Romantic Ramblings

A non-partisan political rant

2011-10-30T10:24:00.003-05:00

I've read a number of articles about the recent "Occupy ______ (pick your place)" movement that say the protests are misdirected. The protestors should be directing their disgust and demands for change towards the REAL source of our financial problems: CONGRESS.

Then I received the following fowarded email making the rounds. It resonates with me.

Warren Buffett, in a recent interview with CNBC, offers one of the best quotes about the debt ceiling: "I could end the deficit in 5 minutes," he told CNBC. "You just pass a law that says that anytime there is a deficit of more than 3% of GDP, all sitting members of Congress are ineligible for re-election."

Here is one idea that really should be passed around:

Congressional Reform Act of 2011

1. No Tenure / No Pension.
A Congressman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office.

2. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security.
All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people. It may not be used for any other purpose.

3. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans do.

4. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%.

5. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.

6. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.

7. All contracts with past and present Congressmen are void effective 1/1/12.
The American people did not make these contracts with Congressmen. Congressmen made all these contracts for themselves. Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work.

Maybe it is time. THIS IS HOW YOU FIX CONGRESS!

Reminds me of the old saying, "If pro is the opposite of con, what's the opposite of progress?"

Pre-retirement musings

2011-09-24T17:41:00.001-05:00

Now that I’ve gone public (told top management at my company) that I plan to retire next spring, I’m not exactly waffling . . . but . . .

Oh, the obvious parts of retirement sound great! No more alarm clock buzzing at 4:45 each morning; able to plan my own weekdays for projects or relaxation; able to travel for a day, a week, a month, or a season without worrying about burning vacation; time a-plenty to write fiction or poetry, get out the old guitar and/or banjo and get some calluses on my fingertips again; spend time with Carol doing whatever is important to her, including housework, meal preparation and clean-up, yard work, and more. Regular exercise to keep the body trim. Keeping on top of current events to keep the mind active. Reading. Golf.

Yep, all of that and more, with few constraints from the expectations of others. Sounds really nice.

So where’s the “but?”

Well . . . If I’m going to be honest with myself I have to acknowledge that much of my feelings of self-worth – and thus of self-satisfaction – derive from things I accomplish on the job. I take pride in dealing with employee problems and resolving them. I find it very rewarding to screen, interview, select and hire the “perfect” new employee and watch him/her blossom, grow and get promoted.

When I’m retired no one is going to ask my opinion. And if I offer one, unsolicited, I’ll either be patronized or ignored. I mean, once you retire, you’re no longer “in the game.” Who cares what the retired guy thinks? He’s no longer got a vested interest.

Can I deal with that?

I sure hope so. But that little niggling doubt makes me second-guess my public declaration, just a little. Hmmm.

Guess I’ll find out in about six months.

WOO-HOO! I'm gonna be famous!

2011-01-01T16:49:00.007-06:00

Just to prove that whatever you happen to post on the Internet never goes away, I received an email today as follows (name redacted):

Hi, Mr. Earle:

I'm a wildlife rehabilitator who specializes in reptiles and I also lecture about reptiles to train other rehabbers. While preparing a presentation, I saw your photo of turtles on a tree. Would you be willing to grant me permission to use your photograph in my presentation? Full photo credit will be given.

It would be great to have such an excellent example of the climbing ability of turtles to educate wildlife rehabbers.

Best regards,
Xxxx Yyyyyy
Turtle Rescue of New Jersey
New Jersey State Licensed Wildlife Rehabilitator

She was referring, of course, to my well-remembered post of April Fools' Day, 2008, entitled, "Golf Course Hazards."

What? You don't remember it? Well, go ahead and click the link to the title and read it . . . The rest of us will wait here until you get back.

Okay, now that you've refreshed your memory, I'll tell you the rest of the story. I found and sent to her the full-size version of the two photos (the ones in the blog post were compressed), and asked her a few questions.

Here's her response:

Hi, John:

Thank you so much for your kindness!

Me: I’m curious; did you Google “climbing turtles” or something similar and find a link to that old blog post?

Exactly! I used Google Images and found the photo in your "Romantic Ramblings" blog about golf course hazards.

Me: Would you like me to email you (attachment) a higher-resolution version of the shot(s)?

That would be great. I like to use the best quality photos I can find. I do most of my own turtle photography, but never was lucky enough to see tree-climbing turtles!

Many, many thanks! Your photos will now be famous in the turtle rehabilitation world!

Best regards,

Xxxxxx

Now, to be honest, I never even knew there WAS a turtle rehabilitation world. (I'm sure my daughter Amy, who has always loved turtles and everything to do with them, knew.) But hey, fame is fleeting and sometimes is associated with fortune (you've heard the phrase "fame and fortune," right?)

So LOOK OUT WORLD!

And thanks, Xxxxx Yyyyyyy. May you cause many thousands of turtles to be rehabbed by you and your trainees, as needed!

Attitude

2010-11-12T11:59:00.003-06:00

The quote below is attributed to Charles Swindoll. It's well known; likely you've seen it before.

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes."

While I think all of it is true and worthwhile, I particulary like the last two sentences.

It seems that today most people would reverse those percentages, believing from their heart that life is controlled 90% (or even 100%) by external, outside factors. Their life is, to them, all about what happens TO them; what others do TO them; bad luck; bad karma; bad genes. It's not their fault, and it's all beyond their control.

Well, maybe so. We all know that "stuff" happens. Life throws us all kinds of curves.

Often I see others get angry and rail at God, or fate, or institutions, or just other people. Sometimes, it's tempting to join them. When I do join them, I usually wonder later what my problem was.

I guess an example of my philosophy is demonstrated in the posts just below, about the railroad crossing. At the time I was delayed, I was angry. But I asked myself how I should best respond or react to the frustration, and was soon able to put things in perspective. Sure, I wasted 35 minutes of time and was late for work. So what!? Hardly worth getting sour about. Besides, I had a chance to offer the railroad some suggestions which might make the situation better in the future.

'nuff said. As Mr. Swindoll writes, "WE are in charge of our attitudes." That means you can change yours!

Might make your life better. Think about it.

End of the story -- maybe.

2010-10-24T09:01:00.002-05:00

(See the prior two posts for the first emails.)

One week later . . .

Ivan,

A quick follow-up: Yesterday afternoon I approached Bloomington from the south (commuting home this time) to see the gates coming down. A train slowly moved across the highway, again from east to west, and stopped after only about a dozen railcars had passed the highway. I had a strong sense of déjà-vu.

However, THIS time the train was only stopped for 3-4 minutes before it began backing up (ONE song on the radio). It cleared the intersection promptly and traffic moved on.

The contrast was stark. This was to me the way it ought to happen (IF the railroad has no choice but to switch cars across a highway intersection, a practice I would hope UP would try to avoid if it could). Now granted, this was almost certainly a MUCH shorter train. But the length of time elapsed while it was stopped also seemed appropriate and prudent.

I don’t intend to re-open a dialogue that I think is completed — just to let you know that RR crossing delays of moderate duration are expected and at worst usually only a source of mild irritation. Also there was MUCH less traffic at 3:45 pm than during the morning commute.

Thanks again for “listening.”

John Earle

Mr. Earle,

The size of the train absolutely plays a role, as do the different crews. Our employees must have a detailed "job briefing" on the moves to be made to ensure a safe operation. When you are dealing with a smaller train or cut of cars, it reduces the complexity of the moves and thus the job briefing required (how many tracks will the cars go into, how many switches will be lined, how long will the move take, etc.). I hope this helps...

Ivan Jaime

Okay.

I guess.

I don't plan to write him again.

I DID copy those phone numbers he provided (including his direct line!) into my cell phone contacts.

I'm disappointed that he never addressed my question about why the train couldn't move completely through (past) the intersection and THEN stop for 12 minutes to conduct their briefing, allowing road traffic to proceed.

Or my seemingly obvious but unwritten question: Why wait until the train is stopped across a highway and blocking all morning commute and school traffic, and THEN conduct your briefing? Why not stop the train short of the intersection, brief everybody, then pull forward, stop, and immediately reverse?

Unfortunately the answer is probably this: The railroad's priorities have nothing to do with traffic flow, and everything to do with moving their freight safely. This is not wrong, per se, but it seems to me that there are ways to accomplish their objectives while "operations managers try to handle their business with as limited an impact on the community as possible."

If anyone reading this knows someone who works for a railroad and would like to correct my misconceptions, please feel free to weigh in. Absent that, I'm left with the impression that Union Pacific really doesn't care as much about their "impact on the community" as they would like us to believe.

Am I being unfair?

The rest of the exchange

2010-10-22T14:45:00.002-05:00

(See the prior post for the lead-in letter.)

Hello Mr. Earle,

First, let me apologize for your experience last Thursday and for your thoughtful email below. I will look into the matter and ask my counterpart in Houston to contact you soon to discuss the issue further. I will not attempt to answer each of your questions, until we learn exactly what happened that day. In short, there are many scenarios which may have played out. It does in fact take a decent amount of time to stop a train, line a switch, and get it moving again. Moreover, only Signal employees or police officers may lift a gate to allow vehicular traffic to proceed.

We will get back with you soon. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance in the mean time. Thank you.

Ivan Jaime

Mr. Jaime,

Thanks for the prompt response.

I have wondered in the past if it was legal for railroad employees to hold up the gates, although perhaps they were “Signal” employees. It seems to me that the potential liability could be huge if a mistake were made. Next time gates appear stuck perhaps motorists should call the closest law enforcement office. But in this case that would have been the Victoria County Sheriff’s office, at least 20 minutes away and not a good solution.

I suppose my only remaining question involves the need to move so much of a train so slowly across a highway intersection and then, after a 12-minute stoppage, back it up even more slowly until it clears. The only answer that presents itself to me is, assuming a switch was being lined up, that the location of the switch was so close to the intersection that the train had to proceed that far to clear the switch. If that is the case, likely relocating the switch is not feasible and there is no good solution for this occasional problem. Or, just a thought here, perhaps during prime commuting time the entire train could be moved through the intersection and then stopped for 12 minutes while traffic flowed. Then the train could back up across the intersection and through the lined-up switch and again clear the intersection. Maybe? But perhaps there was other rail traffic invisible to me that prevented this solution as well.

And it’s also likely that UP doesn’t have the option of scheduling these road closures at some time other than prime commute time. If it did, the middle of the night would seem ideal. But obviously you can’t schedule all your switching activities at night. So I suppose the situation is not the result of inattention or lack of caring by UP at all.

It really isn’t necessary to provide me with a more detailed explanation of the events of that day. I feel better for having vented to you.

Thanks again for listening/reading.

John Earle

Mr. Earle,

It is interesting that you nailed pretty much what happened. After digging a bit deeper, it appears that there was a long train moving from Houston to the border that had to "set-out" half of its rail cars at the Bloomington Yard. After moving past the switch, the crew had to line the switch and have a proper job briefing of the move to be made. They then made the move back into the yard, at which time the gates got stuck. We don't expect this to happen very frequently, and rest assured that our operations managers try to handle their business with as limited an impact on the community as possible.

I'd like to leave you with a few telephone numbers just in case. You may feel free to dial (800) 848.8715 to report malfunctioning gate signals, blocked crossings, or any other situation that you may encounter with the railroad. If you have an immediate emergency, you may instead dial (888) 877.7267, which will connect you to our emergency command center. Finally, you can always call me if you need to vent or if you have any general questions. My contact information is below.

Again, thank you for your patience and understanding. Have a great week.

Ivan Jaime

You'll notice he didn't address a few of my suggestions. There was a bit more follow up from this week. I'll share that tomorrow.

When I think it might help . . .

2010-10-21T20:47:00.004-05:00

I write letters (or emails). Here's a recent exchange that ought to be self-explanatory. Mr. Jaime is a public relations official with Union Pacific Railroad.

Mr. Jaime,

I found your contact information on a “UP in Texas” web site. I’ll try to make this concise.

In Bloomington (Victoria County), TX, an active (busy) UP line crosses Highway 185, a likewise busy commuting route on early morning and early evening weekdays—a route I commute on. I’d like to describe my experience Tuesday morning 10/13. Unfortunately it wasn’t as rare as I would wish.

Then I’d like to ask a few questions.

I drove into Bloomington from Victoria, and pulled to a stop at the end of a 4-block-long line of traffic stopped for the railroad crossing. I could see the crossing arms down and lights flashing, and made out a dim outline of tank cars proceeding slowly from east to west. Time: 6:21 AM in pre-dawn darkness.

This happens at least once every week or two, so . . . no big deal. I allow an extra 15-20 minutes (from experience) to avoid being late for work.

The train slowed, and at 6:25 it stopped completely, blocking the road.

Now count off 12 minutes. Visualize the line of commuters behind me growing longer and longer. Horns begin to blow. Cars begin to bail out left and right onto side streets seeking an open route around the stopped train. Frustration mounts as no one is sure if the train will move again, much less when.

At 6:37 the railcars begin inching the other direction (from west to east). The train is backing up! Well, at least it was moving. For 6 minutes the tank cars crept across the road. It was now light enough to see them clearly. Eventually, the locomotives also passed. Time was now 6:43 AM.

Trucks and cars began to inch forward in anticipation of the gates going up. Then all stopped. The gates stayed down. Minutes passed. MORE minutes passed!

As you can imagine, cars began driving around the stuck crossing arms. I saw a number of near-miss collisions as other commuters, desperate to get to their jobs, broke the law. Exacerbating the problem were school busses and tank trucks that would not cross the tracks while the lights flashed (as they shouldn’t, but of course, neither should the rest of us!)

When my turn came, I too broke the law and crossed the tracks. Time: 6:51 AM. No train was in sight other than the one that had blocked the road for so long; it was about a half-mile away. In the now-clear daylight I could see no UP employees nearby and wondered if anyone knew the gates were stuck. I called the number for Union Pacific, Bloomington. A man answered, “Union Pacific.” I said (in a not very kind tone, I’ll admit), “Do you guys know your crossing gates are stuck down?”

He replied calmly, “Yeah. It’s been turned in and we’re waiting for responders.” I disconnected before I said something ugly. His tone said clearly to me, “. . .and I don’t care!”

Thirty minutes doesn’t sound long, but it seemed an eternity. Yes, I was late for work.

That tale describes my frustration. Now that I’ve cooled off I’d like to ask a few questions. I debated putting these in a letter to the editor of the Victoria paper, but decided the more mature course would be to ask you.

First, to satisfy my curiosity (since it happens with some regularity), what is going on when 60 railcars of a train cross an intersection, the train stops, and nothing moves for over 10 minutes? Does it take that long to throw a switch so the train can back up and add or remove cars? Is there a crew change, and if so, does it take that long? With miles of switchyard just east of Bloomington, is it really necessary to block this intersection while switching cars?

I admit, I’m ignorant of the workings of your business. Likely valid reasons exist for these practices. Unfortunately, most members of the general commuting public are also ignorant and, like me, assume in their ignorance that the railroad doesn’t care if traffic and lives are disrupted, and simply blocks intersections needlessly because it can.

Next question: Was that employee all alone when I called? I’ve seen railroad employees in the past (at Bloomington) who would hold open a crossing gate arm when no train was present or would be moving for a while, to allow highway traffic to proceed across the tracks. If Mr. “we’re waiting for responders” had another employee or two around, he could have done wonders for UP’s public image by having one or two of those employees visibly help traffic move.

I understand the inherent danger of proximity to moving objects weighing a quarter of a million pounds each, and thus the need to be very careful and deliberate. Still, in my ignorance of railroad practices, policies and procedures, it just doesn’t seem like what I witnessed yesterday should happen.

Please help me to understand.

John Earle

(For my next post, I'll publish his response. And then the rest of the correspondence.)

Was it hot where you are?

2010-08-15T15:39:00.002-05:00

At about 3:00 pm. Yes, in the shade.

As the song says, "Too hot to fish, too hot for golf..."

A REAL Blast from the Past

2010-08-04T13:54:00.002-05:00

(If you've never seen this, or, like me, have forgotton most of it, prepare to snort your beverage through your nose!)

56 B.C. AND ALL THAT

RICHARD LEDERER

It is truly astounding what havoc students can wreak upon the chronicles of the human race. I have pasted together the following history of the world from genuine student bloopers collected by teachers throughout the United States from eighth grade through college level. Read carefully, and you will learn a lot. RL

Ancient Egypt was inhabited by mummies, and they all wrote in hydraulics. They lived in the Sarah Dessert and traveled by Camelot. The climate of the Sarah is such that the inhabitants have to live elsewhere, so certain areas of the dessert are cultivated by irritation. Early Egyptian women often wore a garment called a calasiris. It was a sheer dress which started beneath the breasts which hung to the floor.

The pyramids are a range of mountains between France and Spain. The Egyptians built the pyramids in the shape of a huge triangular cube.

The Bible is full of interesting caricatures. In the first book of the Bible, Guinessis, Adam and Eve were created from an apple tree. One of their children, Cain, asked, “Am I my brother's son?"

God asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac on Mount Montezuma. Jacob, son of Isaac, stole his brother's birthmark. Jacob was a patriarch who brought up his 12 sons to be patriarchs, but they did not take to it. One of Jacob's sons, Joseph, gave refuse to the Israelites.

Moses led the Hebrew slaves to the Red Sea, where they made unleavened bread, which is bread made without any ingredients. Afterwards, Moses went up on Mount Cyanide to get the ten commandments. He died before he ever reached Canada.

David was a Hebrew king skilled at playing the liar. He fought with the Finkelsteins, a race of people who lived in Biblical times. Solomon, one of David’s sons, had three hundred wives and seven hundred porcupines

.
Later came Job, who had one trouble after another. Eventually, he lost all his cattle and all his children and had to go live alone with his wife in the desert.

The Greeks were a highly sculptured people, and without them we wouldn’t have history. The Greeks also had myths. A myth is a female moth.

One myth says that the mother of Achilles dipped him in the River Stynx until he became intollerable. Achilles appears in The Iliad, by Homer. Homer also wrote The Oddity, in which Penelope was the last hardship that Ulysses endured on his journey. Actually, Homer was not written by Homer but by another man of that name.

Socrates was a famous Greek teacher who went around giving people advice. They killed him. Socrates died from an overdose of wedlock. After his death, his career suffered a dramatic decline.

In the Olympian Games, Greeks ran races, jumped, hurled the biscuits, and threw the java. The reward to the victor was a coral wreath.

Eventually, the Romans conquered the Greeks. History calls people Roman because they never stayed in one place for very long.

Julius Caesar extinguished himself on the battlefields of Gaul. The Ides of March murdered him because they thought he was going to be made king. Dying, he gasped out: “Tee hee, Brutus.”

Nero was a cruel tyranny who would torture his poor subjects by playing the fiddle to them.
Rome came to have too many luxuries and baths. At Roman banquets, the guests wore garlics in their hair. They took two baths in two days, and that’s the cause of the fall of Rome. Rome was invaded by ball bearings, and is full of fallen arches today.

Then came the Middle Ages, when everyone was middle aged. King Alfred conquered the Dames. King Arthur lived in the Age of Shivery with brave knights on prancing horses and beautiful women. King Harold mustarded his troops before the Battle of Hastings. Joan of Arc was burnt to a steak and was cannonized by Bernard Shaw. And victims of the bluebonnet plague grew boobs on their necks. Finally, Magna Carta provided that no free man should be hanged twice for the same offense.

In midevil times most people were alliterate. The greatest writer of the futile ages was Chaucer, who wrote many poems and verses and also wrote literature. During this time, people put on morality plays about ghosts, goblins, virgins, end other mythical creatures. Another story was about William Tell, who shot an arrow through an apple while standing on his son's head.

The Renaissance was an age in which more individuals felt the value of their human being. Martin Luther was nailed to the church door at Wittenberg for selling papal indulgences. He died a horrible death, being excommunicated by a bull. It was the painter Donatello's interest in the female nude that made him the father of the Renaissance.

The government of England was a limited mockery. From the womb of Henry VIII Protestantism was born. He found walking difficult because he had an abbess on his knee.
Queen Elizabeth was the “Virgin Queen." As a queen she was a success. When Elizabeth exposed herself before her troops, they all shouted “hurrah.” Then her navy went out and defeated the Spanish Armadillo.

It was an age of great inventions and discoveries. Gutenberg invented removeable type and the Bible. Another important invention was the circulation of blood. Sir Walter Raleigh is a historical figure because he invented cigarettes and started smoking. And Sir Francis Drake circumcised the world with a 100 foot clipper.

The greatest writer of the Renaissance was William Shakespeare. Shakespeare was born in the year 1564, supposedly on his birthday. He never made much money and is famous only because of his plays. He wrote tragedies, comedies, and hysterectomies, all in Islamic pentameter.

In one of Shakespeare's famous plays, Hamlet rations out his situation by relieving himself in a long soliloquy. His mind is filled with the filth of incestuous sheets which he pours over every time he sees his mother. In another play, Lady Macbeth tries to convince Macbeth to kill the King by attacking his manhood. The clown in As You Like It is named Touchdown, and Romeo and Juliet are an example of a heroic couplet. Romeo's last wish was to be laid by Juliet.

Writing at the same time as Shakespeare was Miguel Cervantes. He wrote Donkey Hote. The next great author was John Milton. Milton wrote Paradise Lost. Then his wife died and he wrote Paradise Regained.

During the Renaissance America began. Christopher Columbus was a great navigator who discovered America while cursing about the Atlantic. His ships were called the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Fe.

Later, the Pilgrims crossed the ocean, and this was called Pilgrim's Progress. The winter of 1620 was a hard one for the settlers. Many people died and many babies were born. Captain John Smith was responsible for all this.

One of the causes of the Revolutionary War was the English put tacks in their tea. Also, the colonists would send their parcels through the post without stamps. During the War, the Red Coats and Paul Revere was throwing balls over stone walls. The dogs were barking and the peacocks crowing. Finally, the colonists won the War and no longer had to pay for taxis.
Delegates from the original 13 states formed the Contented Congress. Thomas Jefferson, a Virgin, and Benjamin Franklin were two singers of the Declaration of Independence. Franklin invented electricity by rubbing two cats backwards and declared, “A horse divided against itself cannot stand." Franklin died in 1790 and is still dead.

George Washington married Martha Curtis and in due time became the Father of Our Country. His farewell address was Mount Vernon.

Soon the Constitution of the United States was adopted to secure domestic hostility. Under the Constitution the people enjoyed the right to keep bare arms.

Abraham Lincoln became America's greatest Precedent. Lincoln's mother died in infancy, and he was born in a log cabin which he built with his own hands. Lincoln said, "In onion then is strength."

Abraham Lincoln wrote the Gettysburg Address while traveling from Washington to Gettysburg on the back of an envelope. He also freed the slaves by signing the Emasculation Proclamation.
On the night of April 14, 1865, Lincoln went to the theater and got shot in his seat by one of the actors in a moving picture show. The believed assinator was John Wilkes Booth, a supposingly insane actor. This ruined Booth's career.

Meanwhile in Europe, the enlight¬enment was a reasonable time. Voltaire invented electricity and also wrote a book called Candy. Gravity was invented by Isaac Walton. It is chiefly noticeable in the autumn, when the apples are falling off the trees.

Johann Bach wrote a great many musical compositions and had a large number of children. In between, he practiced on an old spinster which he kept up in his attic. Bach died from 1750 to the present.

Bach was the most famous composer in the world, and so was Handel. Handel was half German, half Italian, and half English. He was very large.

Beethoven wrote music even though he was deaf. He was so deaf he wrote loud music. He took long walks in the forest even when everyone was calling for him. Beethoven expired in 1827 and later died for this.

France was in a very serious state. The French Revolution was accomplished before it happened and catapulted into Napoleon. During the Napoleonic Wars, the crowned heads of Europe were trembling in their shoes. Then the Spanish gorillas came down from the hills and nipped at Napoleon's flanks. Napoleon wanted an heir to inherit his power, but since Josephine was a baroness, she couldn’t have any children.

The sun never set on the British Empire because the British Empire is in the East and the sun sets in the West. Queen Victoria was the longest queen. She sat on a thorn for 63 years. She was a moral woman who practiced virtue. Her death was the final event which ended her reign.

The nineteenth century was a time of a great many thoughts and inventions. People stopped reproducing by hand and started reproducing by machine. The invention of the steamboat caused a network of rivers to spring up. Cyrus McCormick invented the McCormick raper, which did the work of a hundred men. Louis Pasteur discovered a cure for rabbis. Charles Darwin was a naturalist who wrote the Organ of the Species. Madman Curie discovered radio. And Karl Marx became one of the Marx brothers.

The First World War, caused by the assignation of the Arch-Duck by an anahist, ushered in a new error in the anals of human history.

Speaking of bad puns . . .

2010-06-20T12:44:00.002-05:00

(See post below. Hey, I DID mention puns!)

(And yes, I realize that "bad puns" is redundant.)

You know how sometimes you are presented with an opportunity you just can't resist? Even thought you KNOW you'll regret it later?

Well . . .

Last week at work I attended a safety meeting (I know . . . BOOOORRR -- ing), the topic of which is immaterial. I was drifting in and out of paying attention, when Mark (the presenter) made an analogy. His point was that if you get used to seeing the same thing over and over and over again in constant repetition, pretty soon you just stop seeing the "thing" and focus on the repetition.

He said, "For example, if you're looking at rows and rows of numbers that are all 3s, eventually if a couple of 4s are included your eyes will pass right over them, right?"

My ~~sad excuse for a~~ brain figuratively went "click."

I blurted out, "You mean you can't see the fours for the threes?"

After a brief puzzled pause, the room cleared as people ran for the rest rooms to vomit.

(Read the sentence aloud, slowly, making "fours" a two-syllable word.)

(Sorry!)

Totally Inappropriate. And yet . . .

2010-06-20T08:50:00.003-05:00

I'm referring to the Fathers Day card sent to me by my younger daughter.

You know, the daughter I've written about before with whom I compete to see which of us can send the other the birthday (or other-day) greeting card with the worst pun, the worst somehow fitting double entendre, etc.

Usually we just try to "out-clever" each other. The thrill is in the search for a card that somehow seems to make a however-vague reference to some foible in our lives.

The one I just received from her reads on the inside, simply, "Happy Fathers Day."

Ah, but it's the FRONT of the card that prompted the title of this post.

That I just HAVE to share:

As I said: TOTALLY inappropriate.

(You win this round, daughter.)

O – KAY already!

2010-06-06T10:44:00.002-05:00

I know; I brought it on myself. I was commenting on a Facebook entry and mentioned the dreaded “C” word.

But gee, did it have to strike so fast and so hard?

First strike was against my commute-to-work car. It has only 25k miles on it and came with new Michelins so there’s no appreciable tread wear. I evidently drove over something that sliced into the sidewall near the tread and suffered a flat.

No big deal, right? Right. In fact, while I was changing the tire in the shade of a handy overpass, two guys from my plant on their way home saw me, pulled over, TOOK over the job, and changed my tire for me. The tire dealer adjusted the price of the new tire for the almost new tread depth on the bad one, and I was on my way.

Next strike was my three-year-old, expensive but just out of warranty, Kitchen-Aid dishwasher. I was able to fix that myself (I’ll spare you the details) at minimal expense and with just one minor cut on a finger, but getting it out and then back in took the better part of my Saturday.

Then there was the blowout on our camper-trailer. That one cost me a LOT of sweat, plus three new tires; two on the axle and a new spare. Yeah, I know, I needed them anyway, but the timing could have been better!

Then yesterday afternoon my high-dollar, commercial quality, Echo weed trimmer just quit working. Right in the middle of trimming the lawn. No, it WASN’T out of gas! I think it was a fouled spark plug. I cleaned the plug, the air filter and the exhaust port (muffler), and now it’s running fine.

Finally (I HOPE!) last night my computer hard drive stared running continuously and all processes slowed to a crawl. Checked everything I knew to check, including rebooting, anti-virus scanning (no), downloading updates (no), other internet activity (no, disconnected from router to be sure), and just turned it off. Today it SEEMS okay, but I’m suspicious!

SO, BE WARNED!! Be on guard. Hopefully it’s just me, but don’t count on it! Last night my daughter in Tampa had a rock thrown through the window of her car right in front of her house. Nothing stolen, just vandalism. But the cost of replacing the window will hurt.

Remember, the ycaripsnoc can (and WILL) strike at any time.

Oh no, there goes my hard drive again—

The missing keys

2010-06-02T13:25:00.002-05:00

If you follow me on Facebook, you saw my very brief tale of changing a blown-out trailer tire on the shoulder of a major highway with traffic whooshing past at 70. But I didn’t tell about the keys.

The blown tire was on our camper-trailer. I keep a hydraulic bottle jack in a small front compartment of the trailer, accessible through a locked hatch. After struggling in the blazing sun for nearly an hour to get the tire safely changed, we secured everything, put away the tools and the jack, and made the trailer ready to resume the trip home.

The spare had been a little low on air, so I drove slowly down the shoulder for about 2 miles to the nearest gas station/convenience store. I aired the tire while Carol went inside to buy us LARGE cold drinks. I had sweated away at least a quart of body fluid and was shaky with exertion and dehydration.

We rested there for a few minutes standing in the gas station parking area while I gulped the icy liquid. Carol then asked, “Where are the camper keys you used to lock the hatch when you put the jack away?”

I gave her my best blank look, patted my pockets, glanced around at the front of the trailer tongue area, and shrugged.

“Well, where did you put them?” I told her I didn’t know. I remembered securing the jack and locking the hatch, and then I . . . what? Did I put them in my pocket? Not there now! Did I set them down on the trailer tongue? Not there now! Did I toss them into the open tool box I had been using?

We opened the back of the SUV and rummaged through the tool box.

No keys.

I struggled to think back, but there was just no memory of the keys after locking that little hatch. We decided I must have laid them on the trailer tongue and left them there. Surely they fell off while we crept down the shoulder looking for an air hose for the tire.

I was ready to write them off and drive home. We had others (duplicates), and I could get more made. But no; we had to go back and look for them!

We pulled the trailer out of the gas station and back onto the opposite side of this 4-lane divided highway. I located a crossover beyond the point of our blowout, waited for traffic to clear, and retraced our path to the spot of changing the tire. There I stopped and Carol got out and searched.

No keys.

Well, maybe they fell off the tongue between here and the gas station! We crept along the shoulder of the road scanning for this small ring of about 5 keys with a blue plastic/rubber rectangular tag or grip attached, while traffic kept roaring past. It should have been obvious if it had been there. No luck.

I was sure the keys would have landed and stayed right where they fell, since I had been driving so slowly with the soft tire. They couldn’t possibly have “bounced” into the weeds!

Back at the gas station we parked again, got out and scrutinized the area where I had turned in. Nothing.

I gave Carol a look of resignation and said, “They’re gone. It’s my fault. Let’s just go home and I’ll get more copies made.”

She nodded but stood there, hands in her shorts pockets, as if thinking. A strange look came over her face.

She jerked out her right hand holding the key ring! It had evidently been in her pocket all along.

We laughed and laughed and laughed.

I KNOW I locked that little hatch, but I have NO MEMORY of handing her the keys. She has NO MEMORY of taking them from me, or picking them up, or putting them in her pocket. She also says she checked her pockets several times after we discovered the keys were missing.

We decided we are both senile.

Or idiots.

Or both!

Remember the Elvis song, "Return to Sender?"

2010-05-22T16:38:00.003-05:00

(Earworm alert!)

From the fifties. Here are the lyrics — see if you remember the tune:

I gave a letter to the postman,
he put it his sack.
Bright in early next morning,
he brought my letter back.

She wrote upon it:
Return to sender, address unknown.
No such number, no such zone.
We had a quarrel, a lover's spat
I write I'm sorry but my letter keeps coming back.

So then I dropped it in the mailbox
And sent it special D.
Bright in early next morning
it came right back to me.

She wrote upon it:
Return to sender, address unknown.
No such number, no such zone.

This time I'm gonna take it myself
and put it right in her hand.
And if it comes back the very next day
then I'll understand

The writing on it:
Return to sender, address unknown.
No such person, no such zone.

Ah, yes. A golden oldie!

Well, somehow that song got into an endless loop going round and round in my head. Then I wondered if I could change the lyrics, but keep them similar enough that the original melody would still work and remind the "hearer" of Elvis' song.

Here's what I came up with. This is for all the ladies out there struggling to lose pounds. And don't be offended; it's a parody!

The Anorexic’s Boyfriend’s Lament
(With apologies to Elvis)

I got a picture from my girl friend,
Her dress looked like a sack!
She was as skinny as a rail bird
So I sent her picture back.

I wrote upon it:
Return, too slender! Dress size unknown!
You got no figure, no meat on those bones.
I like ‘em healthy, plus-sized and stacked!
She was always skinny but she thought that she looked fat.

She wrote to tell me she was sorry,
She’d lost the weight for me.
She even sent another picture,
But I sent it back, special D.

I wrote upon it:
Return, too slender! Dress size unknown!
You got no figure, no meat on those bones.

Next time I’m gonna pick one myself
And tell her ‘fore I ask for her hand
That if I find out she wants to get thin,
She’d better understand;

I’m gonna say:
Return, too slender! Dress size unknown.
No girlish figure, no meat on those bones!

Ah, return, too slender.
Return, too slender.
Return, too slender.

My grandson. A prodigy?

2010-04-12T11:13:00.002-05:00

Probably both(?) of you who read this blog already saw my daughter Joy’s Facebook post about this, but lemme tell you what her son (my grandson) did this weekend.

His dad, Johnny, was browsing around eBay looking at ultra lights, powered parachutes, and the like. He then walked away from the computer.

Joy noticed her son a bit later “messing” with the computer. She asked him, “Trevor, what are you doing?”

No response. She ignored him for a few minutes, and then became curious.

Now remember . . . he’s only 4 (almost 5).

She checked the screen, and just about croaked! Actually, according to her Facebook post she “shit a brick.” (I’ve never had that experience, but it sounds painful.)

She saw that the current high bid for the powered parachute on the screen was her husband’s! Knowing that he hadn’t actually intended to buy anything (especially in the $6,000 - $7,000 range) she suspected Trevor. She checked “her husband’s” maximum bid.

Are you ready?

$600,010.00!! That’s when the brick episode occurred. Trevor had not only entered that amount as their maximum bid, he had confirmed it!

After some frantic maneuvering, she was able to contact the seller and arrange to retract their bid, restoring that particular auction to normalcy. So, all ended well.

But here’s the funniest part: She had exclaimed to her husband, "Trevor just bid SIX HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS ON EBAY!"

Trevor spoke up. “No, Mommy. It was six hundred thousand . . . and TEN.”

C’mon, Mom. Get it right, willya?

Insanity?

2010-03-30T12:36:00.001-05:00

I ran across a famous quote today. I have used it myself, occasionally.

It is often attributed to Einstein, and goes like this: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

I’ve had observers apply that quote to my golf swing. I’ll think I’m changing a key aspect (grip, stance, angle, etc.) but they tell me they can’t see any change, and sure enough the ball keeps curving sideways. Time after time after time.

But today I had a different take on the saying. I saw it in a work-related article about the new health care bill, but the context isn’t germane. I just chuckled at it and went on.

Not long afterward I overheard co-workers complaining about a software application which seemed to display images differently each time they were opened.

That’s when it occurred to me – Einstein died in 1955 and never had the opportunity to deal with a Windows computer! He would have realized that there are some cases in which doing the same thing time after time DOES produce different results!

Thus he would have changed his definition of insanity. Something like this: “Insanity lies in expecting ANY two Windows computers to produce identical results after identical input.”

Right?

(All you Mac users know what I’m talking about.)

I get letters . . . and emails . . .

2010-03-24T12:45:00.002-05:00

I’m an HR manager. People want jobs. It’s logical that they’ll contact me, right?

Well, of course! Part of my job when we have openings is to fill those vacancies with qualified applicants. I do that through a process called screening.

This screening is predicated on the assumption that there are more applicants than positions. And in my long career I’ve NEVER had fewer applicants than openings. Thus I have to assess each applicant to determine the best, most qualified one(s) for the job(s) I have.

Screening begins at first contact, which most often is in writing. A letter. An application form. Or today, maybe an email.

If you’re looking for a job and contact me in writing, wouldn’t you try to make a positive first impression? Of course you would! But then, maybe you’re different from a lot of people.

Here’s an email that came to my address yesterday. I’ve changed nothing except the name and email address. I didn’t even have to change the phone number (you’ll see why).

__________________________________________
From: Mark Smith [mailto:marksmith3@yahoo.com]
Sent: Tuesday, March 23, 2010 10:10 AM
To: Earle, John
Subject:

hello my name is mark smith i was looking to see if there was anyway that i can get a chance to be able to work at the plant, i just turned 18 and i really do need a job. if you need any info message me or call my number is 956-209865 think you and have a nice day.
__________________________________________

Now, each year I go to our local high school and present to seniors something I call “Getting the Job.” I talk about the screening process, how it all really works, what hiring companies are really looking for, and what they do and DON’T care about.

I explain why we HR meanies screen OUT applicants before we even see them or know whether or not they’re qualified. (Because we don’t have TIME to interview 30-50 applicants to fill one job!) Is that FAIR? Probably not! But it’s how the system works.

Knowing we only want to actually interview about 5 people out of the 30-50 applicants, we screen out based on spelling, grammar, and content in the person’s writing. Is that a valid predictor of future job performance? Again, probably not! But it’s all we’ve got, initially.

No, I won’t be calling poor Mr. Smith above. I can’t—he left a digit out of his phone number. I could (and I might) reply to his email. If I do, I’ll try to gently suggest that in future contacts with ANY prospective employer he be a little less . . . uh . . . casual. In fact, I’ll give him an example of a properly written and formatted employment query.

Heck, I do it for the local high school seniors! Why not him, too?

Think you.

Not AGAIN!?!

2010-03-22T13:45:00.003-05:00

Our house is 38 years old, and we’ve lived in it for 24. Last October we replaced the two original wooden overhead garage doors with sparkling new steel-and-foam-sandwich insulated doors (can you say, “Energy Tax Credit?”).

I mean, we replaced everything; doors, electric openers, guide rails, rollers, remotes. . . THE WORKS!

And they are NICE! Whisper-quiet opening system (belt drive), and good, strong solid doors that almost glide up and down the rails. Expensive, yes; but I expected them to last as long as I own the house.

Did you catch the use of the past tense in that last sentence? Not a typo.

A few mornings ago while I was at work, Carol pushed the “open” button on the wall, and “her” door went up. Er . . . It started to go up! After about two feet of travel she heard a noise and the door stopped. She didn’t see anything wrong, so pushed the button again thinking that the door would reverse and go back down. But no, it started UP again(??). Accompanied by a cacophony of pops, cracks and groans, the door struggled to the top of its travel and stopped, but two of the four panels had buckled and sagged in the middle over her car.

She called me at work. I advised her to get her car out (quickly!), but not to touch the button, or her remote. I then called the company that had installed the doors and described what Carol told me. They sent a repair technician immediately.

He examined everything and left, scratching his head. He told us we’d hear from his boss.

The boss called later. “Can’t possibly be a defect in the doors or opening system. Never seen anything like it in 25 years in the business, but definitely not a warranty case. I’ll sell you a new door for $625.”

I asked, “So what damaged the door!? It was fine the day before. It lowered just fine the night before it failed.”

Answer: “Had to be something hit it from the outside when it was down, damaging the panels.”

Oka-a-a-ay.

I called the police to report apparent vandalism. (Not that the police could DO anything about it, but in case there were other reports of this kind of vandalism in our neighborhood, they needed to know.) An officer came and looked over the situation. His assessment: “No marks or scratches on the outside of the door. No broken glass or other indications. You heard no noises during the night, right? Nope, no other reports of problems around here. Definitely not vandalism. Probably the door jammed going up and buckled.”

Gee, if it wasn’t the door . . . and it wasn’t damage from somebody, then . . . ??

I KNOW!! IT HAD TO BE THE . . . oops (shhh) ycaripsnoc!!

Anyway, you know what THAT means! Plumbing will start leaking, electrical appliances will start failing, your home may develop strange cracks in the walls, and your car will start making noises and having mechanical problems.

Likely your computer will freeze, your hard drive will fry, and your modem will stop modem-ing.

Be warned! Be alert! And be afraid!

Why Trampolines are Dangerous in Texas

2010-03-08T20:56:00.001-06:00

Nuff said?

Military Wisdom

2010-03-07T20:52:00.002-06:00

"If the enemy is in range, so are you." — Infantry Journal

"It is generally inadvisable to eject directly over the area you just bombed." — US Air Force Manual

"Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword, obviously never encountered automatic weapons." — General MacArthur

"You, you, and you ... Panic. The rest of you, come with me." — U.S. Marine Corp Gunnery Sgt.

"Tracers work both ways." — U.S. Army Ordnance Manual

"Five second fuses only last three seconds." — Infantry Journal

The three most useless things in aviation are: Fuel in the bowser; Runway behind you; and Air above you. — Basic Flight Training Manual

"Any ship can be a minesweeper. Once." — Maritime Ops Manual

"Never tell the Platoon Sergeant you have nothing to do." — Unknown Marine Recruit

"If you see a bomb technician running, try to keep up with him." — USAF Ammo Troop

"You've never been lost until you"ve been lost at Mach 3." — Paul F. Crickmore (SR71 test pilot)

"The only time you have too much fuel is when you're on fire." —Unknown Author

"If the wings are traveling faster than the fuselage it has to be a helicopter — and therefore, unsafe." — Fixed Wing Pilot

"When one engine fails on a twin-engine airplane, you always have enough power left to get you to the scene of the crash." — Multi-Engine Training Manual

"Without ammunition, the USAF is just an expensive flying club." — Unknown Author

"If you hear me yell; 'Eject, Eject, Eject!,' the last two will be echos. If you stop to ask 'Why?' you"ll be talking to yourself, because you're the pilot." — Pre-flight Briefing from a 104 Pilot

"What is the similarity between air traffic controllers and pilots? If a pilot screws up, the pilot dies; but If ATC screws up, .... the pilot dies." — Sign over Control Tower Door

"Never trade luck for skill." — Author Unknown

"Airspeed, altitude and brains. Two are always needed to successfully complete the flight." — Basic Flight Training Manual

"Mankind has a perfect record in aviation — we have never left one up there!" — Unknown Author

"Flying the airplane is more important than radioing your plight to a person on the ground incapable of understanding or doing anything about it." — Emergency Checklist

"The Piper Cub is the safest airplane in the world; it can just barely kill you." — Attributed to Max Stanley (Northrop test pilot)

"There is no reason to fly through a thunderstorm in peacetime." — Sign over Squadron Ops Desk at Davis-Montham AFB, AZ

"If something hasn't broken on your helicopter, it's about to." — Sign over Carrier Group Operations Desk

"You know that your landing gear is up and locked when it takes full power to taxi to the terminal." — Lead-in Fighter Training Manual

As the test pilot climbs out of the experimental aircraft, having torn off the wings and tail in the crash landing, the crash truck arrives. The rescuer sees a bloodied pilot and asks, "What happened?" The pilot"s reply: "I don't know, I just got here myself!"

(As a former U.S. Navy carrier jet pilot, I found many of these to be both reminiscent of my own military experience, and true.)

The Shredder

2010-03-05T17:38:00.002-06:00

A young engineer, who had graduated with distinction, was leaving the office at 5:45 p.m. when he found the Company President standing in front of a shredder with a piece of paper in his hand.

"Listen," said the President, "this is a very sensitive and important document, and my secretary is not here. Can you make this thing work?"

"Certainly," said the young engineer. He turned the machine on, inserted the paper, and pressed the start button.

"Excellent, excellent!" said the President as his paper disappeared inside the machine, "I just need one copy."

Lesson: Never, ever assume that your boss knows what he's doing.

(This was sent to my company's managers by its President. At least he has a sense of humor . . . and maybe reality!)

Birthday card fun

2010-03-01T16:49:00.004-06:00

The Earle family is not big on picking out special birthday gifts. Often Carol and I don't even buy the other one a gift for a birthday.

Oh, we always celebrate; usually with dinner out, some wine, or maybe even a round of golf at a slightly more "upscale" course than the ones we usually play. For our adult "kids" we usually just send the gift everyone wants -- a check!

Ah, but card selection is a different matter altogether! The message on the card is critical, and might require trips to several stores over a few days to find the one that is just right.

My daughters and I try to outdo each other with really awful puns. When I think I've found one for a daughter that's bad enough I show it to Carol. If she gags and retches, it's perfect!

But Carol and I, when picking out a card for each other, try for humor that's a bit more subtle. We also search for a message that will have a special meaning for the recipient. Maybe a double entendre. Even better, a card that's not intended to have a double entendre, but for us it does because of one of our (usually my) foibles.

We are not wine snobs. Oh, sorry, I meant wine "connoisseurs." We enjoy a glass of wine with a meal, and usually know if a particular wine is a red or a white (or even a "blush!"), but beyond that it's either smooth and pleasant, or it bites.

However, often a glass of wine (especially TWO glasses) leaves us in a fond, romantic mood.

That "foible" made this card she recently bought for me that much more appropriate:

Here's the inside:

I'll leave it to you to figure out what the W. P. initials stand for.

Remember Karyn Lyndon?

2010-02-24T20:56:00.003-06:00

I can say, "I knew her before she was famous. We used to trade blog barbs."

Her blog address is in my sidebar (down a ways on the right -- it's the one called "Who Let the Blogs Out?" )

Anyway, if you'll click on that link you'll see that she has her first book out, called "CurvyKathy31."

Yeah, I know -- weird title. But it makes sense once you read the book.

I think you ought to check it out. Hey, you can buy the PDF or HTML download version for just $6, and I promise it's worth it.

I wrote a review of it for Amazon.com (where only the paperback is for sale; personally, I'd buy it from the publisher's site).

Here's the review. I mean every word.

CurvyKathy31

Author: Karyn Lyndon

It sounded like a stereotypical chick-lit tale with internet chat-room and Instant Message lingo as a hook. I figured it was probably poorly written with lots of sex, little plot, and no characterization.

I was wrong.

Within the first few pages I realized that Kathy was a very smart, introspective, clever heroine. Did I mention capable, imaginative, and sweet? The story has lots to offer besides the romance angle, with enough twists and turns to make you dizzy in a delightful, "Why didn't I see THAT coming?" kind of way.

I promise you'll laugh out loud. (Oops, I mean lol!) And I almost guarantee you'll get tears in parts, unless you're made of granite.

The sex is torrid, the conflicts are real and intense, and the pages almost turn themselves. Within the first 20 pages I was telling myself, "This woman (Lyndon) is really sharp. How does she come up with these?"

Examples:

"Jeez. No doubt about it. The man gave good Email, especially for a rookie."

". . . his big boat seemed to compensate for his little dinghy."

"My palms were wet and my throat dry . . . Isn't it weird how nervousness can cause two opposite reactions at the very same moment, kind of like the amazing way yogurt can cure both constipation and diarrhea?"

"I was starting to feel like Mrs. Doubtfire, running back and forth between tables at the restaurant. The good news was I didn't have to change clothes."

". . . that was exactly the kind of person I was, always led by my emotions instead of my brain."

(Don't believe this last one! CurvyKathy's brain is her best--if not her biggest--asset.)

This book had everything I love in a novel: catchy humor, an intriguing story line, characters with breadth and depth, and a well-thought-out, satisfying ending. (Just wait `til you read the climax!)

I may not have quite fallen in love with Ms. Lyndon (yet), but I can't wait to catch her next title when it comes out. I'm dying to see if she can top this first effort.

The suicide pilot and the IRS

2010-02-20T11:53:00.003-06:00

This week’s story about the man who deliberately flew his small plane into the Austin IRS offices has struck a chord in many. It brought to my mind the true story I wrote about in 2005. I’ve reproduced the story (three separate blog posts) below.

The man in my tale also felt driven to the verge of suicide, but his despair lacked the rage to direct itself at the IRS.

I’m glad.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Dealing with a tax levy.

I hope you never have to.

Fortunately I’ve never had the personal pleasure of much contact with the IRS.

Oh, there was that one time about 16 years ago when they questioned one of my deductions. What made it nerve-wracking was they didn’t choose to tell me in the letter they sent that it was a single charitable contribution they were interested in.

NO, they just sent a “Dear Taxpayer” letter telling me to appear in person with all my records for an “examination” of my 1988 return. They don’t use the word “audit;” it’s an “examination.”

I dutifully loaded up a medium size cardboard carton with all my receipts, records, check stubs, bank statements, and on and on. I showed up in the lobby of the Federal Building feeling like a criminal, and cooled my heels for about 30 minutes past my “appointment” time. Shoot, THEY were in no hurry. They knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

When I walked into the examiner’s office and she informed me that all she wanted was documentation on one contribution, I almost wept in relief. Shoot, I had that! And sure enough, within about ten minutes I was skipping out the door and down the street to where I’d parked the car, feeling like a kid just let out of school for summer vacation!

But I’ve never had to face a tax levy. That only happens if you’re delinquent in your taxes, you’ve set up a good-faith payment schedule, and you then fail to make your scheduled payments.

Trust me; you don’t want to do that. It just happened to one of my employees.

No, they won’t throw you in jail. Why not? You can’t PAY them if you’re in jail. They want you to keep your job, and maybe work a second one as well.

But they will obtain a court order to attach ALL or your wages (except, of course, your taxes, Social Security, and voluntary deductions for such things as health insurance and other benefits) and then they’ll let you take home a minimal, fixed amount based on your filing status (single, married) and your number of exemptions. All the rest, however much it may be, they make your employer send to them.

In the case of my employee who files single with just one exemption, he’s allowed to take home a maximum of (get this)... $158 a week! That’s it.

You say you can’t live on that? They don’t care. You say your home will be repossessed, along with your car? They don’t care. The IRS has no compassion.

And guess what? If you take a second job, they’ll levy those wages too. For how long? Until the entire amount you owe, including interest and penalties, is paid.

As this guy’s employer we’d like to be compassionate and fudge for him. But we can’t. It’s a court order, after all. If we knowingly ignore or violate it, I could go to jail. So, sorry Mr. Q. Have fun on $158 a week.

I hope you never have to experience a run-in with the IRS.
POSTED BY DUKE_OF_EARLE AT 5:15 PM

Thursday, October 06, 2005
Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide?

(Martha and the Vandellas, 1965. If you care.)

So what do you do if the IRS levies all your income except $158 a week, and you can’t live on that?

Well, most of you out there who read this are married with family responsibilities. That complicates matters, but it also presents the opportunity for your spouse to go to work, or take a second job to make ends meet. The IRS can’t levy your spouse’s earnings, unless he/she were a party to your non-payment.

Of course, you would also do whatever you could to reduce your weekly expenses. Like car-pool if possible, eat cheaply, and generally live as frugally as you could. You might even sell some things at a garage sale, or trade in that high-payment car for an older cheaper model.

But what if...

You were single with no dependents? You were renting a cheap place by the month because after your divorce your spouse took most of what you had (including the kids) and left you with just the debts and child-support payments?

And what it your car was already an old clunker? And you couldn’t get out from under your debts because of the tax levy and the court-ordered child support — there wasn’t even enough left to set up any long-term payment plans?

And what if there were no way you could borrow any more to help consolidate debts because your credit was already shot? And the only thing tying you to this geographic area was your good-paying job with great benefits — except that now the IRS gets all of your paycheck so the job won’t seem good-paying no matter HOW much you make?

Finally, what if you thought you knew how to get some counterfeit (fake) ID, including a Social Security card?

Would you be tempted to drive your old clunker quietly out of state, set yourself up with a new job somewhere else, and drop out of "the system?”

Sure, the new job would be entry level and low paying, but you’d take home more than $158 a week and you wouldn’t have to worry about all those debts. You wouldn’t be able to marry without your past coming back to haunt you, but you’re not interested in that right now; you’re consumed with fear and anxiety over your hopeless financial situation.

I’m not saying it would be easy. But it wouldn’t be all that hard, either.

It sure is tempting to my employee (see yesterday’s post). I’ve tried to counsel him that “run and hide” is NOT the best option. We’ve discussed the company’s Employee Assistance Program and other “safety net” agencies and programs available locally that might help. He seems dubious.

We’ll see if he stays, or just doesn’t show up for work one of these days. Ever again.
POSTED BY DUKE_OF_EARLE AT 4:18 PM

Thursday, December 01, 2005
Follow-up (Somewhat Unbelievable)

Remember my posts about one of my employees with a tax levy from the IRS?

No? Well, for a quick review check out this post and this post from back in early October.

Okay, now that you’re up to speed, here’s the follow up. (Initials have been changed to protect confidentiality.)

Mr. Q tried to live on the $158 per week the IRS allowed him to take home. After a month or two, when doing so (living) became obviously impossible, he petitioned for a reduction in the amount of the levy. He called the same “1-800” number 6 times over a few weeks, but each time was connected to a different IRS office. As you might expect, he received no help at all from some, and conflicting information from others.

He pleaded with me for help, but I had a court-ordered levy to deal with. I couldn’t ignore it, nor could I stop sending the levied amount to the IRS without written instructions from the IRS. I sent him back to the IRS to ask them for something in writing that I could use to reduce his levied amount.

This week he came to me in tears (a bit disconcerting — this is not a man prone to them). A lady in an IRS office in California had told him they only expected us to be sending them $590 per month on his behalf, and we were sending almost $1,800. She didn’t understand why. She had an agreement, signed by a Mrs. C, which stated the $590 number.

Just so you’ll know; Mrs. C is our company’s payroll administrator. She works for me. I asked her about this alleged “agreement,” and she produced a copy of the only thing she had ever signed and sent to the IRS. It was VERY CLEARLY not any kind of agreement. It was simply a cover sheet that went along with the first check we sent them on Mr. Q’s behalf. That first check had been for $590.

This was no “agreement...” but if the IRS thought it was... and accepted it as such... AND (most importantly) if somebody changed his account records in their computer system to show that they HAD such an “agreement”... Well, all would be wonderful.

Apparently that’s exactly what happened.

Today Mr. Q, Mrs. C and I called the 1-800 number from my speakerphone so we could all participate. We were on hold forever, but then were connected to a Mr. White. He listened to the dilemma, checked the computer records, agreed that Mr. Q had an agreement with the IRS, and only owed them $590 per month!

When I explained my need for something in writing to authorize me to amend the current levy, Mr. White agreed again. He kept us on hold for a loooooong time. Twice he came back on to ask us a question, and then we were back on hold.

Then he asked for my fax number, and a minute later I had my signed, written authorization. Since we are processing the current pay period’s payroll today, this allowed me to immediately change the levy and spare Mr. Q another two weeks of extreme hardship.

Now, that would be reason enough to celebrate and marvel that the IRS had made such a goof and it actually benefited a taxpayer. But if you’ve gotten this far, read on a bit.

When I thanked Mr. White for all of his empathetic efforts, and told him that he may have literally saved a life today (Mr. Q told me he was wondering why he should go on living), Mr. White said, “Well, the Lord has me here for some reason, I guess. But I’m just doing my job.” (That from an IRS agent!?)

At that, Mr. Q’s tears began to flow again and he stepped out of my office. He had been on his knees last night in desperation, asking God to intervene. Mrs. C got teary as well. She has prayed about this situation, feeling terrible for Mr. Q. But worse, as the payroll administrator SHE had to arrange for that horrible levy every payday. She had also asked God to intervene.

Now get this: The paper she signed that became this “agreement” that the IRS accepted and then cut the levy by two-thirds, contained the $590 figure in error! In figuring up that first check (it was the first time she had ever done this) she exempted some amounts that were not supposed to have been exempted. From that first erroneous check until now, the amount we’ve had to take out of Mr. Q’s biweekly check has been hundreds higher.

You can easily attribute these events to a government snafu or a comedy of IRS errors that worked out okay for once.

I choose to believe that God answers prayer, and has intervened.
POSTED BY DUKE_OF_EARLE AT 5:10 PM

Home again, home again, jiggedy-jig.

2010-02-19T21:14:00.002-06:00

Yes, as reported in my last post, we are home. I have now been to the office to work for 5 consecutive days, getting caught up as is inevitable after an absence.

Actually I’ve accomplished very little, because during my absence our I.T. guys converted my office computer from Windows XP to Windows 7. Oh, don’t misunderstand – Windows 7 is fine! The machine is fast, and I like some of the new bells and whistles that do improve the user’s experience compared to both XP and Vista (which I’m running here at home.)

But with a new OS on the machine, they had to re-install all of the programs I use. Mainly Microsoft Office 2007. And they run pretty much the same, but I had to re-establish all the little settings and preferences that I was used to: default filing areas, email handling, location of the preview pane in Outlook, advanced features in Word and Excel that I use, and so on.

I had been using all those features for so long I’d forgotten HOW to set them up! So I spent most of the week just getting my work station back the way I wanted it.

Meanwhile Carol succeeded in getting all the ski paraphernalia washed and stowed away for next year, all the leftover food either frozen or put up in small portions for meals in the coming days and weeks (yes, we took WAY too much food for dinners), and getting the car and house back in order.

OH, Jack K. asked what books we listened to on the trip. The first was No Safe Place by Richard North Patterson, a political thriller about a candidate in the final week of the primary elections for the Democratic Presidential nomination. Extremely well done. In two separate “scenes” Mr. Patterson built the tension to a level that had me gripping the steering wheel in suspense! I highly recommend it.

The other is Brimstone by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, a murder mystery with sufficient lurid details and twists of plot to keep anyone enthralled.

Both were good escapist fare, and helped the miles pass quickly.

On long driving trips we generally select books based on the greatest number of CDs (longest books). Often we don’t finish a book before arriving home. In those cases we then sit for about an hour each evening listening together in the living room until we get to the end.

Stories of the trip will come, but not tonight.

Oh, and for those of you not familiar with it, I took the title of this post from the nursery rhyme:

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig.
Home again, home again, jiggedy-jig.

To market, to market, to buy a fat hog.
Home again, home again, jiggedy-jog.

The Cookies Are All Eaten!

2010-02-14T17:55:00.002-06:00

Er . . . Not really. But the ski trip is over (darn it!), and everyone is safely home (thank God!), so that chapter has closed.

Except for the stories I can now tell about it.

(Heh heh heh.)

But that'll have to wait for another post. I have just driven from Denver to Victoria on Saturday and Sunday, arriving home today at about 2:00 pm. We have unloaded the filthy car (its bath will come soon), unpacked the many boxes and suitcases it contained, filled the dirty clothes hamper, and stowed much of the gear that does not need to be washed. The rest of it will be cleaned over the next few days and carefully put away until 2011.

I'm tired.

We listened to a recorded book going and for a few hours on the way home, then listened to most of another on the REST of the way home. We will listen to more of it tonight and plan to retire early. Tomorrow it's back to work for me, and laundry/clean-up time for Carol.

Stories to come!

The cookies are all baked!

2010-02-04T20:28:00.004-06:00

. . . and the house smells heavenly!

Not to mention that the cookies taste better than the house smells!

Also, we have staged in the den most of the "stuff" we're hauling to Colorado for skiing with the exception of our suitcases with traveling clothes, toiletries, etc. That happens tomorrow night, after which we load up the car with everything except the food in the freezer and the fridge.

Saturday we hit the road before dawn, hoping to make at least Raton, NM or maybe Trinidad, CO. On Super Sunday we'll arrive, unload, get set up, rent our ski equipment, figure out what we forgot to bring and whether or not we need to replace it, welcome family and friends, and get some rest.

Monday we hit the mountain!

More to come.

I'd seen these before, but I still laughed out loud

2010-02-01T16:23:00.001-06:00

The Zen of Sarcasm

1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much leave me alone.

2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and leaky tire.

3. It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.

4. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted.

5. Always remember that you're unique. Just like everyone else.

6. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.

7. If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments.

8. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.

9. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is probably not for you.

10 . Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day .

11. If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably a wise investment.
12 . If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.

13. Some days you're the bug; some days you're the windshield.

14. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

15. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket.

16. A closed mouth gathers no foot.

17. Duct tape is like 'The Force'. It has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together.

18. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

19. Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving.

20. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.

21. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

22. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

My Wife -- Imelda?

2010-01-31T08:02:00.004-06:00

Carol and I have been married a long time.

Occasionally people will ask, "How long have you two been married?" Carol will usually begin to do the math in her head (which doesn't take her long because she's a very sharp lady). I, however, immediately blurt out the correct answer, which is (take note husbands), "Not long enough!"

That always earns me a smile and points. NOW who's sharp?

But I digress: In those many years since we said our vows, we have noticed a recurring phenomenon. We will occasionally find a product we really like. It's always just right for us. It fits our needs perfectly. It's comfortable, in every sense of the word. It's well-made. Sometimes it's even available at a lower price than similar but not-so-perfect items.

These products can be a simple as a hand-held gadget for the kitchen or as complex as a motor vehicle. A garment. A tool (hand or powered). A bed-pillow. A particular restaurant's version of General Joe Chicken (Szechuan style -- yum!), and so on.

How do we find these perfect items? Well, we shop carefully. We compare. We discuss our likes and dislikes about similar items we've tried that aren't perfect. Plus sometimes we're just damn lucky and stumble onto "it."

What's the recurring phenomenon I mentioned? It seems to be one of those immutable laws of nature, like the fact that the dropped slice of bread always lands buttered-side down. It is the apparent FACT that not long after we find one of these items/products/devices/garments, etc., it is discontinued.

Oh, maybe not immediately, but soon! Want some examples?

I've written on this blog in the past about our early SUV, a 1984 3/4-ton Dodge van. We put over 200,000 miles on that van in 13 years, and loved it! By 1996 Dodge had improved their van but hadn't changed the basic design, so we gave the old one away (literally, to a friend) and bought a brand new one just like it. By 2008 the "new" one was getting long in the tooth, so we thought about replacing it. You guessed it; Chrysler had quit making the vans.

I mentioned General Joe chicken above. Here in Victoria there was just one restaurant that got it right, with just enough hot spices to make your nose sniffly, but not enough to burn away the taste. Yep, they went out of business.

Anyway, our solution to this damnable phenomenon is this: Once we find one of those perfect products (other than perishable stuff, like General Joe chicken) we stock up.

Is there a point here? Does it have anything to do with the post's title? YES!!

My wonderful wife Carol has discovered the most comfortable shoes she has EVER worn in all those years of our marriage and beyond. You may have seen them—they are Skechers Shape-Ups. (No, I'm NOT getting paid to endorse this product.) (Darn it.) These are walking shoes with a boat-shaped, rounded sole that allows you to roll from heel to toe as you walk.

This rounded sole is cushioned and designed such that the entire sole of your foot is supported throughout each step -- even if you have very high arches. Some reviews say it feels like walking in sand, but without the resistance.

Now . . . YOU may not like these shoes. But Carol says she may never wear another shoe in her life that isn't one of these Shape-Ups.

After wearing her first pair for about a week, she bought another. Then another. Then a pair of low-top boots of the same brand and design. She's going to try playing golf in a pair (instead of her soft-spiked golf shoes), and if successful will keep a pair just for golf.

Yesterday we bought, assembled and installed in her closet a horizontal storage rack just to contain all these shoes. This for a lady who already had plenty of shoes she used to think were comfortable.

So . . . All of that to say these two things: First, if you want to try on a pair of these Shechers Shape-Ups for yourself you'd better hurry. Experience tells me they won't be making them for much longer.

And second, if they DO keep making them for a few more months you may want to buy stock in the companys that makes shoe storage racks, because ~~Imelda~~ Carol will be buying more of them soon.

More ski trip prep

2010-01-30T12:15:00.003-06:00

One week from today we'll be heading for Denver!

Or, actually, heading for the area around Raton, NM, or Trinidad, CO. That's about as far as we can manage in one long day of driving. The long range forecast doesn't show another storm coming across the Southwest then, but it such a storm develops we may alter our course to head straight north into Kansas, and then West on I-70.

Either way we'll make it to Denver by next Sunday morning, stop for groceries and supplies, and trek across Berthoud Pass to Winter Park.

Still, there's a lot to do between now and then. We've already begun gathering up all the winter gear and garments. We'll have to get all of the golf paraphernalia out of the SUV and rearrange the seating/storage.

Aside: we thought about golf this weekend, and may still play tomorrow if the wind eases a bit. Today we have bright sunshine and afternoon temps in the low 50s, but the wind is 15-20 and pretty biting. Wimps that we are, we're skipping golf today.

The one preparation that is of PARAMOUNT importance this week isall Carol's responsibility. It is . . .

COOKIES!!!

In past years I've copied into a blog post the actual recipe, and if anyone is interested I can do so again (or email it to you). These are the World's Best Chocolate Chip, Oatmeal, Peanut Butter, Wheat Germ, and Whole Wheat Cookies, and thus (with all those ingredients) actually good for you.

They are at least as good as anything the elves in Tolkein's Lord of the Rings trilogy could make, and MUCH better than anything the elves at Keeblers make.

We'd survive if we forgot most anything else, but the COOKIES are vital!

(It's not "cookies," it's always "COOKIES!!")

Oh, and I just HAD to borrow this quote found on talented artist Ryan Wolf's blog:

"Skiing combines outdoor fun with knocking down trees with your face."
Dave Barry

Be careful what you post!

2010-01-26T17:37:00.002-06:00

You knew that, right? Seems like the rule is, "Once on the Internet, ALWAYS on the Internet!"

Oh sure, you can always delete blog posts. But once they've been up there you have no control over who might copy what you wrote, publish it no telling where, and put in there a reference to YOUR blog. And if you (like me) actually identify yourself with a real name, a real home town, and a real email address, you can ALWAYS be found.

What am I babbling about?

Well, I had a phone call today at work from Area Code 571. The first time the call came in I glanced at the number, didn't recognize the area code, and let it go to voice mail. Hey, I had someone in my office and it was an important conversation! Anyway, that number called me three times and on the third time I answered.

On the line was a very nice lady from Northern Virginia (suburb of D.C.) who was conducting a survey about needle coke. She had Googled the term, and found this very blog!

Yes, back in 2006 I wrote a post titled "What is Needle Coke?" Here's a link to it, since I just KNOW you're going to rush over there to read the post!

Or, you can just Google "needle coke" and my blog post is the 5th item down from the top.

What she really wanted was some inside information about PRICING of needle coke, and I really couldn't help her there since we don't publish prices. Needle coke is one of those commodities that, if you wanted some you'd probably already know the approximate cost.

Anyway, we had a very pleasant conversation. And likely she will produce an article in some high-dollar publication quoting me as an unnamed "industry insider" who would only speak "off the record."

(I told her I was just the HR guy, and didn't really know much about the business side of our operation, so please don't quote me by name. She MIGHT even have believed me!)

Anyway, I figure if a short post I wrote in August of 2006 is significant enough for someone to track me down in my office at the plant and ask me a bunch of questions, WHO KNOWS what will happen when someone reads some of my OTHER posts?

They might learn about the ycaripsnoc and identify it for all to see -- then we'll all be in BIG trouble!

So be careful what you post!

Or hide your identity well.

Not so much of a match-up after all

2010-01-17T15:05:00.002-06:00

Vikings defense was awesome.

Dallas never had a chance once they started turning the ball over.

Good for Favre! You gotta love it for him.

Ski trip progress

2010-01-17T09:00:00.004-06:00

Yep, it’s about time for the annual Earle family ski trip. February is our traditional time and, since we are a traditional family by nature, it’ll be in February again this year

As I have noted in past posts, we Earles have been accused of taking our vacations VERY seriously. Right, Tina? (You know who you are!) Well, why not? After all, much of the fun is in the anticipation and preparation.

Why so much preparation? Glad you asked!

We are, by turns, extravagant and penny-pinching. In order to penny-pinch we have to shop for the very best advance deals on:

1. Getting there, including airfares for those who are flying and motel reservations for those who drive but spend a night on the road.

2. Early-purchase discounted lift tickets (a HUGE saving).

3. Meals for the entire week, which Carol prepares in advance in quantity (like stew, and spaghetti sauce, and so on) and then freezes. This avoids the expense of eating out daily or buying those $10 hamburgers for lunch at the restaurants on the mountain.

4. Ski and other cold weather apparel, which costs MUCH more at the resort than in your local sporting goods and outdoor stores—especially when they are having a sale!

All of that penny-pinching allows us the extravagance of our accommodations at the resort and our blow-out final dinner at a Denver restaurant before we all go our separate ways to our separate homes in Tampa, Chicago, and Texas.

Here's a shot of the whole group from last year just before that blow-out dinner, in our matching official Earle Family Ski Sweaters, each of which (the sweaters, that is) comes with a Certificate of Authenticity:

This year we are including a couple from Virginia as well, but they can’t stay for the whole week and will thus miss much of the total experience, to their loss.

More on all of this later. I’m cutting this post short to prepare for watching the Dallas Cowboys play the Vikings this afternoon. Romo versus Favre—what a match-up!

Later, all.

Have you seen this?

2010-01-11T17:11:00.011-06:00

This brand spanking new Airbus 340-600, the longest passenger airplane ever built, sits just outside its hangar in Toulouse, France without a single hour of airtime.

Enter the Arab flight crew of Abu Dhabi Aircraft Technologies (ADAT) to conduct pre-delivery tests on the ground, such as engine run-ups prior to delivery to Etihad Airways in Abu Dhabi.

The ADAT crew taxied the A340-600 to the run-up area.

Then they took all Four engines to takeoff power with a virtually empty aircraft. Not having read the run-up manuals, they had no clue just how light an empty A340-600 really is.

The takeoff warning horn was blaring away in the cockpit because they had all 4 engines at full power.
The aircraft computers thought they were trying to take off, but it had not been configured properly (flaps/slats, etc.)

Then one of the ADAT crew decided to pull the circuit breaker on the Ground Proximity Sensor to silence the alarm.
This fools the aircraft into thinking it is in the air.

The computers automatically released all the Brakes and set the aircraft rocketing forward.
The ADAT crew had no idea that this is a safety feature so that pilots can't land with the brakes on.

Not one member of the seven-man Arab crew was smart enough to throttle back the engines from their max power setting, so the $200 million brand-new Aircraft crashed into a blast barrier, totaling it.

The extent of injuries to the crew is unknown due to the news blackout in the major media in France and elsewhere.

Coverage of the story was deemed insulting to Muslim Arabs.

Finally, the photos are starting to leak out.

A French Airbus: $200 million dollars
Untrained Arab Flight Crew: $300,000 Yearly salary
Unread Operating Manual: $300

Aircraft meets retaining wall, and the wall wins.
PRICELESS!!!

How cold was it last night?

2010-01-09T10:27:00.004-06:00

Probably not as cold here in South Texas as where you are.

Well, except for Michelle in South Africa -- it's summer there, remember!

But for those of you in the NORTHERN hemisphere, global warming seems to have taken a vacation. Proof?

Well, just down the street from my house I saw what is pictured below. I stopped, looked at the sun sparkling on the icicles covering the discarded Christmas tree, and just HAD to go back for the camera.

Yeah, they ran the sprinkler on the tree all night. And I'm sure this is a fairly common sight "up north" where people have snow blowers in their garages.

But down here, southwest of Houston, it's a rare night when the temperature reaches 18 degrees F.

(Yes, that's the answer to the title question. Good job picking up on that!)

Gettin' Ready!

2010-01-07T17:19:00.002-06:00

This year was the most fun Christmas I've had in 5 years.

See, 5 years ago was the last time both my daughters and their husbands were all at our home here in Victoria, TX. Older daughter Christina was carrying my grandson Trevor, who was born the following April.

And that year we had a magical Christmas Eve snowfall of almost a foot! Now you've got to put this in perspective . . . I've lived in Victoria for 24 years, and it has NEVER snowed in all that time. Much LESS acculmulated! But in 2004, despite global warming, etc., we went to bed on Christmas Eve thrilled to have seen light snow falling and starting to actually stick to the grass. Imagine our delight and disbelief Christmas morning to have a foot of snow on the ground! (I've got HUNDREDS of pictures to prove it!) Snow had not even been in the forecast!

No. I'm sorry. You CAN'T imagine it.

Anyway, no snow this year. But both daughters, their husbands, and my grandson all spent 4 nights and days with us before flying back to home and work.

What fun to have a house full of people for a change, and to watch the thrill of an almost 5-year-old on Christmas Morning! This is the best of times for him. Santa is very real, and of course we spoiled him terribly before giving him back to his parents to take home to Tampa.

Anyway, I just hope any of you reading this had even HALF as good a holiday season as we did.

But now the decorations are put away, the house is clean, and we're gearing up for the NEXT family tradition . . . THE EARLE FAMILY SKI TRIP!!!

I've reserved our lodgings, airline reservations are made for the Florida contingent, ski lessons are reserved for Trevor, discounted lift tickets are purchased, lockers are reserved at the mountain, reservations are made at the Denver Macaroni Grill for our Farewell Dinner . . .

THINGS ARE FALLING INTO PLACE!

Next, Carol will begin baking COOKIES, preparing and freezing dinners, the car will be loaded, and I note from Weather.com that there is LOTS of SNOW out there.

So, excitement is running high. We are (as the title of this post says) "Gettin' Ready!"

I couldn't stand it!

2010-01-03T10:11:00.002-06:00

"Lost my desire to put up blog posts."

Uh-huh.

That lasted, what, a week? Maybe two?

Well, I'm not sure that the desire is back to stay, but when I saw this "Letter to Ma and Pa" from a redneck farm kid in the Marine Corps, I just had to share it with those few of you who haven't already seen it.

It's pretty funny. Here you go:

REDNECK FARM KID in the Marine Corps

Dear Ma and Pa,

I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you get to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. But I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot, and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing.

Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there's warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food, plus yours, holds you until noon when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much.

We go on 'route marches,' which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different. A 'route march' is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.

The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none.

This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why...the bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.

Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake . I only beat him once... He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6' and 130 pounds and he's 6'8' and near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.

Your loving daughter, Alice

A final ramble?

2009-12-18T21:19:00.002-06:00

Kenju just asked me on Facebook, “Are you guys okay? Sure haven't heard from you in a while!"

Yeah, we’re fine.

I’ve just lost the desire to put up blog posts. Don’t know why, but the fun seems gone from it—and that’s a shame!

Being a part of the blogosphere for a few years was a hoot. I “met” online a bunch of really nice people who I still care about and follow on their blogs (those who still post to a blog anyway) and on Facebook, where most seem to have gravitated.

I had a huge amount of fun with poems, posts about the “ycaripsnoc” causing everything from bursting plumbing to the MS Windows Blue Screen of Death, tales about vacation trips complete with pictures, satires on movies, reviews of country songs, and lots more.

And wasn’t it a thrill when some completely new person first commented on a post, leading to a new friendship in blog-land? I made new friends in the UK, in South Africa, in Australia, and all over the US! I’m old enough to remember when people had Pen Pals in different places (which was like blogging but using the postal service to transmit your “posts”)—the thrill of meeting and sharing stories with someone far away was similar.

Anyway, because those blog posts meant a lot to me then, I’ll leave Romantic Ramblings and all its archives up on Google’s Blogspot for a while.

How long? Well, knowing my tendency towards inertia, probably until they declare it abandoned and erase if from their massive servers.

I started this blog when a literary agent I was working with told me I “HAD” to have an internet presence if I wanted to be considered commercially viable as a novelist. As you’ll remember, he later agreed to represent me but soon found that the publishers he approached had a somewhat different idea about what was commercially viable, and it didn’t include my first novel.

Undaunted I began two more books, but the writing languished at about the 10k word level. I still have those story lines percolating in the back of my mind, but wonder now if I’ll ever start them back up again.

In my blogging I met other authors, many of whom (honesty requires me to admit) are better writers than I am. Several of those are still on the verge of either representation or of at least seeing their work available on Amazon as a P.O.D. (Print on Demand) paperback or e-book.

You know who you are, Candace and Karyn!

But now I guess all of us have moved on a bit. I still browse a few blogs and all of my Facebook friends’ posts, but I have little desire to participate in the Facebook games and activities and causes.

I keep saying that I’m “nearing retirement” . . . But am I really? I haven’t even settled of a year yet, let alone a date.

So, Kenju, thanks for asking!

In my usual introspective way I’ve rambled around trying to say farewell; to blogging, at least. But I’ll still be lurking around waiting to make a sarcastic or double entendre comment to whatever you put on Facebook. (“Someone just fertilized my crops on Farmland!” You can imagine the fun I could have with THAT one!)

Like the line from the very old song, “Seasons in the Sun:”

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun,
But the wine and the song,
Like the seasons, are all gone.

All our lives we had fun,
We had seasons in the sun,
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach.

If I ever get published, or manage to get a book available as a POD, I’ll let you all know!)

Fun!

2009-08-23T13:58:00.005-05:00

In case you didn't know, I have a grandson. He's 4 now, but at a slightly earlier age he was delighted by squirrels.

For a youngster learning to talk, the "squ" in "squirrel" was hard for him to wrap his tongue and mouth around, so the word came out "Ski Roll."

Thus, in this family every time a squirell is spotted we say, "Look! A Ski Roll!"

Here's a shot taken by his mom Christina of grandson in the tub. A picture like this is bound to embarrass the tar out of him when he gets bigger. But for now, it's cute.

Well, a blog-(and excellent author)-friend of mine Candace put me on to a web site called "Squirrelizer." It allows you to insert a picture of a ground squirrel into any photograph that has a URL address.

Here's the result, using the picture above:

I'm hoping this will further delight my grandson.

I'll let you know.

A funny story

2009-08-20T20:34:00.002-05:00

As some of you readers know, I used to fly F-4 Phantoms off the Forrestal. I thought this story was hilarious, but Carol said, "Well, maybe it's funny to a pilot."

See what you think.

BANANAS & MILK DUDS
also reported as
TWO BAGS

Below is an article written by Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated. He details his experiences when given the opportunity to fly in an F-14 Tomcat. If you aren't laughing out loud by the time you get to 'Milk Duds,' your sense of humor is seriously broken.

'Now this message is for America's most famous athletes:

Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your country's most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have. John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods, to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity...

Move to Guam.
Change your name.
Fake your own death!
Whatever you do, Do Not Go!!!

I know. The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was toast! I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.

Whatever you're thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like, triple it. He's about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger-crippling handshake -- the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure time.

If you see this man, run the other way, Fast.

Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA missions. ('T-minus 15 seconds and counting' Remember?) Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to say, 'We have liftoff'.

Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie. I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.

'Bananas,' he said.

'For the potassium?' I asked.

'No,' Biff said, 'because they taste about the same coming up as they do going down.'

The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name sewn over the left breast.

(No call sign -- like Crash or Sticky or Leadfoot. But, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, this was it.

A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would 'egress' me out of the plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious.

Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy-rolled over another F-14.

Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80. It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, snap rolls, loops, yanks and banks. We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us.

We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.

And I egressed the bananas.

And I egressed the pizza from the night before.

And the lunch before that.

I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth grade.

I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G's, I was egressing stuff that never thought would be egressed.

I went through not one airsick bag, but two.

Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G's were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw down.

I used to know 'cool'. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman making a five-iron bite. But now I really know 'cool'. Cool is guys like Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and freon nerves. I wouldn't go up there again for Derek Jeter's black book, but I'm glad Biff does every day, and for less a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.

A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he'd send it on a patch for my flight suit.

'What is it?' I asked.

'Two Bags.'

As long as I’m breaking my own rules . . .

2009-08-14T13:23:00.011-05:00

Jack K got me going on this topic. It’s HIS fault. Blame him.

One of my blog rules is that I won’t post about certain topics. Like religion. Oh, I have strong ideas about the subject, and very strong personal beliefs.

But who cares, right? Am I going to convince anyone by preaching what I believe? Probably not.

Some will agree, and some won’t. The ones who disagree will be the ones most likely to comment. Why? Because they’ll want to argue their own, differing beliefs. They are JUST as convinced they’re right as I’m convinced I am.

Will either one of us persuade the other to change? HA! Do pigs fly? (No, let’s not argue that one either.)

Another hot topic I try to leave alone is politics. Same reason as religion (see above).

Last post, I quoted President Reagan’s, “Never say never.” And then I said never. Broke my own rule.

So in this post I’m going to break another rule and venture into one aspect of politics I believe in; and I’m sure I won’t convince ANYONE to change his or her own mind on the subject.

What got me going on this? Like I said, Jack K did. In a comment on my last post he said at the end, “Wouldn't be interesting in the next election if every, and I mean EVERY incumbent were voted out? Hmmmm.”

My response is that it would not only be interesting, it would happen EVERY election if we just had . . . are you ready for it? . . . TERM LIMITS!

Most people think term limits are a short-sighted attempt to get rid of the “bad” politicians. They quickly retort, “Oh, but then we’d lose the good ones as well as the bad. That wouldn’t help.”

However, a longer look at the concept will show you that term limits for all elected officials would have a huge, profound effect on much of what ails our representative system. It would remove the seniority system for committee appointments and committee chair assignments. The relationships developed over multiple terms between elected officials and lobbyists, and special interest groups, and well-heeled constituents, just wouldn’t develop. Or they’d have to develop very quickly and they wouldn’t last very long.

Our politicians could, for once, be honest with us! Why? Term limits would remove the one key factor that motivates most officials to play both sides of the street, to spin everything to try to please everyone. That key motivating factor is the desire to get re-elected! They wouldn’t do ANYTHING just to get more votes. They might vote a certain way to get a payoff, although that could land them in jail, but they might . . . just MIGHT . . . vote a certain way because they believe in it, or because they are convinced it’s best for the people they represent, or for the country.

Wouldn’t THAT be refreshing!

Where in our constitution are the guidelines for the power structure that has developed within the legislature? How do one or two senators or representatives gain the power to control blocks of votes? Is that what our founding fathers envisioned?

Ooooo. I sound like I’m getting passionate here, don’t I?

Not a very “romantic” rambling, eh?

That’s the trouble with breaking rules—once you start, it’s hard to stop.

One more health care post

2009-08-13T07:04:00.002-05:00

Since my last post stimulated comments and a few emails from folks I'd not heard from before, as well as from my daughter and several of my blog friends, I'm going to take one more brief foray into the topic.

(Well, that's my plan NOW. Who knows HOW many additional forays I might take? I often repeat the quote attributed to President Reagan, "Never say never." It's corollary has to be -- although I just made this up -- "Never say always.")

(What? You don't know what a corollary is? Well, it's like a coronary, but not as serious.)

Anyhoo, speaking of coronaries, back to health care!

It's really tough to filter through all the arguments for and against government involvement in our health care ~~system~~ ~~industry~~ ~~MESS~~ ( . . . pick your own descriptive noun, or just leave it blank -- works either way). Which ones are real, and which ones are hype? Is it 47 million uninsured Americans, or 57 million (the number seems to go up weekly). Are the doctors at fault, or maybe the insurance companies, the pharmaceutical industry, the malpractice lawyers, etc., etc.

To me, most of the hype and horror stories we hear are overblown. The issue really boils down in most cases to access versus cost. To hammer access ("Everyone should have access to quality health care!") while ignoring cost is not just stupid, it's immoral. But likewise to hammer (and try to artificially, through legislation and controls, limit) costs while ignoring access will result in the situations found in other countries with months-long waits to see a specialist or have needed testing done.

How do we achieve the balance needed between access and cost?

I don't know.

But I have little faith in our government to achieve it, whether in typical partisan division or through a coalition of the parties. Politics, and favors, and hidden agenda of all kinds are just too engrained in our elected representatives in D.C. to allow, I fear, the kind of well thought-out policies and programs it will take. (BTW, I'm and old-schooler and using "agenda" as a plural of "agendum," although I know that usage has fallen out of favor).

And unfortunately, our president's hard pushing for quick action may further doom any slight chance that achieving such balance may have had.

So I fear that we may indeed never have a government-instituted health care plan that provides wide access at a reasonable (affordable!) cost.

There. I broke my own rule. I said (wrote) "never." Shame on me.

Who, exactly, are those uninsured Americans?

2009-08-03T16:47:00.001-05:00

I have no idea if this is accurate or not. So why am I posting it?

I'm a firm believer in the adage, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it!" We've been hearing for years how our health care system is "broke" (that's as in "broken," not out of money).

What proof is offered? Usually the statistic that tens of millions of people are uninsured and thus can't afford needed treatments and therapies and medications. And in a country as rich as America, that's a travesty.

I never gave much thought to that argument, accepting both premises: 1) that all those peole didn't have coverage because they couldn't afford it, and 2) that this fact is a travesty.

Then I saw this cartoon, and began to wonder . . .

Is this just some right-wing fringe hype? Or is it close to the truth? If the latter, then . . . Gee!

Of course, it doesn't matter. It looks like we're going to get a government health plan of some ilk, regardless.

Will that be a bad thing? My gut tells me, probably. But the pendulum swings both ways, in most cases. We'll see.

Well, DUH!

2009-08-03T07:19:00.002-05:00

Headline in this morning's financial news:

Obama officials: Taxes may rise to pay health care

Obama officials say middle class may face tax hike to reduce deficit, pay for health care

WASHINGTON (AP) -- Two of President Barack Obama's economic heavyweights said middle-class taxes might have to go up to pare budget deficits or to pay for the proposed overhaul of the nation's health care system.

My comment: ". . . might have to go up?" Who do they think they're kidding?

I smell trouble coming

2009-07-28T11:07:00.003-05:00

Okay Jan, you asked for it. (See Jan’s comment on my post below this one.) You want controversy? Here you go.

(BTW, don’t you love the British pronunciation of the word “controversy,” with the accent on the second syllable? If you’ve not heard it pronounced that way, watch some old British movies. "Con–TRAH–ver–sy.")

I learned a principle some years ago that helps me understand seemingly complex issues or problems. Simply stated, you take an issue to its extreme and see if (at that sometimes ridiculously extreme point) the rightness or wrongness of it doesn’t become apparent.

Example: This article regarding universal health care for all Americans.

Health care is a good thing, right? Of course it is. When I, or someone I’m close to, is sick or injured, I want to be able to have an adequately trained, licensed, insured professional treat the condition.

How about if the sick or injured person is a stranger to me? And how about if they have little or no money to pay for the treatment? Would I be willing to pay for their care? Er . . . Maybe.

But I’d have lots of questions. What care/treatment do they need (not want)? Is that treatment appropriate for them, for their condition, for their lifestyle? What will it cost? Are there alternatives? And many, many more.

And who says MY opinions about those questions and answers are “right” or “wrong?” Well, I say so, right? But do I really know? Who am I to make those decisions for someone else?

Ah! More to the point, who should make those decisions for ME?

I find myself thinking in circles.

Mr. Stein was asked these questions:

“Why should everyone be guaranteed free health care? And if we guaranteed to people goods and services they could not afford, where would it ever end? Where would it end short of assuming that everyone has a right to everyone else's property and labor?”

And then he began taking the issue to some extremes by asking:

“ . . . do I want to have patients seeing masseuses? Do I want them to be able to see the same psychiatrists that billionaires see? What about a nose job? A plastic surgeon could make up a medical need for a nose job or even a face lift. Where does it end?”

He continues down that philosophical road until he reaches its extreme end:

"If we have as a social rule that poorer Americans are required to have the same good things that rich people have, where is the stopping point? Where do we stop short of confiscatory taxation, taking away property, taking away affluent people's homes and basically abandoning the bedrock of the free society -- private property -- to achieve equality?"

Read the article. Mr. Stein does offer a few ideas (not really “solutions” though). But he does reach a conclusion about the debate, stated as:

“Maybe as important as health care is, individual freedom and private property are indispensable, too.”

Gee, ya think? This all gives me a headache.

I need some health care!

Bad Blogger?

2009-07-26T09:55:00.007-05:00

I accused my daughter of being a Bad Blogger. Why? She has become so addicted to Facebook that she only posts on her blog a few times per month.

Then I looked at my OWN blog. Hmmmm. Kinda like looking in the mirror and saying, “Bad blogger!” (Pot and kettle syndrome?)

So what’s my problem? Well, I just hate to sound like a broken record, saying the same thing over and over.

Aside: Think about that – has anybody under the age of 30 (or 40?) actually heard a “broken record?” Do they even know what a “record” is (beside what’s in the Guinness book, I mean.)

Reminds me of that VERY old joke about the first automated airline flight. You know:

The plane climbs and levels off, and the cabin speakers crackle into life with, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your automated captain speaking. Congratulations; you are now part of aviation history, because you are riding the very first commercial flight with no flight crew. Please do not be alarmed. All systems have been triple checked. Absolutely nothing can go wrong [click] . . . go wrong [click] . . . go wrong [click] . . . ”

So, what’s that got to do with blogging? Well, it seems that all I’ve been able to focus on and think to write about for the last two months is the HEAT! I don’t want to keep blogging about how hot it is here.

I know, I know: Global Warming, right? Well, ask the folks in the Northeast about that. This is one of the coldest summers on record for some of them – how about you, Kirsten?

Anyway, I know the alarmists are changing their mantra to “Global Climate Change” from “Global Warming” in order to accommodate the record cool/cold that strikes some regions and confuses people who thought they had it all figured out. Don’t get me going on that topic, please, or I’ll have to drag out the articles that report warming and reduction of polar ice on other planets in our solar system (but fail to mention how our man-made CO2 got to their atmospheres to cause it).

I guess I could blog about the evils of government-sponsored health care, and challenge any random reader to report any successful example of such in the world. Then I might wonder aloud (so to speak) in a subsequent post why our President and Congress think we are smart enough to avoid all the problems and inefficiencies of such systems elsewhere.

I could decry the economic stimulus plan(s), and ask rhetorically how we can avoid runaway inflation to pay all the debt we will (or have already) incur(red).

OH! Have you seen this political cartoon? I love this:

No, I could write about all those things, but I’d just get myself in trouble. So I think I’ll go back to the standard, “It’s HOT here.”

Or just not post very often.

Or both.

Gripe, gripe gripe!

2009-07-14T16:44:00.000-05:00

I know. Everybody talks about the weather.

Well, I’m not here to talk about it, I’m here to COMPLAIN about it!

Of the first 14 days this month, only ONE of them had a high temperature below 98 (it was 95 – an anomaly!)

Nine of those 14 days had a high of 100 or higher. The highest was 102 (three days in a row).

Now, that was just July, right? How about June?

Well, the last 8 days in June were ALL at or above 100! The last time we had a high below 98 was June 20, except for that one anomaly in July. That’s 22 days, with only one exception. Three weeks, and counting.

The high today is going to be at least 99, and may be over 100 again.

So, if anybody asks you, tell them (on good authority) that the Hades Index here is right about at 100%, meaning it’s hot as Hell! Oh, and it’s dry, too. Our paper said that thus far in 2009 we’ve had only about 6 inches of rain. All year! That’s like desert climate.

(Had enough complaining? Oh, all right; I’ll stop. I’ll be in a better mood next time, I promise.)

A little Texas humor . . .

2009-07-06T17:09:00.002-05:00

(This is making the email rounds, especially in the Lone Star State. Substitute your own region or area of domicile, and you'll think it funnier.)

God was missing for six days.

Eventually, Michael, the archangel, found him resting on the seventh day. He inquired, "Where have you been?"

God smiled deeply and proudly pointed downwards through the clouds, "Look, Michael. Look what I've made."

Archangel Michael looked puzzled, and said, "What is it?"

"It's a planet," replied God, “and I've put life on it. I'm going to call it Earth, and it's going to be a place to test Balance."

"Balance?" inquired Michael, "I'm still confused."

God explained, pointing to different parts of earth. "For example, northern Europe will be a place of great opportunity and wealth, while southern Europe is going to be poor. Over here I've placed a continent of white people, and over there is a continent of black people. Balance in all things."

God continued pointing to different countries. "This one will be extremely hot, while this one will be very cold and covered in ice."

The Archangel, impressed by God's work, pointed to a land area and said, "What's that?"

"That's the State of Texas, the most glorious place on earth. There are beautiful rivers, mountains, streams, lakes, forests, hills, beaches and plains. The people from the State of Texas are going to be handsome, modest, intelligent, humorous, and they are going to travel the world. They will be extremely sociable, hardworking, high achieving, carriers of peace, and producers of good things."

Michael gasped in wonder and admiration, but then asked, "But what about Balance, God? You said there would be Balance."

God smiled, "There's Washington, DC. Wait till you see the idiots I put there!"

HOW hot!?

2009-07-03T16:10:00.002-05:00

Yes, this was taken today at 4:05 pm.

Yes, that's my backyard in Victoria, TX.

Yes, it's in the shade!

No, I am NOT out playing golf (or doing anything else) today!

Ask, and ye shall receive!

2009-07-03T08:53:00.002-05:00

In my previous post I complained about the heat, right? Right!

The forecast (for the part of Texas where we were) called for more days of triple-digit temperatures, but with “isolated thunderstorms.” We decided to play golf anyway, but to cut back on the length of time we spent out IN that heat.

Tuesday dawned with overcast skies, and temps in the upper 70s. Fine.

But to our amazement, the skies stayed overcast all day, and the temps never rose above the low-to-mid 80s! Wow! Great golf weather!

Well, then on Wednesday the sky stayed overcast (with occasional very light drizzle, but no real rain), and again, temps in the low 80s!

Gee. Maybe I ought to complain about things more often . . . ya think? (Carol says an emphatic “NO!” According to her, any more complaining from me might exceed some kind of arbitrary limit. I have no idea what she’s talking about.)

We are now back in our hometown of Victoria. We were greeted and welcomed home by the announcement below:

City of Victoria/ NEWS RELEASE

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: July 2, 2009
FOR MORE INFORMATION CONTACT: Victoria Public Works Department: 485-3381

City Initiates Stage II of Drought Contingency Plan

(VICTORIA, TEXAS) The level in the City of Victoria’s Off-Channel Reservoir #8 has fallen to elevation 42, which is approximately 50% of its maximum capacity. As a result, the City is initiating Stage II of its Drought Contingency Plan beginning Friday, July 3. The following restrictions apply under Stage II:

(Yada, yada, yada.)

It seems that Victoria is now one stage beyond "Extreme Drought" and is considered to be in "Exceptional Drought" conditions!

With lots of restrictions, water rationing, and so on.

Well, given my experience earlier this week, I'm going to start right now complaining about the lack of rain.

If you notice on the national news a story about floods in this part of Texas, you'll know the reason.

Too hot to fish, too hot for golf . . .

2009-06-29T15:34:00.001-05:00

Carol and I are in our camper, parked in Belton, TX. We arrived here on Saturday when the car’s outside thermometer read 105. That’s degrees Fahrenheit for all you Metric System folks.

Yesterday we played 36 holes of golf. When we finished and got back in the car to return to our air conditioned camper, the reading was 106.

I gotta tell you, this camper’s little roof-mounted A/C unit just can’t handle 106 with the sun beating down from a cloudless sky. But we survived, thanks to ice-cold beer, a fan, and the knowledge that eventually the sun would go down and we’d get some REAL cold air out of that roof-mounted thing.

(Last night I woke up at 3:30 a.m., cold! Ahhhhh! I got out a blanket and loved it!)

Today we played 27 holes of golf, and the car thermometer reading was 103.

I can hear you asking, “Are you gluttons for punishment?” “Are you masochists?” “Are you out of your ever-lovin’ bloomin’ MINDS!!?”

Well, possibly.

We’re beginning to wonder how much more of this golf “fun” we can stand.

Tomorrow we’re set for another round or two at a different golf course. We’ll probably go and play for at least a while. As for the rest of the week . . . well, I’m thinking we should have scheduled a trip to a more northern location; like maybe Alaska.

We’ll take it one day at a time.

The title of this post is from a country song of a few years back. It is indeed too hot for those activities mentioned. I’m just wishing the next line was also true: “And it’s too cold at home.”

For that I’ll need a bigger A/C unit on this camper!

On a SATURDAY??

2009-06-20T17:54:00.003-05:00

According to the first book of John (me), chapter 7 and verse 12, Saturdays when the sun is shining and the temperature is between 45 and 100 (depending upon the wind speed) are intended for golf.

Today is Saturday. The sun is shining brightly, the temperature is in the mid-90s but the wind is blowing at 15-25 with gusts to 35. So why are Carol and I not playing golf?

What's that? Did I hear someone wonder aloud if perhaps the dreaded ycaripsnoc might have something to do with it?

Well, judge for yourselves.

Yesterday evening I entered the master bathroom to . . . well, I went in there. I noticed a shiny spot on the floor, and stooped to examine it. Wet! The puddle extended along the wall behind the toilet, and further examination revealed that the toilet supply plumbing was dry. So where was the water coming from?

I noticed a drop of water on the bottom of the top tank. As I watched, it fell to the floor and another drop formed. How . . .?

Then I saw it; a hairline crack running from the top of the tank, through the handle-mounting hole, down and around the side almost all the way to the bottom. Given the small quantity of water on the floor and the speed at which the drips were falling, it had to have started less than an hour ago.

I ask you: Why does a porcelain toilet tank crack from top to bottom all by itself in the middle of an otherwise normal Friday evening? You already know the answer!

Timeline: 0830 – arrived at Lowes and shopped for a replacement toilet. Carol's "must have" list included a "best flush rating" of 5 stars. We selected a mid-priced model with the requisite flush rating, paid, and took it home. The advertising on the box says this commode will flush a bucket of golf balls!

(Side note: Lowes store is only a two-minute drive from my house!!)

0930 – the old commode is drained, dried, disassembled and removed from the house. The area is cleaned and ready for the new installation.

9:50 – determine that the bolts to mount the toilet to the ring in the floor aren't long enough. Try to use the old hardware but drop a bolt down the toilet drain hole in the floor. Unable to retrieve it. Think a few choice words.

10:00 – back to Lowes for some longer bolts.

10:45 – longer bolts are in place, but I determine that the wax ring that came with the new toilet isn't thick enough (a common problem). Mutter a few choice words under my breath.

10:50 – back to Lowes for a second wax ring.

11:20 – toilet is installed with double wax ring in place. However, it rocks slightly because the tile floor isn't exactly flat. Need some shims.

11:30 – break for lunch.

12:10 – back to Lowes for some nylon washers to use as shims. Buy a tube of caulk while I'm there to save any further trips! (Ha!)

1:15 – toilet is in place with top tank mounted and seat attached. All that's left is to hook up the water supply line!

1:16 – determine that the old supply line is two inches too short to reach the new, higher top tank. Say a few choice words loudly (Carol is outside and can't hear me).

1:20 – back to Lowes for a longer supply line.

1:50 – all is connected and in place. With trepidation, turn on the water and fill the tank. Check for leaks. Call Carol to come and try out the new, super, five star flush. Carol's reaction: "This doesn't flush any better than the old one!"

1:51 – excuse myself to Carol, walk through the house and out of the garage to the back yard and SCREAM a few choice words at the sky. Notice the neighbors looking at me strangely. Quickly walk back inside.

2:20 – tools and trash are put away, bathroom is clean, and job is complete. Too late (and too hot) to consider golf today, so opt to watch the US Open and stay in the air conditioning.

5:40 – crack open my second cold brew and order carry-out dinner from Olive Garden.

In the first book of John (me), chapter 7 and verse 13, it is advised that the activities in the preceding sentence are appropriate for Saturdays when golf is not played. Being a "by the book" kind of guy, I agree!

Oh, and by the way . . . Carol and I have agreed that we aren't going to be testing the "bucket of golf balls" claim concerning the toilet's flushing prowess. First, neither of us thinks the commode can do it, and second, we put enough balls in the water on the golf course as it is.

Maybe we'll golf tomorrow. Ycaripsnoc permitting.

Psalm 23

2009-06-18T18:00:00.002-05:00

At the office our General Manager called a "staff meeting" today. Though why he wanted to hold a meeting with a bunch of hiking sticks is beyond me. You know; as in "Thy rod and thy STAFF, they comfort me?"

Sorry.

But that tendency of mine to see possible puns in many everyday conversations is what prompted this post. A little background is in order.

My company makes a product that we ship out to customers in granular form. It looks kind of like coal, but much more expensive. We use railroad hopper cars to send it forth. Sometimes we'll send a LARGE shipment in a barge, propelled by a tugboat along the Intracoastal Waterway to either its final destination or to an intermediate one (like a port where it will be trans-loaded onto a ship for international customers).

One such barge-load of product left our plant several months ago, but before it reached the port of Houston (to be loaded onto a ship) the intended customer called to cancel the order. This was about the time the market for our stuff REALLY started going soft.

Rather than pay to bring the barge back to our plant and unloaded, we called all our customers and offered the material to them at a discounted price. Good deal for them, and for us (saving the unloading costs).

Nobody wanted it. NOBODY was buying our product at that point.

While we waited for someone to make an offer, we began referring to the shipment as "the orphan barge." Unloved, unwanted, nobody to take care of it. *sniff *

We have finally bitten the proverbial bullet and had the poor lonely thing brought to the plant, but have waited to unload it, still hoping that somebody will buy its contents from us.

Today, at the staff meeting, a decision was reached to unload the material from the orphan barge.

Unable to resist such an opportunity, I spoke up and said, "You know, we've been talking about that orphan barge for months now. I think we should just name it Annie."

Thus ended the meeting. Some had the courtesy to laugh; most simply groaned.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. . ."

Yeah, I ducked out through the nearest door before the stones started flying.)

Love conquers all – part 2

2009-05-31T15:31:00.000-05:00

I read an interesting article on Yahoo Finance recently, called “What Not to Do When You Buy a Home.”

Here’s a link, but about half the time the link doesn’t bring up the article. I don’t know why.

So why am I writing about a financial article under the post title of “Love conquers all?”

Here’s an interesting quote from the article:

A researcher at Ohio State University found that people who stayed married accumulated 93 percent more wealth than single or divorced people. Economist Jay Zagorsky of OSU’s Center for Human Resource Research tracked the financial and marital status of more than 9,000 people from 1985 to 2000. Those who divorced saw their wealth reduced by 77 percent on average.

OUCH!

Carol and I have been married only once. To each other. For over 40 years. So, does that make us rich . . . or just old?

Definitely old.

No, my point is that even in matters as pragmatic as money, being in love and STAYING in love helps!

Another excerpt (quoting from a different study than above):

The typical husband says the couple earns 5 percent more income and has 10 percent more total wealth than his wife reports, the study found. Meanwhile, the wife says the family's debts are $500 more than her husband reports. Among older couples surveyed, half differed in their wealth estimates by more than $14,700; among younger couples, half differed by $7,000. (Husbands paid the bills about 40 percent of the time.)

Perhaps the most critical discovery: Couples who didn’t divorce in the 15-year study were more in agreement on their estimates than couples who divorced. In other words, they knew how to communicate about money. If you want to avoid your own personal credit crisis, that's a good place to start.

Amazing!

(And you thought I never wrote about ROMANCE in “Romantic Ramblings!”)

Love conquers all – part 1

2009-05-28T17:02:00.001-05:00

I read a lot of novels. And since I’m not picky about the genre (not to mention: cheap!), I go to our local “Friends of the Library” book sale every six months, stock up on a stack of used paperbacks at 25 cents per copy, and I’m have bedtime reading to last me until the next sale.

How do I pick them? If the title strikes me, or the cover is a pretty color, or my hand closes on it when I’m really reaching for a different one. It usually takes me about 5 minutes to collect a grocery bag full.

That selection method typically results in me finding a couple of books I really enjoy, about 6-8 that are okay but I CAN put them down easily when the clock (or my eyelids) tells me it’s time to turn out the light for the night, and one or two stinkers.

Aside: I always wonder about how those stinkers ever got through an agent to a publisher who bought them, promoted them, and surely failed to sell enough to even come close to breaking even. Yeah, I know. It’s all a matter of taste, and mine aren’t necessarily representative of everyone else’s. But gee, I can recognize when something is well-written and entertaining, and when something is schlock. I guess some schlock does sell. But my novel was better than that, and . . . Oh, well. **sigh**

Okay, where am I going with this?? In January I picked up a (thick) book called The Brothers K, by David James Duncan. Never heard of him, and never heard of it. Grabbed it on a whim.

After a couple of chapters I knew this book was something special. This guy could WRITE!

When I was about half-way through it I announced to my entire family (on our ski trip) that this was probably the best book I had read in at least ten years. I raved about it.

After I’d finished it I gave it to Carol (who doesn’t necessarily share all of my tastes in books, movies, and so on). She and I were both college English majors, so she is widely read also. To cut to the chase, she finished the book last week and declared that it is probably the best book she has EVER read, period!

Check out this review by a random reader, copied from Amazon.com’s reviews:

Favorite Book, June 8, 2006
By Una (Portland, Oregon) - See all my reviews

After more or less bitterly mocking my conservative Adventist upbringing with my very Catholic best friend 7 years ago, he laughingly recommended this book to me, saying it might help me "deal" with that upbringing to soothe away the bitter. Ohmymymymy.

I checked this out at 9 in the evening and by 4 in the morning had finished this...this...this...the word “book,” from this book-lover, does not do this book justice. This is the monster of books, the God of all books, it's been given a little book-sceptre and rules over all the rest of the book-ette proletariat. It's bourgeois book and beastie book. Even better, instead of pompously lording it over all the rest of the lesser books, it quotes them, loves them, welcomes them in for one big book party.

I have two copies of this book. One copy is signed and is missing three pages, and is ripped in two from reading it too many times. The other is yellowed and sits on top of my bedstand. I have parts of it committed to memory, and re-read over and over and over.

The thing that strikes me most about Duncan's style is his underlying foundation, his ability to find love in the most crazed places: from the Adventist church to Vietnam to Canada to the village dotted desert outside Pune. There is a certain naivete in looking for unmitigated love in these places, but while various of his characters embody that Dostoyevskyan naivete, I get the feeling that Duncan is an incredibly down-to-earth guy and that down-to-earthness meshed with mysticism, Adventism gone fanatical, non-violent violence, etc. leaves a lasting impression.

I would say his main foundation is that love is an uncontrollable force, it takes on faces we might never expect of it. We see that over and over again as we watch this family's epic story unfold so heartbreakingly and terribly.

As for my old friend's comment that "The Brothers K" might help me "deal?" Yes. And then some. I felt like someone had hit me over the head with a frying pan after reading this book. Maybe it was the staunchly Adventist Mama Chance who stepped out of the pages and gave me a good iron whack. Duncan called The Brothers K (and I might be misquoting him a bit) his 700-some page attempt at coming to terms with his own Adventist/Presbyterian upbringing.

Having been raised solely Adventist I find it necessary to point out that some of the theology he attributes to Adventism is incorrect, particularly that Adventists don't believe in a literal hell. The culture, which is ultimately what matters in a book like this, he has portrayed amazingly well, right down to the children's rooms being in the church basement. I understand, from an interview he had with Dan Lamberton of Walla Walla Adventist College, that he was originally trying to write about Baptists, which is bigger and more mainstream and therefore more meaningful to readers, but found himself always returning to his Adventist upbringing, finally switching over altogether.

This book was amazing. While I'm not sure that Duncan would like that I felt hit over the head by a frying pan wielding Mama Chance, it turned out for me, and it keeps turning out. This book "holds multitudes." I can read it and come out crying and laughing and head-achey and glowy and furious and excited depending on which page I'm turning to and which character I'm reading about.

So. Should you buy this book?

Dear friend, buy two copies of this one, for one will fall apart on you for all that page turning.

So, Love is an uncontrollable force that can be found in the craziest of places.

Find a copy of this book. Start reading. You owe it to yourself.

Love conquers all.

Priorities

2009-05-22T07:52:00.004-05:00

One of these days, I swear, I’m going to take the time to clean up my blog roll in the right-hand sidebar below.

Really!

I mean, probably half the blogs listed are either no longer active, or have changed names, or the blog authors have abandoned blogging in favor of Tweeting on Twitter, or socializing on Facebook. So I need to clean house.

But some of those links will still take you to active blogs whose authors are witty, entertaining, and exceptional writers. Some have obvious themes they follow, like Jan over at The Poodle (and Dog) Blog, while others post on diverse subjects from humor to politics to life in general.

Some make me think (a monumental task, according to Carol), like Kirsten over at Writer’s Catch-All. Several make me laugh. One keeps me in touch with a distant family member, daughter Christina over at Another Day In Paradise.

Anyway, Jan of Poodle (and Dog) fame recently emailed me regarding an awful comment (an attempt to be funny with puns — seldom a good idea) I’d made on one of her posts. She wrote, “When are you going to get your priorities straightened out and start blogging?”

She’s right. It’s all a matter of priorities. I HAVE the time, I just fail to TAKE the time.

So, Jan, I’ll get right on that!

Heck, I MIGHT even clean up my blog roll while I’m at it.

If I ever ~~find~~ ~~have~~ TAKE the time.

Appalled?

2009-05-07T09:28:00.003-05:00

Is that too strong a term for my open-mouth disbelief at the results of a recent survey?

A purportedly “nonpartisan, nonprofit” organization called Public Agenda (www.publicagenda.org) conducted the survey. According to the results:

“Half of all Americans (51%) could not correctly identify a renewable energy source such as solar or wind power, 39% could not name a fossil fuel, 65% overestimated US dependence on Middle Eastern oil, and 52% thought that by reducing smog the US has ‘come a long way’ in addressing global warming.”

Who the #**!!@#!* were they surveying? It says “Americans.” So . . . were these participants all nursing home residents with dementia?

100% of our public-school “educated” young people have been saturated with environmental studies for the past dozen years or more. In fact, one parent I work with told me his son had to watch Al Gore’s movie as part of his curriculum in three different grade-school classes.

I’ve heard and read for years that a high percentage of US high-school graduates can’t name the three main branches of our federal government and can’t read beyond a 6th grade level, but my gosh! I would have guessed that at worst, one out of ten wouldn’t be able to name a fossil fuel (Hello!?! Oil? Natural gas? Coal?), but can it possibly be true that FOUR out of ten can’t do so?

Now, I’m not ranting about the politics of the energy ~~~~~ (pick your descriptive noun: “crisis,” “situation,” “swindle,” “scam,” “other”). Rather I’m appalled (there, I said it!) at the apparent oblivion of people—if, in fact, the survey results are scientific and statistically accurate within a reasonable error range. And if the results are not slanted or spun to further someone’s agenda.

Of course, what are the odds that this survey ISN’T an attempt to further somebody’s agenda?

Maybe that’s what I should be appalled at.

Hmmm.

Uh Oh!

2009-04-09T10:02:00.003-05:00

(“C” Alert!)

Les and Linda came to visit us. Who are they, you ask? Well, scroll down all the way to the very bottom of my sidebar (where it says, “Click HERE to view my web site/home page.”) and click the link, then select the number 1 link on the left side, “Africa Trip with Pictures.” Les and Linda are the couple we travelled to Africa with.

Side note: If you haven’t ever scrolled through our Africa trip story, there are a bunch of cool wildlife pics.

Linda wanted me to help her load some anti-virus software onto her laptop computer. Well, actually she wanted me to DO it for her. She’s not comfortable with computers in general and usually gets friends to install things for her.

But I was happy to help, and got started by first removing from her hard drive all the programs she never used. As she and I scanned down the list (in the “Add and Remove Programs” function in the Control Panel), I saw that most of the programs had never been used since she bought the computer in 2005! She uses the computer for almost nothing except email, and for that she uses Juno – a web-based program that does not store archived emails, address book, etc., on her hard drive. That’s a real plus since she’ll often stop during their travels at a library and email from its machines.

Anyway, we deleted a BUNCH of unused programs, then started loading new applications.

What applications, you ask? Mostly Anti-virus, Internet Security, Anti-spyware, and the like. Linda is one who believes that the more of these protective measures you use, the safer you are.

Well, okay. But my experience has been that often these various programs (from different software companies!) interfere with each other and prevent you from doing what you want to do. She had her internet security set so high that she could hardly view any web site without seeing pop-up warning messages about potential hazards, no digital certificate, potential phishing, and similar cautions.

Oh, she also complains about slow performance. Go figure.

Well, after loading all this stuff so she’d feel secure, I noticed that the machine had not downloaded any Windows updates for over 6 months. That’s unheard of! Well, except among you Mac users, who don’t understand these things.

I navigated to the Microsoft Windows update web page and tried to start the process. Nope. The machine couldn’t seem to communicate with the site and presented me with an error code.

Undaunted, I Googled the code and soon found a list of steps to try, in order, to fix the problem. After each attempted fix I had to restart the machine.

Well, after restart number three or four (who’s counting?), the computer refused to boot. One of the “protection” programs, a Norton (Symantec) product, had inserted itself into the Master Boot Record, corrupted it, and prevented Windows from loading at all, even in “Safe” mode.

Ah, but eventually ANOTHER error code appeared on the screen! Thus armed, I hustled back over to Google (on my own desktop computer) for some research. My search results took me to Symantec’s own web site where the problem (apparently not all that uncommon!!) was addressed with another step-by-step solution.

Okay, I KNOW you’re already bored with this, so I’ll cut to the chase: Symantec’s fix did NOT work, and I was out of options. The next day I took the machine to my professional IT guys at work and pleaded for help.

First answer (with a grin): “Oh, no problem! I’ll boot the machine to a Windows program CD, swap out the corrupted Master Boot Record for a good one, and it’ll be good as new!”

Next answer: “Uh, that didn’t work. I got Windows running but couldn’t get rid of the MBR. I can view enough of the hard drive to see a “Restore” sector, which OUGHT to put everything back. Let me try that.”

Next answer: “Damn, I can’t access that Restore sector. I KNOW it’s there, but I can’t get to it. !#@%!!**#! Norton software!”

Next answer: “!#!&%!*@!!*! !#!**$!!%^#! *!!##!!@*%$##!!!"

Final answer: **SIGH** “No choice. I’ve got to wipe the hard drive and re-install Window from scratch. She’ll lose all her data files and you’ll have to reinstall all her applications software. It’s that or she buys a new computer.”

Two days later, Linda can again read her emails on Juno. The computer is still slow, and still has too much “Security” software installed (which she’ll never need or use). But all that is a LOT cheaper than a new machine.

So, is this a Norton (Symantec) problem? Is it my fault for trying to get the machine to “talk” to the Windows update site?

(Or is it the “C********y” doing what it does best and laughing it’s a$$ off at me?)

I think all my regular readers know the answer to that question!

Shameless promotion

2009-04-06T18:17:00.002-05:00

You gotta go over to Christina's blog and read about my grandson's "tea party."

It'll crack you up. Well, it cracked ME and Carol up.

Ski trip photos

2009-03-29T10:38:00.002-05:00

I know . . . They're over a month old.

So sue me. I just haven't had the ~~time~~ inclination to post them 'til now.

This first one (below) is the view facing north from near the top of the mountain.

Then I just zoomed in a little on the "dome" in the foreground. That was one of our favorite areas to ski.

The next shot is taken from the very top looking back the other way, toward the southwest. The rope in the foreground with the orange tie on it marks the boundary of the ski area.

Again at the very top of the mountain, I had to stop Carol and take a picture of her. That's my wonderful wife in the white jacket!

Then the obligatory "family" picture of my three favorite women in the whole world! (Amy just wouldn't take off her goggles! And Joy -- Christina to many of you -- seemed to have a signpost growing our of her head. That's one of my professional photography traits.)

And here (again below) is a slightly distant shot of Joy, now standing again, just after she had collided hard with one of the padded posts holding up the signboard beside her.

That's what I was referring to in the last post's comments about the necessity of wearing a helmet!

And lastly, here's a shot of the WHOLE CREW in our matching ski sweaters, each one lovingly handmade by Carol.

Any idea who this is?

2009-03-24T17:30:00.002-05:00

Well it's my grandson Trevor, of course!

Back in February we took our annual family ski trip. This year Trevor was just two months shy of being 4, and old enough for first-ever ski lessons.

In the picture above, he didn't know I was off to one side with a telephoto lens snapping pictures, so he's NOT smiling for the camera. That cute little grin is his pure joy at skiing down the small, gentle learning slope. (If you look close you'll see the snow flying up from the back of his skis -- he was moving right along.)

What you CAN'T see in this shot in his female instructor, jogging down the slope beside him telling him to turn or stop. She finally caught him just before he skied into a nylon mesh "fence" at the edge of the area.

What, doesn't he know how to turn or stop?

He sure does! He just doesn't WANT to. What he WANTS to do, in his own words told to us a number of times, is "Ski FAST!"

Trouble is, until he responds to the instructor's command to stop, they won't take him up on the big mountain so he can REALLY ski fast. If they did, and he refused to stop, they'd have to chase him a LONG way.

** sigh **

Well, likely next year he'll be old enough to understand all that and will stop when he's told. Or at least he'll stop enough times to get them to take him up on the real mountain where he can ski F-A-S-T!!

Then those instructors had better be quick!

What’s a Trikke?

2009-03-22T16:50:00.002-05:00

If a picture is worth 1,000 words, a video must be worth millions, right? So to spare me from typing out a million words you wouldn’t read anyway—

(I KNOW I’m a very entertaining writer, but I still doubt you’d read a million words. Heck, the novel I wrote is only about 85,000 words long.)

(And only a VERY few people have read that!)

(No, it was never published and is not available for purchase, but thanks for asking.)

—click THIS SITE and watch the advertising video that plays immediately. The site is for the Houston, Texas, dealer that sells Trikkes. The manufacturer’s site is www.trikke.com (go figure).

Carol happened to see an infomercial for these things a couple of months ago while setting our DVD machine to record a televised pro golf event. She was intrigued, checked them out thoroughly on the web, and talked me into getting us one. We ordered online an adult sized “starter model” (the T-78cs) for $220 (on special), assembled it when UPS dropped it off, and began figuring out how to make the thing go.

For us beginners (and grandparents at that) it wasn’t too hard to make it go slowly, but going up a very slight incline or into a headwind was impossible. But we kept at it, because written reviews from other seniors indicated that it just takes time. After about three weeks we were pretty good on the flat, and could climb a VERY gentle slope. And you know, darned if it wasn’t fun!

The thing gives you a good whole body workout (including aerobics; I’m puffing pretty hard by the time I’ve gone a couple of miles on it), but it’s so much fun you just want to keep going.

To be honest I guess part of the fun is the looks everyone gives you. Most people have never seen them and are intrigued. Passing cars will slow to the same speed we’re going (about 10 mph) and the occupants will just stare. Occasionally they’ll roll down a window and ask us what “it” is and where we got it.

After 5 weeks we had both gotten good enough that we wanted to ride together. Hmm, I think that’ll require a second Trikke.

So Carol did more research and we ended up buying (from the Houston dealer whose web site led off this post) TWO of the T-8 Sport models. We were now the proud owners of THREE of these Trikke things. We folded up the starter model, stashed it, and began riding the others around the neighborhood. We’re now able to go for several miles and even up some gentle slopes without passing out.

So, we wondered, what are we going to do with that like-new starter model we have as a spare? Can we sell it on eBay or Craigslist? I kept the original box and packing materials, but then I’d have to disassemble it and ship it, and that’d be a pain. Maybe we can sell it locally, you think?

Well, guess what? We sold it today!

We’d been riding our Trikkes around the block when a car pulled up beside Carol and the lady driving asked her about the machine. We told our story and mentioned that we had a like-new extra. She lit up, obviously enthused. We got it out and showed it to her. She came back later with her husband and two kids to look at it and they bought it on the spot.

Their kids, a 12 year old boy and a slightly older sister, each got on the thing and were riding it in 5 minutes better than we had done after two weeks!

Darned kids, always showing off.

So, I’d tell you more but it’s early evening, the wind is down, and it’s warm outside. We’re going Trikking!

Memory lane

2009-03-20T06:50:00.002-05:00

On a whim (it was a slow day at work, okay?) I went back and read some of my earliest blog posts and the comments that ensued.

Have you ever done that? It's fun!

Plus, if your memory is as bad as mine, you've forgotten what you wrote 4 years ago and are amused by it.

Right. Well, some of the posts were amusing.

This begs for an example, so here you go. I remember (sort of) thinking the post below was clever when I wrote it. As I re-discovered it yesterday it made me laugh again -- especially the part about linguini . . .

Oh, here. Read it yourself and see what you think:

HERE's the link.

Even Further Affirmation!

2009-03-19T17:11:00.003-05:00

Below is this morning's offering of the same strip as yesterday.

All I can add to this is; maybe the Mom in this strip doesn't know, but all of my readers certainly do!

STILL any doubters out there????

Remember; you read about it HERE first!

PROOF Positive!

2009-03-18T16:52:00.006-05:00

Some of you have been known to pooh-pooh my ~~theory~~ ~~contention~~ SURE KNOWLEDGE that the ycaripsnoc is as pervasive as I claim.

SOME have even gone so far as to deny its very existence! Don't you know they are playing RIGHT INTO ITS HANDS!?

WELL, you *snort* naysayers, check out these comic strips! They were published on three successive days this week (Monday, yesterday and today). Obviously the artists who draw this strip know the truth. They're showing it through parody, no doubt in an attempt to continue to lull it into somnolence. (Yes that's a real word; in fact, it's a good word—look it up!)

But enough words and discussion.

See for yourselves! (Or, as the poker players say, "Read 'em and weep!")

(And yes, if you click the picture a large readable version will open.)

I can only imagine where Mssrs. Kirkman and Scott are going with this, but the message seems pretty clear to me.

And I'd say, WATCH OUT! With these many references to the ycaripsnoc coming is such close proximity, I think we're in for a doozy of an attack.

Might even throw the country into a recession . . .

Or even the whole WORLD!

Say, wait a minute . . .

Goddess! How COULD you??!!?

2009-03-15T15:34:00.002-05:00

All of my regular readers will be HORRIFIED!

Well, of the two I have left maybe ONE of them will be slightly disturbed.

I just had a message from my best friend in all of South Africa.

Well, okay, she's the ONLY person I know in South Africa.

Anyway, that friend (known as "The Goddess," a.k.a. Michelle, who blogs under the title of "Because I Can -- My sessions from the couch") commented on my last post the following:

"BTW - any mechanical, technical goings on on your end? My brakes failed, my fridge packed up and the winder on my car window broke - all within days of each other."

Can you BELIEVE she did that!!??!

And that's not all! Oh, no! She also put the same information in her blog post!

Now all of you regular readers know that it is extremely dangerous to simply MENTION activities like that in conversation. But when you type them out on a keyboard and send them out over the Internet, it is only asking for trouble for all of us. And when you then POST comments like that for ALL TO SEE, and LEAVE them there for weeks and weeks . . . Well, in all likelihood she has just unleashed a full-blown attack on all of mankind of the dreaded ycaripsnoc!

As all (or both) of you know, I have tried to inform my readers of the fact that so-called inanimate objects will lie in wait for unsuspecting humans to become complacent, and will then ATTACK in a concerted manner across a broad spectrum of areas including plumbing, appliances, anything mechanical, electronics, and even the very houses and structures we live in! These objects will fail either all at once or in a rapid series, causing us humans untold misery and sometimes financial ruin!

The ONLY way to keep this ycaripsnoc at bay is to ignore it; don't mention it, don't acknowledge it in any way, and most of all DON'T POST INFORMATION ABOUT ITS ATTACKS ON THE INTERNET!

So thanks a LOT, Michelle! Now you've gone and unleashed this disaster on all of us!

No, I HADN'T been having any failures of problems on my end, but I'm sure THAT respite has now come to an end! I can almost feel the thing building up, gaining strength, preparing to POUNCE if it once senses that my guard is down.

I'm sure I won't sleep at all tonight, but will just lie there, listening, waiting for something to break!

Oh dear, oh dear.

WHERE are my meds?

I’m doing MY part!

2009-02-21T10:39:00.003-06:00

According to THIS NY Times story and other articles, the Obama EPA is moving towards regulating carbon dioxide as a greenhouse gas and thus a pollutant harmful to the health and welfare of the people.

Hmmm. Okay.

Of course, the regulatory emphasis is said to be aimed toward coal-fired power generation plants. But my thought is, why stop there? There are lots of other sources of CO2, many of which produce far more tons of the nasty stuff that do power plants.

What? You want examples? Well, one story I read indicated that termites produce more tons of CO2 than all human activity combined. Why not regulate termites?

Oh, and not long ago I posted a sorta-tribute to Dave Barry in which I reported on the belching and flatulence of farm animals. Yes, they produce many tons of both methane AND CO2!

But gee, don’t we humans produce CO2 every time we exhale? That’s what they taught me back in Biology class, I think. So it occurred to me that maybe the EPA ought to regulate our breathing while they’re at it.

THAT thought, in turn, caused me to glow with pride. Why? Well, because according to Carol I am one of those folks who experiences sleep apnea. (I won’t say “suffers from,” because I’m not aware of any suffering – at least not on MY part; SHE says it causes HER some mental anguish.)

What is sleep apnea? That’s a cessation of breathing while I’m asleep! Sometimes (she reports) I go for up to a minute without taking a breath. In fact, occasionally she wakes me to get me to turn over and breathe again. (Yeah, okay, THAT does cause me some suffering – being shaken awake in the middle of a nice dream in which I’m stuck under water and can’t breathe . . . hey, wait a minute . . .)

ANYway, if I’m breathing less that means I’m reducing my CO2 output. I’m fighting Global Warming in my sleep!

I think that qualifies me for some carbon credits I can spend when I buy gas for my car; you know, a kind of gasoline discount. I also ought to get discounted airline tickets, and a discount on my electric bill since I’m reducing my carbon “footprint” through other measures. And since I’ve been doing this for several years; I ought to be way ahead of the game here.

So please let me know if the EPA starts offering any awards or medals for those who help cut down on the production of that nasty carbon dioxide. I’ll have Carol nominate me.

An Ink Roach?

2009-01-18T08:58:00.002-06:00

That's what my wife called me last night.

After pausing a moment — while my brain processed images of an ink pen, an ink well, a roach scuttling through an ink well and leaving inky roach tracks across a counter top, an octopus spewing forth ink for camouflage or to confuse predators, an octopus eating a roach and then spewing forth ink in disgust, a marijuana roach with ink on it, a "roach clip" dipped in ink, and a few more I can't remember now — I questioned her with a well-though-out and articulate response of, "Huh?"

She said again, more slowly, "You're being an ink roach!"

I pondered, making sure I hadn't mis-heard or missed a syllable, and tried to figure just what the HELL she was talking about.

We were lying in bed, reading. (Now this is a family blog, so don't be getting any lurid ideas. We were READING BOOKS, okay?)

I had just moved my left foot slightly in her direction and stretched out my leg to prevent what felt like an incipient leg cramp. (Have you ever had leg cramps in bed? They're no fun, I assure you. Sometimes, if it's a calf cramp you have to straighten out your leg and pull your toes up to stretch out the calf. And when the cramps are REALLY bad, you then have to quickly relax that stretch or your thigh will start to cramp!)

Anyway, I finally had to ask her to please explain what she meant by that remark. I mean, it might have been critical, but then again it MIGHT have been complimentary (hey, anything's possible).

She turned her head toward me, smiled sweetly, batted her eyes and said, "You're ink roaching on my space."

I got up, went into the bathroom to throw up, and then returned to my reading.

In case anyone is still jealous . . .

2009-01-10T10:42:00.003-06:00

. . . of the low local gasoline price I posted a week or two ago, here's the CURRENT low price in my area:

Most local stations are in the $1.65 range.

(Of coures, you might still be jealous of our weather.)

The name game

2009-01-07T18:24:00.002-06:00

Yesterday morning I was shaving, mentally somewhere else entirely, when I noticed a trickle of blood from my chin. Hadn’t felt a thing, but the razor had apparently been just a bit too aggressive at that spot.

That reminded me of the old joke that goes something like:

Q : What do you call a man who cuts himself shaving?

A: Nick.

And THAT thought got me to wondering how many other, similarly punful names could be so used.

I thought of another one or two I’d heard before, and then tried to be creative and think of more. I’m sure that if I Googled some of the humor sites I could find a hundred such name jokes, but all of the ones below that do NOT have an asterisk are made up by me (even if not original).

Here’s my list, with the answers in the first comment. Some are pretty obvious; all are bad. See how many you can get, and then how many others you already know or can come up with on your own. (No fair searching the web!)

What do you call a man who:

1. Repeatedly cuts himself shaving? (I already GAVE you this one.)*
2. Lights up a room with his smile?
3. Can lift up one end of a car with his bare hands?
4. Has no arms or legs, and falls into a pool?*
5. Has a nose like a bird’s beak?
6. Is a homosexual member of the upper chamber of parliament?
7. Always knows the direction to his house?
8. Can force open a stuck window barehanded?
9. Smells like an outhouse?
10. Has a colorful birthmark on his face?
11. Is short and skinny with a flat head?
12. Burglarizes homes?
13. Operates a P.A. system?
14. Likes to run after women?
15. Loves to try on clothes?
16. Keeps his gas tank topped off?
17. Is always cleaning his house?
18. Is a probate attorney?
19. Plays practical jokes?
20. Enjoys cutting his grass?
21. Wears an ear stud?

How about a woman who:

1. Is a partner in a law firm?
2. Loves to sing Christmas songs?

(See first comment for my answers . . . And I apolgize in advance!)

A quick retort

2009-01-04T09:41:00.000-06:00

A local family friend informed me yesterday that they had seen the promotional gasoline price in our paper and hurried to the store to fill up, only to find bags over the pump handles and a “Sold Out’ sign. But they were encouraged to see that a tank truck had arrived and was getting ready to fill the store’s tanks.

They drove off to run an errand and returned a short time later to find the bags removed but the posted price changed to $1.39!

This reminded me of a story a different friend told me many years ago:

He had gone into a part-time retail business from his home selling, of all things, motorcycle riders’ garments. You know; leather pants, jackets, and the like. (He was a motorcycle enthusiast, as you might have guessed.)

He complained to me about the difficulty of “stocking” enough of all sizes so if a customer wanted something he would have it. Otherwise they’d go somewhere else. Also his business, like most, was very price competitive.

He told me of a customer who browsed, found exactly the item he wanted (and in the right size!), but complained that my friend’s stuff was too expensive. “There’s a place on the other side of town that sells this same thing for 10% less,” he griped.

My friend asked, “Why didn’t you buy it there?”

“Well, he was out of them.”

My friend snorted and said, “Hell, when I’M out of stock, mine are free!”

I’ve never forgotten that as an example of a real zinger retort.

And maybe THAT’S why the store posted the $1.19 price for gas, ‘cause when you don’t have any you can sell it REAL cheap!

Confession

2009-01-03T08:43:00.002-06:00

Okay, okay. The gasoline price posted below WAS legitimate, but it was a special promotional price only, and has since been raised at that store back to the prevailing price of $1.39.

But it WAS legitimate for a few hours, at least! I swear!

Another reason to be jealous?

2009-01-01T13:31:00.002-06:00

The scanned image below is from the front page of today's local newspaper.

Anybody else seen prices like that lately?

Happy New Year!!

Now don't be TOO jealous . . .

2008-12-29T17:39:00.002-06:00

. . . but today, December 29, Carol walked over to our across-the-back-fence neighbors to ask them about—oh, it doesn't matter what. She just went to ask a question.

When she came back some 30 minutes or so later (and Carol doesn't tend to be chatty, so that tells you something about the neighbor) she was carrying a small paper sack. She put the sack on the kitchen counter.

Just now I walked into the kitchen and glanced inside the sack. There I saw four ripe (or nearly ripe) home-grown tomatoes.

No, our neighbors don't have a greenhouse or an indoor garden. The have a regular, run-of-the-mill back yard vegetable garden, and it's still producing.

Yes, we did have one light frost a few weeks ago, but the neighbors covered the plants with plastic and they (the plants) survived just fine. To those of you shoveling snow and fighting ice-slick roads on your daily commute, I apologize.

I know: it DOES get really hot here in the summer. No question about that. But there are some years when we don't have any winter at all.

All in all, I'd say things pretty much balance out.

Aftermath

2008-12-28T09:30:00.004-06:00

Defined as: English class—at least during my last year of high school.

But before I go into details, let me first wish everyone a fantastic what's-left-of-the-holidays. Christmas Day here in South Texas was peaceful and warm. In fact, late in the afternoon Carol and I took a walk around the neighborhood wearing shorts and tee shirts. (Us, not the neighborhood.)

The closest thing we saw to "white" this Christmas was the puffy clouds in the otherwise hazy-clear sky.

But I digress . . .

The (awful-sounding) procedure described in the post immediately below this one was apparently successful. I am essentially pain free. I say "essentially" because there is still a tiny twinge every now and then on the right side, but compared to the way it had been for the preceding two weeks . . . well, there's no comparison.

From what I read on the Internet (so it HAS to be true!), relief gained from this epidural injection is rarely permanent, and sometimes only lasts a week or two. In longer cases relief is gained for from 6 months to a year. In some instances, a regimen of two or even three such injections is required.

Yeah, I'm hoping to be on the long end of that relief time scale.

For those of you who have suggested chiropractic treatment and/or just time (which heals all wounds . . . or brings them to a fatal conclusion), I'm generally inclined to use those treatments also. This time I let myself be talked into going to a neurologist, who looked at the MRI images and said, "Do NOT get your back 'adjusted!' It will NOT help, and it might do further damage." He was quite emphatic.

Well, I know that some doctors take a very dim view of chiropractic treatment. "Quackery" is a descriptive term often used. However, I know a lot of people (my wife among them) who have had considerable success with chiropractors. I've been to one myself in the past for what I call "traditional" lower back pain.

My problem this time is fear. This sciatic nerve problem is NOT my traditional back pain. It includes long-lingering numbness in my foot and ankle, causing doctors to wonder if I have permanent nerve damage from this alleged bulging disc. They measure strength and calf-muscle size to see if I'm atrophying. They are talking about the possibility of giving up (permanently) activities that I have enjoyed for decades.

So yeah, I got scared.

However I plan to take this one step at a time. If this one-to-three injection treatment is unsuccessful and my friendly neurologist tells me that my next and only other option is surgery, you can bet I'll first try some alternatives.

In the meantime, I'll revel in my pain free state for as long as it lasts!

I might even go back to English class, but it's not likely.

I got shot in the back yesterday!

2008-12-24T11:26:00.002-06:00

(WARNING: This post will of absolutely no interest to anyone, except possibly my family.)

Ever had a bout of sciatica? I hope not. It ain’t no fun, I promise.

Facts: The sciatic nerves exit the spinal column way down in the lower back between vertebrae L5 and S1 (L is for lumbar, or lower back, and S is for Sacrum, which adjoins the pelvic bone.) The nerve at its root (an aside here: who knew that nerves had roots? Maybe its pre-Latin name was Kunta Kinte? I wonder if Alex Hailey had sciatica) is about as big around as one of your fingers. Which finger? I don’t know—how big are your fingers? Anyway, it’s a pretty big nerve.

This nerve extends all the way down each leg to your toes. When it becomes inflamed or irritated, the pain starts in your butt (yeah, I know, it’s a real pain in the a$$), extends down the back of your thigh and calf, all the way to the sole of your foot.

This is NOT your typical everyday lower back pain. I’ve been subject to those pains off and on for many years, usually on the left side. They last about two weeks and then subside. This sciatica is a burning aching throbbing mess, located more in the leg than in the back. In my case it has included persistent numbness in the sole and toes of my right foot.

Yes, I went to a family doctor. He sent me to a neurologist, who ordered an MRI and did some other tests better described in a Nazi torture spy novel than on this blog. Suffice it to say that the tests involved electrodes, needles, and a device I refer to (kindly) as a cattle prod. They SAY they are measuring the time an electric “impulse” can travel through your nerves to determine if there’s nerve damage. I say, “HA!!” They’re really seeing how far they can raise the voltage before your leg jerks high enough to kick the technician in the face, and your grunts turn to screams. Each time the doc hits you with another jolt he says, “Sorry.” But I can hear the sadistic sneering smile in his voice. (Great sibilance there, eh?)

Not satisfied with that infliction of pain, the Neurologist’s suggested treatment (following an MRI, which I guess was supposed to add some semblance of objective logic to his devious plan) was an ESI.

Sounds innocent, right? That acronym stands for Epidural Steroid Injection. What it means, in layman’s terms, is that a different sadist (excuse me, I mean “doctor”) gets to stick a big, long needle in your back. Using a fluoroscope to position the tip of the needle precisely, he tries to inject cortisone (the steroid) in just the right spot. Too “shallow” and the steroid does little good. Too “deep” and there could be damage or other problems.

Well, I underwent that procedure yesterday.

If you are currently cringing in sympathy, you don’t need to. Like a trip to the dentist, the anticipation is worse than the reality.

The good news is that I had an excellent doctor doing the injection. He first deadened the area with Novocain or something similar, just like the dentist does before drilling. He said that little injection would feel like a bee sting, but it was very mild. After that there was no pain at all.

Yes, when he told me he was guiding the needle to JUST the right spot (the most critical part of all this) I wanted to stop breathing so as not to move my abdomen. But all THAT does is make you want to take deeper breaths later! Fortunately, the entire procedure from the numbing injections until the big needle was out only took about 10 minutes. He slapped a little Band-Aid on my back and said we were finished! Music to my ears!

Then (and ONLY then) he showed me the needle! I thanked him for waiting. I think I would have fainted dead away at the thought of that telephone pole being shoved into my spine!

Now, as I type this some 20 hours after being “shot,” I think it all may have been worth it. It will take 2-3 days to determine if I get full relief based on just one shot (and if not I might have to face one or even two more!), but I can already tell that there has been some improvement.

Before the doctor shook my hand and left, I asked him if I would be able to play golf after this. He assured me I would. I then thanked him profusely, and admitted that I never really had been able to play before.

Somehow I think he’d heard that one already.

Laxative? Oh, yes!

2008-12-13T12:44:00.003-06:00

Regular readers will remember that seven years ago Carol and I took a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Africa. We traveled with Carol’s cousin Linda and her husband Les.

In fact, for a full, detailed journal of the trip complete with our hundreds of pictures of wildlife (some of them actually pretty good) and scenery, scroll down to the bottom of the right sidebar for a link to my home page and you’ll find another link there to our Africa trip pics.

During that journey we spent a few days in the Serengeti. The topography was mostly flat (plains) with some gently rolling areas. But here and there dotting the landscape were rock outcroppings called “kopjes” (“kopje” in the singular – pronounced “copy”). Rather than take a thousand words to describe them, here’s a picture of a typical kopje.

On our first full-day game drive in the Serengeti we had packed a picnic lunch. At about noon our guide pulled up to a kopje near a shade tree and scouted around a bit to ensure no dangerous animals were lurking nearby before we got out of the vehicle for our meal. The men headed to the left around a rock while the women rounded a rock in the other direction for some privacy so we could relieve ourselves.

That experience was brought vividly to mind yesterday when I received the picture below in an email entitled “African laxative.”

Here is the email:

"Oh yes it is!

African Laxative; about to start working . . . "

Do you remember Dave Barry?

2008-12-06T13:22:00.004-06:00

Dave was a humor columnist for the Miami Herald, but was syndicated and in papers across the country. A couple of his trademark phrases were: “An alert reader sent me this report . . .” and “I am not making this up!”

Typically he would write about things like exploding toilets, fish that rained from the sky, and similar “extreme” topics; extending them to ridiculous levels and making me laugh out loud with great regularity.

When I saw the article excerpted below in my local paper this morning, I knew it was JUST the kind of thing Dave would have been able to use as fodder for one of his columns. You can Google “AP” or the writer’s name and find the entire article if you like (or click THIS LINK:)

Dec 5, 6:27 PM EST

Farmers target EPA report they say might tax cows

By BOB JOHNSON Associated Press Writer

MONTGOMERY, Ala. (AP) -- For farmers, this stinks: Belching and gaseous cows and hogs could start costing them money if the federal government decides to charge fees for air-polluting animals.

Farmers so far are turning their noses up at the notion, which they contend is a possible consequence of an Environmental Protection Agency report after the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in 2007 that greenhouse gases from motor vehicles amounts to air pollution.

"This is one of the most ridiculous things the federal government has tried to do," said Alabama Agriculture Commissioner Ron Sparks, an outspoken opponent of the fees.

Now, Dave Barry would have focused on the flatulence issue. That was just his style! He probably would have written something like this:

An alert reader in Victoria, TX sent me an AP article in which is reported that an EPA study may result in a tax on flatulent farm animals. (I am NOT making this up.)

The claim is that the “emissions” of these animals should be considered a pollutant (no question there—in my mind, at least), and may contribute to Global Warming.

The article wasn’t clear if the contribution to warming came from the content of these emissions or the temperature of them. I suppose more study is needed on that issue, but I don’t think I’ll volunteer to help in the effort.

I question whether the emissions would be considered “greenhouse gasses” or not. I’ve been inside greenhouses before, and they never smelled particularly like cow flatulence. Well, except the ones that used cow manure for fertilizer.

Pigs and chickens were also mentioned as contributors to the flatulence problem and possibly subject to the proposed tax.

Now we all know that the EPA must have conducted scientific research to determine these findings, but one wonders just how they went about measuring the content and the quantity of flatulence produced by these animals. I picture white-coated scientists hovering around the back ends of cows, holding measuring devices designed to capture and analyze . . . well . . . gas. (The scientists holding the devices, not the cows.)

But doesn’t that sort of thing depend on diet? I know it does with me! You know; beans and cabbage? Isn't it the same with cows and pigs? I wonder if their studies concluded whether grass in cows produced the same quantity and quality of emissions as, maybe, slops in hogs?

And why do you suppose they limited their study to farm animals? Do they think that dogs and cats don’t produce digestive tract emissions?

I used to have a bulldog that could out-produce any other animal I know of when it came to flatulence. And he always chose to produce it, in copious quantities, when he was in the middle of the family as we all watched a movie on TV. That dog could clear a room in seconds flat! If the EPA ever found out about him, I’d likely have to pay a huge tax for pollution.

Farmers were quoted as saying that the whole effort to tax these animals smelled. You could almost say they felt the EPA was being chickensh__ about the whole business. The EPA’s response was that they never really proposed a specific tax, so the whole affair is bullsh__.

Further reports are almost certainly forthcoming. I’ll be waiting with bated breath (and a clothespin on my nose) to bring you any additional word on the subject.

(Actually Dave would have done a much better job with a topic like this, but I lack his flair for the absurd.)

Quick update on the post below

2008-11-30T10:01:00.002-06:00

Yes, the one about 1-800-goog4411.

I've used it three or four times now, and it works seamlessly. Just yesterday Carol and I were leaving the golf course (go figure) heading home when she wondered if our local Wal Mart pharmacy had received a prescription her mother had been waiting for. She suggested we stop by on the way home and check.

Neither one of us was thrilled by the idea, since it would have been out of the way. But then she said, "Why don't you use that Google thing on your cell phone and call them?"

No, I don't just happen to have the number of the Wal Mart pharmacy in my phone book. But I called the Google number, said, "Victoria, Texas. Wal Mart Pharmacy."

I was automatically connected within less than 30 seconds. Pretty slick, especially if you're out of town!

Now the Google web site assures me that there is no charge for this service. But I guess I'll know for certain when I get my next month's cell phone bill.

Have you seen this?

2008-11-23T10:58:00.002-06:00

Here's a number worth putting in your cell phone, or your home phone speed dial: 800-goog-411 (or, for the alpha-digitally challenged among us, 800-466-4411). This is an awesome service from Google, and it's free -- great when you are on the road.

Don't waste your money on information calls and don't waste your time manually dialing the number. I am driving along in my car and I need to call the golf course and I don't know the number. I hit the speed dial for the number above.

The voice at the other end says, "City & State." I say, " Garland , Texas." He says, "Business, Name or Type of Service." I say, Firewheel Golf Course." He says, "Connecting" and Firewheel answers the phone. How great is that? This is nationwide and it is absolutely free!

Click on the link below and watch the short clip for a quick demonstration.

http://www.google.com/goog411/

Tell all your friends you read it here first. Unless you read it somewhere else first, in which case . . . Aw, forget it.

Thanks, Hale!

2008-11-23T10:15:00.003-06:00

Hale McKay, better known as the Pointmeister, sent me this cartoon in response (sort of) to my last post.

Since one of the points I made to the high school students concerned the need for brevity in a resume, (especially for an entry-level job, for which prior experience is not a requirement), I thought it was very appropriate.

Some folks seem to think that the impressiveness quotient of a resume or curriculum vitae increases in direct proportion to its weight and/or page count. (Kinda like that last sentence!) But in most cases, less is more.

I promised you a report

2008-11-21T17:12:00.003-06:00

. . . about my presentations to the high school seniors on the topic of "Getting the Job."

They went very well. Most of my audience stayed awake through my entire spiel and I got a few laughs at some parts. Some were (naturally) more interested than others, and there were a fair number of questions.

Probably most gratifying was the reaction of the teachers who heard me, and one who didn't.

Those who did hear me all agreed that the information, although pretty fundamental, was important for the students to hear. And they were gracious enough to say that it was presented well.

I had put together a two-page (actually one piece of paper, front and back) bullet-point outline of the important points, dos and don'ts, etc., without the anecdotes that were in my talk. This was intended as a handout. Most of the students didn't take any, so I had a stack of them on the table at my company's booth that was set up in the large auditorium. A small number of those copies were picked up over the two-day program.

One teacher from a different high school (who had not heard my talk) picked up a handout and sent me an email today complimenting it and saying she intended to make copies and give them to all of her students because they needed to know those things. She felt it would have more impact coming from "someone in industry rather than a teacher, because students don't think teachers know anything about the real world."

I replied thanking her for her kind words, and offering to make my talk to her students. She was thrilled and we've set a date in early December.

So, yes; it was gratifying. And hopefully a few of the students might have learned something. That would be a real plus!

Just good ol’ boys. Never meanin’ no harm . . .

2008-11-19T13:57:00.002-06:00

As all you regular readers will no doubt remember, way back in the dark ages (Vietnam era) I used to fly F-4 Phantom jets off the USS Forrestal.

For a long time I didn’t really keep up with any of the other pilots from my squadron, but more recently contacts have been reestablished. You know how older men love to reminisce about the good old days. So now I exchange emails occasionally with some of the guys.

Probably my all-time favorite was my squadron Commanding Officer (CDR Ron Miller) during my second cruise to the Mediterranean. This was back during the old cold war, and the primary role of the sixth fleet in the Med was one of “showing the flag” and serving as an armed presence to deter any possible aggression by . . . whoever.

Why was Ron my favorite? As the skipper, he could choose any pilot he wanted to be his wingman, and he wanted me. Now each one of us ~~thought~~ KNEW we were personally the best pilot in the squadron. The ultimate measure (as in the movie “Top Gun”) was which pair of pilots could whip other pilots in dogfighting.

Oh, excuse me. We didn’t call it “dogfighting.” We called it “ACM,” an acronym for “Air Combat Maneuvering.” EVERY phrase had its acronym in those days, but it was still dogfighting.

Well, Ron and I just seemed to intuitively know what the other was going to do in advance. We worked so well as a team that the two of us in two-plane formation almost never lost a dogfight. Truth be told, I probably wasn’t a better pilot than any of the rest of them (although I’d have fought you if you said that in public back then). It was just one of those synergies where the two of us together were better than any other two, and even better than either one of us when paired with a different wingman.

Kinda like Simon and Garfunkel. Each was good, but together they were special and unlike any other duo.

Okay, all that to say this:

Last week Ron Miller cc’ed me on an email he sent to another of his friends who had served in the US Air Force on Crete during the time we were in the med. I am the “wingie” John he refers to. And yes, I remember the incident very well.

Here's a little story about one of my days on Crete. I was the CO of VF-11, the "World Famous Red Rippers" (oldest continuous fighter squadron in the Navy.) We were on USS Forrestal for a 7 month Med cruise. Ship dropped anchor on the W. end, S. side of the island late in the afternoon. We had sent about 6 of our birds (F4s) to the airfield just above us there on the West end.

The Greeks flew F-84s from there. My wingman and I were scheduled to fly first thing the next morning. So, early on, we gathered our flight gear and were hauled ashore in one of the ship's boats. I had a really good young pilot as my "wingie" so decided to act up a bit, and we planned it all out.

We were taking off to the South, which would take us nearly over the ship. I rolled first, to be followed by John just seconds later. It was gear up, leave her in afterburner, nose over crossing the bluff, then pull up into the first half of a huge loop. John intercepted me near the top, and joined up as we rolled out on heading. I don't remember, but I suspect that we were over 10,000 feet.

On return an hour or so later, we came into the "break" at 450 knots in tight formation, etc. Great fun.

Just after landing, my Ops officer found me and said: "Better lay low because the CAG (Commander, Air Group) is looking for you." The aircrew briefing on the ship (which we missed) said the Greeks had pretty strict air rules, so don't do anything out of the ordinary -- no aerobatics, no high speeds, etc.

So, what happened to me? Nothing at all. You see, the CAG was a bit of a cutup himself (but that's another story.)

Yep, that was us back in the glory days. Spending the taxpayers money having fun.

Just Good Ol’ Boys. Never Meanin’ No Harm.

Big Blue

2008-11-17T19:30:00.003-06:00

The picture below was taken with a cell phone camera in poor light. But you can see what it is. It's the license plate on Carol's car.

In Texas it is possible to order specialty license tags with certain pictures on them. They cost about $30 extra, but the money goes to support the "cause" portrayed on the tag.

In this case, the $30 goes to the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department to support their many programs for the conservation and preservation of Texas wildlife. Hence the motto, "Keep Texas Wild."

The combination of letters and numbers on the tag is random. So a year ago, when Carol got herself a nice, new Ford Expedition to replace our 12-year-old Dodge van, she wanted a license tag that pictured a Texas Horned Lizard. These critters are better known locally as "horny toads." (I am NOT making that up!)

Anyway, when the tags arrived and Carol saw the number/letter combination, she said it looked to her like "Big Blue"

Well, okay. That's a good way to remember your tag number when you check in at a motel and they want to know which vehicle is yours. So for a year we've been referring to her tag number as "Big Blue."

Now if you'll scroll down a few posts you'll see that I also just got a new vehicle. And like my wonderful wife, I decided to support Texas wildlife by putting a horny toad on MY ride also! Last week I went to the county tax office to order mine. The receipt shows what MY number/letter combination will be.

I was really hoping for something like "LTL BL" which I could christen "Little Blue," since my car is smaller than hers and blue in color. But no such luck. What I got was "FJ 50P."

Carol looked at that and immediately said, "Oh, 'Fat John, 50 Plus!'"

Needless to say, despite having my very own horny toad license plates on their way, I am NOT pleased with the memory aid she has come up with! I mean, come on! There are LOTS of potentially complimentary (or at least neutral) memory aids she could have thought up using "FJ." "Fighter Jockey" comes to mind, recalling my days as a Navy F-4 Phantom pilot.

But alas, I fear that my car will forever be known to the two of us as "Fat John," for once spoken some words just can't be taken back or forgotten.

So I guess that the next time Carol makes some snide remark about a bit of "middle-age spread" appearing on or near my waistline I'll have to tell her, "I just trying to live up to my car's nickname."

An opportunity

2008-11-16T09:26:00.002-06:00

This week I get to address four groups of 30 local high school seniors.

The occasion is what the school district calls Career Days. Presentations are made to all four high school grades on various topics, to include:

· information about specific jobs that are available locally – what the job pays, what the duties are, what education and/or experience is required to get the jobs, etc.,
· information about further educational opportunities after high school – trade schools, community college, four-year universities, etc.,
· information about obtaining financial aid for further education, and
· “life skills” required to GET a job and to be successful in the workplace

My topic is called “Getting the Job.” I’m going to cover all the usual stuff about resumes, job applications and interview dos and don’ts. But I also plan to hit them with some life philosophy.

I plan to start out by telling them, “I’ve been a human resources manager longer than any of you have been alive. I may not have ‘seen it all,’ but I’ve seen a lot!”

My tips and advice are specific.

Examples:

“Do not even TAKE your cell phone to an interview, but if you do take it turn it OFF! Do not DARE answer it if it rings, unless you can tell me you’re expecting an emergency call.”

“Leave the cologne and after-shave at home. If I detect any odor during your visit, it should be the smell of soap.”

“Do not assume your Sunday best clothing is appropriate for an interview. If in doubt, call and ask what the interviewer would prefer you to wear.” (At my plant, if you came dressed in a coat and tie in the Texas summer I’d think you had a screw loose!)

“Fill in EVERY blank on an application. Use “N/A” if appropriate, but put something in there. Otherwise I'll think you're careless.”

“ALWAYS print ‘Open’ in the inevitable blank asking for ‘Salary Desired’.”

But before I talk to them about the actual interview I will ask for a show of hands of those who consider themselves shy. Then I plan a 2-minute lecture on the fact that they can CHOOSE not to be shy! No, it isn’t easy. Yes, it takes some practice and some work.

I used to be shy and scared to death to speak in front of a group. But in the Navy I was an instructor in the Flight Training Command, and had to give training lectures to student pilots. Sure, I stumbled and fumbled at first, but I quickly realized that was stupid! These younger students didn’t know as much as I did, and if they laughed at a gaffe, so what!? I didn’t get sick and die.

I watched others and learned both good and bad ways of handling awkward situations in front of a group. And in a fairly short while I became good at speaking in front of others, and proud of it! People would come up to me after a presentation and compliment me on my delivery.

And guess what? I haven’t been shy since. (Maybe a bit of an arrogant egotist, but hey, who’s perfect?)

So, you high school seniors, DON’T be shy. Shyness is NOT an endearing quality in the workplace or in life, and it can hold you back in your career. Get over it.

Rah! Rah!

Okay, end of lecture. I’m looking forward to what kind of reaction I get from the students. Each “talk” is only 25 minutes, so I don’t know if I’ll get everything in or not.

I’ll let you know.

Reality check

2008-11-05T16:34:00.004-06:00

Did you ever have your self-imaged abruptly changed?

You know; you're going along minding your own business, thinking of yourself as you usually do (in my case, as a middle-aged man in pretty good shape and not all that bad-looking), and some stranger addresses you as "Gramps?"

No, it didn't happen to me quite that way. Let me explain.

On Halloween I had just picked up my brand new hybrid car (see post below). Sure, the salesman at the dealership showed us all the features including how to sync up my bluetooth-capable cell phone with the car's hands-free phone system (a pretty slick setup!) But I hadn't had time to really internalize or practice finding the different controls and using them. So I was busy checking out features while driving instead of paying attention to driving.

It was dark, and I was on the same stretch of road where I had hit the deer a few weeks ago. I didn't feel as if I was driving fast at all, and activated the cruise control while Carol and I played with the ambient lighting selector. Within a minute the red and blue lights of a highway patrol cruiser were flashing behind me. I immediately pulled over. The car was quiet, engine off.

The trooper approached on the passenger side and tapped on the window. I had been waiting for him to come to the driver side. I fumbled around for what seemed like forever trying to find the button to lower the electric window on Carol's side of the car.

He grinned patiently, and then introduced himself and asked if I had my driver's license and proof of insurance (a requirement in Texas). I told him I had JUST picked up the car, was still trying to figure out all the features, and confessed I hadn't been watching my speed. He politely explained that he'd clocked me at 62 in a 55 zone.

We discussed the fact that I DID have proof of insurance, but only because the dealer had asked me to phone my insurance company and request them to fax over a copy. In the middle of that discussion the car . . . Well, the car screeched at me!

This horrible, LOUD "R-R-R-R-E-E-E-E" noise made me jump, and the trooper jerked his head back from the window. Carol and I looked at each other in confusion. The car did it again; "R-R-R-R-E-E-E-E!" The trooper then said (a bit condescendingly, I thought), "THAT's your phone."

OH! YEAH! The salesman had synched it to the car, and now the whole CAR was ringing!

Well, I had no idea how to answer it! (I now know there's a button on the steering wheel, but at the time . . .) I grabbed at the phone itself and started pushing buttons. All I wanted was for the car to stop screeching. It did, and the trooper again waited patiently while I said, "It's my daughter."

I turned to the phone and said in haste, "I can't talk now. I'll call you back and explain." Then I hung up on her.

The trooper said he would go back to his car and just write me a warning. I thanked him, feeling like a total idiot. But it wasn't over yet. As he walked back toward his car, my engine started! (Remember, this is a hybrid. When you stop, the gasoline engine stops. But if you have the air conditioning on, eventually the engine starts and will run a while to power the compressor for the A/C.)

I quickly shut it off and sat there, face burning. Carol was reminding me that when you are stopped by the police you are supposed to shut off your engine and leave it off, or else they are likely to think you're going to drive away. When the trooper came back with my warning we apologized for the engine starting and told hime we hadn't intended to start it, that it just started by itself because I'd forgotten to turn off the key, and . . .

He smiled and held up his hand. "I understand," he said. "It'll do that every time you stop at a light, too. That's the way they work. That's one of the ways they save gas."

At this point I REALLY felt like an idiot. And I knew HE thought I was an idiot, too.

He asked us where we were going. We told him straight home. He nodded and said, "Good. Please drive safe."

As he walked away I think I saw myself through his eyes. And what I saw was a gray-haired man approaching senility, with little command of anything the least bit technical or mechanical. An old fella who ought to be in bed once the sun went down.

Now that is NOT me! But it was an ugly reality check regardless, to realize that people might see me that way.

Getting old sucks, but it probably beats checking out early! (Hey, at least he took pity and only wrote me a warning!)

My new ride!

2008-11-02T08:05:00.010-06:00

Dear readers (*sigh* . . . both of you),

As you saw in my last post, my poor old commute-to-work car met its demise in a close encounter with Bambi’s mom. One of you (Kenju) asked what I would be driving to work now.

The short-term answer was that I used a borrowed vehicle. Fortunately for us, Carol’s mother lives nearby, doesn’t drive any more, but has a Honda minivan. Periodically she asks me to drive it to work and back just to keep it in running condition. She was happy (she said) to let me use it for a few months until the car I had ordered last June was delivered.

What had I ordered that took so long? Well, I knew that my old Mazda (12 years old with 195,000 miles on it) wouldn’t last too many more years (months?), and I had begun lusting after the 2009 Ford Escape hybrid. It is Ford’s small SUV with better gas mileage than my little 4-cylinder, 5-speed Mazda, but with lots of room and hauling capacity. Seemed like a great compromise when gas was over $4 per gallon!

So, on the first day the ‘09 models could be ordered, I ordered one. That was June 4. They told me it would be October at the earliest before the car was ready; and more likely January! Well, okay. My Mazda was still running. I didn’t NEED a new car yet. January would be acceptable. You know, Merry Christmas and all!

What made the ’09 model more attractive than the ’08 was that the newer one came with stability control features lacking before. There were some other nice features, but that was the main reason.

Anyway, last Friday, October 31 (Halloween! Spooky, no?), I got a call at work from the Ford dealer.

My new car was in!

Since I know you’re just DYING to see it, here it is. Yesterday morning I sat in the car reading the manuals and trying to figure out all the features, hybrid charactaristics and nuances, while Carol walked around it snapping photos:

For you in the harsher climes, yes I live in South Texas. Yes, this shot was taken on November 1. Yes, it's still "late summer" here (we played golf yesterday with bright sunshine, temps in the mid 80s, and sweated in our shorts and short-sleeve shirts!)

Ford calls this color "light ice-blue metallic." It looks almost silver in these shots because I lightened them up a bit for detail. The first picture (up above this one) is pretty close to the real color, on my monitor at least.

I have another story to tell about my first driving experience in this car, but that will wait for another post.

Oh deer. ME!?

2008-10-23T21:03:00.004-05:00

(That's a takeoff on the POINTMEISTER'S post for today!)

On tuesday morning at about 6 a.m. I was merrily (well, maybe a better adverb would be "sleepily") driving to work.

I had just left the house. I wasn't even out of the city limits yet. But I WAS on a divided boulevard with a 55 mph speed limit (which I was actually obeying, Christina!) (. . . for once).

In the glare of the headlights of the oncoming traffic I saw a flicker of motion.

Gee, that looked like something moving between me and that car . . . Must have been an animal! Where there's one, there are usually more. Oh, SH---BAM!!

I had just the barest instant to flick the wheel to the left in reaction to the sight of the deer running straight across from right to left about two feet in front of my right headlight.

It happened so fast (plus it was pitch dark out there -- no street lights) that I never saw which way the body of the instantly-dead deer flew. I was now in the median, still going about 55, and fighting for control of the car.

Now, the experts will tell you that when you see an animal in front of you and can't stop, DON'T swerve. Likely you'll just lose control of the car and crash, doing MUCH worse damage to life and property than if you just hit the animal. They tell you to drive THROUGH the animal, let the car absorb the damage, and come to a controlled stop.

Yeah, right. I know all that.

But the experts don't tell you how to prevent that reflexive instinct to avoid a collision. I had swerved before I had a conscious thought about what to do.

Anyway, I did regain control, eased back onto the pavement, came to a controlled stop, and got out to inspect the damage. I didn't even have to clean out my pants! Must have been my fighter-pilot training and instincts. (Or something.) (Aside: They say that just before you really screw up a night carrier landing, first you say it, and then you DO it.)

Before I even looked at the front of the car I knew it was totalled. Why? Well, this was my commute-to-work car. It's a little Mazda Protege (great gas mileage!) that is 12 years old and has 196,000 miles on it. That means the current value of the car is about $1,900, if I'm REALLY lucky. Just replacing the hood, headlight and front fender would cost that much, or more.

Sure enough, all of those were mashed pretty thoroughly. In addition, when I struck the front shoulder of the deer, the back end slammed around into the passenger-side door denting it in and leaving a large smear of . . . well . . .deer poop right by the handle.

Believe it or not, the car was still drivable. So after ensuring that the deer carcass was not impeding traffic I decided there was no sense calling the police. They darn sure weren't going to ticket the deer! I drove on to work.

As of today, two things are official:

1. My car has had the damage estimated and has been declared a total loss. It will be driven away to some salvage yard tomorrow. It's epitaph ought to be, "I fought the deer, and I won."

2. My new nickname at work is "Deerslayer." That alternates with "Bambi Murderer," and a few other attempts at humor

I just told them to go open my passenger door, and then smell their hand.

Georgia golf course pics

2008-10-16T17:52:00.011-05:00

Back to our September vacation trip. When we last visited this topic, Carol and I had just left Chicago.

From there we headed down to Georgia to play some golf. And believe it or not, I don't have a single picture of a golf course to show you.

But all of these pictures were taken on or at a golf course.

First, a walking stick. No, not the stick you use when you hike, the insect! Have you ever seen one? Very aptly named. This guy was resting on the front of our car when we finished a round in a brief shower.

Often we've seen smaller walking sticks, but this one was about 6 inches from tip to tip. Obviously their appearance provides excellent camouflage when they're in or near trees or bushes. On a white Ford Expedition it's questionable whether any predator would have been fooled.

But take a close look at this guy's body. Pretty good disguise, I'd say!

Next we found some pileated woodpeckers. We have additional pictures of these birds from other locations. They're very impressive at nearly a foot in height, and it's hard to miss that brilliant topknot.

The one below had just found something in a hole in a dead tree trunk and was working to get it out. I hope it was tasty.

Then we saw an even bigger bird beside a fairway. This gobbler seems to know that Thanksgiving is not that far away. He wouldn't let us get close at all.

Finally, here are some pictures containing evidence of an animal we DIDN'T see. Check out these trees. Notice anything?

Take a closer look at the second tree from the left . . .

Now take a REAL close look. Somehow I don't think a chain saw did that.

We never saw Bucky, but he must not live far away. Some of the other nearby trees had evidence of his "busy" work!

(Next installment: On to Florida!)

(Coming soon.)

(I hope.)

An OLD joke I still think is funny

2008-10-14T16:41:00.002-05:00

I know . . . I know! You've heard/read this before. So had I.

But when I saw it yesterday I laughed out loud at it. Again.

So I read it aloud to Carol, giving the dialogue of the old rabbi my impression of a Brooklyn Yiddish accent (horrible, of course, but she was tickled by it).

And now I offer it to you. I think it's cute. I hope it doesn't offend!

__________________________________________________

Several centuries ago, the Pope decreed that all the Jews had to convert to Catholicism or leave Italy.

There was a huge outcry from the Jewish community, so the Pope offered a deal. He'd have a religious debate with the leader of the Jewish community. If the Jews won, they could stay in Italy; if the Pope won, they'd have to convert or leave.

The Jewish people met and picked an aged and wise rabbi to represent them in the debate. However, as the rabbi spoke no Italian, and the Pope spoke no Yiddish, they agreed that it would be a 'silent' debate.

On the chosen day the Pope and rabbi sat opposite each other. The Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. The rabbi looked back and raised one finger.

Next, the Pope waved his finger around his head. The rabbi pointed to the ground where he sat.

The Pope brought out a communion wafer and a chalice of wine. The rabbi pulled out an apple.

With that, the Pope stood up, declared himself beaten and said that the rabbi was too clever. The Jews could stay in Italy.

Later the cardinals met with the Pope and asked him what had happened. The Pope said, "First I held up three fingers to represent the Trinity. He responded by holding up a single finger to remind me there is still only one God common to both our beliefs.

"Then, I waved my finger around my head to show him that God was all around us. He responded by pointing to the ground to show that God was also right here with us.

"I pulled out the bread and wine to show that God absolves us of all our sins. He pulled out an apple to remind me of the original sin.

"He bested me at every move and I could not continue."

Meanwhile, the Jewish community gathered to ask the rabbi how he'd won.

"I haven't a clue," the rabbi said. "First, he told me that we had three days to get out of Italy, so I gave him the finger.

"Then he tells me that the whole country would be cleared of Jews and I told him that we were staying right here."

''And then what?" asked a woman.

"Who knows?" said the rabbi. "He took out his lunch so I took out mine."

OOOOO! One more Chicago note!

2008-10-07T18:07:00.006-05:00

(Insider Information Contained Here!)

I can't believe I forgot to include this experience in the last post. My excuse is: I have no pictures of it to show you. But still . . .

My Chicago-dwelling daughter had learned that if there's a (live) theater show you want to go see, but you don't want so spend hundreds of dollars for a good seat, there's a secret!!

The box office opens at 10:00 am sharp. If you happen to be one of the first ten people in line on the day of the performance, you can buy seats in the orchestra, FRONT ROW, CENTER, for $25 each! These seats would normally cost you $250.00 each! (Shhhh! You have to ask for "rush tickets.")

They don't sneer at you, or laugh at you. They smile and ask how many you want.

We got to the box office well before 10:00 am, but there were 14 people already in line. As I'm experiencing an instant a sinking feeling that we'd blown it, daughter pipes up with, "Don't worry. Some of these people probably are just here to buy regular tickets, or tickets for another day's performance. Very few people know about these "rush tickets."

We went to see "Jersey Boys," a superb musical telling the story of Franky Valli and the Four Seasons.

The cast was fantastic, and they performed all of the old Four Seasons' hits:

Sherry
Big Girls Don't Cry
C'mon Marianne
Dawn (Go Away)
Rag Doll
Workin' My Way Back to You
Can't take My Eyes Off of You
Stay

And lots more! I knew and could sing along with every one of them.

But let me tell you about the seats. Have you ever been front row center in a Broadway-type show? I never had!

The only downside was that the stage was about a foot higher than our heads, so when the action moved back towards the rear we had to hike ourselves up some to see it. But most of the action was near the front.

And WHEN the action was near the front it was right on top of us! I could have (literally) reached up and touched the shoes of the performers when they stood on the edge of the stage. Which they did frequently when they sang.

It was a thrilling, unique experience (unless you've got LOTS of money to spend at the theater), and one I won't soon forget.

So . . . Next time you're in Chicago and have time to take in a show, remember about "rush tickets."

It could save you a bundle, and provide you with a really exciting theater experience.

Vacation tales and pics

2008-10-01T17:15:00.011-05:00

** SIGH **

Daughter Christina is back into blogging after a hiatus, and is bugging me to post something.

Okay . . . I guess. I had promised ~~several of my many~~ ~~both of my~~ my ONE faithful reader some pictures of my recent marathon driving trip as well, so here's a start.

We left Texas heading for Chicago and spent the long Labor Day weekend with my younger daughter and her husband in their high-rise apartment right on the Chicago river with a view of the lake.

Here's a shot from her "office" (and I'll never tire of this view!):

In Chicago we toured the Frank Lloyd Wright residence and studio, and took a walking tour of some of the homes he designed early in his career. I have some pictures, but unless you're REALLY into architecture and FLW they wouldn't be very exciting.

Our daughter and her husband have been taking ballroom dancing lessons, kind of like Badabing. She (not "they") decided to try a ballroom dancing competition, and although we didn't get to see it, we did see all of her pictures and videos.

Now part of the deal is, each female competitor has to have TWO dresses: one for "smooth" dances, and one for Latin. The "smooth" dress has to have a "float" (a panel of usually sheer fabric that attaches to one wrist, and from there to the skirt), and it absolutely MUST have rhinestones. LOTS of rhinestones.

How many rhinestones, you ask? Well, the bare MINIMUM (and nobody would be caught dead in a dress with this few!) is ten gross.

Do the math.

That's 1440 little sparklies that are HAND-GLUED to the dress!

My daughter's dress had 13 gross . . . But who's counting?

She bought the fabric and designed the dress herself. She hand-glued the 13 gross colored rhinestones in a pattern around the bodice designed to look like flames.

Yes, flames.

Okay, okay, here's a picture:

Now, get this! Many competitors buy their dresses (not having the time or the skill to MAKE them). My daughter says she spent a total of about $300 for materials for this dress.

She was told by a dress designer that had she bought that dress it would have cost $3,000. And that's without the rhinestones glued on!

Oh, and don't forget; competitors would NEVER wear a particular dress more than once in competition! NEVER!

In case you're wondering, she doesn't expect to compete in the future. "Been there, done that," is what I think she said.

Could she go into business making custom competition dresses for ballroom? And make a killing? Sure.

Does she want to? Nope. She's a graphic designer (manager) with bigger fish to fry. Am I proud? Hmmmm.

Oh, and one last shot. Carol and I were walking exactly one-half block from daughter's apartment in the heart of downtown Chicago, when a rabbit hopped across the sidewalk in front of us and headed for some landscape plantings in front of a huge high-rise building.

No, that is NOT a fake rabbit or a retouched photo. Here's a close-up, complete with red-eye:

More to come . . . Someday!

You asked . . .

2008-09-17T18:12:00.006-05:00

Actually Candace asked, as a comment to yesterday's post, "When was the last time your area was affected by hurricane, anyway?"

That would have been Hurricane Claudette in 2003.

Here's a picture (and no, Carol didn't take this one):

Claudette hit us as a category 1 storm with maximum sustained winds of 90-100 mph. Didn't sound like much, but those winds caused a lot of damage to trees and overhead power lines. We were without electricity for three days.

Compared to Ike, that's not much. I've heard that some folks in Texas along Ike's path have been told they may remain without electricity for 4-5 WEEKS!!

Not long after Claudette, I bought a generator and several 7-gallon gasoline containers. I haven't used it yet, thank goodness. It's still in the box.

Makes me wonder if it will run when I need it. Hopefully I'll never have to find out.

Another post!

2008-09-17T18:12:00.002-05:00

Pictures to come -- soon, I hope. We've just returned home to find . . . absolutely NO damage of any kind from Ike. In fact, Victoria, TX, got NO rain at all from Ike. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Here's my tale: First Dolly roared in well south of us. Next, Edouard pummeled Beaumont to the north of us. When Gustav was taking dead aim at New Orleans, we headed north to Chicago and missed all contact with that storm.

Then, while Fay was dancing back and forth across Florida we drove to Maryland to visit my sister. The following days saw us driving south to Georgia just as Hanna was headed up the East Coast toward South Carolina. We (Hanna and I) crossed, but I was far enough west and the storm far enough east that we saw only the very edges of the highest clouds -- no rain and no wind.

Meanwhile Ike was taking aim at Florida and Georgia (the then-likely path of the storm), but zigged to the south and into the Gulf. For two days the center of the projected path cone was Matagorda Bay, TX, just 30 miles from Victoria. We envisioned coming home the following week to (at the very least) spoiled food in the fridge and freezer due to the inevitable power outage, not to mention probable damage from tree limbs and wind. At least Victoria is well inland and there are no fears of storm surge or rising water.

But, Ike decided to ease north just enough that we had on power outage and no wind to speak of. Not even any rain!

So . . . I'm thinking of hiring myself out as a hurricane repellent. When there's a storm in the Gulf I'll immediately travel to the location of the highest bidder. When the storm then goes elsewhere, THAT location will wish THEY had upped the ante a little!

Think it'll work?

Me neither.

A post!

2008-09-11T16:48:00.002-05:00

To all my blog friends: Thanks! (For stopping by, and for caring!)

I didn't broadcast it this year, but Carol and I are today in South Georgia on our way to Tampa to visit daughter and grandson. We've been through Chicago to visit other daughter, then to Maryland to see my sister, and we managed to dodge Gustav and Hanna with nary a puff of wind nor a drop of rain.

We were worried about Ike disrupting our planned Georgia golf, but he decided to go into the Gulf and again we never saw any rain or wind. In fact, it's been hot, humid and still.

We won't be heading home to see what Ike has done until Tuesday. If all the food in our freezer is spoiled . . . Oh well!

So, don't worry about us -- we're far from Texas and quite safe.

Karyn, you'll probably get more rain than our town will -- maybe YOU'D better run. Viki, sorry I again passed through Chicago and didn't get to meet you -- maybe next year! And Goddess, be thankful for the rain and no cyclones!

Maybe I'll be better about posting once this vacation is over. I'll at least let you know if we had any damage from Ike.

No song this time

2008-08-05T19:05:00.003-05:00

Sorry, but I don't know any songs about "Edouard."

Regardless, I'm glad he's bypassed my town and is giving some rain to those who needed it. We would have welcomed a few good showers, but no such luck. Just hot and dry here. Still.

Maybe I can come up with something about Edouard. . . How about, Edouard Scissorhands?

"Edouard Scissorhands, don't trim my trees,

with your violent winds and howling breeze."

Nah -- no ring to that one.

I guess I'll just water my lawn and be happy we haven't seen any destructive storms here for a while.

After all, my younger daughter who lives in downtown Chicago just had a tornado pass nearly overhead and whoosh on out over Lake Michigan. She said it blew out some windows on the 40th floor of the John Hancock building not far up Michigan Avenue from her apartment building.

No, I don't need anything like that!

Goodbye, Dolly!

2008-07-24T17:05:00.005-05:00

(With apologies to Jerry Herman . . . Sing it with me...)

Goodbye, Dolly,
Well goodbye, Dolly,
It's so nice to have you back where you belong.

(Anywhere but here!)

We needed rain, Dolly,
but you were a pain, Dolly,
With your blowin, and your growin',
You kept goin' strong.

We felt the room swayin'
With your storm’s sprayin’
But you didn’t bring the rain we needed then, so...

Take all your wind, Dolly
Take your counterclockwise spin, Dolly
Promise you'll never come this way again!

Total rainfall at our house in Victoria, Texas: barely over one inch. We're going to have to start watering the yard again this weekend, looks like.

There were times when the Weather Channel radar showed a wide swath of dark green rain right over us for fairly long periods of time, but not a drop hit the ground. Much of the past few days the sun has been shining brightly.

But now that I've complained, we'll probably get the next storm right through this area, category 4, and we'll all drown in the flooding. Some folks are never happy, right?

Hello, Dolly!

2008-07-20T16:59:00.002-05:00

Please go away, Dolly.

Although I guess we could use the rain.

How about . . . Stay weak, Dolly, but give us about 3-4 inches of rain over a tw0-day period. Is that too much to ask?

If so, then just go away.

Stay tuned . . .

Pictures of a REALLY FOXY gal!

2008-07-13T09:29:00.015-05:00

(With a title like that, who KNOWS how many hits I'll get!?)

Well, here she is:

TOLD ya she was foxy!

Over the July 4th weekend, Carol and I went to Alabama to play golf (go figure!) at one of the stops on Alabama's Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail. The venue was Capitol Hills near Montgomery. That location has THREE full 18-hole courses, each of which is different in style and character.

One of those courses ("The Senator") is links style, meaning no trees but just mounds along both sides of most fairways. These mounds are covered with DEEP, thick, ball-eating rough.

That's where we saw the fox. Actually Carol spotted her trotting across a fairway and heading into the mounds where she stopped to enjoy the view, and then to hunt for breakfast.

This shot I like to call "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." If you've ever taken a typing course (keyboarding now?), you'll get the reference.

But then she goes into hunting mode!

Here she's looking left . . .

Looking up . . .

Looking down . . .

And looking right. Ever hear of a fox-tail brush? Now you know where the name came from.

Oooooh! She heard something!

She stalks . . .

She leaps again!

Takes a perfect point . . .

. . And comes away with the prize!

What did she get? You tell me!

What's that? You want to know how the golf was? Who CARES about the golf with views like this around the course.

(I wonder if I could hire the fox to help me find my golf balls that ended up in that rough . . .)

Just found a great new blog

2008-07-11T17:29:00.003-05:00

called "I work for lunatics."

Here's the link.

There's not much there yet, but it shows promise. Almost sounds like someone I used to read all the time who lived in Chicago.

Check it out. Tell the author John sent you!