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.

What time is it?  I don't know, I can't read the face of the clock.  I don't have my glasses on.

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?

Move It?  Hmmmm....

The Golf Course Travel Bag: The Old Ball Game

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.

Yep, she needed a bit of work.

 

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.

Thanks!  More coming on Monday. 

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.

A description in pictures of  my strenuous activities this weekend.

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.

The culprit.  Such a simple device but it is an instrument of torture for it's installer.

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 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.

You think I'm bad at farming, you should see me fish. No, I didn't catch these. 

   
   

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.

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......

Occasionally I will wear a sweater and sneakers. 

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'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.

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. 

     

The Golf Course Travel Bag: Stevinson Ranch 15

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.

I know for a fact that we aren't going parachuting.

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.

This is a beautiful place, but its nothing like my "Happy Place".

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.

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.  

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.

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.  

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.

Had to change my mode of transportation.

     

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.

Take me out to the ball game. What does that have to do with spilled milk?

The Golf Course Travel Bag: Senior Tournament Day!

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.

Nope, not this car.  Besides it has four flats.

     I'll come back later.

The Golf Course Travel Bag: Fresno Civil War Re-enactment

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?

This is a close as I could come to a picture of a Gecko. The colors are close and birds are related to lizards.