much different reasons. The freight train that is my brain in the morning was stopped on a siding and not going anywhere soon but my sixty year old bladder was awake.  It was informing me in no uncertain terms that it needed attention. As most sixty year old men a re very much aware of, that's not an unusual occurrence. I have said this many times that getting older does have its disadvantages, but you have to consider the alternatives.
     This morning I was awakened by a very strange dream. When I try to explain this, which I am not going to try to explain it I'm just going to tell you about it, you will probably say that I am weird.  Let me be adamant about this.  I am not weird I am just different. As for the dream, come on now.  We all have had some weird dreams before so don't go all judgemental on me. You just think about the last weird dream you had before you start saying anything. I must say though, this one was weird even by my standards.
     Someone was constructing a very large trench, I would assume that it was for a canal.  This thing was deep and very wide and was still being dug. The trench was probably 100 feet deep and hundred yards wide with the trench going on for miles. Trucks carrying the dirt from the digging would go by going both ways, kind of resembling a street and in the middle of this street was a dirt median.  The trucks were these huge two trailer trucks that you normally see in construction.
     On the right side of the trench, in the trench, was what appeared to be the main construction office.  Outside the office at the edge of the trench where the trucks would drive by was a tall basketball hoop on a tall pole.  As drivers would drive by it at nearly sixty miles an hour, they would throw basketballs at it trying to make a basket. They were pretty good at it too.  Not many of them missed. But wait, there's more to this.
     In the middle of the trench running the length of it was a pile of dirt, acting as a median for the trucks carrying dirt. In front of the construction office embedded in the median dirt pile was a 150 foot ladder, just standing there going nowhere. It was not an access ladder and wasn't standing on anything, it was just there reaching toward the stars and going nowhere. This thing was very unstable as well because it was just one of those household ladders that you would find at Home Depot or Lowe's. It wasn't one of those triangle ladders either.  How it was standing up is beyond me as is this dream.
     I'll cut to the chase here.  I had somehow gotten to the top of the ladder. How I got up there, I don't know and I couldn't climb down.  The truck drivers would yell at me, "Hey, you can't be up there!"
Duh....
     I would try to climb down and the ladder would sway as if it was going to fall.  I would try to start climbing down and the ladder would move violently as if it were to fall and I would certainly die from the fall. Once last important detail that I failed to mention was that I was buck naked up there. Yes, that is a bit weird even for me. At that point, I was glad that my bladder needed paying attention to and I woke up.
     No psychological evaluations please. The dream was weird enough.

This is the bedroom.  No deep trenches here.

 












           

Weeds--Not Weed

     Yesterday, I pulled weeds from the flower beds in my front yard. That's weeds, plural not weed singular. Get your minds out of the seventies.  I don't do weed, I never have--well, maybe once or twice in my younger and stupider years. In all seriousness, the flowerbeds look great. What an exciting subject to write on. Sorry folks, I thought I would take it down a peg as far as the interesting subject intensity level.
     Speaking of intensity levels, lowest on the subject intensity ladder is watching and writing about the grass growing.  Now there's an idea.  I have never written about the watching the grass grow.  I can you know. What people don't know is that there is a lot going on in growing grass. The simple action of the plant cells dividing is fascinating, not to mention the conductivity of water through the grass blade. I am not going to write, watch or talk about that today.  I'm going to talk about my non-exciting adventure pulling weeds yesterday. That is probably the second most boring subject.
     There is an art to pulling weeds. The first key thing you must do is get to the main stem of the plant that leads directly to the root.  If you don't get the root out and just break off the leafy part of the weed, the weed will come back. Not that kind of weed and will you please get your mind off cannibus for a moment.
This is 2014 not 1975 for God sake and you are not in college. Anyway, you want to get right down to the ground and pull where the weed comes out of the ground. Then what you do is pull, making sure the whole weed is out of the ground roots and all.
     Some weed, uh weeds, are stubborn and just don't want to go. I don't know, if someone were trying to forcibly end my life, I would put up a fight as well. You just can't pull them out, or they break off at their base and just don't come out. At this point you are faced with three options. The first is just let it live and cut it off at the ground line, knowing full well that it is going to grow back.  The second option is to surgically remove it digging it out with the shovel.  The second option is to just appreciate the weed's tenacity at life and let it grow.  You can always put Christmas tree lights on it and fit it in with your outdoor Christmastime house  decoration. You can celebrate its fight with you and shake one of its leaves and say, "Well Done, soldier."
     I have to admit that my sixty year old body is sore from weeding yesterday.  My hands hurt from pulling.  My shoulders hurt from yanking and my butt hurts, and I don't know why? It seems as though the muscles in my body are saying why did he do this to us? We'll show him. He will either do this some more and train us to handle this, or we will make him miserable. OK guys, I hear you.  It's back to the gym for us.
     Why do I pull weeds?  There is a simpler way, you know. It's called Round-up--weed killer spray for those of you not in The United States.

As you can see, I had a lot of weeds to pull.  I think I'll try painting the house next.

     

Coffee!!! Part 2

     As you have noticed, I sometimes have a subject that I write multiple posts on. Today's post is one of those posts and has to do with coffee. What can you say?  There is a lot to write about as far as coffee is concerned. It's just one of those subjects that if you think you have said or written all there is to write about, there is still some more.
     This is part two in a series.  Will there be a part three is a question that can be asked and the answer is that I don't know. I wish I could say that I had a schedule or road map of the subjects I am going to write about, but I don't. I don't know what I am having for breakfast this morning, let alone what I am going to write about. This is a sort of "existential" kind of blog.  I don't know what I am going to write about until I get up in the morning and open my blog page. I do know one thing though.  I am going to make a pot of coffee and pour me a cup.  I had to re-write that sentence because I didn't want a reference to pot and what I meant was the coffee pot. See, that's what I call a blend.  All you young writers out there take note of how I brought the piece back to the subject at hand.
     I like coffee, and I make no bones about it.  Just a minute, the phone just rang. Sorry, I have to take this call.

Coffee!!!

     It has been a while since I have written about coffee. As I sip on my first cup of the divine exlixir for the day, I ponder the importance of it. No I''m not. That was a bunch of bull.  In reality, I'm sitting here at 6:00--06:00 military--thinking about what to write about. I am drinking my coffee, and it is wonderful.
     You are probably asking, why do I get up at somewhere around 6:00--06:00--almost every morning? Sometimes I ask myself that too. After all, I am retired with nothing on my hands but time. I don't work--that can be debated. Why do I get up that early? I guess I enjoy my coffee.  Hmmm--I was wondering how I was going to bring this back to the subject of coffee. Excuse me for a bit, I have to go pour me another cup.  I drank the first cup very quickly trying to think about what to write. The sacrifices I make trying to put down on paper--uh computer--entertaining drivel for you to read. I'll be right back.

How about a little Mariachi music until I get back?

     

Saturday (Correction To Previous Saturday Post)

     Excuse me, but I made a mistake. I know, I am very accurate with this blog in what I share and say but I have to make a correction.  This was told to me by Dan who is in Hawaii right now. Of course his real name isn't Dan, but I changed the name to protect the innocent. Forgive me for the inaccuracy.
     The time change between California and Hawaii is three hours this time of year. Sorry for the goof.  Maybe that was why Dan asked me if I really knew what time it was. It was 4:00 AM instead of 5:00 AM. No wonder he was a bit upset. I

What Dan saw in Hawaii before I called him at 6:00 AM.

forgive you Dan for saying those things you said to me. You weren't sleeping when I called were you?

Saturday Morning

    What day is it?  Come on now, what day is it.  Sorry Geico camel, it's not Wednesday.  Today is Saturday--the weekend. It's 6:44 PDT in the morning too.  I should be sleeping still because it is the weekend.  But no, I am wide awake.  Why am I wide awake?
   Let's see.  I think I can make this a relative thing. What time is it in Arizona?  Oh yes, they don't do daylight savings there in Arizona, so it is still 6:44 in the morning.  That's too early to be getting up.  I won't call the owner of the Arizona Diamondbacks and tell him his team lost last night to the Giants. I don't want to get him out of bed for any earth shattering news.
     I could call my cousin in New Haven, Connecticutt. It's 9:44 Eastern Daylight Time back there. That's late enough, isn't it? Maybe I won't.  I don't call him much even though I should.  He's still sore at me for not paying back the $40 I borrowed from him in 1976. Thanks for the loan 'cuz, I appreciate it.  I was just thinking about that. I'll send you the money soon, good buddy.
     Some good friends of ours are in Hawaii right now.  Maybe I will call them and ask how it's going and if they are having a great time. What time is it in Hawaii? Where's my phone?  Here, let me make the call because I need to talk to someone.
     Hello, Dan?  How are you doing? How are things going on your vacation? Oh, you are on vacation?  You don't have to use that "stupid" word. What's that?  Do I know what time it is in Hawaii?  Well yes, I do know what time it is in Hawaii.  It's 6:45, isn't it? No?  What time is it then? 4:45?  Oops, sorry.  I thought it was 6:45 on Saturday and the world should be awake. Don't tell me to go back to bed and don't use that tone of voice on me.  Be careful Dan.  Remember that you have high blood pressure.  By the way, did you take your medications this morning?
     I thought that went well.  I had no idea it was two hours earlier in Hawaii.

Hey, The sun's up and I'm awake.  Shouldn't everyone be awake? 

     

Sorry, I Just Won't Comment On That

     I figured that it was time to write a post again.  I know that I have not done so in about ten days.  I'm sorry, work has been hard.  There are things that have taken up my time that I just haven't been able to get to the blog site and just write what was on my mind. A great deal has happened in the time I didn't post, but I am sorry I just don't want to comment on them and for numerous reasons.
     I am not even going to discuss the many things that happened. At this point, I just don't feel like it is appropriate to share them. You will just have to trust me on this. As you know, in most cases I just about share everything with you but today I am not going to.  The cover of that book has been closed and sealed, I don't know how but I sealed it. Don't try opening it from the back cover either, because you will initiate the self-destruct sequence. You don't want to do that. I will not be held legally liable for any injury that may cause.
     Stop!  I can't take it any longer.  I confess! This is just a bunch of garbage.  This post stinks. I don't have a sane idea--that was a bad choice of word because when are any of my blog ideas ever sane--idea to write about today. I stared at the blank paper--sorry, blank computer screen--and nothing came to mind. This was all that came out of my normally creative and fruitful mind. I promise that it will never happen again. Will you ever forgive me?
    Hi to those of you in Poland.  I miss you and want you back.

There is a lot at steak making these posts as great as they can be.  What?  Wrong steak?  Oh, stake. Sorry, I have been off for too long.