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

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

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

Coffee--Part 28

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

I suppose that this post came up a little flat.

It's Saturday, My Day Off

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

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

"We" Strike Again

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

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

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

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

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

   

Weird Dream--Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

     

Weird Dream

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

This is the bedroom.  No deep trenches here.

 












           

Weeds--Not Weed

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

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

     

Coffee!!! Part 2

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

Coffee!!!

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

How about a little Mariachi music until I get back?

     

Saturday (Correction To Previous Saturday Post)

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

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

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

Saturday Morning

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

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

     

Sorry, I Just Won't Comment On That

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

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

Thank You!

     I want to express a sense of gratefulness to you all. I looked this morning and I have exceeded the 8,000 hit mark for this blog.  My other blog has exceeded the 2,000 mark.  I am indeed very thankful that you are tuning in and reading my blogs.  For this I thank you, and hope you will keep reading. I certainly do appreciate your tuning in and I hope that I haven't scared you in any way with my thought processes but have given you some good chuckles and things to think about. THANK YOU!
     I think I'm going to take the day off today and celebrate the milestone, so that's it on the post today. I already have the next post topic in mind, something about...well, you will just have to wait.

Thanks again form DavidRallisWrites Central.  Thanks to you it's working...Or I'm working. 

           

Caution!...About What?

     For Father's Day my brother-in-law received an insulated beverage cup.  He was very happy to get it because he was saying that his coffee always got cold on his way to work, and he could use the cup to transport his coffee.  It would stay nice and hot. He was already making plans to use it. What happened next was quite curious.
     He opened the lid to look inside.  Yep, just a plain old insulated cup. Then he looked under the lid. Here's what it said in bold letters I might add, "Do Not Use This Cup With Hot Beverages". What?  It's an insulated cup.  What else do you use it for?  It is to keep hot beverages hot.  What else do you use it for. Hmmmm....
     It seems that the hot coffee idea just went out the window. WE don't want to go against the warnings and cautions the THEY give us to keep us safe, do WE? That was cute, wasn't it. See how I tied in my past blogs?  Go back and read the series about WE and THEY. At this point, THEY are the ones not having any fun. THEY are trying how to live our lives.  This is the bad THEY, the THEY that won't let you play in the mud.
     My brother-in-law said to himself, "That's OK, I'll use it for keeping my Diet Pepsi cold when I drink it."
     Wrong, my brother by law, not birth. Take another look at the lid. "Do not use with cold or carbonated beverages". What a bummer this is turning out to be.  What do I do with the darn thing. He put it up on a shelf in his bedroom closet, and that was the end of that.
     Who is trying to protect us and from what.  I can understand an alien invasion, preferably not by toddlers with sippee cups but by really nasty invaders. Is everything a plot to hurt us and one we need to be aware of? I don't think so. Why sell it if I can't use it?  Whatever happened to use your common sense.  We are supposed to have a consumer protection agency that does not allow products that are useless out on the market. Where do our tax dollars go? OK, I won't answer that.

WARNING!!!!Moving a piano can be hazardous to your health.

  

Bajamar 0001

4:00 AM

     I awoke at 4:00 AM-- that's 04:00 not 16:00 for those of you in Europe, the rest of the world and those in the military--this morning in order to assist my wife in transporting her mother and dad to a doctor's appointment in San Jose, California.  The appointment was scheduled for 8:15--08:15 not 20:15--and it  takes about two and a half hours to get to San Jose from Merced with a departure time of 5:00AM--05:00 not 17:00--from Dad and Mom's house.  The transit, I mean drive, to their house was uneventful.
     I was kind of happy because we were going to San Jose and they have a Baja Fresh there, Merced doesn't.  I love Baja Fresh.  They make some great burritos, especially the steak and shrimp combination. My heart was really set and I was eagerly expecting a shrimp and steak combination burrito. Did I mention that we got up at 4:00 AM--04:00 not 16:00?
     The mission--uh trip--went as planned as we traveled the road to Mom and Dad's house. They live in a gated retirement community which is pretty nice.  Denise texted her mom to tell them we were coming through the gate before we punched in the security code.  I'm not going to give you that code as it is classified and a national defense secret.  Don't even ask.  She punched in the code XXXX--not the real code-- and the gate opened.  We were on our way to their quarters--excuse me, home--to continue the trip--uh mission.
     As we pulled into Mom and Dad's driveway, Mom met us. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
     "We're taking you to San Jose." Denise answered.
     "I called you last night. I told you that your brother is going to take us and you don't have to.  I called you last night." Mom said. She did say, "I called you last night" twice right then. I do remember that.
     The conversation about who was taking whom and what the phone conversation went on for a bit, and I can't exactly say what was discussed but let's just say that Denise was mildly perturbed. A quote from the movie Cool Hand Luke kind of sums up the whole affair. "What we have here is a failure to communicate."
     I love both parties in the communication failure so I won't comment on it any further. I will comment on my state of mind at the time.  Most of those of you who know me know that I am an incurable optimist. My cup is half full and I am making lemonade from the lemons life just gave me as we speak, why not? Patience is a virtue, is it not? I don't have any money, but I do have patience and now I have lemonade. Do you want some?
     Mom and Dad have given me a wonderful gift this morning. First, I wouldn't have been able to experience this beautiful morning and colorful sunrise. They have given me a few extra hours of life that I can use, for what I don't know but I do plan to use it. The stillness and quiet of the house right now is priceless and calming
. Most importantly, they have given me a topic and something to write about today when I didn't have the foggiest notion of what to write about today.  Thanks Mom and Dad. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Denise, on the other hand, went back to bed.
     I have one regret, though. There will be no Baja Fresh.

What the world looks like at 4:00 AM or 04:00. Or did I take this when my eyes were closed? 

        

     

Caution...About What? Part 1

     We have all seen them.  The try to warn us of the dangers of this world. They are everywhere, including the morning coffee I somtime buy at Starbucks or McDonald's.  I wonder how much of an idiot Ronald is that he does not know that coffee is hot?  You may agree with me that this is getting out of hand.
     I was watching TV with Denise yesterday, a show she picked by the way.  I don't choose our TV shows anymore for some reason, and generally we watch something that is agreeable to both of us. I am thinking of auditioning for Law and Order SVU should they decide to do remakes of old episodes.  I have committed all the scripts to memory, not because I have read and memorized the scripts but because I have seen them all multiple times.  I actually like SVU, and when Denise asks if I want to watch it, I respond "Yes, Dear". I'm going off on a tangent again, so I will get back to my original subject.  I don't mind watching TV with Denise.  It's quality time.
      I'll get back to my story, not watching TV with Denise but the one about warnings.  We were watching a show and a commercial came on for a dog heart worm medication.  I know that dog heart worms is a very serious problem, and I am not downplaying it.  The commercial was kind of humorous with a dog running through a protective plastic tunnel to protect it from outside elements and heart worms. The mom slid the dog's food in through a double sliding glass door and the kids played with the dogs using isolation gloves through the outside of the tunnel.  You may have seen the commercial, unless you live in Poland, Russia or The Ukraine.  
    At the end of the commercial, just like advertisements for human drugs the announcer gave some side effect warnings. The last one was very curious, to say the least. At the end of the side effects warning he made the statement, "May cause depression in your dog".
      That's a very curious statement and brings up a very relevant question.  How do you know your dog is depressed?  Does he, or she because I don't want to tick off the feminists out there.  I think I will use it in the rest of this post when I talk about the dog.  Anyway, does he--I mean it--sleep more than when it is happy? When it sleeps, does it sleep with it's head toward the back of the doggie bed instead of the front?  How about his--sorry,--its--tail?  Does it wag its tail slower.  Think about it.  We want our dog to be safe and not depressed
     Where would we be without warning labels.  More about this in my next installment and hello Poland. Hello Russia as well. Thanks for tuning in as well, those of you in the Ukraine.  I promise I won't get into politics.

WARNING! Eating one of these Bacon Wrapped Corn Dogs will certainly...Oh well, just enjoy it.

 

Wurds and Frases (Part two)

   It didn't work.  I tried saying "I don wanna" when Denise asked me to take out the trash.  She grabbed me by the ear and said, "If you want to act like a two year old, I'll treat you like one." It hurt. She then made me take out the trash, which I promptly did. Don't try that at home, fellas.

She made me take out all the trash.

Wurds and Frases...Hmmm....

     I didn't know what to title this post.  In the bloggers manual it says to always come up with a catchy or ingenious title to hook the reader. Today's title is such an attempt. Of course I spelled words and phrases wrong.  We can talk about that as well. Who invented the English spelling system anyway.  It makes no sense. Just keep that thought in the make of your mind a while as I write this. Hang with me, becasue I am not exactly sure where this is all going.
     One thing I do know is that as languages evolve, they borrow words, phrases and ideas from other languages and cultures.  I want to also point out here that I do know how to spell words and phrases. Why is phrases spelled with a ph anyway? I think you can blame this one on the Greeks, but why take that spelling, English?  Oh well, onward. (Is that a sentence?)
     With the invasion of our house, I have learned from my grandson, Prince of the Invaders, a new phrase.  That phrase is, "I don wanna."  Sometimes, "Mommy" is added to the end of the phrase, "I don wanna!". Sometimes its "I don wanna go."  The phrase is normally said with great emphasis thusly: I DON WANNA! It comes in short bursts, generally and is used many times when crying. Most of the time it seems to work especially at mealtime and at bedtime.
    As a rule the phrase is preceded by a request from his mom, Queen of the Invaders, resulting in the reaction by my grandson "I don wanna". It seems to occur regularly.  However, when my Queen makes a calm request of The Prince, that phrase generally doesn't seem to be uttered. It also appears that the phrase seems to work about 80% of the time, with the Prince getting his way. This is directly related to the way that the phrase is presented and in all cases it seems to upset the Queen of the Invaders.
     I think I will try using the phrase.  It can't hurt. Let me see, what shall I use this on?  I don wanna go to the doctor. I don wanna have a blood test. I can try that, but that is too far away. How about, "I don wanna take out the trash, honey!"

You have to be just a little bit foxy in order to use "I don wanna".

  

Ride That Bike! To Where?

     Last week, I was playing "Dora The Explorer" with my grandson.We went on a discovery trip in the living room.  Is there a male version of  "Dora"?  I kind of wonder about that.  Isn't that a bit sexist? I'm sorry those of you in Poland and now those of you in Russia. My mind wanders sometimes, and this post is not about some stupid American kid's TV show.  Why do they speak Spanish on that show, anyway?
     We found something in the living room, or parlor for those of you east of the Mississippi River.  I don't know what they call it in Poland or Russia so we will just have to go from there.  It was something that we used basically for throwing clothes on, but every time we threw something on it or passed it we wondered what actual use the thing had. Finally, we took more than a curious glance at it. It was a stationary bike used to help you with your cardio vascular functions. In plain and simple English, you ride it for exercise.  the only problem is, you don't go anywhere and that's why they call it a stationary bike.
     I decided to try using it or at least seeing if it still works.  It did. This may not be a bad thing.  Its hotter than h.. out there so I'm not going to take a walk and I needed to exercise more as Denise doesn't think that typing away on a keyboard isn't enough exercise. Maybe I should change to a manual typewriter.  That's more physical and I would get more exercise. That's not going to happen, so I guess its the bike.
     When it come right down to it, I don't mind exercising only I have gotten out of the habit. After the endorphins kick in my body feels pretty good. The idea is just getting started, but I do look silly on that thing.  I am going nowhere on it in one big hurry.
    During my rides of fantasy my thoughts turn to a movie that I once saw called "The Right Stuff".  In the movie about the original Mercury 7 astronauts it shows the astronauts in training.  In one scene ride a stationary bike. This was the time when they were also training chimpanzees to go into space before our astronauts.  There is a scene where they show a chimp in a diaper riding what else--a stationary bike. As I ride, that vision always comes popping into my head.
     The bike is calling and I haven't had my coffee.  Sometime we will have a discussion about stationary vs. stationery. I think I need my coffee.

I was too big for one of these.  These offer a bit more fantasy.

Where Are You Southern Hemisphere?

     Where are you Southern Hemisphere? I noticed on my countries list and I have no followers or readers in the countries of the Southern Hemisphere. I did have a stray Aussie a couple of years ago, but that was a long time.  You are not keeping your end of the bargain, Southern Hemisphere. I would love to have you.
     What can I do to encourage you to read my blog? Is there something I can do to help you along?  Should I be doing something differently?  If I offended you in any way, I apologize.  I don't mean to, and if I do its all in good fun.  You can ask my Polish reader.  I haven't offended you, have I--you in Poland? I thank you and appreciate you for reading this stuff on a regular basis.  Soon, I will start in on my Russian friends but I don't want to get on Putin's bad side.  I do follow world events.
     Let me try something here.  I am going to stand on my head and write.  This will sort of give me the feeling of what it must be like in the Southern Hemisphere.  Here I go. Gjillik kinggsd  fiiidsh sibllisl lso. Illn ggo oflsk sssilafa d. Ow! That hurt my head. I can't be damaging my head as there is not much up there to use.
  Let me see what I wrote.  Uh-oh, that didn't work.  I guess I will have to try something else.
    How about if I write everything backwards.  Water flows in the opposite direction down there.  The water flushes in the other direction, I'm not sure that it is important which.  Hold on, let me go flush my toilet to find out.
*
*
*
*
*
OK, it goes counter clockwise, excuse me anti-cyclonic.  I had to go find that out. It goes clockwise-cyclonic-in the Southern Hemisphere.  I bet you thought I didn't know that, didn't you. Sometimes I surprise myself.  Don't play Trivia Pursuit with me. I can't find anyone who will, but that';s entirely another story.
     Let me try something else. I'm going to try to write this backwards and see if that helps. Are you ready, because here it comes:
.erehpsimeH nrnehtuoS eht ni uoy ot olleH 
That was hard.  You must have some sort of computer program that can do that faster.  It really taxes my small brain.  Surely Microsoft or Apple has come up with some sort of translator program.  How about Rosetta Stone, they must have a program that teaches that.  How about a book called "Southern Hemisphere For Dummies".  That kind of makes sense.
     Do you really walk on your hands down there instead of your feet? I guess that down is up and up is down.  The whole thing must take a bit of getting used to.
     By the way, if you are a golfer, make sure you check out my new website http://the-golf-course-travel-bag.com.  I have a lot of golf and travel stuff on it and I think you will enjoy it.  I have also started making U-tube videos and you will find them there as well. Take a look.

I took this picture of my daughter at the Berlin Wall museum in Sydney.  I got tired of walking on my hands all the time.

    

Trump National Los Angeles UTube 0001

Who is "We" part three.

     I wasn't going to have a part three in this series, but there are a lot of things that happen in my life that I say I am not going to do and I do. I catch myself saying "I will never do that", and sure enough I do it.  Take moving to Merced and that is only one example. You will just have to live with the fact that sometimes things change and you have to do what you got to do, even though you have said that you wouldn't.
     Eating asparagus or broccoli is also that sort of decision.  I said I would never eat asparagus or broccoli, but I have gone back on that one. Brussels sprouts are still safe.  We don't eat Brussels sprouts.  By the way, were they really invented in Brussels? We won't know will we.  Maybe "they" know.
     Why was it that "they" got all the fun and "we" had to behave?  You kind of have to wonder about this one. "They" got to play in the mud and build all kind of cool forts and stuff, while "we" had to stay clean and watch. That mud looked so inviting.  I hated being part of "we" and not one of "they".
     Here are some things that are "we" verses "they".  I hope that they spark a bit of a memory in you.  here goes.

"We" don't wear shorts to church on Sunday.
"We" don't put our mouths on the drinking fountain.  I could never figure that one out.
"We" always wear clean underwear. That makes sense, because what would happen if you were in an automobile accident?
"We" always wait an hour after we eat before we go back in the swimming pool because "we" don't want to get cramps and drown in the pool.  Funny thing though, I have swam at bar-b-ques that "they" put where everyone stuffed themselves to the gills and went back in to the pool shortly after they ate and I didn't see anyone drown.
"We" don't play like that, because you might get hurt.  The last person I heard that told to became an Olympic Gold Medalist in Men's Gymnastics. Too bad though, his sister only got the Bronze.
"We" don't play golf, that's for rich people and old men.  I can understand the rich people but kind of wonder about the old men part.  Am I an old man now.  DON'T YOU DARE ANSWER THAT!
"We" don't wear our cap on backwards.  I admit, I am guilty of this one.
"We" don't speak when there are elders around.  I blew this one out of the water. If I had something to say and it was profound, I said it no matter who was around. None of this "Little children should be seen and not heard" garbage.  I let 'em have it.
"We" don't drive Chevys.
"We" don't drive Fords.
"We" sure as hell don't drive a Fiat. How did they buy Chrysler, by the way?
"We" absolutely, positively sure as hell don't drive a Kia.

     I have bothered you enough today with this drivel, but it is something to think about.  If you have a "We" verses "They", please share it with me.  I have to run now as I haven't had my coffee yet.  You know what that does to me. "We" don't start the day without our coffee.

"We" don't stand in front of the cannon before we fire it.

 












   

Who is "We" (Part 2)

    Who  are "we"?  Who are they?  Why is it that "we" always do the right thing and "they" always don't.
How do "they" reform and become part of "we"? Is it possible?  I don't know.  I know that this is a very short post, but there is a lot here to be considered. 
     I don't want you to melt down as you are contemplating this, so be careful.  Don't try to resolve all of this at one time. Take brief snippets of time to ponder the seriousness of all this and how it effects your daily lives. This stuff is important, almost as important as having your morning cup of coffee.  I'd drinking mine right now.
    I just want you to remember that "we" don't loop the toilet paper under the roll--I hate that, don't you--and "they will never get that highway bypass around Los Banos done.  Sorry about that to those of you who don't live in the Central Valley of California, I thought I would throw that in there.  How about "they" are working on the traffic in Los Angeles or the smog in Bejing?
    Do "they" have a "we" and a "they" in Poland?  Come on Poland, I need your answer.

"They" put my son in jail.  Not really, It was only make believe (darn).

 

 

 

 

 

Who is "We"?

     Does anyone other than myself wonder about the overuse of the pronoun "we"?  Probably not, because I think about some really strange stuff.  Remember though, I am not weird, just different.  In my opinion, we overuse the word "we".  Keep in mind that that is just my opinion, and I am still under house arrest being guarded by the two sippee cup guards outside my door. That should kind of put things in their proper perspective.
     This explanation of  what I am talking about may get convoluted as I am thinking about how to say it as I am writing this, so just bear with me a bit.  It may get a little strange, but hang in there. If you have been one of my readers, you know what I am talking about. You there in Poland, you are on your own.  Here goes, and I want you to think about this as it is truly profound as are all my observations and comments on life.
     My wife and I--notice I didn't use the word we--were out and about doing something with my stepdaughter and grandson Szczepan.  I changed my grandson's name here to protect the innocent.  His name really isn't Szczepan but I needed a name and I wanted to get my Polish readers involved here so I changed it to a Polish first name. Where were we, I mean where was I?  Oh yes, we--uh, my wife and I with my step daughter and grandson--were out and about.  Szczepan picked up a cigarette butt from the ground and what was my wife AND my step daughter's immediate reaction?  WE don't pick up cigarette butts off the ground. They said it almost simultaneously--again to help those of you in Poland they said it at the same exact time. Hmmmm....
     This brings about a good question.  If we don't do something, who does?  You would think that the answer would be "they" do.  Who is "they"?  Are "they" bad and evil people or just misguided by the dark side of the universe.  I don't know. More about this later when I talk about who "we" are and who "they" are.  One more thing to think about.  Are "they" dangerous?

I am thoroughly convinced "they" did this.

A Very Special Day

"Let me win.  But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt."   -The Special Olympics Athletes Oath   

      As many of my friends know, I don't make any secrets to the fact that I play golf.  My son and daughter as well as my wife play golf.  It is a sport that we enjoy very much and has its challenges and rewards. Someone has also been said that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they play golf.  All of this is true.  It could be said that I am a golf nut. On Thursday, my perspective on the game and of life itself changed.  I participated with my son in a Special Olympics Golf Tournament.This was truly a "Special" day.
     I am no stranger to playing in golf tournaments.  In fact, a few years ago it was my pleasure to play in an high level regional event where I had to qualify to get in.  This was golf at a high tournament level.  We played on the best courses and against the best competition. Every little aspect of the game mattered, especially the score. The stakes were high, even though we weren't playing for money.  You really wanted to have your"A" game going and play well. The pressure was on, even though it was a lot of fun.
     Thursday was different.  We played on a course that was a par three course and holes were no longer than 180 yards.  There were no 400 yard par fours or lengthy 600 yard par fives. The course was not in the best of shape. The greens were not fast and true, but bumpy and slow at best. This was not the PGA, but you wouldn't know it if you looked at the faces of the competitors. You could see the simple joy of just competing in each of their faces. Believe me, their enthusiasm was contagious.
     We all talk about what courage is. I saw the true definition of courage in all the athletes.  No matter what their circumstances, they participated and had a lot of fun.  One athlete that played in my foursome perhaps demonstrated that true quality of courage.  Her name was Maria and she played from a wheelchair. She didn't hit the ball far, in fact the ball never went more than twenty yards but that didn't matter.  Just the look on her face and the determination that she showed touched me in a way that I will not soon forget. She squeezed every ounce of joy she could from the experience. I am still getting goose bumps just remembering the time with her.
     I had a lot of fun at this tournament and was taught a lot about the game of golf and life itself-- more than you will know and certainly more than I would have ever imagined.  

This is the true definition of courage and competition.

 

Hi, And Welcome!

     I looked on my audience stats and saw this morning that I have a new reader from Italy.  I would like to say bon giorno or bono sera to you.  I don't know if it is morning or night there in Italy, but I wanted to welcome you to the family of readers.  I am half Italian, but I don't speak Italian. I'm also half Greek and do speak enough Greek to get me arrested in Athens or to order an ouzo.  At any rate, welcome. I was going to share a bit of Italian cuisine with you, the picture of a great pizza but its on my phone and I haven't downloaded it yet. Oops, I forgot that they don't make pizza like we are accustomed to in Italy.  Sorry, I welcome you anyway.  Maybe I will get a picture of a good shrimp scampi or fettuchine alfredo and send that another time.
     Hi to you in Poland!
     Today is a holiday here in the United States and I am not working today.  I am going to keep this post short.  Today is the day we remember those who served in the Armed Forces of The United States to preserve our freedom.  I salute you and give you a hearty and well deserved thank you!

Remember those who served to preserve our freedom.

   

Thank God I Woke Up!

     As you know, things have been a bit stressful around here.  The guards-- you know, the ones with the sipee cups--have become a bit more aggressive and don't allow me to roam the castle freely as much.  They fear that I am communicating with the underground.  That's not true by the way, I just talk to myself in here a lot. The queen has gone over to the invaders so I am left alone in my office to be retrained.  Such is life.
     I haven't been sleeping well lately.  The night's sleep seems to have gotten shorter and I get less of it. The sleep that I do get isn't deep and refreshing, its shallow and restless.  What do you expect having to carry on the burdens of my people and their freedom.  These invaders are vicious and relentless.  I do not understand their culture.
     The mind does some crazy things.  Sometimes as we sleep it produces images-dreams- that are in deed strange and sort of off the wall. Such was the case the other night as I awoke from a sound sleep in a horrible sweat. The horrible dream that I experienced could only be attributed to my stress.
      Here is the basic happenings in that dream:

    As it turns out, there was this incredible new thing that came out--something using seaweed if I remember correctly--that was newest and greatest best thing. It cured cancer, was tremendously effective in weight loss, preserved the upholstery of your car and kept you teeth bright as well. This new wonder product came out of nowhere and was only available through an MLM, or multi-level marketing distributor ship.
     The upline of this product seemed to come out of nowhere as did the product. Nobody knew a thing about them.  They held their meetings and sold their distributorships and thousands joined.  The meeting were required and all distributors had to go and they were required to bring at least two people along.
The meetings were held by the company uplines, who nobody had heard of before. They essentially had appeared as if from space--you probably know where I am going with this.  People started disappearing, no one knew where these people who attended these meetings went.
     THEY WERE EATEN BY THE UPLINE AS THEY WERE ALIENS FROM ANOTHER PLANET!

OK, I know that seems a bit bizarre, and it is.  You have to realize the stress I am under right now.  I really am OK, and safe but it is a bit hectic right now. As a disclaimer, I have nothing against MLM companies and I have in fact been a part of them.  Don't hold that against me please.
     I want to again assure you that I am in fact sane--I think. My cereal is getting soggy so I think I will go eat it.
  That dream was scary.
       

The helmet the Aliens wore at their meetings.

 

Cereal Serial...Last Part, I Promise

     I promise that this will be the last in the Cereal Serial series.  However, I may do my politician act and that may not be the case. Read my lips, no new taxes.  I liked that one and actually voted for the man.  Here's a recent one.  You can keep your Doctor and your health care plan. That was a good one. So, I will go on record as saying this will be the last Cereal Serial, I promise and I am not asking for your vote.
     Here are a couple of questions for the ages. I like asking you these questions because it is my job to make you think and make your brain work so that it doesn't get weak. That's my job you know, and I love doing it.  Its one way I give back to the community, asking these questions to stimulate your brain. 
     Back to the questions at hand, and they are  important ones.You probably have never considered this before, but we must all look at the world at times from a different perspective, not a weird one, just a different one. As I have said many times, I am not weird, just different. 
     When you are finishing a bowl of cereal (Do they eat cereal in Poland?  I'm not saying that to be insulting, I would just like to know), what do you do with the last few Cherios or Fruit Loops or Frosted Flakes left floating in the bowl? Do you patiently fish them out and eat them? What about the milk left in the bowl.  Now that is a question to consider.  Do you drink the milk or throw it down the drain?  I'll give you some time to think about it and consider your actions.
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Do Do Do Do Do Do-Do, Do Do Do Do Doot Du Dot Dot Do (Jeopardy Theme, I thought that was a bit of a humorous touch.)  I'll give you a minute more or so.
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     Times Up so what did you come up with? You can make up your own minds, but personally I fish out the last flakes and drink the milk.  It doesn't taste like milk any more anyway.  Besides, just think of all the people who are starving out there in the world. Those of you who just throw out the few flakes left in the bowl along with the milk should consider this when you carelessly throw out this perfectly good and nutritious food.  Especially if the cereal had been cocoa puffs.
     I love cocoa puffs and the best part of eating cocoa puffs is the chocolate milk that is left when the cereal is gone.  It is truly heaven and if you haven't tried it--especially those of you in Poland who I hope have a sense of humor and remember I'm not picking on you--you have missed one of the great pleasures of this world. My wife doesn't let me eat Cocoa Puffs anymore.  They contain too much sugar, or so she says.
     To those of you who throw out the milk and last few flakes, shame on you.  Just think of the resources of this planet that you are wasting.  Think of those who sacrificed to bring you that food.  Think of the poor cow who gave up her milk and the poor calf that didn't get their share of its mother's mild that day. Even  more think of the poor kernel of grain; whatever grain be it corn, wheat, rice or oat.  That kernel of grain gave up its life to be processed so that you could be fed.  It is an insult to the memory and sacrifice of those who gave their all so that you could eat. Let us consider their feelings as well--if they could feel.
     To those of you who eat the last loop and drink the milk in the bowl, I congratulate you and thank you! To those of you who throw this down the drain, I have a suggestion to make.  Try oatmeal or some other hot cereal where there is no milk or last flake.  Make sure you just eat it all so that you don't step on the memory of those who gave so valiantly so that you could be fed. 
     One request I do have.  This goes out to my readers in Poland.  Could you comment on if you do in fact eat cereal in Poland.  I want to learn more about Poland.

You are going to say "That's not cereal."  I know that.

The Treaty Has Been Signed!

     Before I get into my thoughts for the day and sharing with you the events tat have transpired as to the invasion, I want to acknowledge my new reader/readers in Poland.  I want to warmly welcome you and offer this bit of advice--Don't try to make any sense of my writings.  They mean absolutely nothing in the scheme of the world.  In fact, I admit that most of what I write in this setting is mindless drivel and means absolutely nothing.
     I actually have some friends who are Polish.  Wait, that isn't exactly true.  He was my chiropractor and was a big guy, a body builder. I think he was only half Polish and half Czech.  We used to play golf together and he used to crack my back. Our friendship remained strong even though he moved to Utah.  There is a lot of that going on, people moving out of California. I guess there are too many loonies--uh, excuse me, crazy people--running California. Putting a tax on the number of miles you drive in addition to the gas and sales taxes, come on.
      I suppose that I could say that I was almost directly impacted by the Polish, not to mention the Germans and the Japanese. My father had a Polish girlfriend before World War Two when he lived in Connecticut.  Her name was Helen as far as the story goes, She would cook Dad golumke (cabbage roles) and kielbasa. I like kielbasa but hate cabbage roles.  Helen was close to being my mother, but then the war came and Dad went into the Air Corps. He bid adieu to Helen and never looked back.
     Eventually he was stationed at Hammer Field in Fresno where he met my mother.  Mom was--she passed away last year--Italian. If you want to be accurate about the whole story she was Italian but ethnically Albanian.  She didn't speak Italian but a dialect of Albanian which we can also tell this story as well, but I won't. Maybe that's why a lot of people think that I am a bit weird--I say  I'm just different and defend that stance.  My good friend once said I am the way I am because of the mumps that brought the high fever when I was twenty, but I was weird--um, different--way before then.
     So, instead of golumke and kielbassa on Sunday afternoons after Mass, we had homemade spaghetti with a rich sausage/meat sauce over it and lots of romano cheese.  To this day, I still like a lot of cheese on my spaghetti, but I'm off subject here. I no longer go to the Catholic Church and have married a fine woman who is English or some sort of such. We go to a Presbyterian Church and have Mexican food after church or go to the local Applebee's.  Isn't life great!

So, I don't have many food pictures and definitely don't have a picture of a golumke. This will have to do.

 

Written In Exile...Part I Don't Know And At This Point Don't Care

     Yesterday, there was hope.  The invaders had departed and it seemed as though my ordeal was over. Perceptions being as they are, I stopped briefly to catch my breath.  The sipee cup guards had left and the coast was clear. The invaders had boarded their longboats and left.  Can you tell I've been watching too many episodes of "The Vikings"?  I do what I can though lately it has been recorded Giants games and the invaders first choice, Barney. You can just imagine the depths and brutality of their torture.
     In my search for rest and recuperation, I chose to stay in the castle. It was quiet and the castle was deserted except for the queen and myself. I was able to climb on the throne once again and enjoy the quiet. This decision to stay was regrettably the wrong decision. The invaders have returned and this time it seems that it will be for a very long occupation.

The invaders return.

 

Cereal Serial (Captains Log: Supplemental) Written In Exile Under House Arrest

     I always wanted to write a Captains Log: Supplemental.   It was so cool when Captain Kirk or Picard or Janewicz--whatever her name was--or Tucker was in trouble they would always say "Captain's Log: Supplemental".
     Yes, you could say that I have been watching too much Star Trek lately, but what else is there to do when you are confined to your office. That's not exactly true, because I don't have a TV in my office. I have to go out of my office, my sipee cup guards in tow, and go to my bedroom to turn on the TV in there. I have opted out of the torture option in favor of the exile option, the torture option being watching "Frozen" continually on the main TV in the living room.
     It is a flat screen HD TV, which in essence I have been banned from watching by the invaders. By decree of the invaders, only "Frozen", The Disney Channel, The Cartoon Channel and Nick are permitted to be aired on the TV. It is their process of indoctrination. I choose exile.
     Hold on, their queen is returning.  I must go now as they do not know that I am writing this.What lies ahead, I do not know.

This was what it looked like Sunday.  The invader's  launched their attack from the sea.  I don't know how they did it since we live 70 miles inland, but they did it.

House Arrest and Exile

     The invaders have triumphed. I have been placed under house arrest and restricted to my office.  Armed guards with sipee cups have been placed outside my door to keep me in my office and I have only restricted access to the rest of the house. One of the guards crawls with me to make sure I don't escape should I need to leave my cell for nature call.

The invader's commanding general.  Not really, this is just a picture of  my son Zack.  He's not a general at all.

My diet now consists of Fruit Loops and Macaroni and Cheese. There is a rumor that the dreaded hot dog will be tonight's dinner. My fate is as of yet unknown.

Surrender is Emenent! (I May Not Have Spelled That Right, But Oh Well)

    The moat has been crossed and the castle door has been breached. The end is near.  As I sit here in a corner of the castle, I ponder my fate.  There is no sign of relief and the outcome is no longer in doubt. We have lost the battle.  The invaders have triumphed and it is just a matter of time before it is all at an end. I have, along with my beautiful queen have fought the valiant fight. All hope is lost and I bid you a fond farewell.
     Well, not really as I probably will write something else soon. After all, I'm not dead just suffering the effects of house guests--one step daughter, three step grandchildren and my youngest daughter. The quiet house is no longer.  

Situation Update...Send Help Fast!

     The garrison has survived the night but cannot hold out. Provisions are low as is ammunition (nerves). We are still fighting, but it is not known how much longer we can hold out. Send resupply and reinforcements soon. Should help arrive soon, this may be our last communication.
     Hello to those of you reading this in Poland and in Germany.  All this may not make a bit of sense but hang in there.

Situation Desparate...This Garrison Cannot Hold Out Much Longer..

     HELP! MAYDAY, MAYDAY! Broken Arrow!  This garrison needs immediate reinforcement or it will fall. Send help immediately!
     The castle is under attack.  We are surrounded and the situation is desperate.  We cannot hold out much longer. The invaders have cut off our lines of resupply and we do not know when the lines of communication will be cut.
     All right, you may think that what I wrote was a little off the wall and makes no sense.  I am not going to explain it in detail--I'm too tired for that and right now I am in hiding. What I will do is explain the events of today. What was supposed to be a quiet house with just Denise and I quietly watching the San Francisco Giants play baseball on TV--recorded I might add--has turned into a disaster area. They have returned.
     I want to go on record as saying that the "Empty Nest" theory is a crock of smelly excrement. Whoever suggested the idea that children leave their parents for their own lives away out in the big world to find their own fortunes could not have been a parent. They always come back.  They did tonight.
     It started last week when my youngest daughter called and said that she had no place to stay.  She didn't ask to move in for the summer, but I knew what she was trying to ask.  I thought I would save her the embarrassment. Of course I said she could move in, but with conditions.  She must pay her rent and phone bill on time as well as go to school. She agreed and made arrangements to move in today. That's fine, because we did have the space after Denise's son went into the Army.
     Denise received a call from her daughter about troubles at her home and could she spend a few days with us. She has three young children by the way.  Of course Denise said yes.  What was I to do. Voiala, instant madhouse.  There goes the quiet house with just Denise and I. This caused me to hide as my ADD kicked in and I am overwhelmed.
     The person who put forth the idea of an empty nest should be...well, you fill in the blank. Montana is looking very good.

The only thing that was not pillaged from the castle.