Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Monday, November 9, 2015
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Saturday, October 24, 2015
Monday, October 19, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Monday, August 10, 2015
Away, Away
This will be a very short post today. All I will say is that I am away from my desk. Rest assured I'm not going to disappoint you as I will be back soon.
OK, I'm back. That wasn't too long was it? Well, sometimes you just have to step away from something to get a new perspective on what you are doing. This was just that case and I had to step away in order to not get swept away. Often we get too close to something and that nearness has a tendency to cloud our judgement and emotion. I'm stepping back and taking a fresh look at what is going on.
I'm sorry but I just can't share a picture with you this morning or whatever time of day it is for you. As you know, I have a wealth of pictures that I love to share with you, but that just isn't the case today. Again, it is a matter of perspective and change. You can be assured that my next post will have pictures as I am very much aware of how much you enjoy seeing and experiencing them.
I have to close now. It is very hard looking at things from new perspectives and I must conserve my energy.
OK, I'm back. That wasn't too long was it? Well, sometimes you just have to step away from something to get a new perspective on what you are doing. This was just that case and I had to step away in order to not get swept away. Often we get too close to something and that nearness has a tendency to cloud our judgement and emotion. I'm stepping back and taking a fresh look at what is going on.
I'm sorry but I just can't share a picture with you this morning or whatever time of day it is for you. As you know, I have a wealth of pictures that I love to share with you, but that just isn't the case today. Again, it is a matter of perspective and change. You can be assured that my next post will have pictures as I am very much aware of how much you enjoy seeing and experiencing them.
I have to close now. It is very hard looking at things from new perspectives and I must conserve my energy.
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Our World Runs On...
I trust you woke up this morning safe and sound. As I said, I was vigilant last night and kept watch. However, if you lived in other parts of the world where you read my posting last night and it was at say noon or such you didn't awake safely and soundly but were probably having lunch over my blog. I hope that it didn't give you indigestion. Some of you read my blog the day after I posted it because you live on the other side of the International Dateline so I will say that you were safe last night and nothing monumental happened to disturb the peace, at least in my neck of the woods.
As I was awake last night I got to thinking about what makes this world run. I though about many things such as politics, art, human achievement and really inconsequential writers who think and write too much. All of these came into the thought process but none seemed to be the definitive answer, so I kept at it. Aren't you glad about that?
After hours of worrying, careful thought and a long night without sleep I looked around the room and it finally hit me, slightly cut me to be accurate. This world runs on paper. As I looked around my office as I was writing and being generally sleepless in Merced, I couldn't be struck harder than the realization that all that paper that was supposed to be eliminated in the electronic age is still very much with us. I moved one of those pieces of paper and it bit me--one of those wonderful little paper cuts that hurt like the dickens. I thought the computer was supposed to eliminate this sort of thing. It didn't and the paper cut stings.
My office is filled with all kinds of paper with stuff written on it. There are register receipts, notepads, flyers announcing events, business cards, a few unused cash payout vouchers from slot machines--by the way, what do you do with a slot machine voucher worth four cents--and of course bills and other stuff. All of this is piling up and my paper shredder can't handle the volume.
The US Post Office is not going to go out of business any time soon. The volume of mail, yes it is junk mail and bills, far exceeds the amount of email I get. There should be a law. Oh yes, there was a law and it was called "The Paperwork Reduction Act". President Reagan signed it into law. That brings up another good point. Since it is a law in the US, would they enforce that law in France? The answer is probably not. Stop sending me all this paper France. By the way, do they make paper in France?
PS: I'm going into the kitchen now to make my coffee.
As I was awake last night I got to thinking about what makes this world run. I though about many things such as politics, art, human achievement and really inconsequential writers who think and write too much. All of these came into the thought process but none seemed to be the definitive answer, so I kept at it. Aren't you glad about that?
After hours of worrying, careful thought and a long night without sleep I looked around the room and it finally hit me, slightly cut me to be accurate. This world runs on paper. As I looked around my office as I was writing and being generally sleepless in Merced, I couldn't be struck harder than the realization that all that paper that was supposed to be eliminated in the electronic age is still very much with us. I moved one of those pieces of paper and it bit me--one of those wonderful little paper cuts that hurt like the dickens. I thought the computer was supposed to eliminate this sort of thing. It didn't and the paper cut stings.
My office is filled with all kinds of paper with stuff written on it. There are register receipts, notepads, flyers announcing events, business cards, a few unused cash payout vouchers from slot machines--by the way, what do you do with a slot machine voucher worth four cents--and of course bills and other stuff. All of this is piling up and my paper shredder can't handle the volume.
The US Post Office is not going to go out of business any time soon. The volume of mail, yes it is junk mail and bills, far exceeds the amount of email I get. There should be a law. Oh yes, there was a law and it was called "The Paperwork Reduction Act". President Reagan signed it into law. That brings up another good point. Since it is a law in the US, would they enforce that law in France? The answer is probably not. Stop sending me all this paper France. By the way, do they make paper in France?
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| Just look at all that paper coming our way. |
PS: I'm going into the kitchen now to make my coffee.
Forever Vigilant--Awake At 1:15 AM
How many of you are awake at this hour making sure that our world is safe? I am. The time is 1:17 PDT, or 01:17 military time. Don't ask me what that is in Zulu or Greenwich Time as I am not sure. I think it is ten hours ahead of us, but I am not sure of this.I think I am awake writing this, but I am not 100% certain. This may be just a cruel joke. However, I am at my post being vigilant making sure the world is safe. Should something happen like the Martians invade or the endangered hoards of "Boogie Men" attack, I will sound the alarm.
Who would I sound the alarm to and how would that alarm sound. I kind of like the alarm sounds on a German U-boat that I have heard in all those German submarine movies. Someone yells out Alam, Alam and you know something bad is happening or about to happen. Its kind of like have you made out your will yet time. You aren't going to be walking on this planet long Buddy because that American destroyer above you has you zeroed in and here come the depth charges time. I'm sorry, but you just can't stop the inevitable.
I have just checked out my window and can assure you all is well. If something changes and it appears that we are in trouble of "The Calamity" befalling us, I will sound the alarm, or Alam, Alam--whatever the case may be. Go back to sleep, I shall remain vigilant!
Why am I still awake at 1:17 AM PDT or 01:17 PDT military time?
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Who would I sound the alarm to and how would that alarm sound. I kind of like the alarm sounds on a German U-boat that I have heard in all those German submarine movies. Someone yells out Alam, Alam and you know something bad is happening or about to happen. Its kind of like have you made out your will yet time. You aren't going to be walking on this planet long Buddy because that American destroyer above you has you zeroed in and here come the depth charges time. I'm sorry, but you just can't stop the inevitable.
I have just checked out my window and can assure you all is well. If something changes and it appears that we are in trouble of "The Calamity" befalling us, I will sound the alarm, or Alam, Alam--whatever the case may be. Go back to sleep, I shall remain vigilant!
Why am I still awake at 1:17 AM PDT or 01:17 PDT military time?
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
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| A picture of the destroyer USS Black Rascal Creek during anti-submarine manuvers. So I spelled manuvers wrong. This isn't the USS Black Rascal Creek? What am I going to do with my staff? |
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Monday, August 3, 2015
Entitlements, A Very Controversial Topic
Some of you wonder where I get my blog ideas and tiles for those blogs. My thoughts wandered onto this very thought this morning, so it came to me that it was imperative that I shed some light on this very subject. My thoughts have a tendency to wander. It must be my wander lust. You, my readers, have a right to be let in on this very complicated process.
First, I try to write as early in the morning as I can. Basically, it is one of the first things that I do when I get up in the morning. I get out of bed and make my coffee--excuse me a moment, I haven't made my coffee yet. I'll be right back.
You know, there is just something about grinding your own coffee beans in the morning for a fresh pot of coffee. Did you know that a coffee bean is not a bean at all, but is the see of the fruit of the coffee tree? Yes, coffee does grow on trees, unlike money which my ex-wife seems to think. At any rate, I prefer a dark roast and that has nothing to do with how I choose a title for my blogs.
Returning to the subject at hand--what was the subject at hand anyway? Oh yes, how do I get ideas for my blogs? Yes, it is a very complicated process, one that is so complicated that is difficult to put into words. You have to remember, you are dealing with a very complicated mind. This brain of mine is working constantly and ideas flow and go through it faster than a Lamborghini being chased by a CHP on the road between Barstow and Las Vegas. Uh, the Lambo is speeding by the way and the CHP is being left in the dust, but you knew that.
We eat a lot of Chinese take out from Panda Express. The culinary choices here in Merced are limited to say the least. Yes, I realize that it is hard to say that Panda Express is real Chinese but we sort of like it. Its not quite Hopsing Harry's, but it is quick and fairly tasty. They always include a fortune cookie. You can draw your own conclusions.
How do I choose my blog topics? Oh, just forget it.
First, I try to write as early in the morning as I can. Basically, it is one of the first things that I do when I get up in the morning. I get out of bed and make my coffee--excuse me a moment, I haven't made my coffee yet. I'll be right back.
You know, there is just something about grinding your own coffee beans in the morning for a fresh pot of coffee. Did you know that a coffee bean is not a bean at all, but is the see of the fruit of the coffee tree? Yes, coffee does grow on trees, unlike money which my ex-wife seems to think. At any rate, I prefer a dark roast and that has nothing to do with how I choose a title for my blogs.
Returning to the subject at hand--what was the subject at hand anyway? Oh yes, how do I get ideas for my blogs? Yes, it is a very complicated process, one that is so complicated that is difficult to put into words. You have to remember, you are dealing with a very complicated mind. This brain of mine is working constantly and ideas flow and go through it faster than a Lamborghini being chased by a CHP on the road between Barstow and Las Vegas. Uh, the Lambo is speeding by the way and the CHP is being left in the dust, but you knew that.
We eat a lot of Chinese take out from Panda Express. The culinary choices here in Merced are limited to say the least. Yes, I realize that it is hard to say that Panda Express is real Chinese but we sort of like it. Its not quite Hopsing Harry's, but it is quick and fairly tasty. They always include a fortune cookie. You can draw your own conclusions.
How do I choose my blog topics? Oh, just forget it.
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| My staff, hard at work coming up with ideas for me to cover in my blog. |
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Hey, Its Been A Busy Day
Hey, I realize that it is now 11:32 on Thursday morning--Friday in Japan so enjoy your weekend. This post is really late and that's OK. Normally I like to post early in the morning so that the day doesn't get away from me. Today, I blew it. There just was too much to do today.
This morning has been full. No, I didn't sleep in although I did sleep until 8:00 AM Pacific Daylight Time. This is about an hour and a half later than I normally get up. Whenever I do that it kind of sets me back with today's agenda as I have to be in the living room to see The Price Is Right at 11:00. We all have our priorities, don't we. That guy with the five kids and disabled wife has to win the car. Its just good kharma and I have to help him win it.
Generally the first thing I do is check my numbers on YouTube and Blogger. My numbers are soaring, by the way. At this rate I can retire when I am 95--oh wait, I am retired. Well, maybe I can buy that getaway in Costa Rica in the year 2210 at the rate I am going on AdSense. By the way, make sure you click on the vendor at the bottom in the AdSense box so that I can speed up the process of buying the home in Costa Rica. Do you really want me to beg?
After I have checked my numbers I go on FaceBook. I don't stay there very long because I realize what a trap it is. It is my pleasure to wish those who have birthdays that particular day a Happy Birthday. That takes me up a couple of hours, it is important to catch up on the days news through FaceBook. I then turn to my email and I don't care if I have won the Habakistani Lottery worth $500, but I have to send $300 to Sabu Kanamagalagasa esq. a lawyer in Lagos, Nigeria in order to cover handling fees to release the funds. I don't trust him, he's a lawyer--I don't mean to offend any of my lawyer friends.
All this took a little bit to long this morning so please forgive me.
This morning has been full. No, I didn't sleep in although I did sleep until 8:00 AM Pacific Daylight Time. This is about an hour and a half later than I normally get up. Whenever I do that it kind of sets me back with today's agenda as I have to be in the living room to see The Price Is Right at 11:00. We all have our priorities, don't we. That guy with the five kids and disabled wife has to win the car. Its just good kharma and I have to help him win it.
Generally the first thing I do is check my numbers on YouTube and Blogger. My numbers are soaring, by the way. At this rate I can retire when I am 95--oh wait, I am retired. Well, maybe I can buy that getaway in Costa Rica in the year 2210 at the rate I am going on AdSense. By the way, make sure you click on the vendor at the bottom in the AdSense box so that I can speed up the process of buying the home in Costa Rica. Do you really want me to beg?
After I have checked my numbers I go on FaceBook. I don't stay there very long because I realize what a trap it is. It is my pleasure to wish those who have birthdays that particular day a Happy Birthday. That takes me up a couple of hours, it is important to catch up on the days news through FaceBook. I then turn to my email and I don't care if I have won the Habakistani Lottery worth $500, but I have to send $300 to Sabu Kanamagalagasa esq. a lawyer in Lagos, Nigeria in order to cover handling fees to release the funds. I don't trust him, he's a lawyer--I don't mean to offend any of my lawyer friends.
All this took a little bit to long this morning so please forgive me.
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| What time is it? I don't know, I can't read the face of the clock. I don't have my glasses on. |
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Playing Around
My wife plays piano and is in fact an accomplished musician. Her resume includes paid accompanist and also piano tuner. She never ceases to amaze me and I am very proud of her. As a matter of fact, she is on her way to give a piano lesson and tune a piano. I am not. However, she has inspired me.
I am going to learn to play an instrument. This has been on my "bucket list" for a long time now and since I have been to Gustine, I can cross that off my "bucket list". Time to move on to other things. By way of explanation, Gustine is a small farming community located in Central California in the middle of nowhere. Proudly I say that I have been there and can say a lot of Gustine, but I will save that for another post. They do have a McDonald's though.
I have decided to learn how to play the mandolin. You are probably asking yourself because you are so very interested, why the mandolin. There are many reasons and not many people play the instrument. Its sort of like the oboe. What is an oboe, by the way? When you first see an oboe and decide to learn to play it, what do you say, oh boy I get to learn to play the oboe? When you get your first oboe at Christmas and open the package and it is an oboe instead of a violin, do you say no bow but it is an oboe. Both those comments were stretches, I know but you expected some bad humor and I didn't want to disappoint you.
Why do I want to learn the mandolin? Its because its there. A mandolin is unique. Besides, I love Bluegrass music and the mandolin is a key part of this style of music. The banjo
is also important in Bluegrass, but everybody plays the banjo and I just want to be different. What's wrong with that?
I am going to learn to play an instrument. This has been on my "bucket list" for a long time now and since I have been to Gustine, I can cross that off my "bucket list". Time to move on to other things. By way of explanation, Gustine is a small farming community located in Central California in the middle of nowhere. Proudly I say that I have been there and can say a lot of Gustine, but I will save that for another post. They do have a McDonald's though.
I have decided to learn how to play the mandolin. You are probably asking yourself because you are so very interested, why the mandolin. There are many reasons and not many people play the instrument. Its sort of like the oboe. What is an oboe, by the way? When you first see an oboe and decide to learn to play it, what do you say, oh boy I get to learn to play the oboe? When you get your first oboe at Christmas and open the package and it is an oboe instead of a violin, do you say no bow but it is an oboe. Both those comments were stretches, I know but you expected some bad humor and I didn't want to disappoint you.
Why do I want to learn the mandolin? Its because its there. A mandolin is unique. Besides, I love Bluegrass music and the mandolin is a key part of this style of music. The banjo
is also important in Bluegrass, but everybody plays the banjo and I just want to be different. What's wrong with that?
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| Move It? Hmmmm.... |
Monday, July 27, 2015
Back To Clankety Clank
Don't you love cars? Just when you seem to have something taken care of mechanically something else pops up and it sparks a return to the "Car Einstein". You may not know who the "Car Einstein" is, but he is the guy who works on my car. This guy is good, but he is human.
As you know, or don't know and there is a third category of you just don't car which I am OK with, we took our car to "Car Einstein" last week to cure a problem. We got the car back and it ran great for me. My wife drove the "Blue Wonder", our car as we lovingly call it, and it decided to make some new noises. Uh-oh, "Car Einstein" didn't catch everything.
These were not "if you drive me I won't run" noises, but they were noises that let us know something else is happening and you should get them checked kind of noises. I hate those kind of noises because I never know when those noises become the "Oops, I'm broken and won't run and now you are stranded on a busy freeway out in the middle of nowhere between Palm Springs and Phoenix" noise. We all have heard them. They strike terror in all our driving hearts. Have you ever been to Palm Springs or Phoenix by the way?
Right now, the car is in the shop being diagnosed and "Car Einstein" is on the job. . I can only hope for the best. Shakespeare wrote "A rose by any other name could smell so sweet." Well, I am saying that a noise with any other sound could make one feel so utterly terrified.
As you know, or don't know and there is a third category of you just don't car which I am OK with, we took our car to "Car Einstein" last week to cure a problem. We got the car back and it ran great for me. My wife drove the "Blue Wonder", our car as we lovingly call it, and it decided to make some new noises. Uh-oh, "Car Einstein" didn't catch everything.
These were not "if you drive me I won't run" noises, but they were noises that let us know something else is happening and you should get them checked kind of noises. I hate those kind of noises because I never know when those noises become the "Oops, I'm broken and won't run and now you are stranded on a busy freeway out in the middle of nowhere between Palm Springs and Phoenix" noise. We all have heard them. They strike terror in all our driving hearts. Have you ever been to Palm Springs or Phoenix by the way?
Right now, the car is in the shop being diagnosed and "Car Einstein" is on the job. . I can only hope for the best. Shakespeare wrote "A rose by any other name could smell so sweet." Well, I am saying that a noise with any other sound could make one feel so utterly terrified.
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| Yep, she needed a bit of work. |
Saturday, July 25, 2015
A Simple Post
This will be a very short post. I wish to thank all my readers from the bottom of my heart. Today I reached the milestone of 13,000 views of my blog. It has been a long road, but one I have enjoyed and I hope you have enjoyed reading. Tomorrow is Sunday, Monday in Japan--I just needed to share that with you--and I will have new posts on Monday--Tuesday in Japan. Here's to the next 13,000 and beyond. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT AND READING.
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| Thanks! More coming on Monday. |
Friday, July 24, 2015
Be Happy! Its Friday!
I have some important information to share with you. It is Friday. Isn't that special. I am giving those of you who work a five day work schedule that starts on Monday and goes through Friday the day off tomorrow to do whatever it is that you want. If you live in Japan, I can't do anything for you because today is Saturday. I can't fix that, sorry.
Today is Friday, which means a majority of you have a wonderful weekend ahead of you. Yep, I am looking forward to the weekend myself. However, I am retired and every day seems like it is the weekend. What is the difference between a Tuesday and a Friday? The TV programs are different and that is about it. The first round of a golf tournament is on a Thursday and the fourth round is on Sunday. I know this.
I do admit that there are differences in days when you are retired, but those differences are very subtle. I know it is Sunday because that is the day we go to church. We very rarely miss church because my wife is the choir director and I sing in the choir. Wednesday is choir practice so that is another benchmark for what day it is. We are off for the summer and there is no choir practice so I'm really in trouble. When we are off for the summer, I have to resort to the golf tournament measurement calendar. Thursday starts the tournament and so on to Sunday when the tournament ends is the day for church. We live in an ordered universe, you know.
What am I going to do tomorrow, which I think is Saturday--I'm not sure? I'm going to put on my brown shorts, navy blue polo shirt and Birkenstock sandals. Then, I will take the long walk to the couch and turn on the TV to watch golf, not because I love to watch golf but because I need to confirm what day it is.
Today is Friday, which means a majority of you have a wonderful weekend ahead of you. Yep, I am looking forward to the weekend myself. However, I am retired and every day seems like it is the weekend. What is the difference between a Tuesday and a Friday? The TV programs are different and that is about it. The first round of a golf tournament is on a Thursday and the fourth round is on Sunday. I know this.
I do admit that there are differences in days when you are retired, but those differences are very subtle. I know it is Sunday because that is the day we go to church. We very rarely miss church because my wife is the choir director and I sing in the choir. Wednesday is choir practice so that is another benchmark for what day it is. We are off for the summer and there is no choir practice so I'm really in trouble. When we are off for the summer, I have to resort to the golf tournament measurement calendar. Thursday starts the tournament and so on to Sunday when the tournament ends is the day for church. We live in an ordered universe, you know.
What am I going to do tomorrow, which I think is Saturday--I'm not sure? I'm going to put on my brown shorts, navy blue polo shirt and Birkenstock sandals. Then, I will take the long walk to the couch and turn on the TV to watch golf, not because I love to watch golf but because I need to confirm what day it is.
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| A description in pictures of my strenuous activities this weekend. |
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Let's Wrestle
With respect to the WWE or whatever they are calling themselves and professional wrestling, last night I "Got Ready To Rumble". It was time for me to wrestle, but it wasn't what you think. No, I wasn't going to go three falls with Jon Cena or The Undertaker. My challenge was to defeat an even more difficult foe, the child car seat.
Have you ever tried to put one of those in the back seat of a car and get it put in properly? Believe me, it is no fun. Yesterday I had to transport one of my grandchildren and had to put one onto the back seat of our car. Let me tell you, this was no picnic. It probably would have been easier and less painful to have gone three round with Cena.
When you look at these devices of pain, they look fairly easy to install. There is only a couple of belts to attach and bingo, you are in business. These instruments of frustration are installed with automatic Murphy's Law activator sensors. You remember Murphy's Law, don't you? Anything that can go wrong will. Yep, they build that bit of software right into every one of those suckers. It activated just as soon as it heard I was going to put the thing in the back seat. And, by the way, Murphy was an optimist or so they say.
Such a simple device, the directions to install seem to be so simple. Directions lie, as we all know. I still don't know what that leftover strap was for.
Have you ever tried to put one of those in the back seat of a car and get it put in properly? Believe me, it is no fun. Yesterday I had to transport one of my grandchildren and had to put one onto the back seat of our car. Let me tell you, this was no picnic. It probably would have been easier and less painful to have gone three round with Cena.
When you look at these devices of pain, they look fairly easy to install. There is only a couple of belts to attach and bingo, you are in business. These instruments of frustration are installed with automatic Murphy's Law activator sensors. You remember Murphy's Law, don't you? Anything that can go wrong will. Yep, they build that bit of software right into every one of those suckers. It activated just as soon as it heard I was going to put the thing in the back seat. And, by the way, Murphy was an optimist or so they say.
Such a simple device, the directions to install seem to be so simple. Directions lie, as we all know. I still don't know what that leftover strap was for.
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| The culprit. Such a simple device but it is an instrument of torture for it's installer. |
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
This Scares Me
Some of you, not many, have asked me what scares me the most. I hate horror films. Driving a one lane road in a two ton truck on the side of a mountain with a 3000 ft drop on one side kind of makes my spine tingle as does an IRS audit. Not taking out the trash can causes a bit of anxiety as well, fearing not so much the trash not being taken out but my wife's reaction to not taking it out. That will ruin your day. I am most scared by one little word, apricot.
I hate apricots and have had many sleepless nights with nightmares about them. They bring many unpleasant memories from my childhood. You just don't understand, I HATE APRICOTS.
Let me explain. When I was growing up we had an apricot tree in the back yard. To say it was a healthy tree would be an understatement. The tree bore fruit, boy did it bear fruit. We picked apricots off it and all at the same time. Do you know what happens when apricots are over ripe? So, the family each year undertook the Herculean task of picking the darn apricots--tons of them.
What do you do with all those apricots, all ripening at the same time. As I said in my last post, you try to give them away to friends. This lasts only a short while as your friends quickly disappear. In most cases, they don't like apricots and they try to avoid you because they know you because they know that you are going to try to palm more apricots on them. By this time they have sat for awhile and I won't even go to what happens after they have gotten soft and mushy.
The idea hits that maybe we should make apricot jam. I don't like apricot jam and never have. When I was young, if I were to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich it was made with apricot jam. My mom always wondered why I would eat her PB&J sandwich made with apricot jam. After all, we had to use up all the jam that we made that season, let alone the twelve seasons before. I think after 50 years, I still have a jar of that ugly stuff from out tree laying around somewhere. Its probably well aged by now.
Not only was I a picker, but I was the cleanup crew as well. As the apricots we didn't pick off the tree ripened they would fall off the tree, mushy of course. I used to hate stepping on them. You just couldn't help but not step on them. There were still millions of them. How many can you eat and make jam out of. Our grass in the back went right up to the tree so I had to mow under the tree. You can imagine the mess to the mower, not to mention squishing the ugly things. You would have to clean your shoes of an ugly orange goo.
How many apricots can you eat. I have had enough.
I hate apricots and have had many sleepless nights with nightmares about them. They bring many unpleasant memories from my childhood. You just don't understand, I HATE APRICOTS.
Let me explain. When I was growing up we had an apricot tree in the back yard. To say it was a healthy tree would be an understatement. The tree bore fruit, boy did it bear fruit. We picked apricots off it and all at the same time. Do you know what happens when apricots are over ripe? So, the family each year undertook the Herculean task of picking the darn apricots--tons of them.
What do you do with all those apricots, all ripening at the same time. As I said in my last post, you try to give them away to friends. This lasts only a short while as your friends quickly disappear. In most cases, they don't like apricots and they try to avoid you because they know you because they know that you are going to try to palm more apricots on them. By this time they have sat for awhile and I won't even go to what happens after they have gotten soft and mushy.
The idea hits that maybe we should make apricot jam. I don't like apricot jam and never have. When I was young, if I were to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich it was made with apricot jam. My mom always wondered why I would eat her PB&J sandwich made with apricot jam. After all, we had to use up all the jam that we made that season, let alone the twelve seasons before. I think after 50 years, I still have a jar of that ugly stuff from out tree laying around somewhere. Its probably well aged by now.
Not only was I a picker, but I was the cleanup crew as well. As the apricots we didn't pick off the tree ripened they would fall off the tree, mushy of course. I used to hate stepping on them. You just couldn't help but not step on them. There were still millions of them. How many can you eat and make jam out of. Our grass in the back went right up to the tree so I had to mow under the tree. You can imagine the mess to the mower, not to mention squishing the ugly things. You would have to clean your shoes of an ugly orange goo.
How many apricots can you eat. I have had enough.
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| I can eat pineapple, watermelon, strawberries peaches and other fruits. I just can't stand apricots. |
Everything's Peachy, Or Peary, Or Grapey...I Don't Know
I respect farmers, I really do. If you are a farmer, God bless you and I salute you for your patience, courage and skill. I don't have that skill, the skill of growing things. My thumb is black, anything I try to grow has the proverbial kiss of death attached and doesn't have a chance of surviving.
The house we are living in right now has a huge back yard, and in the backyard there are a pear tree, a couple of berry bushes, a grape vine and two orange trees. I can understand why some people would love to grow fruit trees in their back yards. There can be a great amount of joy going out to your backyard and picking a fresh peach or cluster of grapes. My relatives who live in the Northeast where they don't grow oranges always tell me that it must be nice to just go out your front door and pick a fresh orange.
Yes, picking a fresh orange off a tree is nice, but what about the rest of the two million oranges which are still on the tree. You know what I'm talking about. The same is true with the two million peaches, the four million pears and the three million clusters of very small grapes. What do you do with them? I am sorry, I don't make wine.
I used to be in Multi Level marketing and they tell you about the NFL or No Friends Left club. The same is true with giving away fruit. After trying to give away the fruit off the trees, friends see you coming and try to avoid you. You try to explain that you have given up ACN and Amway, you just want to give them some fruit for the third time. This is a gesture of kindness and friendship not of trying to rope them into a business venture. I'm sorry but they just don't buy it, probably because you are not the only one that has tried to give them a bag of peaches. By now they are sick of peaches--and plums and nectarines--given to them by friends that have fruit tries. If you have fruit trees you have gone through this and can just see that look in their eyes sensing the fear. How about trying to give out the grapes? You can explain to them that they can make wine out of them. I can't do that because most of our friends don't drink.
Here in the Central Valley of California where I live you can just about buy any kind of fruit or vegetable you want, from artichokes to zinnias--OK zinnias are flowers, I couldn't think of a fruit that started with Z--and rather cheaply. There is a fruit stand on almost ever corner selling fruits and vegetables as well as a great many public "Farmer's Markets". Why would I want to grow a tree or a vine and have to water them and take care of them when I could get what I wanted more cheaply with only the effort of stopping and getting out of the car? I hate watering plants and trees.
Why would you ever want to plant strawberries? I could bring myself around to planting a couple of beefsteak tomato plants. There is nothing like home grown tomatoes. Nah, they would only die from my growing skills as a farmer. Won't you please take a bag of peaches? They are very sweet.
The house we are living in right now has a huge back yard, and in the backyard there are a pear tree, a couple of berry bushes, a grape vine and two orange trees. I can understand why some people would love to grow fruit trees in their back yards. There can be a great amount of joy going out to your backyard and picking a fresh peach or cluster of grapes. My relatives who live in the Northeast where they don't grow oranges always tell me that it must be nice to just go out your front door and pick a fresh orange.
Yes, picking a fresh orange off a tree is nice, but what about the rest of the two million oranges which are still on the tree. You know what I'm talking about. The same is true with the two million peaches, the four million pears and the three million clusters of very small grapes. What do you do with them? I am sorry, I don't make wine.
I used to be in Multi Level marketing and they tell you about the NFL or No Friends Left club. The same is true with giving away fruit. After trying to give away the fruit off the trees, friends see you coming and try to avoid you. You try to explain that you have given up ACN and Amway, you just want to give them some fruit for the third time. This is a gesture of kindness and friendship not of trying to rope them into a business venture. I'm sorry but they just don't buy it, probably because you are not the only one that has tried to give them a bag of peaches. By now they are sick of peaches--and plums and nectarines--given to them by friends that have fruit tries. If you have fruit trees you have gone through this and can just see that look in their eyes sensing the fear. How about trying to give out the grapes? You can explain to them that they can make wine out of them. I can't do that because most of our friends don't drink.
Here in the Central Valley of California where I live you can just about buy any kind of fruit or vegetable you want, from artichokes to zinnias--OK zinnias are flowers, I couldn't think of a fruit that started with Z--and rather cheaply. There is a fruit stand on almost ever corner selling fruits and vegetables as well as a great many public "Farmer's Markets". Why would I want to grow a tree or a vine and have to water them and take care of them when I could get what I wanted more cheaply with only the effort of stopping and getting out of the car? I hate watering plants and trees.
Why would you ever want to plant strawberries? I could bring myself around to planting a couple of beefsteak tomato plants. There is nothing like home grown tomatoes. Nah, they would only die from my growing skills as a farmer. Won't you please take a bag of peaches? They are very sweet.
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| You think I'm bad at farming, you should see me fish. No, I didn't catch these. |
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
You Are Going To Wear That? Part 2
My wife is out again and I think she is at the Fashion Police District Headquarters. I had to go out for a bit to run some errands and I looked resplendent in my brown shorts, navy blue polo shirt and my Birkenstock sandals. She didn't say a word as the errand was to procure needed supplies for her. This time, comfort won. Besides, I got dressed after she left.
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| Where you go when you defy fashion law. |
You Are Going To Wear That?
I have to admit, I don't have a real good fashion sense. If it were up to me, I would wear shorts, a polo shirt and sandals all the time. That's not exactly true. When it gets cold, below 60 degrees, I will bring myself down to wear jeans and tennis shoes but that's no big deal. I'm sorry but I wore business attire for so long I swore off suits and ties and even shirts and ties a long time ago after I left the business world. Face it, life is too short to be uncomfortable.
As you probably know, I love my wife. I am a bit suspicious though. Many times she will look at what I have on and ask me if I am really going to wear that. After all, what's wrong with wearing brown shorts with a navy blue shirt and birkenstock sandals to a church award dinner. Its going to be hot in the building. Besides, all those Germans who wear Birkenstocks can't be that wrong.
Is she a member of the fashion police, Merced Division? My concerns got the best of me. I had to find out so I did a little snooping. Sure enough there it was tucked in an isolated part of the closet. It was her Fashion Police dress uniform. I wondered where she went when she said that she had a piano lesson. She was checking in to the Fashion Police Headquarters for her assignments. She doesn't wear that uniform much, in fact I have never seen her wear it and guess the uniform is only for ceremonial purposes only worn on special occasions. I wondered where she was last week that one day when she was gone all day and took what she called a special dress with her. Maybe I'm paranoid but she does tell me "You're NOT going to wear that, are you." an awful lot. Hmmmmmmm......
As you probably know, I love my wife. I am a bit suspicious though. Many times she will look at what I have on and ask me if I am really going to wear that. After all, what's wrong with wearing brown shorts with a navy blue shirt and birkenstock sandals to a church award dinner. Its going to be hot in the building. Besides, all those Germans who wear Birkenstocks can't be that wrong.
Is she a member of the fashion police, Merced Division? My concerns got the best of me. I had to find out so I did a little snooping. Sure enough there it was tucked in an isolated part of the closet. It was her Fashion Police dress uniform. I wondered where she went when she said that she had a piano lesson. She was checking in to the Fashion Police Headquarters for her assignments. She doesn't wear that uniform much, in fact I have never seen her wear it and guess the uniform is only for ceremonial purposes only worn on special occasions. I wondered where she was last week that one day when she was gone all day and took what she called a special dress with her. Maybe I'm paranoid but she does tell me "You're NOT going to wear that, are you." an awful lot. Hmmmmmmm......
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| Occasionally I will wear a sweater and sneakers. |
Monday, July 20, 2015
No Clankety Clank---Back To Veroom, Veroom
We got the car back from the mechanic a few hours ago. I would have been back sooner but I was given an order from the head of procurement to go to the food dump--uh supermarket. She wanted me to secure some groceries in order to fee the troops. Of course I obey orders and this afternoon was no exception. If "Mama" ain't happy, nobody is happy. I spent too much, but at least we will eat pretty well for the next few days.
There is some great news. The car is fixed and it didn't cost an arm and a leg. It rides very quietly. As explained to me it was a bearing that went out. She rides pretty well actually. The transmission still goes "clunk" occasionally but I was assured that the injury is not permanent and we can live with it. It is not something that would strand us on the road. It's kind of like my arthritis in my hands. I have to learn to adjust and accept it, sort of like my arthritis.
It is a Ford, and we all know what that stands for. However, don't let the car hear you say that. I don't want it to feel offended.
There is some great news. The car is fixed and it didn't cost an arm and a leg. It rides very quietly. As explained to me it was a bearing that went out. She rides pretty well actually. The transmission still goes "clunk" occasionally but I was assured that the injury is not permanent and we can live with it. It is not something that would strand us on the road. It's kind of like my arthritis in my hands. I have to learn to adjust and accept it, sort of like my arthritis.
It is a Ford, and we all know what that stands for. However, don't let the car hear you say that. I don't want it to feel offended.
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| There's the "Blue Bandit" in better days. She likes to go place sand now we can she she was in the hospital for minor surgery. |
No Vrooom- Vroooom--More Like Clank Clank
As I shared a few posts ago, my car is having trouble. Today is the day where we take it to the shop that fixed the transmission and will get a reading on it's ills. This is like going to the dentist. The experience of car repairs is that painful. The suspense of not knowing what is actually wrong and what the bill is going to be to restore your ride will certainly raise your blood pressure a bit. Believe me, mine doesn't need any help raising.
I am a bit concerned. There is an old adage in the car buying business that says that the car will last until you are about to make the last payment. Guess what my valued readers, next month is our last payment. There are certain sayings in life that have a tendency to be true. This is one of them. Wish us luck.
I am a bit concerned. There is an old adage in the car buying business that says that the car will last until you are about to make the last payment. Guess what my valued readers, next month is our last payment. There are certain sayings in life that have a tendency to be true. This is one of them. Wish us luck.
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| Maybe I should buy an airplane. This one would be fine. Let me look in my piggy bank to see if I have enough money. |
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Friday, July 17, 2015
Hey, Its Friday!
Yep, its Friday. What are you doing for the weekend? I am on my way with my wife with
her parents to take her mother to a doctor's appointment. It is shaping up to be a fun weekend.
This weekend will probably take the shape of a normal weekend. There are a lot of options to create a wonderful and exciting weekend, but in our case we will probably stay home and dream about those options.
The British Open is being played this weekend and we will probably watch that. Baseball is back from The All-Star Break and I'm sure we will be watching the Giants games. Isn't that fun and exciting. I guess we could be mountain climbing in Tibet.
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| I know for a fact that we aren't going parachuting. |
Thursday, July 16, 2015
My Style Was Cramped
How many of you have ever been indulging in a wonderful and restful deep night's sleep and have had to turn over. When you turn over something very painful happens. You get a muscle cramp that makes you feel like your tendon in your foot is about ready to snap. The pain is intense, and the darn think just doesn't want to go away.
You try everything to work it out, to no avail. It just keeps getting worse and your muscle tenses up even further. It hurts, let alone a wonderful deep sleep has been interrupted. The darn thing just isn't going away. If you were a horse your master would have gotten a gun and shot you at this point because of the pain you are suffering just to put you out of your misery.
What does your wife, who is sleeping soundly next to you no more than a couple of inches do. She turns over and says in a still voice, "Do you have to make so much noise?"
The pain and noise doesn't subside. You are trying to be quiet but it hurts too much. The decibel level of the screams of pain seem to increase in relationship to the severity of the pain and the failure to loosen the muscle. You have tried to stretch it out quietly, but to no avail. The cream seem oblivious to any of your efforts to combat it. The hope that I could return to a state of slumber is quickly melting away. Its 2:00 in the morning by the way and I want to go back to sleep. Two O'clock in the morning is too early for me to get up.
My beloved finally turns to me and says, "What's the matter? Does it hurt?"
"No, I'm just trying to gauge my pain tolerance." I said quietly, hiding my real feeling toward her at the moment. (I love you dear.)
"Why don't you get up and walk it out?" she suggested.
"I would love to dear." I said in a loving voice. I think what her real motive was that she wanted to see me crawl or at least fall down out of bed. It has been a long time since she has had a good laugh at my expense. IT HURT!!!
After a few minutes which seemed like enough time to create a new world had passed, the cramp finally went away. I had to gut it out through that incredible pain. I moved my foot back and forth and up and down. Finally, the pain subsided. It was time to try to finish out the night's sleep.
Have you ever tried to go back to sleep after a painful incident like this. Morphine would be a great choice, but I am not a drug abuser and I am not in a hospital. My brain decided that the strategy should be to return to sleep by fluffing up my pillow and just going for it. That wasn't working so I decided on another tack.
I would start counting the dots on the ceiling. Did you know that there are five billion, three hundred two million, six hundred seventy five thousand, two hundred and seventy eight dots on our bedroom ceiling. I know this. I counted them all--twice. That took about two hours and didn't work. I thank my fourth grade teacher for teaching how to count that high.
Since the counting of dots strategy was not working another strategy had to be implemented. I decided the "Happy Gilmore Happy Place" technique may work. I decided to try to imagine a "Happy Place" and go to it in my mind. I won't describe my "Happy Place" because this post is getting to long, but it was restful and calming, kind of like the dream I was having before all this took place. The is just something about a warm tropical beach and, well you get the idea.
Can I ask a favor? Will someone look at my leg to see if my foot is still there? My leg has gone numb from the knee on down to my foot. The cramp has pretty much taken the feeling out of it. I can walk though, I think.
You try everything to work it out, to no avail. It just keeps getting worse and your muscle tenses up even further. It hurts, let alone a wonderful deep sleep has been interrupted. The darn thing just isn't going away. If you were a horse your master would have gotten a gun and shot you at this point because of the pain you are suffering just to put you out of your misery.
What does your wife, who is sleeping soundly next to you no more than a couple of inches do. She turns over and says in a still voice, "Do you have to make so much noise?"
The pain and noise doesn't subside. You are trying to be quiet but it hurts too much. The decibel level of the screams of pain seem to increase in relationship to the severity of the pain and the failure to loosen the muscle. You have tried to stretch it out quietly, but to no avail. The cream seem oblivious to any of your efforts to combat it. The hope that I could return to a state of slumber is quickly melting away. Its 2:00 in the morning by the way and I want to go back to sleep. Two O'clock in the morning is too early for me to get up.
My beloved finally turns to me and says, "What's the matter? Does it hurt?"
"No, I'm just trying to gauge my pain tolerance." I said quietly, hiding my real feeling toward her at the moment. (I love you dear.)
"Why don't you get up and walk it out?" she suggested.
"I would love to dear." I said in a loving voice. I think what her real motive was that she wanted to see me crawl or at least fall down out of bed. It has been a long time since she has had a good laugh at my expense. IT HURT!!!
After a few minutes which seemed like enough time to create a new world had passed, the cramp finally went away. I had to gut it out through that incredible pain. I moved my foot back and forth and up and down. Finally, the pain subsided. It was time to try to finish out the night's sleep.
Have you ever tried to go back to sleep after a painful incident like this. Morphine would be a great choice, but I am not a drug abuser and I am not in a hospital. My brain decided that the strategy should be to return to sleep by fluffing up my pillow and just going for it. That wasn't working so I decided on another tack.
I would start counting the dots on the ceiling. Did you know that there are five billion, three hundred two million, six hundred seventy five thousand, two hundred and seventy eight dots on our bedroom ceiling. I know this. I counted them all--twice. That took about two hours and didn't work. I thank my fourth grade teacher for teaching how to count that high.
Since the counting of dots strategy was not working another strategy had to be implemented. I decided the "Happy Gilmore Happy Place" technique may work. I decided to try to imagine a "Happy Place" and go to it in my mind. I won't describe my "Happy Place" because this post is getting to long, but it was restful and calming, kind of like the dream I was having before all this took place. The is just something about a warm tropical beach and, well you get the idea.
Can I ask a favor? Will someone look at my leg to see if my foot is still there? My leg has gone numb from the knee on down to my foot. The cramp has pretty much taken the feeling out of it. I can walk though, I think.
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| This is a beautiful place, but its nothing like my "Happy Place". |
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Hey Geico--I Could Write A Commercial For You Part 2
Dear Geico Insurance
I could write a commercial for you. I am totally out there as far as my sense of humor and I could bring some of that madness to your advertising campaign. Each commercial is entertaining and humorous which really catches the imagination of viewers. I have that humor and imagination.
I just saw the "Operation" commercial and it was hilarious. The idea of a doctor working on a patient and if they fouled up a buzzer would sound really cracked me up. An then there is the "Words Can Hurt" ad. What a stroke of creativity. I wish I had thought of that. Not only that but one would have to wonder if they would really want "A Million Bucks". I also totally understand asking a cat to rescue you from quicksand. I've seen that look from my cat a time or two before.
Today is Wednesday. Who can forget the "Guess What Day It Is" ad. That camel is priceless and the follow up commercial showed a stroke of creativity and genius that will never be equaled. All of these fit into my range as far as my sense of humor.
I can be contacted through my email or though this blog.
Thank You
Dave
PS: This is not related to the subject of my blog but I want to welcome my new readers from Slovakia and Sweeden. None of this blog may make sense to you but hang in there.
I could write a commercial for you. I am totally out there as far as my sense of humor and I could bring some of that madness to your advertising campaign. Each commercial is entertaining and humorous which really catches the imagination of viewers. I have that humor and imagination.
I just saw the "Operation" commercial and it was hilarious. The idea of a doctor working on a patient and if they fouled up a buzzer would sound really cracked me up. An then there is the "Words Can Hurt" ad. What a stroke of creativity. I wish I had thought of that. Not only that but one would have to wonder if they would really want "A Million Bucks". I also totally understand asking a cat to rescue you from quicksand. I've seen that look from my cat a time or two before.
Today is Wednesday. Who can forget the "Guess What Day It Is" ad. That camel is priceless and the follow up commercial showed a stroke of creativity and genius that will never be equaled. All of these fit into my range as far as my sense of humor.
I can be contacted through my email or though this blog.
Thank You
Dave
PS: This is not related to the subject of my blog but I want to welcome my new readers from Slovakia and Sweeden. None of this blog may make sense to you but hang in there.
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| This is a subject very deer to me. See Geico, I work well with words. I would like to make a few bucks off writng commercials for you. Call me. |
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Don't Touch That Dial
I have a love for cable TV. Whatever time of day it is I can press the "guide" button on my remote and scan the channels for whatever program that is being broadcast. If I don't like what I see, which usually is the case because the rule of thumb is when you want to watch some good TV nothing is on no mater how many channels you get, I can always go to "on demand" where there is nothing I want to watch anyway. Ah the pleasures of the electronic age. All these channels for a price that is over inflated and most of us never watch.
Does anyone get up and change channels anymore? I admit to being guilty of overuse of the remote. By the way, the remote has functions on it that I am not aware of and will never use. Last night I hit a button by accident and there was a game show on. They were speaking Jamokistani. I don't even know where Jamokistan is but there was a commercial on the show that wanted me to order a pizza. How long would it take for a pizza to get to me from Jamokastan? I kind of wondered that.
I looked very seriously at the troubles of this world and I can confidently make this statement. We can blame all the ills of this world on the invention of the TV remote. We no longer get up from the couch and change channels. This set in motion a dangerous precedent of not exercising, as getting up off the couch and physically changing the TV channel was a wonderful physical activity. That has since gone way of the rotary telephone. We won't even mention the landline home telephone.
This brings me back to the title of this installment of my trifle comments here. I remember when you liked a program on one of the three network stations that were TV you wouldn't change the channel. Many of the announcers would say, "Don't touch that dial." Today's TV viewer would ask, what's a dial.
Does anyone get up and change channels anymore? I admit to being guilty of overuse of the remote. By the way, the remote has functions on it that I am not aware of and will never use. Last night I hit a button by accident and there was a game show on. They were speaking Jamokistani. I don't even know where Jamokistan is but there was a commercial on the show that wanted me to order a pizza. How long would it take for a pizza to get to me from Jamokastan? I kind of wondered that.
I looked very seriously at the troubles of this world and I can confidently make this statement. We can blame all the ills of this world on the invention of the TV remote. We no longer get up from the couch and change channels. This set in motion a dangerous precedent of not exercising, as getting up off the couch and physically changing the TV channel was a wonderful physical activity. That has since gone way of the rotary telephone. We won't even mention the landline home telephone.
This brings me back to the title of this installment of my trifle comments here. I remember when you liked a program on one of the three network stations that were TV you wouldn't change the channel. Many of the announcers would say, "Don't touch that dial." Today's TV viewer would ask, what's a dial.
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| I guess we must bridge the gap between the old and the new. OK, so that was a stretch. I have got to take some more pictures to illustrate my blog. |
Monday, July 13, 2015
Who Moved My Cheese...Uh, Car
I slept very well last night, thank you very much. There was just one problem. It was great being in a state of nocturnal bliss and tranquility but my sleep was disturbed. My brain decided to play a mean trick on me. You just wouldn't believe the dream I had.
Most nights I can remember my dreams and they are fairly pleasant. My favorite one was the dream where I wound up on an island inhabited by a tribe of beautiful women and I was the only man. There is a lot I could share with you about on this one, but I care not to as it would adversely effect my status as a married man. The couch in the living room is comfortable, but I would rather sleep in my bed and not the couch.
Here is my dream in a nutshell. Actually, I'm writing about it in this blog. The whole thing wouldn't fit in a nutshell and how could you read it if it was. Something written has to be orderly and on a surface where the letters are put out so that you could read it. I suppose you could put it on microfilm and put it in a nutshell, but you would need a reader to read the message. By the way, do people still use microfilm?
It seems as though I was going to a shop to help a friend build something. That in and of itself is kind of scary because with my mechanical skills you don't want me around any sort of tools. I can be dangerous but that is another story and I didn't mean to bring down that storage rack. It was an accident. Let's just leave it at that, shall we.
The friend's shop was located in the corner of a shopping center parking lot. The anchor tenant of the shopping center was a grocery store and the parking lot was very big. I parked my car out in the south forty of the lot. For those of you in Poland or France or Boston, do I need to explain south forty? Let's just say I parked my car away from everything in an isolated corner of the lot. I locked my car and went into my friend's shop which was a part of a gas station.
We had just finished what we were working on and I was about to leave. As I walked to my car a man came up to me and said, "You won't find your car out there."
"Why?" I asked.
"Its just been towed away to the gas station. There is a sign that says you can't park there over two hours and You've been parked there for two hours and five minutes. Your car is at the gas station and you have to pay to get it out."
"What sign?" I asked. I looked around and saw no sign. This was a bit upsetting.
I went back to the station to retrieve my car and was told by an attendant that he couldn't release the car and that only the manager had the authority. The manager who was also the owner had gone for the day so my car would have to stay the night. There would of course be a storage charge. I was not going to pay the storage fee when there was on sign.
The whole rest of the dream was me trying to get my car back. It seems as though the Supreme Court of the United States would not take the case. At that point, I decided to pay the $1,000,000 storage charge
that had built up and just forget the whole thing. Admitting defeat, I woke up.
Most nights I can remember my dreams and they are fairly pleasant. My favorite one was the dream where I wound up on an island inhabited by a tribe of beautiful women and I was the only man. There is a lot I could share with you about on this one, but I care not to as it would adversely effect my status as a married man. The couch in the living room is comfortable, but I would rather sleep in my bed and not the couch.
Here is my dream in a nutshell. Actually, I'm writing about it in this blog. The whole thing wouldn't fit in a nutshell and how could you read it if it was. Something written has to be orderly and on a surface where the letters are put out so that you could read it. I suppose you could put it on microfilm and put it in a nutshell, but you would need a reader to read the message. By the way, do people still use microfilm?
It seems as though I was going to a shop to help a friend build something. That in and of itself is kind of scary because with my mechanical skills you don't want me around any sort of tools. I can be dangerous but that is another story and I didn't mean to bring down that storage rack. It was an accident. Let's just leave it at that, shall we.
The friend's shop was located in the corner of a shopping center parking lot. The anchor tenant of the shopping center was a grocery store and the parking lot was very big. I parked my car out in the south forty of the lot. For those of you in Poland or France or Boston, do I need to explain south forty? Let's just say I parked my car away from everything in an isolated corner of the lot. I locked my car and went into my friend's shop which was a part of a gas station.
We had just finished what we were working on and I was about to leave. As I walked to my car a man came up to me and said, "You won't find your car out there."
"Why?" I asked.
"Its just been towed away to the gas station. There is a sign that says you can't park there over two hours and You've been parked there for two hours and five minutes. Your car is at the gas station and you have to pay to get it out."
"What sign?" I asked. I looked around and saw no sign. This was a bit upsetting.
I went back to the station to retrieve my car and was told by an attendant that he couldn't release the car and that only the manager had the authority. The manager who was also the owner had gone for the day so my car would have to stay the night. There would of course be a storage charge. I was not going to pay the storage fee when there was on sign.
The whole rest of the dream was me trying to get my car back. It seems as though the Supreme Court of the United States would not take the case. At that point, I decided to pay the $1,000,000 storage charge
that had built up and just forget the whole thing. Admitting defeat, I woke up.
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| Had to change my mode of transportation. |
Friday, July 10, 2015
Milk It For All Its Worth
I wasn't going to post today, but I just couldn't avoid it. An opportunity came up and I just will not let it pass. Whenever life gives you an opportunity, you have to jump on it. It is sort of like the hanging curve ball in baseball. If a pitcher throws you a lolipop hanging curve ball over the plate you have to hit it out of the park. By the way, that is where I heading today. I am going to a Giants game, but that has nothing to do with this post.
So, my wife poured herself a bowl of cereal. She spilled some milk out of the bowl and onto her recliner. She didn't say much, just "Oh darn, I spilled some milk."
That got the wheels in my head turning. As you probably know, getting the wheels turning in my head doesn't take much. At any rate, she didn't get very emotional. I was very proud of her because...
...Wait for it...
...Wait for it...
...Wait for it...
...Here it comes, so be prepared...
...Are you ready?...
...Here it comes...
She didn't cry over spilled milk. And my mom always told me, "Never Cry Over Spilled Milk".
PS: For those who do not follow baseball or do not understand the game, I apologize for the baseball metaphor.
So, my wife poured herself a bowl of cereal. She spilled some milk out of the bowl and onto her recliner. She didn't say much, just "Oh darn, I spilled some milk."
That got the wheels in my head turning. As you probably know, getting the wheels turning in my head doesn't take much. At any rate, she didn't get very emotional. I was very proud of her because...
...Wait for it...
...Wait for it...
...Wait for it...
...Here it comes, so be prepared...
...Are you ready?...
...Here it comes...
She didn't cry over spilled milk. And my mom always told me, "Never Cry Over Spilled Milk".
PS: For those who do not follow baseball or do not understand the game, I apologize for the baseball metaphor.
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| Take me out to the ball game. What does that have to do with spilled milk? |
Monday, July 6, 2015
The Price Is Right
I'm sorry but you will have to wait a bit longer for today's post. I'm watching The Price Is Right. Will she win the car.?
No, you are way off. Excuse me, I have to go. She's about to blow it. The bathroom cleaner isn't that much. Take the popcorn. Oh, you blew it. No car for you. You do get to spin the wheel though.
I'll come back later.
No, you are way off. Excuse me, I have to go. She's about to blow it. The bathroom cleaner isn't that much. Take the popcorn. Oh, you blew it. No car for you. You do get to spin the wheel though.
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| Nope, not this car. Besides it has four flats. |
Saturday, July 4, 2015
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Hey Geico, I Could Write A Commercial For You
Dear Geico Insurance
I would like to offer my services to you as a commercial writer. If you have read any of my posts on this blog--you probably haven't but you are not alone in that--you would have noticed that I am a very witty guy. I could bring that wit and strange sense of humor to your advertising campaigns.
The gecko campaign is truly a stroke of genius. Who would have thought that a small green amphibian whose name is a close homophone to your corporate name would fit the bill as your company spokesman--oops, that's spokesperson as we don't want to offend anyone. You really took the ball and ran with it on this one. I do have a question though. Where is the gecko from with his slight cockney accent? I would guess Belize or possibly what was formerly known as British Guyana. Hold on, I'll check Google on that...
Wikepedia--we all know the foremost authority on everything which is always accurate--states that Geckos are a lizard that can be found in any warm climate. It also states that a species can be found in New Zealand. This has caused a change in my thinking, based upon the accent of the Geico Gecko. There is an outside chance he is from New Zealand, although I don't detect a "down under" sound in his accent. You tell me. Where is the famous Gecko from? I promise I won't tell.
For now, I have one last question for you. Where does he hide his wallet?
I would like to offer my services to you as a commercial writer. If you have read any of my posts on this blog--you probably haven't but you are not alone in that--you would have noticed that I am a very witty guy. I could bring that wit and strange sense of humor to your advertising campaigns.
The gecko campaign is truly a stroke of genius. Who would have thought that a small green amphibian whose name is a close homophone to your corporate name would fit the bill as your company spokesman--oops, that's spokesperson as we don't want to offend anyone. You really took the ball and ran with it on this one. I do have a question though. Where is the gecko from with his slight cockney accent? I would guess Belize or possibly what was formerly known as British Guyana. Hold on, I'll check Google on that...
Wikepedia--we all know the foremost authority on everything which is always accurate--states that Geckos are a lizard that can be found in any warm climate. It also states that a species can be found in New Zealand. This has caused a change in my thinking, based upon the accent of the Geico Gecko. There is an outside chance he is from New Zealand, although I don't detect a "down under" sound in his accent. You tell me. Where is the famous Gecko from? I promise I won't tell.
For now, I have one last question for you. Where does he hide his wallet?
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| This is a close as I could come to a picture of a Gecko. The colors are close and birds are related to lizards. |
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Monday, June 29, 2015
Revenge Of The Machines
So, I got my computer fixed. It just doesn't end there though. My computer is working fine and
doing exactly what I want it to do, but I think it kind of resented the fact that I got it fixed and can no longer cause me a great amount of frustration. Machines talk to one another, and I think that they hold grudges, especially when we humans want to wrest control back from their dominance. Such is the case with my car.
Do you know how many computer components are on a car. Yes, my car was manufactured--not made by the way because when you make something there is the possibility that you also install a personality or some form of intelligence--in 2004. I realize that is old and the electronics on it are not as advanced as a car that is built--again built, not made--in 2015. But, like a grandson sitting at the knee of their grandfather they still talk to one another. They share stories and especially share conspiracies, especially on how to drive humans crazy.
Someone who is as techno-challenged as I am has no chance. We frustrate easily and machines know this. Yes, I did have my computer fixed but it talked to my car. As a form of revenge it ordered my car to go on the fritz. You got to love the communication and networking.
I put a lot of loving kindness in my car. I give it baths and watch it's fluid levels. Occasionally I even feed it high octane fuel. Do you blame me for reacting the way I am. My frustration level is very high at this point. The options I have open to me are very narrow. I have to take it to a car doctor and have a machine tell the doctor what is wrong with it.
The services that the doctor is going to perform on my car are pretty expensive and I am still at the mercy of another machine that diagnoses what is wrong. Once again and I can't say this strongly enough, it is a wicked conspiracy. Think about it for a minute, how do I know that the diagnostic machine is telling the truth or just pulling my chain? What other machine is going to cause me a great amount of frustration after I get my car fixed? All of this kind of makes you think, doesn't it?
Maybe not.
doing exactly what I want it to do, but I think it kind of resented the fact that I got it fixed and can no longer cause me a great amount of frustration. Machines talk to one another, and I think that they hold grudges, especially when we humans want to wrest control back from their dominance. Such is the case with my car.
Do you know how many computer components are on a car. Yes, my car was manufactured--not made by the way because when you make something there is the possibility that you also install a personality or some form of intelligence--in 2004. I realize that is old and the electronics on it are not as advanced as a car that is built--again built, not made--in 2015. But, like a grandson sitting at the knee of their grandfather they still talk to one another. They share stories and especially share conspiracies, especially on how to drive humans crazy.
Someone who is as techno-challenged as I am has no chance. We frustrate easily and machines know this. Yes, I did have my computer fixed but it talked to my car. As a form of revenge it ordered my car to go on the fritz. You got to love the communication and networking.
I put a lot of loving kindness in my car. I give it baths and watch it's fluid levels. Occasionally I even feed it high octane fuel. Do you blame me for reacting the way I am. My frustration level is very high at this point. The options I have open to me are very narrow. I have to take it to a car doctor and have a machine tell the doctor what is wrong with it.
The services that the doctor is going to perform on my car are pretty expensive and I am still at the mercy of another machine that diagnoses what is wrong. Once again and I can't say this strongly enough, it is a wicked conspiracy. Think about it for a minute, how do I know that the diagnostic machine is telling the truth or just pulling my chain? What other machine is going to cause me a great amount of frustration after I get my car fixed? All of this kind of makes you think, doesn't it?
Maybe not.
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| Not my car anymore. I really miss that car. |
Friday, June 26, 2015
OUCH!
I think every muscle in my body is sore right now. Why you may ask, or your may not ask. You may not care and that's all right too. The fact that my muscles are sore is not something that will not bring the world as we know it to an end. It feels like it right now from my perspective, but from a more worldly perspective it just isn't that important. I understand that and accept that fact. It still doesn't change that I am sore all over.
My clothes have been a little bit tight on me of recent so I decided to get on a scale to see just how much I weigh. That figure is none of your beeswax and I won't reveal that number to the general public. That is a secret, sort of like Caitlyn Jenner's measurements so I won't give those numbers--my weight that is. What I will tell you is that the number--my weight--has climbed just a bit. Yes, I have gained a little weight.
I decided it was time to do something about it, and that was return to what I was doing when I lost so much weight the last time I tried a few years ago and lost seventy pounds. I needed to limit my portion sizes, eat more health things, limit my sugar intake to almost nothing and most importantly go back to the gym and work out. One thing I wasn't going to do though was get another divorce. That was totally out of the question and I want to reassure Denise that was not an option. Tonight I may be sleeping in the doghouse for saying that, but oh well and by the way, we don't have a doghouse or a dog.
Monday, I went back to the gym for the first time in about a month and a half. It felt wonderful. I do miss the sauna and jacuzzi that was in the gyms that I worked out in before. That's a bit off the subject so that is all I will mention of that. It was a reward that I gave myself to spend some time after a workout to soothe those tired muscles. OK, I will move on and get to the point. I promise. Yes, I was sore on Tuesday but I returned to the gym on Wednesday and had a very good workout.
It was a very hot day Thursday. The mercury soared into the low 100's. Denise went to a baseball game in San Francisco so naturally I had to play golf. I would drink a lot of water so as to not dehydrate and all was great with the world. I was a little sore from the workout the day before but played well and shot a 92, which is good for me since I only play golf once every three months now.
Last night, I plopped myself into bed extremely exhausted but totally happy. Immediately I fell into a deep and satisfying sleep. About an hour and a half into that deep slumber, I was rudely awakened by severe pain in my right leg. It was a muscle cramp and a bad one at that. I managed to get up and walk it off with the pain going away after a few excruciating moments. This one hurt!
I managed to go back to bed and fell asleep again. The rest of the night was fairly uneventful and I woke up earlier this morning to a very sore body. No, I don't always walk like a gorilla.
My clothes have been a little bit tight on me of recent so I decided to get on a scale to see just how much I weigh. That figure is none of your beeswax and I won't reveal that number to the general public. That is a secret, sort of like Caitlyn Jenner's measurements so I won't give those numbers--my weight that is. What I will tell you is that the number--my weight--has climbed just a bit. Yes, I have gained a little weight.
I decided it was time to do something about it, and that was return to what I was doing when I lost so much weight the last time I tried a few years ago and lost seventy pounds. I needed to limit my portion sizes, eat more health things, limit my sugar intake to almost nothing and most importantly go back to the gym and work out. One thing I wasn't going to do though was get another divorce. That was totally out of the question and I want to reassure Denise that was not an option. Tonight I may be sleeping in the doghouse for saying that, but oh well and by the way, we don't have a doghouse or a dog.
Monday, I went back to the gym for the first time in about a month and a half. It felt wonderful. I do miss the sauna and jacuzzi that was in the gyms that I worked out in before. That's a bit off the subject so that is all I will mention of that. It was a reward that I gave myself to spend some time after a workout to soothe those tired muscles. OK, I will move on and get to the point. I promise. Yes, I was sore on Tuesday but I returned to the gym on Wednesday and had a very good workout.
It was a very hot day Thursday. The mercury soared into the low 100's. Denise went to a baseball game in San Francisco so naturally I had to play golf. I would drink a lot of water so as to not dehydrate and all was great with the world. I was a little sore from the workout the day before but played well and shot a 92, which is good for me since I only play golf once every three months now.
Last night, I plopped myself into bed extremely exhausted but totally happy. Immediately I fell into a deep and satisfying sleep. About an hour and a half into that deep slumber, I was rudely awakened by severe pain in my right leg. It was a muscle cramp and a bad one at that. I managed to get up and walk it off with the pain going away after a few excruciating moments. This one hurt!
I managed to go back to bed and fell asleep again. The rest of the night was fairly uneventful and I woke up earlier this morning to a very sore body. No, I don't always walk like a gorilla.
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| I didn't get to play here yesterday. |
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
It's A Computer Conspiracy--Part III
I have to announce that there is good news. After many days of fighting a battle with this electronic tool, I have finally got it fixed. My computer expert did a wonderful job of diagnosing and fixing the problem. I cannot thank him enough. I am back in business and my computer is running as good as new. The conspirators have been defeated and dealt with.
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| Well done, O techno guru. You are the greatest! |
Hair Washing and Pollution--Really?
In this world we have to be very careful in preserving our environment. Especially here in California where we are having to live under the worst drought conditions ever recorded in weather keeping history. Our goal should be to protect our water supply. What we do have cannot be polluted, especially by dumping raw sewage into the American River by certain Norther California municipalities who shall remain nameless. Sometimes I have to restrain from political comment because this blog is meant to entertain and bring a few laughs. It is not intended to comment on politics, so we will leave it at that.
Here it is folks, I'm going to give it to you between both eyes. Well, maybe I shouldn't have put it that way. You may have taken that comment the wrong way, given the amount of gun violence we have in our country today. I want to make it clear to you that I don't own a gun. My daughter does, but I don't. I can't pass the background check having spent some time in a mental institution back in 1996. I am non-violent, I can assure you. What does this have to do with water pollution? OK, I'll get back to what I was going to say.
How many of you have seen the commercial for a shampoo product where there is a woman taking a bath in a jungle mountain pool underneath a pristine waterfall and she is washing her hair with a commercial shampoo? Admit it, you have seen it. It is done in good taste. It seems as though she is a Mayan or some other jungle tribe, which is of no consequence. What is important here is that she is rinsing her hair in that pure mountain water. What about the people living downstream from where she is washing her hair. They are having to drink water that has been contaminated by the shampoo she was using. I don't know about you, but I hate to drink water that tastes like shampoo. Where are the environmentalists on this one? Where is the outrage?
Please respect my right to drink clean, unpolluted water. DON'T take a bath or wash your hair with a commercial shampoo upstream of where I get my drinking water. I can take cherry flavored water, but shampoo flavored water just doesn't taste that good.
Here it is folks, I'm going to give it to you between both eyes. Well, maybe I shouldn't have put it that way. You may have taken that comment the wrong way, given the amount of gun violence we have in our country today. I want to make it clear to you that I don't own a gun. My daughter does, but I don't. I can't pass the background check having spent some time in a mental institution back in 1996. I am non-violent, I can assure you. What does this have to do with water pollution? OK, I'll get back to what I was going to say.
How many of you have seen the commercial for a shampoo product where there is a woman taking a bath in a jungle mountain pool underneath a pristine waterfall and she is washing her hair with a commercial shampoo? Admit it, you have seen it. It is done in good taste. It seems as though she is a Mayan or some other jungle tribe, which is of no consequence. What is important here is that she is rinsing her hair in that pure mountain water. What about the people living downstream from where she is washing her hair. They are having to drink water that has been contaminated by the shampoo she was using. I don't know about you, but I hate to drink water that tastes like shampoo. Where are the environmentalists on this one? Where is the outrage?
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| Sorry, I'm horsing around again. They wash him with recycled water, by the way and no shampoo. |
Monday, June 22, 2015
No Joke--Literally
I am very much aware of my job. That job is to bring a hearty laugh and a different perspective of the world around us to you my readers. Many have commented that I see the world through slightly skewed eyes. My observations are a bit different, to say the least and I hope that I have made you think a bit and perhaps chuckle. Today is a little different. I have nothing to share with you.
My world of late has been pretty dull. Sometimes you look and do not find. Such is the case with me and what is happening. It has been a busy few weeks and the events of the past few weeks have taken me away from my desire to write. That is sad, I know but it is true.
I am afraid I have nothing witty to share with you today. Let me assure you that this is a very temporary state in which I have come into because my mind has been racing and my wife is about ready to throw me out of the house for some of the bad jokes that I have come up with recently. Please stay with me and experience this drought of humor with me. I need the company. By the way, maybe it is the lack of water here in California that is contributing to my drought of ideas. It could just be the debate over water or High Speed Rail here in California that is syphoning off my enthusiasm. Ooops, I am not going to turn this into a political column but I just couldn't resist.
My advice is hang in there. My mind can't be held in bondage for too much longer.
My world of late has been pretty dull. Sometimes you look and do not find. Such is the case with me and what is happening. It has been a busy few weeks and the events of the past few weeks have taken me away from my desire to write. That is sad, I know but it is true.
I am afraid I have nothing witty to share with you today. Let me assure you that this is a very temporary state in which I have come into because my mind has been racing and my wife is about ready to throw me out of the house for some of the bad jokes that I have come up with recently. Please stay with me and experience this drought of humor with me. I need the company. By the way, maybe it is the lack of water here in California that is contributing to my drought of ideas. It could just be the debate over water or High Speed Rail here in California that is syphoning off my enthusiasm. Ooops, I am not going to turn this into a political column but I just couldn't resist.
My advice is hang in there. My mind can't be held in bondage for too much longer.
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| Blame Canada! |
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Father's Day 2015
I am not going to post much today as it is Sunday and Father's Day 2015. Thanks Dad, I know you have passed away but I thank you for all that you gave me. Just like the Harry Chapin song Cats In The Cradle, I have grown up a lot like you.
For all you fathers, I give you this. I hope that you enjoy it. It is the video of Trump National. Click on it and enjoy!
https://youtu.be/sY5i6cytoqM
For all you fathers, I give you this. I hope that you enjoy it. It is the video of Trump National. Click on it and enjoy!
https://youtu.be/sY5i6cytoqM
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| The waterfall behind the 17th hole at Trump National Los Angeles. |
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Its A Conspiracy--Part 2
It is a conspiracy. I get on my computer many times a day and it is as if it is laughing at me. Yesterday my computer had to be worked on to remove some things that were not that pretty. The fact of the matter is, it was spying on me. This is the truth.
For the past couple of weeks, my computer has been doing some strange things and has been running very slow. You can see some of the mischief that it caused just by looking at my last post. It redacted, that's a government term for blacked out, some of the best points in my last post. Again, I don't know what is going on in it's beady little brain. That's right, it doesn't have a brain just a jumble of electronic stuff that I don't understand anyway. I long for the days of analog.
What has been done has been done. The witty bit of writing that was my last blog post has been lost in the world of cyberspace and I can't get it back. This is tragic, although I think that the world will keep on spinning. However, you will not discover the true joy of my wit that I created in Thursday's post. That is sad. Don't worry though, the problem seems to be fixed and I have come to an understanding with my computer. I'll hit the keys and share my wit, and you just take care of the 0's and 1's. I am the brains behind this operation, and you are just a tool in my success. I love you, most of the time, but please keep the relationship in perspective. You serve me, I don't serve you.
That's it for today as I commit this wonderful bit of literaturial drivel to the highway that is the internet. By the way, what is the internet anyway. Computers talking to other computers. Now there is a scary idea.
For the past couple of weeks, my computer has been doing some strange things and has been running very slow. You can see some of the mischief that it caused just by looking at my last post. It redacted, that's a government term for blacked out, some of the best points in my last post. Again, I don't know what is going on in it's beady little brain. That's right, it doesn't have a brain just a jumble of electronic stuff that I don't understand anyway. I long for the days of analog.
What has been done has been done. The witty bit of writing that was my last blog post has been lost in the world of cyberspace and I can't get it back. This is tragic, although I think that the world will keep on spinning. However, you will not discover the true joy of my wit that I created in Thursday's post. That is sad. Don't worry though, the problem seems to be fixed and I have come to an understanding with my computer. I'll hit the keys and share my wit, and you just take care of the 0's and 1's. I am the brains behind this operation, and you are just a tool in my success. I love you, most of the time, but please keep the relationship in perspective. You serve me, I don't serve you.
That's it for today as I commit this wonderful bit of literaturial drivel to the highway that is the internet. By the way, what is the internet anyway. Computers talking to other computers. Now there is a scary idea.
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| Kind of looks like the inside of my brain.Don't touch the lever on the right! |
Thursday, June 18, 2015
It's a Computer Conspiracy
I think that computers are out to get us. Its true. They were intended to make life better for us, but that is not the case. Their hidden agenda is now starting to surface and has reared it's ugly head with my computer. That modern tool that I depend on every day is now on the fritz, with no ill feelings toward Fritz.
I am not going to describe what is happening to my modern marvel of technology. What the heck, I couldn't describe it anyway so why bother. The darn thing just isn't working right. More importantly, my puny attempts to fix it have been met in utter frustration--mine not the computer's. I think that it is laughing at me. They share these things with other computers. Computers compare notes you know, sharing how they have completely made their human users go bonkers. I think they call it interfacing, and they know.
Those of you who are conspiracy theorists can take heart with this one. I don't know who shot JFK and I don't know if Roswell was really an alien spacecraft crash site. What I do know is that they are out to get us--computers I mean. What do all those 0's and 1's mean anyway. What is going on in their beady little binary minds. How can we really foul up that human today? That's what is going on.
I agree with the noted philosopher, whose name is Unknown. That's a strange name, isn't it? Why did his mother call him unknown. Was she mad at him or something. History does not mention this. He or she did write a lot though as many philosophical sayings and writings are credited to Unknown.
What did that philosopher Unknown say about this, as I return to the original subject. Sorry, my ADD kicked in and I got a little off subject. I will leave you with this and what they said. "To err is human. It takes a computer to really foul things up." AMEN!
I am not going to describe what is happening to my modern marvel of technology. What the heck, I couldn't describe it anyway so why bother. The darn thing just isn't working right. More importantly, my puny attempts to fix it have been met in utter frustration--mine not the computer's. I think that it is laughing at me. They share these things with other computers. Computers compare notes you know, sharing how they have completely made their human users go bonkers. I think they call it interfacing, and they know.
Those of you who are conspiracy theorists can take heart with this one. I don't know who shot JFK and I don't know if Roswell was really an alien spacecraft crash site. What I do know is that they are out to get us--computers I mean. What do all those 0's and 1's mean anyway. What is going on in their beady little binary minds. How can we really foul up that human today? That's what is going on.
I agree with the noted philosopher, whose name is Unknown. That's a strange name, isn't it? Why did his mother call him unknown. Was she mad at him or something. History does not mention this. He or she did write a lot though as many philosophical sayings and writings are credited to Unknown.
What did that philosopher Unknown say about this, as I return to the original subject. Sorry, my ADD kicked in and I got a little off subject. I will leave you with this and what they said. "To err is human. It takes a computer to really foul things up." AMEN!
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| My Able-Bodied Computer Technician |
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Breakfast of Champions
I don't like to eat breakfast. The most important meal of the day and I are not on good speaking terms. It should be the easiest thing in the world to do, just go into the kitchen and pour a bowl of Froot Loops and enjoy, but I just don't feel like it each morning. Shame on me I guess.
Americans like a hearty breakfast. Eggs, bacon, ham or sausage and some hash browns provide the necessary nourishment to hold you off to the next meal. Denise likes oatmeal, and I was once on the oatmeal gravy train as well. It seems as though the gravy was taken away, due to it's high fat content and the train, and Amtrak train by the way, derailed going around a curve at 100 plus miles an hour. I just don't take the time to fix it. My qualifications for creating a fine bowl of oatmeal are well documented, but I choose not to utilize those skills. Was that a cunning way to say that I am lazy. You can take it for what it is on face value. I won't admit to anything.
Froot Loops are not the best of breakfasts. I do on occasion breakfast on Maple Frosted Mini Wheats or maybe some raisin bran. I like raisin bran, especially the raisins and have a technique to eat them. There has to be at least two raisins in every bite. I love raisins and I thank God for inventing them, but I still don't like to eat breakfast.
Last night my wife went to Jamba Juice and brought home some smoothies. I like their strawberry collada smoothie. I didn't drink much of it last night because I was very full from the crap I scrounged up last night for dinner. I put it in the 'fridge and am drinking it now. They are nutritious, right? After all, they contain strawberries, pineapple, coconut milk, and orange juice. Those are some healthy ingredients and the smoothie contained no meat or animal products. That ought to make you animal lovers out there happy. I won't go there though.
Got to run now. Denise wants to go to Dublin and look over some music at the music publishers store. I'm enjoying my smoothie.
Americans like a hearty breakfast. Eggs, bacon, ham or sausage and some hash browns provide the necessary nourishment to hold you off to the next meal. Denise likes oatmeal, and I was once on the oatmeal gravy train as well. It seems as though the gravy was taken away, due to it's high fat content and the train, and Amtrak train by the way, derailed going around a curve at 100 plus miles an hour. I just don't take the time to fix it. My qualifications for creating a fine bowl of oatmeal are well documented, but I choose not to utilize those skills. Was that a cunning way to say that I am lazy. You can take it for what it is on face value. I won't admit to anything.
Froot Loops are not the best of breakfasts. I do on occasion breakfast on Maple Frosted Mini Wheats or maybe some raisin bran. I like raisin bran, especially the raisins and have a technique to eat them. There has to be at least two raisins in every bite. I love raisins and I thank God for inventing them, but I still don't like to eat breakfast.
Last night my wife went to Jamba Juice and brought home some smoothies. I like their strawberry collada smoothie. I didn't drink much of it last night because I was very full from the crap I scrounged up last night for dinner. I put it in the 'fridge and am drinking it now. They are nutritious, right? After all, they contain strawberries, pineapple, coconut milk, and orange juice. Those are some healthy ingredients and the smoothie contained no meat or animal products. That ought to make you animal lovers out there happy. I won't go there though.
Got to run now. Denise wants to go to Dublin and look over some music at the music publishers store. I'm enjoying my smoothie.
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| Yup. It's what's for breakfast. |
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Clam Up In Israel
I am a little frustrated right now as I am having issues with my computer. That will probably show up in a later post. Today I wanted to give you a little insight on how my brain works. Those of you who are psychiatric in nature and care to analyze me, I have to let you in on this. Many have tried and all have failed.
I had a dream last night. I hesitate to analyze the whole thing, but even I thought it was very strange. I was involved in a clam bake. The interesting thing about this was that the clam bake was in Israel. I wouldn't lie to you. I thought it was a bit odd as well. Isn't shellfish forbidden under rabbinical law. I thought Jews can't eat clams, especially in Israel. Arabs can, I think but I am not sure.
I love clams. I have tried them raw on the half shell and they taste like Tide detergent, even with a bit of lemon and tabasco sauce. The mollusks are great steamed in garlic and butter dipped in a little bit of drawn butter after they are steamed. Clams are great fried as well and of course in New England Clam Chowder. Clams are delicious, but you don't have to go to Israel to have them.
It seems as though this variety of clam that we were dining on in Israel were a special kind of clam. They were big and they had a huge amount of meat in them. After you opened the shell, there was like a beefy fillet that you cut like a steak. You have to remember that this was a dream and came from my nocturnal imagination. With my brain, anything is libel to show up. Suffice it to say, the experience was very interesting. How did the clams taste? I don't know, I woke up, went into the kitchen and opened up a can of clam chowder.
I had a dream last night. I hesitate to analyze the whole thing, but even I thought it was very strange. I was involved in a clam bake. The interesting thing about this was that the clam bake was in Israel. I wouldn't lie to you. I thought it was a bit odd as well. Isn't shellfish forbidden under rabbinical law. I thought Jews can't eat clams, especially in Israel. Arabs can, I think but I am not sure.
I love clams. I have tried them raw on the half shell and they taste like Tide detergent, even with a bit of lemon and tabasco sauce. The mollusks are great steamed in garlic and butter dipped in a little bit of drawn butter after they are steamed. Clams are great fried as well and of course in New England Clam Chowder. Clams are delicious, but you don't have to go to Israel to have them.
It seems as though this variety of clam that we were dining on in Israel were a special kind of clam. They were big and they had a huge amount of meat in them. After you opened the shell, there was like a beefy fillet that you cut like a steak. You have to remember that this was a dream and came from my nocturnal imagination. With my brain, anything is libel to show up. Suffice it to say, the experience was very interesting. How did the clams taste? I don't know, I woke up, went into the kitchen and opened up a can of clam chowder.
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| How come he never dreams about us? |
Monday, June 15, 2015
Where Have You Been?
It seems as though I have done this before. I know that it is very important to post often and be consistent. That is a problem to me, but I am going to try to fix that. After all, I am a writer and I need to write. I also need to pay the bills, but that is another story.
There is a real good reason for my not posting, I'm sure. I have been sick for more that three weeks. That's a good one. My step-son just got marries and I was helping with the preparations for that. OK, that won't work. I have been playing too much golf. If you call four times since January an excuse, I guess you could say that. I have been watching too many "Chick Flicks" on TV. That could be thrown into the mix, It is baseball season and the Giants are playing and on TV almost every night can be used as an excuse.
My final excuse is truly the best. There is no excuse. It's time to get writing again.
There is a real good reason for my not posting, I'm sure. I have been sick for more that three weeks. That's a good one. My step-son just got marries and I was helping with the preparations for that. OK, that won't work. I have been playing too much golf. If you call four times since January an excuse, I guess you could say that. I have been watching too many "Chick Flicks" on TV. That could be thrown into the mix, It is baseball season and the Giants are playing and on TV almost every night can be used as an excuse.
My final excuse is truly the best. There is no excuse. It's time to get writing again.
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| This is what my brain has looked like recently. I'm trying to restore it. |
Friday, June 12, 2015
Monday, June 1, 2015
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Monday, May 18, 2015
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Friday, May 8, 2015
Hallmark Of Life
I don't know how many of you watch the Hallmark Channel on Cable TV. Do they get the channel in Poland? The jury is still out for me as to whether or not I should be watching it. To me, I just think that watching "chick" programs may be just another waste of my time.
Those movies are something else. Let me see, woman gets divorced and moves to a horse ranch with her daughter. Her husband was a real bad guy, by the way. She meets this good looking ranch hand that is very mysterious that she knows nothing about. The daughter takes a liking to the ranch hand who wants the mom to hook up with him. Boom, the ranch hand and the mom finally kiss and they are off to the races. Sometimes the daughter is health, and sometimes she has some sort of disease that is or is not incurable. I could write a movie for Hallmark. Come on people, just use the scenario and it can't be that hard. I don't want to waste my time writing a script, or even watching one of these movies.
Take for example the Hallmark series "When Calls The Heart". Why would I want to watch such "chick flick" drivel. Why would I watch a show in which a Canadian socialite moves to a coal mining town in rural British Columbia to teach school? Yep, that makes a lot of sense. What does she do? She falls in love with the local handsome Mountie. There are a lot of horses in this one.
By the way, what do you think of the new guy in town,Leland Coulter? He's going to build a lumber mill that will replace the coal mine. How about his romance with Rose. With that ever develop. What about Abigail and her cafe? Is it going to be a success? The town name has been changed to "Hope" and how will that be received. The big question is, will Elizabeth return to "Hope" and renew her relationship with Mountie Jack or will she opt to stay in Hamilton and marry Charles. What a waste of time.
OK, what can I say? I'm hooked.
Those movies are something else. Let me see, woman gets divorced and moves to a horse ranch with her daughter. Her husband was a real bad guy, by the way. She meets this good looking ranch hand that is very mysterious that she knows nothing about. The daughter takes a liking to the ranch hand who wants the mom to hook up with him. Boom, the ranch hand and the mom finally kiss and they are off to the races. Sometimes the daughter is health, and sometimes she has some sort of disease that is or is not incurable. I could write a movie for Hallmark. Come on people, just use the scenario and it can't be that hard. I don't want to waste my time writing a script, or even watching one of these movies.
Take for example the Hallmark series "When Calls The Heart". Why would I want to watch such "chick flick" drivel. Why would I watch a show in which a Canadian socialite moves to a coal mining town in rural British Columbia to teach school? Yep, that makes a lot of sense. What does she do? She falls in love with the local handsome Mountie. There are a lot of horses in this one.
By the way, what do you think of the new guy in town,Leland Coulter? He's going to build a lumber mill that will replace the coal mine. How about his romance with Rose. With that ever develop. What about Abigail and her cafe? Is it going to be a success? The town name has been changed to "Hope" and how will that be received. The big question is, will Elizabeth return to "Hope" and renew her relationship with Mountie Jack or will she opt to stay in Hamilton and marry Charles. What a waste of time.
OK, what can I say? I'm hooked.
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| I've been to Canada before. |
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