Cogito Ergo Zoom

Grampa's First - And Last - Science Talk To The Fourth Graders

2010-12-17T09:00:00.000-08:00

So! Who here can tell me how the sperm whale got its name?

Time To Get The Ear Trumpet Refitted

2010-10-20T14:52:00.000-07:00

I've been delivering meals for a few months now, mostly to overtly end-of-life appellationed non-Edens like "Golden Sunset Mobile Home Park", "Trail's End Mobile Home Park" (punctuation is mine), "Happy Trails Deluxe Mobile Home Park" (liars) and so forth. The 2 1/2 hour route is a real eye opener on old age, solitude and infirmities, making me glad I've gone to such lengths to conscientiously take care of myself (cough, snort).

But it's also the first "job" I've had that people look forward to my showing up, and almost certainly the only job where I can yet be referred to as "that nice young man."

One day a couple of weeks ago, as I was mid-route, pulling Mr C's packages (low sodium, diabetic, no milk), a tall, leggy, astonishingly proportioned young woman sauntered past my truck as I was checking my inventory while loading up my arms. Her sheer white dress appeared to have been applied to her with a paint gun, and she smiled a charming smile and cordially greeted me. I responded "You have a nice day, too!" and trundled across the alleyway trying not to drop anything or drip water onto the signature sheet.

After climbing back into the 'Burb and heading 'round the corner toward my next delivery, I realized she had actually asked if I wanted to "have a date" which, now that I think of it was her way of suggesting I could Have A Nice Day, I guess. Sigh . . . .

Thus It Has Always Been

2010-10-15T12:47:00.000-07:00

Society is produced by our wants and government by our wickedness; the former promotes happiness by uniting our affections, the latter promotes negativity by restraining our vices.

The first is a patron, the last a punisher.

Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its best state is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one, for when we suffer, or are exposed to the same miseries by our government which we might expect in a country without government, our calamities are heightened by reflecting on the fact that we furnish the means by which we suffer!

Government, like clothing, is a badge of lost innocence; the palaces of our government are built on the ruins of our paradise.

Tom Paine - Common Sense (paraphrased)

Losing Your/My/Our Religion

2010-10-10T19:23:00.000-07:00

From Nic Kristof's column:

The New York Times reported recently on a Pew Research Center poll in which religious people turned out to be remarkably uninformed about religion. Almost half of Catholics didn’t understand Communion. Most Protestants didn’t know that Martin Luther started the Reformation. Almost half of Jews didn’t realize Maimonides was Jewish. And atheists were among the best informed about religion.

So let me give everybody another chance. And given the uproar about Islam, I’ll focus on extremism and fundamentalism — and, as you’ll see, there’s a larger point to this quiz. Note that some questions have more than one correct choice; answers are at the end.

1. Which holy book stipulates that a girl who does not bleed on her wedding night should be stoned to death?
a. Koran
b. Old Testament
c. (Hindu) Upanishads

2. Which holy text declares: “Let there be no compulsion in religion”?
a. Koran
b. Gospel of Matthew
c. Letter of Paul to the Romans

3. The terrorists who pioneered the suicide vest in modern times, and the use of women in terror attacks, were affiliated with which major religion?
a. Islam
b. Christianity
c. Hinduism

4. "Every child is touched by the devil as soon as he is born and this contact makes him cry. Excepted are Mary and her Son.” This verse is from:
a. Letters of Paul to the Corinthians
b. The Book of Revelation
c. An Islamic hadith, or religious tale

5. Which holy text is sympathetic to slavery?
a. Old Testament
b. New Testament
c. Koran

6. In the New Testament, Jesus’ views of homosexuality are:
a. strongly condemnatory
b. forgiving
c. never mentioned

7. Which holy text urges responding to evil with kindness, saying: “repel the evil deed with one which is better.”
a. Gospel of Luke
b. Book of Isaiah
c. Koran

8. Which religious figure preaches tolerance by suggesting that God looks after all peoples and leads them all to their promised lands?
a. Muhammad
b. Amos
c. Jesus

9. Which of these religious leaders was a polygamist?
a. Jacob
b. King David
c. Muhammad

10. What characterizes Muhammad’s behavior toward the Jews of his time?
a. He killed them.
b. He married one.
c. He praised them as a chosen people.

11. Which holy scripture urges that the "little ones" of the enemy be dashed against the stones?
a. Book of Psalms
b. Koran
c. Leviticus

12. Which holy scripture suggests beating wives who misbehave?
a. Koran
b. Letters of Paul to the Corinthians
c. Book of Judges

13. Which religious leader is quoted as commanding women to be silent during services?
a. The first Dalai Lama
b. St. Paul
c. Muhammad

Answers:
1. b. Deuteronomy 22:21.
2. a. Koran, 2:256. But other sections of the Koran do describe coercion.
3. c. Most early suicide bombings were by Tamil Hindus (some secular) in Sri Lanka and India.
4. c. Hadith. Islam teaches that Jesus was a prophet to be revered.
5. All of the above.
6. c. Other parts of the New and Old Testaments object to homosexuality, but there’s no indication of Jesus’ views.
7. c. Koran, 41:34. Jesus says much the same thing in different words.
8. b. Amos 9:7
9. all of them
10. all of these. Muhammad’s Jewish wife was seized in battle, which undermines the spirit of the gesture. By some accounts he had a second Jewish wife as well.
11. a. Psalm 137
12. a. Koran 4:34
13. b. St. Paul, both in 1 Corinthians 14 and 1 Timothy 2, but many scholars believe that neither section was actually written by Paul.

And yes, the point of this little quiz is that religion is more complicated than it sometimes seems, and that we should be wary of rushing to inflammatory conclusions about any faith, especially based on cherry-picking texts. The most crucial element is perhaps not what is in our scriptures, but what is in our hearts.

Get Low

2010-09-27T11:50:00.000-07:00

It's a pleasure to watch Robert Duvall, Bill Cobbs, Sissy Spacek and Bill Murray being completely comfortable within their wrinkly wrappers. Duvall, at 78, has the tics and snorts, Bill Cobbs the arthritic hands and stoop, Murray's genial smarm and Sissy still with those eyes like limpid pools you could fall into.

There're no real surprises anywhere in the movie. Anyone can tell at the beginning of every scene who's going to walk in and what's going to happen, but there is a chuckle or two, and as I say, it's fun watching old pros do what they do.

I do wonder why I'm becoming so compassionate toward obstreperous, cranky, crabby old men?

Reasons I Love The Times

2010-09-03T09:30:00.000-07:00

From today's "Corrections" section:

"The crossword puzzle on Tuesday gave an erroneous clue for 5 Across, seeking the answer "ESTH," for the Bible's Book of Esther. The clue was incorrect because Esther is not the "only" book in the Bible that does not mention God. Neither does the Song of Solomon."

Somebody Say 'Hallelujah!'

2010-08-30T09:09:00.000-07:00

Letters To Editors

2010-08-27T15:03:00.001-07:00

I've long thought that most letters to editors are from crackpots. I've not been proved wrong, but here is one from the Times I like:

To the Editor:
Re "A Case of Mental Courage," by David Brooks (column, Aug. 24):
I agree that much of contemporary political discourse has been marked by rampant confirmation bias - the tendency to seek out evidence consistent with our beliefs, and deny dismiss and distort evidence that is not.
Compounding this tendency, as the Princeton University psychologist Emily Pronin has shown, is the fact that virtually all [of] us readily perceive confirmation bias in others, but not in ourselves. We see ourselves as eminently reasonable and those who disagree with us as foolish, deluded or dishonest.
Given that large pockets of talk radio, cable television and the blogosphere on both the extreme left and extreme right feed this confirmation bias by promoting self-assurance rather than self-criticism, it is hardly surprising that the current political environment is more partisan than ever.
Scott O Lilienfeld

Mr L is a psychology professor at Emory University

Love The State, Loathe Its Politicians

2010-08-18T10:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday at the Aerie it was 112.8 degrees at 4:30. Then a storm rolled in from the southwest. We sat out back watching the explosive thunderstorm move across the valley. My runoff barrels overflowed from what ended up being a bit more than a half inch of rain. At six when we went inside the temperature had dropped to 73.

Three Xlnt Movies

2010-08-08T15:02:00.000-07:00

"Uncle Teardrop was Jessup's elder and had been a crank chef longer but he'd had a lab go wrong and it had eaten the left ear off his head and burned a savage melted scar down his neck to the middle of his back. There wasn't enough ear nub remaining to hang sunglasses on. The hair around the ear was gone too, and the scar on his neck showed above his collar. Three blue teardrops done in jailhouse ink fell in a row from the corner of the eye on his scarred side. Folks said the teardrops meant he'd three times done grisly prison deeds that needed doing but didn't need to be gabbed about. They said the teardrops told you everything you had to know about the man and the lost ear just repeated it. He generally tried to sit with his melted side toward the wall."

When I heard Daniel Woodrell read that paragraph from his book "Winter's Bone" on Terry Gross's show, I knew I had to read it. I could scarcely put it down. Gripping, vivid, beautifully written, and now an amazing movie too.

I don't remember when I last saw three good movies consecutively, but over the past several days in addition to Winter's Bone the Girl and I went to The Kids Are All Right, which helped me remember what a fabulous actress Annette Bening is, and I took the grandkids to Despicable Me, which I absolutely loved. Every character in the film is sweet and they do 3D right. In fact, tomorrow we're taking the little maggots to see it again as I was alone with the twerps last time. Does that mean I'll be able to say I've seen four great movies in a row? Great movies four times in a row?

The Prince Abides

2010-08-06T09:50:00.000-07:00

One Of Age's Indignities Postponed

The girl grew up around boats and for many years it was an accepted fact that our summer Sundays would be spent picnicking and skiing with her parents and brother and his family at Desoto Bend or Fremont Lakes or, less often, on the Missouri. Added to those experiences were the almost every summer Thursday afternoons that my buddy and I recruited one or more friends to waterski at Desoto bend. We skied, slalomed, drank barrels of PBR and Old Leg, laughed until our sides hurt and couldn't wait until the next Thursday. Those days ended when we moved to Arizona more than twenty-six years ago.

Here our first boat was a "party barge" that was real stable, held lots of people who could all walk around, had a great sound system and even a charcoal cooker on board, but was it ever so slow. We never did name that one - Pokey the Pontoon, Snail Trail, Glacier Racer were all candidates, but none really took. We had lots of fun but lived 60 miles and 75 minutes away, and eventually two of us co-owners sold it to the third.

Now that we're only 12 miles and twenty minutes away from Canyon Lake, it seemed obvious that we needed another boat. The new (actually, slightly used) craft is a v-hull with a 305 hp Merc. Her go lak hell. It has a big inflatable 4 person sled, a boogie board and (drum roll) skis.

To recap our story so far: former self-acknowledged wunderkind on skis again has access to skis and ski boat - - - - twenty some years later. Another factor in one influential corner is that I had an aftermarket knee installed two years ago, which the Influential Corner doesn't want to go through again. I'm ok with not going through that again, too.

Ok. Long story only slightly longer. Yesterday I recruited my buddy Lar to drive the boat, convinced the Influential Corner to wield the required red flag, slipped on the skis and popped up on the first try. By agreement with the IC I didn't stay up very long, but long enough to prove that Prince Lyle the Magnificent has still got the chops.

Oh, and the name of the new boat? The Nana Gaga.

Movie Reviews

2010-07-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

Cyrus - We underestimated the crowd at the only theater showing this quirky little grin, and ended up front row center. The directors use a lot of handheld, unsteady, very tight close-up shots which exacerbated the discomfort of our seating position. But the movie itself has an underlying edge to go along with fairly broad humor, which kept us guessing right up to and past the final scene.

Solitary Man - Crap. As always, Michael Douglas's character is shallow, vapid, self aggrandizing, wooden, obvious and all around disgusting. How this guy even gets parts is beyond me. Even the lovely - and newly available - Ms Susan Sarandon can't bring life to this joyless dreck of a film.

Repectlessness In Today's Yoots

2010-06-21T10:13:00.000-07:00

The Scene: Two best buds in the car, running errands.

Grandfather: So. You been reading a lot so far this summer? Lots of science?Astronomy, cosmology? There's some really neat stuff about to happen with the Large Hadron Collider.

Grandson: Ehhh, not so much.

Gf: What?!! That's no good! Well, at least you've been practicing your math skills, right? Axing yerma to make up some problems, just so you can stay in practice?

Gs: Aw jeeeeezzz, gramps.

Gf: What? What!!! You can't just sit there glued to your DS. Your brain's gonna turn into mush! Just because you're on vacation, doesn't mean your brain can go on vacation!!! Ok. Listen up now. What's three squared?

Gs: Nine

Gf: What's three cubed?

Gs: Twenty-seven

Gf: Good. What's five cubed?

Gs: (long pause) one-twenty-five?

Gf: Excellent! What's . . .

Gs: (interrupting) Gramps!

Gf: What.

Gs: What's seventeen cubed?

Gf: (verrrrry long pause) Uhhhhhhhh. (more pause) Fortyeighthundredandthree?

Gs: (thumbing away on his cell phone) Nope.

Gf: Rats.

Gs: (not making eye contact but grinning like the little demon he is) Maybe somebody else's brain is on vacation this summer?

Then & Now

2010-06-15T18:13:00.001-07:00

This is now

That was then

The next time I do one of these, our relative positions likely will have changed.

First Day With The Boat

2010-06-12T17:52:00.000-07:00

All in all, a pretty good day.

Paid for it; trailered it to Canyon Lake; fastest ride we've ever had in a boat; which ride was not followed by a ride in an ambulance; nobody went home in tears or bleeding (maybe just a little bleeding); less than $1000 damage done.

And the marriage tested but intact.

Let's see how tomorrow goes.

Much Sooner Than We'd Thought

2010-06-10T09:40:00.000-07:00

Hi Honey -

Well, it's happened. We knew this day was coming but certainly didn't think it would be so soon. That's right. The grandkids don't need us any more. Their previously doting mother, your daughter, left G home alone this morning while she and Bellaboo went to B's dentist appointment. And when in my shock and consternation I brought up the likelihood that these children appeared to require gubment intervention, your daughter responded in a most unladylike way. Much like, I guess, you or your other daughter might respond. (They sure didn't get those mouths from me.)

Oh well, it'll be just that more time we have to spend on the boat, and we can bump that decimal point in the groceries budget over one place to the left, since they'll be at their own house, ravaging their parents' pantry like a plague of locusts.

I'll miss them, some day. Probably.

"His Head's On Fire-Get Makeup Over Here!"

2010-06-02T13:20:00.000-07:00

The same company that sent her (and me) to Athens last year decided they want her to do a commercial for their product, a new, super thin needle to inject insulin. She's a pretty hard sell, but is pumped about this new needle, and agreed, for a ridiculous amount of money, to be filmed describing the merits of the thing.

She told me they'd be at the house this morning at 7, and at 6:45 they began filling up the drive. By seven there were three cars, a pickup and an SUV, all filled with movie type stuff and people. In they came, very nice, very professional, brisk people who knew just what they wanted. They wanted the ping pong room, sans the table.

They covered the east-facing window inside and out, and set up a faux office as a set. The Girl was fabulous, never missing a beat, not seeming to get tired of doing it over and again.

This was supposed to last three hours. In that time I received two reprimands. One for getting a glass of water from the refrigerator door (!) - "We hear everything" - and again when I returned from the bank for having opened the garage door. I tried to make the point that if I had driven out without opening the door it would have been much noisier still, but was shooed out of the area.

About 11 the cry went out for Fresh Meat. Seems they needed someone besides Herself to demonstrate the ease with which the needle slides in and out of the flesh of someone who looks like a patient. She was rather quick to offer me up, I thought, something about "he oughta be good for something, you'd think."

I was seated, posed, straightened, restraightened, desquinted, and then came the above cry from the producer. I was duly and plentifully powdered. A brief discussion ensued on whether the addition of a hat might be necessary to staunch the glare. Other options considered: "Nope." "Not me!" "You ain't stickin' me with no needle." And in not the first instance ever, I was the last resort.

"DON'T look at the camera. All we need is the needle going into your arm." Six, seven times they needed it. But in truth, I really couldn't feel it. This new needle is really sumpin.

I'll be signing autographs in the hall for a couple hours after the show.

Things We Find To Argue About, cont'd

2010-05-31T20:03:00.001-07:00

Me: The thing what bothers me is, we got Lost Dutchman Road, we got Lost Dutchman State Park, we got lost dutchman this, lost dutchman that and the other thing. There is NO lost dutchman, only a lost mine! It was the Dutchman's mine that was supposedly lost! Not the Dutchman! See? See! It's this kind of thing that contributes to AJ's not entirely undeserved reputation!

Her: So, it's your position that every single dutchman is accounted for?

Speaking of Chickens

2010-05-18T14:31:00.000-07:00

It's Mike the Headless Chicken Day! Below is a link to his life affirming story and tragic end.

http://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3DLqDjRCHyjTY&ei=1QPzS5WgM5LesgPInOSPDA&sa=X&oi=video_result&resnum=10&ct=thumbnail&cad=3359935203785215286&ved=0CEUQuAIwCQ&usg=AFQjCNGNOR0THgQkJEjyrNCzS51nS2CI2A

And do you remember from the Book of World Records the guy who could catch, kill, clean, cook and eat a chicken in two minutes?

Your Lyin' Eyes

2010-04-25T18:23:00.000-07:00

I've been thrilled with the 'Life' series on Discovery channel. I don't think I've watched any twenty minutes of it and not seen something I wouldn't have believed if it had been just told to me or if I'd read about it but not seen it for myself.

My brother passed along the clip below, which is not from 'Life' but from the TED series of short lectures, also well worth perusing. If you can watch this clip and not be gobsmacked with amazement, you shouldn't be wasting your time here.

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/206

Random Observations

2010-04-21T12:10:00.000-07:00

So, was there any hint that this tenant might not be viable?

Maybe they're just not that into ping pong.

Bigger and Better

2010-04-17T18:37:00.000-07:00

When we were kids our parents kept track of our growth on this Hickory Dickory Dock clock chart, which has somehow survived lo these many eons, intact. There's a notation of our lengths and weights at birth, and at birthdays thereafter. The girl and I continued with the chart with our daughters, though since it topped out at five feet, they weren't on it long.

For the last year or so I've been charting the incredible speed at which my grandkids are zooming up the chart. Today, at about 10 1/2 years old, my grandson is 3 1/2 inches taller and 25 pounds heavier than I was at 11.

Beware of Geeks Bearing Grits

2010-03-22T19:32:00.000-07:00

One of the women K hobnobs with in Saskatoonia lives in a pleasant little burg and, coming home one evening a couple weeks ago happened to notice that the barbecue cooker was missing from their patio. No, her husband hadn't loaned it out, but, shoot, with the all the neighbors being friendly and all back-and-forthish, probably someone just needed to borrow it when they weren't home to offer it. No big deal really.

And sure enough, the next night it was back, right where it was supposed to be. The husband went out to check it and low and behold, whomever had borrowed it had thoughtfully left a couple tickets to the theater for that very night, inside, on the grill.

What a nice treat, they thought, wondering who they had to thank for a nice, surprise night out on the town.

They'd really like to know, now, since upon returning they found that almost everything of any value was no longer there.

Converting From Natural Gas to Propane - An Installation

2010-03-17T17:05:00.000-07:00

The girl's in Canada and left me in charge of making sure the new stove got installed.

Chris the stove installer got here about 1:30, and with my help got done at 4:30. It was not easy. He used more of my tools than his, and between us we didn't have a '7 mm nut driver' - how can that be? - so I went out on a scavenger hunt for one, eventually finding it at Harbor Freight. Returned to the scene of the crime and the Shiny New Nut Driver's hozzle was too big to fit through the opening we were trying to replace the little nozzles through. That's a run-on sentence with a split infinitive, but most of my infinitives are pretty badly split right now.

Anyhoo, we devised a workaround, didn't scratch anything anyplace she'll ever see, stepped back and fired 'er up. Everything worked terrifical!

Except one of the five burners wouldn't light and I felt pretty sure the flames coming out of the oven door weren't going to be acceptable to the Doyenne of Din-Din. Seems like that was the primary objection for the last one. That and the explosions. And the sound like Niagara Falls leading up to the explosions and the flames coming out the oven door. Minor objections to most, maybe but . . .

So by now my co-installer and I are communicating in terse, clipped sentences. He burns his fingers picking up one of the ceramic top hats on the burners and screams like a 13 year old girl. I stifle a snicker. "Oh" he says "when you were out getting the nut driver that doesn't work, FedEx came by with a package but I didn't want to sign for it so . . . " Holy mother of pearl, those were the leases and security deposit check I promised an owner I'd have today!!

"Just kidding, it's on the floor by your chair."

Back through the instructions which by now make more sense in their original French. I'm thinking I've found yet another handyman who can't read, from the way he stares at the page, twists it back and forth, in and out, so I read it out loud for him. Ahh, he'd missed the part about turning the pressure regulator inside the oven down two and a half turns, and we re-adjusted the sparker gizmo for the non-starting burner and Voila! as we say like to say in the instructions; we gots us a working stove with no visible flames except where they're supposed to be. We agree that the time and gas I burned out shopping were worth something, even disregarding the result. I pays the man and shoos him out the door.

Oust Incumbents (2)

2010-03-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

Most of the 535 senators and members of Congress are forced to choose, constantly, between their constituents and their own self-preservation. Is it really so outside the bounds of human nature to expect congressmen to serve the interests of voters, even when their own re-elections are in jeopardy? The political system is imperiled mostly because too many politicians just can't seem to imagine any worse fate than losing an election. A lot of lawmakers still cling to their seats at any cost to conscience or to constituency, as if it were the only job they could ever see themselves holding.

Matt Bai in the Times magazine

Oust Incumbents

2010-03-08T11:58:00.000-08:00

There are 13,740 registered lobbyists active in Washington DC.

That's more than 25 per congressman/woman.

Reefing The Granny

2010-03-02T07:32:00.000-08:00

from today's Times -

Sometimes The Smallest Things

Lately I’ve been thinking of the things my parents taught me — all those habits that were handed over to me one by one when I was a child. These are the sorts of thoughts I always have when I’m teaching writing, which is partly the act of revealing bad habits to their surprised owners. What got me thinking this time was the discovery that I’ve been tying my shoes wrong for more than half a century.

I’ve been tying a granny knot in my laces, a lopsided knot that tends to come untied even when doubled. It’s the knot my mother taught me. But thanks to a tip on the Internet, I learned that if I wrap the lace around the first bow the opposite way, I get a reef, or square, knot, which lies evenly across the shoe and doesn’t come untied.

(You can see for yourself at http://bit.ly/92NW56.)

I believe that if my mother had known about the reef knot, she would have taught it to me. What mother wants her child’s laces to come undone?

Here’s another example. My dad taught me how to adjust the sideview mirrors on a car. In their reflection, I learned, I should be able to see the edge of the vehicle I’m driving — as though vertigo might set in if I couldn’t locate a mechanical version of myself in the mirror. But this is exactly the setting that creates a blind spot on both sides. There’s a better way (http://bit.ly/cY2dtl). I’ve been using this new setting on the freeways of Los Angeles, and I realize now that I’ve been driving with my mirrors improperly adjusted for more than 40 years.

These are small things. They’re also deeply embedded and as close to unconscious as learned acts can be. To tie a reef knot in my laces, I have to try to tie a reef knot. That means beginning to do what I’ve always done and then undoing it — reefing the granny, in other words. I’m sure my dad didn’t want me to have blind spots. He simply passed along the blind spots he’d inherited. Now I’m having to learn to trust what the mirrors show instead of what they don’t.

One of the beauties of the Internet is its ability to cough up tips like these from the collective experience of humanity. I’ll discover more, I’m sure — slight, but somehow significant adjustments to the things my parents taught me, the deep habits of a lifetime. I don’t imagine that I’m driving without blind spots in reef-knotted shoes on my way to the examined life. But something has changed, and I welcome it.

VERLYN KLINKENBORG

For age is opportunity no less

Than youth itself, though in another dress,

And as the evening twilight fades away

The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

HWLongfellow

Insert Something Poetically Inspiring Here

2010-02-25T10:37:00.000-08:00

The neat thing about this rainbow was the right side leg comes down well out in front of the mountain scarp.

Dark Days in AJ

2010-02-22T10:25:00.000-08:00

Enough with the rain, already. We've had more in the past two months than we get many times in a year. Those of you in the dark and dank climes may not be impressed, but in these here parts, this passes for news.

Happy Twenty-Second Birthday To Me

2010-02-11T09:43:00.000-08:00

I believe, and for the past several days have been actively promoting the idea that celebrating the anniversary of a person's thousandth day birthday should clearly be a reason for lavish gifts, sumptuous feasts, psalms of joy and tumultuous huzzahs!

This concept has failed to gain any traction in my circle. No gifts, no songs, not even one feeble rasping huzzah. And to top it off, the girl is in Canada for another couple days and I get to overnight in a Best Western on the rez before my monthly beating at the hands of the Tribal Council.

Huzzah indeed.

Fun TV

2010-01-31T14:27:00.000-08:00

Two really enjoyable new shows I've been watching, episodes of both of which are available on-line:

The League - some trash talking buds disrespecting each other and inconsequentializing things important to them. Love these guys. Play golf with them.

Men Of A Certain Age - not previously a fan of Ray Romano, but long time a fan of Andre Braugher. This show is also about guys I know, except none of my pals sells cars for his dad, is divorced, or has a frequently dormant acting career. These guys go from laugh out loud funny to just plain nice and back again most adroitly.

Apple iPad

2010-01-27T16:44:00.000-08:00

iYawn

It's All About Willpower, Baby

2010-01-25T07:45:00.000-08:00

Following the holiday season, and after perusing family pictures from said season, and having queried myself, "When and how did that happen?!!!", I resolved - there's that word - to get the old physiognomy back into - if not photogenic, at least somewhat less gravitationally improbable - proportions.

So I've quit with the between meal snacks, mostly. I've stopped rummaging through the freezer compartment for Hershey's Special Dark Chocolate, much of the time. I've sent food back to the kitchen when it was too big a portion, once, maybe twice. I've stepped up my exercise program, once or twice a week, And I'm thrilled to announce that, only twenty-five days into the new regime, I've already shed

One and one half pounds.

Sharing my momentous news with the Little Lady, she smiles that Cheshire Cat smile and says, "Way to go, big fella."

Now that's motivation.

What's Important - To Wimmens

2010-01-10T15:39:00.000-08:00

The Scene: the Vibrant, Bustling Cogent office.

The Sometime Assistant's personal cell phone rings (this is on company time, after all);

"Hi Honey! What's up? (brief pause) Oh no!!

When? Oh, you've got to be kidding! Oh dear!!

Ohhhhh Nooooooo!!!!!!"

You're faithful correspondent, concerned, looks up, hoping to convey said consternation with raised eyebrows. S.A doesn't look up from what she's doing.

"Well, that's terrible, it's awful!! I am soooo sorry, honey."

More concern, to the point of thinking about maybe even asking what the heck's going on.

"Was it the same ones who did your toes?"

Concern dissipates exponentially. Back to today's Times crossword puzzle.

Note To Self

2010-01-03T17:54:00.000-08:00

No matter how lovingly it is uttered, the phrase "crazy old bat" will be taken as a pejorative and connubial permissions will be suspended.

Fun With Grandkids

2010-01-02T13:58:00.000-08:00

Their parents brought our grandkids up to the cabin Christmas day. Eight inches or so of snow had fallen the night before so, next day, we decided to go sledding.

We set out for Sunrise, but since it would have been a ninety minute drive we settled instead on a nice run of hills behind the Pizza Hut, along with a half a hundred other winter sports enthusiasts.

The runs were well packed and slick, and for the first several times down I used one of the two inflatable sleds we'd brought. Great fun, memories of the hill behind our house in Omaha, of sledding at Elmwood Park. The grandkids were cautious yet enthusiastic.

Never content with the status quo, I decided to use one of the plastic saucers we'd brought and graduated myself over to the steepest of the runs which had, unnoticed by myself, a ramp at the bottom.

That 32 ft per second per second thing accumulates on a guy pretty freakin' fast, which when multiplied by the unwelcome discovery of air time hurtling off the ramp, combined to drop me on my tailbone hard enough to knock my stocking cap off my head as I flip flopped to a stop like a carp on a beach.

"Damn" I thought to myself, "I just broke my ass." Holy crap, did/does that hurt.

I gathered my garb and corralled my saucer and trudged my broken ass slowly up the hill to be greeted by what sounded like a herd of jackasses braying.

The missus, always first on the scene with condolences, smiled ruefully and said, "The fact that nobody else at the bottom of the hill was answering to the name 'Grampa' meant nothing to you?"

I think I know what she was getting at. Next time I'll stick to the bunny slope. Probably.

On line sources say the pain should dissipate within four to six weeks. The physical pain, at least.

Things We Find To Argue About

2010-01-02T13:41:00.000-08:00

Her: Stop calling them that! Their names are Alex and Maxie. Alex. And. Maxie.

Me: But they much prefer to be called Dinger and Dusty.

Her: They do not. How do you know that?

Me: They told me.

Her: They did NOT! What does Dinger mean anyway?

Me: It's short for Schroedinger; like Schroedinger's cat, from physics.

Her: What?

Me: It's kind of a long story.

Her: And I don't even like the sound of "Dinger". It sounds dirty, icky, like "penis" or something.

Me: Ok. We'll call them Penis and Dusty.

Her: (Shriek!)

Happy Annvinersary

2009-12-21T10:36:00.000-08:00

Waitress: "So's congratulations are in order! How long you guys been married?"

The Missus (without pausing for a second): "Thirty-five wonderful years! Thirty-eight total."

Dinnyland

2009-11-30T12:10:00.000-08:00

Took the fam to Disney World to celebrate the onset of my 61st year. Were ten days in and around Orlando, two of which I got to spend at Cape Canaveral's Kennedy Space Center, and one of those as an "Astronaut In Training," a special gift from my darlin' daughters.

Amazed at the scope of Disney's operation and their 66,000+ employees' relentless pursuit of customer satisfaction. Even the guy whose job is picking up litter was at it, noticing Grandson's site map was crumpled and wrinkly, offered to fetch one to replace it. Only one day of rain. All the Dinny Lands terrific save Epcot, a disappointment.

Rode Tower of Terror three times in an hour, Space Mountain twice in half an hour, and my other faves, Splash Mountain and Aerosmith a couple times.

The girl managed to put on a full turkeyed Thanksgiving dinner, and all seven of us were able to live together in one house with no bloodshed; a minor miracle.

Crash Tested Dummy

2009-11-10T08:11:00.000-08:00

It's mostly her fault, as you'll soon see.

It's been almost 16 months since I got the new knee, and I guess she just figured it was time to give it a good wringing thrash.

She comes home after tending the grandkids, starts taking in the laundry off the line, putting my well deserved dinner together, and remarks, "Since Herb is mixing stucco for the front of the house, why not have him use some of it to attach those tiles that have come off the roof over the front porch?"

Sounds innocuous, not the least devious, right? I carefully consider my options; nothing here to force me out of my chair in front of the Suns game, so being charitable yet cautious I intone an "Ungh, I guess." Then it came -

"Ok, they're down behind the pool. Why don't you go bring them up and put them out front where he'll see them?"

Damn! Should have seen that one coming.

Groaning, mumbling and muttering I rousts myself, puts the game on pause, and trundles down the hill in the gloaming through the underbrush. I collects an armload of fragile mexican roof tiles and heads back up the hill thinking it's about time to cut back some of these bushes in case I ever come down here again and one of the roots of one of the bushes reaches out, grabs my foot, and the ground rises up and smites me, kerbang on the knee.

The ensuing crash of the shattering tiles and my groveling around in the dirt brought quick response from the conniving laundry wench, who insisted that I get back in my chair, brought an ice pack and a glass of wine, and barbecued pork chops with buttered squash and potato salad for her poor, damaged sweetie.

But how quickly things can change.

After we've et, I'm rubbing my belly, trying to elicit a belch to compliment her, she says, "How's that knee doing?" "Huh? Oh, ok I guess." "Then take these dirty dishes to the kitchen, bring me a bottle of water, and stay the hell away from the good china."

Invocation

2009-11-09T14:40:00.000-08:00

Invocation

O God--who art dust mote and fern spore,

salt crystal and dog-star, who art refinery smoke,

cumulus, leaf-rot, dishwater and spindrift--

how can I know thy invisible movements

through this world, when thou inhabit even

the debris of lives, the perforations of years?

God, who wears the green mask of death,

who visits the world in wisps of prayer,

how can I divine thy face through my tears?

Give me some sign--a thumbprint, a fragrance

of hyacinth, stigmata of coal on my brow--

that I may steep my silence in faith;

show me thy secret handshake welcoming

the weeds, thy luminous smile, thy mind

that spins the world wildly on its axis--

consecrate me as thou would the tiger's yawn,

offering itself like the poor man's bowl,

to the terrified fawn, to the wayward dove--

and I will do thy bidding, polishing words

so they gleam like ice, abandoning my rage

to kneel before thee, swallowing my doubt.

But there is no answer when I call out,

and my longing darkens my throat, my mouth.

How can I lift my eyes to a gutted sky?

O God, who art neither father nor son, nor

holy ghost, who art haloed by radium clouds,

beloved by millions of sparkplugs and ants,

thou who nestles in war's lap, in the breasts

of desire, who conspires with the darkest joys,

who art as amorphous as a map of stillness--

I cry out to thee again and again, over

and over, and only the wilderness answers,

and the dangerous world's laughter--

by Maurya Simon, from Ghost Orchid (Red Hen Press).

Where The Wild Things Are

2009-11-04T18:33:00.000-08:00

Interminable.

A Curse On Your Ark, Noah

2009-11-02T09:33:00.000-08:00

Too many animals.

The girl decided that our ancient sloth "Snapdog", who wears an orange cat's skin, "needs company" since we're away so much. And in the girl's book, two of anything is way better than one, and since we always see things the same way (it's just that most of the time she sees them first) we relieved the pound of of a pair of testicle pummeling (see previous post) pussy cats. And boy howdy, does he have company.

Not a formula for a good night's sleep, what with said sloth pretty certain he has dibs on our bed and his vituperous assertions that those dibs are exclusive.

Then about 3:30 this morning the javelinas return in hopes of another feast of flowers and herbs that the girl insists on laying out for them. Some times they just tear everything out of the pots and strew dirt around the patio, but this morning they were squeezing in between the trellises and the house and banging and rooting and snorting and about 4 I finally went out in sandals and shorts and hissed at them and clapped my hands and 12 to 15 of them scurried off to the south, more afraid of the apparition than the sounds it made, I'm sure.

Back to bed, shovel the kittens out of the way. They take that as an invitation to play scratch and tickle. I just want some sleep, dammit.

Now come the coyotes, in full throat. Might as well be right in the bedroom, singing into both sets of windows. They sound kind of neat when they're off up the mountain, but when they're close and I'm trying to get back to sleep, it ain't neat. And now I read that some young woman in Canada was killed by coyotes?

This morning I ask, "Weren't those damned pigs and coyotes something?!"

"You know, I thought I heard something."

The girl is going to have to start helping out with this wildlife circus act at night. She's all done with the laundry and cooking and filing and so on by the time she joins me in bed. Why should it fall solely onto me?

Tempest Fugit

2009-10-22T07:47:00.000-07:00

In the same week my granddaughter turned eight, my ten year-old grandson regaled us at the dinner table with an anecdote of how a cat in a cage at the shelter kept pawing at his "testicles". He clearly loved the way the word 'testicles' tumbles trippingly from his tongue, and three times worked it into one paragraph of the recounting.

Gramps: "They're not testicles, dammit, they're NUTS".

Nana obviously not enjoying the banter nearly so much as her table mates.

In a related, maybe, incident, the grandson's mother saw the grandson and his buddy snickering and tee-heeing on the sofa after a brief, whispered conversation. Upon inquiry she learned that Friend had just informed Grandson that babies come from "a girl's poophole".

Never one to pass up an opportunity to banish misinformation, my beloved daughter, mother of my grandson, sat down on the footstool across from the lads, eye to eye, and mincing no words, explained in clear, anatomically precise detail what a vagina is and it's non-role in the pooping process.

If you've ever seen film of a spider squirming, writhing in its death throes, you've seen those two boys on the couch as they unwillingly learned about a fundamental aspect of female anatomy.

Deus Vult

2009-10-11T19:43:00.000-07:00

Some days it's tough enough being a property manager to the pedestrian mix of laggards, liars and dingleberries that populates my world and phones me with bizarre demands at odd hours, but consider the plight of Henry Jacob, who runs a co-op on the Lower East Side of Manhattan where Orthodox Jews inhabit a substantial portion of his 2,500 apartments.

Hank's life has become more complicated by a ruling issued by a group of prominent rabbis in Israel on Sept. 29 that seems to ban the use of many so-called Shabbos elevators: elevators fixed to stop on every floor from Friday evening until Saturday evening so that observant Jews do not have to press any buttons.

Since the 1960s, when high-rise apartment buildings became ubiquitous, the Orthodox rabbinate has made such elevators one of the few exceptions to Talmudic rules prohibiting 39 categories of activity on the Sabbath, including manual labor or the use of electrical devices. Like flipping a light switch, pressing an elevator button is considered the use of an electrical device.

But the recent ruling, whose signers included Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv — at 99, widely considered the most influential Torah sage of his generation — introduced a caveat based on new technology in elevators. The rabbis wrote that this new technology, which was explained to them by elevator technicians and engineers in “a written and oral technical opinion,” made them aware for the first time that using Shabbos elevators may be a “desecration of the Sabbath.”

Religion sometimes, if belatedly, accommodates the obvious. Witness Pope Benedict's acknowledgment that Galileo was right - 359 years after one of his predecessors condemned GG to house arrest for pointing out the obvious.

I suspect that more malleable minds will come to the fore and we'll have an "up and down turnaround" and the US Senate will retain its ranking as the most prominent bastion of seniority over sanity.

Life In The Junction

2009-10-05T14:07:00.001-07:00

How bad would that tooth have to hurt to use this guy? And the other sign just shouts 'Apache Junction".

God'll Get Ya

2009-10-02T19:52:00.000-07:00

The Blonde's position on organized religion is well known, and not as difficult to elicit as I would prefer in some situations. Therefore, when I learned that her "talk" last night would be in front of 500 of the Canadian faithful at one of those mega churches, and more ominous yet a Babdist mega church, I despaired.

"You be careful, hear?!" I admonished. "No 'godfry daniels', no 'cheese & crackers', none of that. Can you do that? Can you refrain from your refrain?"

She was confident she could, and I felt assured that her professionalism would carry the day, and lo, none of the faithful would be offended. Selah!

So she gets to the venue; enormous video screens on either side of the dais, an orchestra pit for Christ's sake, wireless microphone, dedicated spotlights, a soundboard Springsteen's guy would envy, all the technical hoo-haw it takes to sell religion now days . . . . . . . . . . . and none of it would work. The guys couldn't figure out why it wouldn't work, it just wouldn't.

In lieu of her planned presentation she had to resort to what she calls Hand Puppets.

See? See?!

The Reader

2009-09-24T20:20:00.000-07:00

The Girl begins her "one-or-two-weeks-a-month in-Canada" gig next week, so we thought we'd head up the hill to the cabin for a long weekend where instead of 102 it was 67. It was a perfect day at 6400 ft. We've got our routine down so that it takes us right at a half hour to move out of the truck and into the cabin. Moving the other way takes a bit longer, laundry, dishes, that sort of thing.

We lounged around, my putting some notes and emails together for the *^%#@ attorney and her out on the deck, reading, she won't say what "Oh, just some junk novel".

After meatloaf (the meal, not the artist) we watched The Reader. Loathe as I am to accept a contrived coincidence/hidden disability as a plot device, this is an excellent movie. The direction and screenplay are very good, and the cast has not one mis-step. Ms Winslet has not been on my best actress list, despite her apparent contract stipulation that she gets to take her clothes off in every film she's in, but she has the walk, the gestures, the furtive glances of her character down perfect.

Having said that, and I know it's "art" or "literature", but I detest any attempt, regardless of how roundabout, to elicit sympathy for anything or anyone involved with the nazi era in Germany.

Kitchen's Done

2009-09-21T10:01:00.000-07:00

Only time will tell if that's really true. Gas oven explosions have decreased by several megatons, but discomfiting noises still issue therefrom.

Pizza Pooh & Magpie

2009-09-17T04:53:00.000-07:00

is how Paul McCartney allegedly referred to Peter, Paul and Mary, now Peter, Paul and Memories.

When I was 14, back when dirt was new and saber toothed tigers ruled the earth, John S, Sherrie C and I formed a "tribute group" called Lyle, John & Sherrie for a school talent show. We enlisted my best friend at the time, Dennis, who was pretty proficient on the acoustic guitar, and we learned a ton of PP&M songs.

Our voices blended pretty well for the callow yoots we were, and our audition for the talent show was well received. In fact, we were the only 'act' that got to play twice in the show. When I complained to Mrs Bauer that we were put last in the order, she patiently explained that "We always save the best for last." That was a nice moment.

Our first offering was 500 Miles, and we closed the show with "The Cruel War" which brought down the house. (This was fairly early in America's troops' involvement in Viet Nam.) We weren't prepared for that reception and stood there, gobsmacked, but were hugely gratified.

Sherrie's brother was killed three years later in that goddam war.

This morning The Girl and I were both up shortly after 3 following another night's unsuccessful attempt to reset our internal clocks after our ten days in Greece. She told me of Mary Travers' passing and I downloaded 24 PP&M songs, played them all and am still reeling under the effects of a nostalgia deluge.

Now listen up.

The absolute minimum you must have in your library is: I Dig Rock And Roll Music; Early Morning Rain; 500 Miles; Puff, the Magic Dragon (I am NOT kidding); their definitive Where Have All The Flowers Gone; Don't Think Twice, It's Alright; and most importantly The Great Mandela, which of course will always have a special resonance for me.

If I find out you don't have these on your device, and in regular rotation, it will not go well for you when I'm in charge.

What's Up With Home Depot?

2009-08-19T17:06:00.000-07:00

The kitchen faucet we installed in March quit swiveling. The lever that controls hot and cold by going left and right should be independent of the faucet itself, which should swivel to either basin. Started out working just fine, but somewhere, some time ago, it locked up and you couldn't move one without moving the udder.

The new granite kitchen countertops and sink were installed today so the plumbing was pulled out and I tradfatted on down to Home Depot, rehearsing my Faulty Merchandise Return rant along the way.

In I comes, filled with righteous indignation, ready to make my point as often and to as many levels of nebbishes as necessary. The first poor devil walks square into my crosshairs.

"Help you?"
"Yeah!! I got this here and Look! it's supposed to swivel like this, but it doesn't!!"
"Do you want to just get another one?"
"Oh yeah?! Well I want to talk to . . . . . I beg your pardon?"
"Just go get another one and bring it back up here."
"But, but, I beg your pardon?"
"Down aisle 6, get a replacement and bring it up here."

Dazed and confused, I did as told, knowing the punch line was still to come.

"That one gonna do it for ya?"
"Yeah, it's about the same."

Waves it across the scanner, tells me I'm good to go, bids me good day, goes on about his business.

I still don't get it.

Dated Definitions

2009-08-19T08:25:00.000-07:00

The OED - Oxford English Dictionary - one of my bibles, with word histories and definitions going back almost 900 years is nearly 22,000 pages long. However, from 1991 to 1999 the Oxford Press published a "Compact OED" - the entire contents in one 14 pound tome. With the type compressed to nine pages per page, combined with my myopia that makes Mr Magoo's vision telescopic by comparison, it was a natural. Then, to clinch the deal Amazon offered free shipping on my next order and Kaching! with its own magnifying glass, even.

Now comes the NYTimes Magazine with word that a major update is in the works. By 'in the works' they mean they began in 2000 with "M" and have almost gotten to "Re-". Definition of the word 'marriage' will be expanded, for instance. But sadly, definitions have fallen out of use and thus, out of favor.

Some of the definitions whose demise is contemplated:

The definition of 'Care' as "some kind of stuff"

'Murinoid': "resembling the mouse or its allies"

'Cretin': "One of a class of dwarfed and specially deformed idiots found in the Alps and elsewhere"

'Pope Joan': "After the fabulous female Pope Joan" (fabulous as in fabled, but I like fabulous better)

'Boodle': "a stupid noodle" which may have stemmed from

'Prothodaw'; which is/was "a prime simpleton, a noodle of the first rank" and, a personal favorite -

'Middle-aged': "between youth and old age, variously reckoned to suit the reckoner"

Now get out there and try to use one of these with their original definition. And let's not all use prothodaw and cretin, ok?

Things I Saw This Weekend That You Didn't

2009-08-11T08:30:00.000-07:00

We spent a long weekend on the mountain in the cabin we own 1/8 of (LindenPines.com) and got a welcome respite from the twenty-some days already of 110+ temps in The Junction. The temps topped out at 78 and it was so breezy that while we picnicked at Fool Hollow Lake - (go ahead, I'll wait) - Herself had to wear a jacket.

The man who built the cabin, finishing it on 12/29/99 he says, stopped by with a companion whose mother tongue was not English for a tour. He hadn't seen the fireplace nor the finished basement. He showed us what he believes to be Anasazi ruins on the property, and the best places to scan the ground for pottery shards. We found a few shards with the same wavy, black on white thin striping as I had found a bucketful of up outside Snowflake twenty years ago.

We came across these bones, but my suggestions that boiling them for a few hours might make a decent soup were met with contempt exceeding derision.

Oh, and Snowflake is and/or is not eponymous. The town is named after two men, Mr Snow and Mr Flake. The Flakes are still prominent in the LDS community and in Arizona politics.

Knucklehead Golf Association

2009-08-05T20:32:00.000-07:00

Bro DanPan:

Your RSVP and entry fee are conspicuous by their abscess. I was short-strawed into trying to assuage your reticence.

If your concern is the overnightedness of the outing, rest assured that twixt Lar's luxury fun house and my modest hovel, we have more than enough bedrooms with locking doors to prevent a recurrence of "The Sleep-Walking Incident" from the Tucson trip. And in that same sticky arena, GMac has sworn to not use the phrase "warm, soapy shower" in front of Ern more than twice in any four hour period.

If you're worried about the entertainment, GMac is bringing his Liza Minelli records and Lar has promised to reprise his dead-on impression of Carol Channing in 'Hello Dolly'.

If you're worried about the wagers, shut up. You'll be the best golfer there. I know, high praise, indeed.

While there still are past due details to be worked out - Lar's planning the thing after all - every respondent other than Ern has pledged to do his darndest to make this the first ever KGA Road Event where no one goes home in an ambulance or in tears. We just have to continue to work with Ern.

Come visit your Mom on Thursday the 20th, and we'll have you back, mostly safe, as close to sane as you are now, and hopefully tear-free at the airport on Sunday.

Your former fellow dirtmonger

Lyle

If Guile Won't Work, Appeal To His Emotions

2009-07-28T12:47:00.000-07:00

I've posted notices, put up signs, advertised in all the major media, made verbal and physical threats, yet the birds continue to build nests in the seemingly endless array of nooks and crannies we now have. And don't pay rent. If you build it I will come. Any of you who've crossed your landlord know what I'm talkin' about.

I have one set of very busy wrens of some sort above the back patio that I've grandfathered in until the current kids leave the nest - sorry, but there that was.

Today I decide to purge the door lights outside my office of the doves therein. As I approached the light, not yet even assuming my most threatening posture, a gray mass was seemingly catapulted onto the rock drive in front of me. There, the poor bird was obviously in its death throes, or at least in some sort of horrific agony, a broken wing at the very least, thrashing about, chirrupping, somersaulting. I cautiously approached and this pitiful creature and its torments edged farther away, out into the middle of the driveway. Again I moved to get to the poor thing, again it maintained the same distance between us. What an incredible, Oscar-worthy performance.

When we'd moved our million-years-old dance clear over to in front of the garage door, a seeming miracle occurred. The writhing, miserable creature at Death's door suddenly burst into flight and disappeared around the corner of the next house to the north.

Like so many other feral creatures before me, I lost track of my original purpose, and wandered, dazed and bemused, off to some other endeavor.

Can't be sure of course, but I thought that in the wind coming from the north I heard "Neener neener neener".

Calf Creep $210

2009-07-27T18:25:00.000-07:00

Is $210 a good price?

We traveled Thursday to visit the Children of the Corn in honor of the missus's brother's 50th wedding anniversary. We got to Omaha, drove past the house we built and lived in for twelve years, past the houses her father had built and she had lived in, and had a Runza at the Runza Hut. Then we decided to spend the night rather than drive to Lake Okoboji and decided to dine at the French Cafe in the Old Market, where we'd had many delicious, candlelit dinners more than a quarter century ago.

In the Market I stopped by Homer's Record Shop where my last purchase had been Lou Reed's masterpiece "Berlin".

On 8-track.

Then east and across the street to the French Cafe. I walked in past the bar, looking for a maitre d', and could not believe the stench of the place. I think Nebraska is relatively new to the "no indoor smoking" fad sweeping the nation, and the smell in the Cafe was overwhelming with stale cigarettes, cigars, and spilled wine and beer, I'm guessing now. I beat a hasty retreat and found a good steakhouse, Spencer's, where we whiled away a few hours before bolting out the door without paying our check.

Jeez, you people! I'm kidding.

Friday morning we drove the rented covertible up the 29 and east at Mo Valley. We stopped in Logan for lunch at a bucolic clapboard cafe with a pool table partly blocking the entry. Delish. Back into the 'bishi bug and up the street where we saw the Calf Creep sign on a feed store. My best guess was that it's a treatment for restless leg syndrome, but no: it's a small, apparently portable feed station designed specifically for, you guessed it.

More on the adventure later.

Life In The Junction

2009-07-20T07:59:00.001-07:00

Things I saw this weekend that you probably didn't.

2009-07-18T19:02:00.000-07:00

Today

2009-07-15T20:36:00.000-07:00

Today was a pretty good day, even though it started out with all the characteristics of total crappola.

We've cut back our summer grandchildren duties from past years to just Mondays and Wednesdays. She has them Mondays and Wednesdays until noon, and I have them Wednesdays afternoons. An equitable distribution of responsibility.

So, today is Wednesday and Her's computer has et up and then disposed of her complete itinerary from January forward, and won't give it back. It's all gone. Goddam Vista and goddam Palm conspiracy, near as I can tell.

Now, her's is not a tidy, predictable calendar. Her's trips to Our Gentle Neighbor Northward, her talks to the stupid, unappreciative locals, and even, god forbid, her hair appointments, all at odd, non recurring intervals were gone, disappeared, null, nixo, gotverloren and seemingly irretrievable.

Seems her stuff didn't appear to have backed itself up since NinederJune, when Yerstruly manually made it do so, and yes, Sherlock, that culpability trail was so obvious a 20 year old schnauzer with hay fever could just sneeze and point.

So we phoned for Bob, Miracle Bob. An Aspergers candidate who charges less than 65% of what the last microsoft healer did. Bob shows up, timely. He's not optimistic, not cheerful, not communicative, but not expensive. Stuff doesn't work that should. Drives are stipulated that don't exist. Outcome seems hopeless. Thanks, Bob.

So, what does a guy like me do in this situation?

Takes the grandkids to the Museum, of course.

On the way over we stops by the bank, entertains the patrons. We stops by the pool store to get our pool water tested; entertains the pool store patrons. Pool water fine, by the way, thanks for asking. We sets the bus computer for the museum address, and then find multiple ways to confound the computer. We goes round in circles in the pool store parking lot. We goes north when the bus computer insists on south. We goes right when the computer insists left. We find this hysterically entertaining, hilarious. We imagine the computer cursing, furious that we won't follow its directions. We are consumed by paroxysms of laughter, most of us.

B: "Grampa, wouldn't it be cool if we could put the address into the computer and it just drove us there? You wouldn't have to do the driving and could just talk to us and have fun!"

"Well. Sweetie, by the time you're able to drive, I'll bet that we'll be able to do just that! What are you, fourteen, fifteen?"

"Grampa, I'm 8!"

"OK then, I'm sure we'll be able to do that when you can drive."

"Will you still be alive then Gramps?

We spend a bit more than two hours at the museum, which has a special display on the Mars Rovers and has added an astonishing skeleton of a 60,000 year old mammoth. We pan for gold, marvel at the snapping turtle, try out the bunks from the Arizona territorial jail, and make sure that B has to handle the fossilized dinosaur poop. She squeals and rubs her hands on our shirts.

We head back to the Junction. School starts up in five weeks and this particular aspect of grandparenting will be over for another year.

A text fom Herself tells me that Miracle Bob has found and restored the lost data. "It's safe to come home and bring the babies to swim in the pool."

"Can we stop at DQ, Gramps?"

"NO!" I bought you drinks at the museum, you're too expensive, no more, I'm done."

"Grampa, you know you always do"

"Ahhhhh ok"

"Grampa, how come you smile so much?"

Today was a pretty good day.

Two Simple Rules

2009-07-14T11:20:00.000-07:00

A delightful (I'm guessing, but pretty certain) woman from Santa Monica in her mid-80s writes to the Times that she "continue[s] to be amazed at the number of advice books listed each week in the Book Review as best sellers."

She says she's done very well, thank you, with two 'pieces of advice' she learned in pre-school:

1. Try to play nicely with everyone.

2. If you're crabby, take a nap.

America, America Alas

2009-07-10T16:29:00.000-07:00

A survey by the Pew Research Center for the People & the Press, and American Association for the Advancement of Science found that

- almost a third of Americans believe that humans have existed in their present form since the beginning of time

- a bit less than half the population believes that people are responsible for climate change and about 11% says there is no climate warming at all

- a third of Americans think there continues to be a lively debate as to whether the theory of evolution is valid or not

Not real surprising, I guess, but certainly disappointing.

2009-06-13T14:07:00.000-07:00

I've been admonished to point out that my previous post should be read with Sgt Peppers in mind.

Limping Lyle's Patched Patella's Tanned

2009-06-10T09:40:00.000-07:00

It was just a year ago today
That my knee was opened up and flayed
It's been healing slow enough to rile
Now I realize it takes a while
But let me iterate to you
It's better than it's been in years
Limping Lyle's Patched Patella's Tanned

A Little Thing Called "Attitude"

2009-05-31T11:33:00.000-07:00

My darling granddaughter is the fifth iteration I've known in my life of a female template the likes of which the world could use more of. Sorry to dangle my participle out there like that, but this is going to be one of those.

She's way smart, fiercely loyal, totally committed to the task at hand, and waaaay quick on her feet physically and mentally. With a default gait of 'scamper', (her forebears not quite so much any more) she's just as quick and light with her wit as on her feet.

Case in point: B's always relegated to the MIC seat in the Suburban (Most Important Cargo). While the rest of us fasten our "meatbelts" she applies her "sweetbelt."

A couple days ago I was trucking the grandkids about, as often, using our time together to school them in the finer points of classic rock 'n roll - ("Does it have to be so LOUD, Gramps?! ") - when I noticed that the sound from the rear of the vehicle changed periodically. I was pretty sure I detected some furtive movements from the MIC seat concurrent with the forbidden messing with my decibels.

What are you doing back there, young miss?! I'll show you, Gramps.

We arrive, I clamber into the back. She points out an array of controls on the back of the arm bolster separating the front seats. "See this button? When I push it in, like this, I don't have to listen, it turns the music off back here. When I push it again, it turns the music back on."

She goes through the process again, slowly, as if instructing a painfully slow classmate who's having trouble tying his shoes.

She turns to me, pointedly catches my gaze, looks deep into my soul and carefully enunciates "Get it now?"

. .. and a time to refrain from . . .

2009-05-06T08:11:00.000-07:00

Turns out that Tiger "the Wimp" Woods had some pretty good logic as to why he waited so long to get back out on the links. The reason? It takes time for a knee to recover. And the Wimp had only some minor snipping and tucking and a little suction going on, not a complete replacement like your mostly-truly, the Patella Fella.

Sure sure, I was warned repeatedly, and you don't have to guess more than once by whom, but my surgeon, he said, "If you feel like you're ready, go on ahead." Of course a surgeon is only happy when he's wearing green and is up to his elbows in your blood. He doesn't know from rehab.

So at least once a week I've been out for 18 holes, and Surprise! each time it's taken me two or three days for the swelling and the pain to ebb to the point where I can be my charming, scintillating self.

Friday may have been the one. It's Wednesday and I'm still swoled and hurtful. Told the Knuckleheads to take me out of the rotation until I get this foot/knee thing rehabbed properlike, or learn to swing from one leg, flamingo like.

Pool Maintenance

2009-05-02T14:41:00.000-07:00

Note To Self:

If the pool sweep quits moving, and you can't see anything blocking his gullet, but when you poke your finger in there it feels all squishy and waterballoonish, next time don't keep poking at it until it bursts.

And when you disassemble your Nemo and remove the effluvia of what turns out to have been most of a family, do not run trumpeting your discovery to whomever commands the kitchen, or your next meal could be delayed.

Boy howdy.

Settled In

2009-04-28T20:17:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe it's been almost two months since we moved in. She's ordered in enough tons of rock delivered to the driveway and around the house to likely change the tilt of the planet. New orange and blanco oro grapefruit trees have been planted to go with the lemon already here. The pool's been scrubbed, bead blasted, chlorine rinsed, had all the DE baffles replaced, the motor replaced, and the little Nemo sweep disembowled, rehabbed, and thrown back in. The water is warm enough for the grandkids already, still too cold for us.

Everything works except the Dynasty gas stove, which everyone tells us is a really good one, save for the sonic boom explosion and hour or so after it is used. Discomfitting. Seems there was some kind of air lock that trapped some gas in a place it wasn't spose to be, where it malingered until I was just starting to nod off, and then ignites, all at once. KABOOM rattle rattle.

I call the thing "Enola Gay".

Three service calls and a new igniter later, now you can't smell the gas. But today, after 45 minutes of swearing and whanging and flailing by the repairman, who's now become pretty much part of the family, when he fires up the oven, great orange flames roil up the right wall of the baking compartment. I stand aghast, wondering if the little red fire extinguisher is going to be enough or should I run out and drag in a garden hose. "Hmmpf," he says. "That still ain't right." No? asks I, with a vocal quality somewhere between a castrati soprano and a mezzo.

He decides to turn off the gas - ok by me - and says he will insist to the home warranty peeps that theys gets a manufreakingacturer's rep out to reset the demsquibblehitches back to where they should be. In his mind it's my fault for not having the struxion manual. In my mind the jury's still out on God's Gas. The nice rosy glow of electric elements versus a lurking half-ton of iron that could any minute decide it wants to start its launch sequence.

. . . And A Time To Refrain From

2009-01-28T07:57:00.001-08:00

You'd a been so proud of me.

Was rummaging about in the Fasteners Dept at Home Depot, looking for longer screws than came with the knobs She wants installed on every freaking drawer and cabinet in the Hive. (The drawers have double thick front panels and the included screws are for 3/4" board.)

A bespectacled young woman in an orange bib with what appear to be a couple of rambunctious puppies wrestling under it offers to help.

"I'm looking for this screw, but longer," I begins, showing the palm of my hand, being charitable and cautious.

"That's an 8-32, but I need to know your length," she murmurs.

Pause. Reflection. The sensation of my teeth clamping down on my tongue. My throat seems to need clearing.

But I was strong. I said nothing, other than "Aha! There they are" and continued unassisted to the appropriate shelf.

But that was a close one.

Weas Culpa

2009-01-27T08:36:00.000-08:00

Thanks to my brother for passing this along -

Dear World:

The United States of America, your quality supplier of the ideals of liberty and democracy, would like to apologize for its 2001-2008 service outage.

The technical fault that led to this eight-year service interruption has been located. Replacement components were ordered Tuesday, November 4th, 2008, and have begun arriving. Early tests of the new equipment indicate that it is functioning correctly and we expect it to be fully operational by the end of January.

We apologize for any inconvenience caused by the outage and we look forward to resuming full service -- and hopefully even improving it in the years to come. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

Very Truly Yours,

The USA

High Honey, We're Home

2009-01-26T14:32:00.000-08:00

I'd mentioned that we had a hard time getting the former owner moved out timely. He's finally gone, except for his horses, but some of the previous residents didn't get the memo.

But things are coming along at the Honey Factory. The interior walls and ceilings are all painted; I detail vacuumed 12 of the 15 ceiling fans, none of which had been dusted in their first five years. The carpet's on order and we're less than a month from moving in. We think.

Here are another couple views from The Aerie (name pending, subject to management's approval).

The Habitual Procrastinator's Wife

2009-01-13T07:58:00.000-08:00

Me: I'm quite proud of myself! I've already finished and mailed my year-end reports to my owners and accountants!

Her: That's great, honey. Which year?

The Keys

2008-12-30T09:35:00.000-08:00

We finally took possession Christmas eve day. Our agent called, told us to meet her at the house where she'd give us the keys. We got there, pulled into the driveway, and saw the garage door wide open, as were the double front doors, which had a refrigerator half in and half across the threshold.

Sigh

The now previous owner needed "just a few more hours" to finish moving out - now 36 days after the originally scheduled closing. We agreed, and when we returned late that afternoon, he was gone and had done a fairly good job of getting his stuff out of our house and down the hill to his horse property. Now begins the work.

Like Herding Cats

2008-12-30T09:05:00.000-08:00

(Sound of gavel)
The meeting will come to order! Order!

Sir! Stop waving that pistol, sit down and the chair will recognize you.
Ok. Thank you. The Chair recognizes the Cracker from Krakow.

You make a compelling point, sir.
The Goofball from Gdansk proposes that the Knucklehead Golf Group consider paying the +/-$40 half-rack rate and conserve the Eagle Card free round until golf gets more expensive. Is there discussion?

The point is raised that this time of year typically is the most expensive, with rates going down as the temperature goes up. And the Chair asks the Manning Maladroit to refrain from that slanderous type of ad hominem attack on on the Warsaw Wacko, which usage is strictly reserved to the Chair.

Is there any further discussion before a vote is called?

Won't Be As Much Fun With The New Guy

2008-12-20T12:44:00.000-08:00

Roy Blount, jr. says several people have wondered out loud to him why, when the Iraqi journalist threw the first shoe at soon-to-be-former President Bush, W didn't stay down when he first ducked?

Mr Blount posits that "he just didn't have time to do the math".

Helping Mr Obama

2008-12-20T12:19:00.001-08:00

Somebody's got to do it.

Some patriots have to man-up and get out there and get this economy moving again. We're certainly doing everything we can. Over and above buying a new house, whose fourth scheduled closing date is now Tuesday the 23rd, I bought a new Suburban.

Most interesting is the fact that I got a new 2008 top of the line LTZ for only 3 grand more than I paid for the bottom of the line LT model seven years ago. All in all, I got the dealer to come down 17 grand off the list.

Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics

2008-12-13T15:40:00.000-08:00

Friday, NPR reported that one out of every 31 adult Americans is either in prison or on parole. By far the highest percentage in the world.

And a very young, very talented writer named Rose George has written what sounds to be a fascinating book on a disgusting subject. Her book, called "The Big Necessity" makes mention of the fact that “Cholera and typhoid kill so many kids a year” that it “amounts to two jumbo jets full of children crashing every four hours.”

Let's hope that after January 20 we can begin anew to change this country and maybe help this planet take better care of itself and its neediest denizens.

ME Do Not Possess Clear Vigour

2008-12-11T09:33:00.000-08:00

Dear, dear friend Mariusz wrote to correct my posting; while he does not deny that he has a beautiful wife and family, he is not the head of endocrinology, nor does he intend to be.

So I wrote back to him, thanking him for the lovely chocolates he sent and a gorgeous, exotic leather credit card case. He'd inquired after my health, so I updated him thereon and apologized for misstating his case. I thanked him for taking care of my most precious possession (who will not be pleased to know that her name translates into "Wrinkle") and bade him well.

Then, I had an idea! Why not translate the message into Polish, and make it easy on the guy? With all the marvelous tools available on the net, this should be easy! Mmmmm, not so.

When I translate the translation, turns out there are a few bugs in the software engine promoted by Translations Experts Limited: to wit

This cookies are not tasty. This chocolate nut obstruct is not delicious. My worry is not yonder ME will to be item gross as well she will be yours drawback! This elegit credit card case keeps my charter perfectly. Anew I must bidden yonder you and me Capital are not much item bounty. WITH Z something of more earnest promissorynote , ME worry yonder ME may possess resentful withdraw my unreasonable blog. ME branded only vis-a-vis show my distribution for you and me for this working space you do when you receive yes small in return. Please credit my submissive apology as well know yonder ME will be more mindful on this unborn. As Wrinkle my possess bidden you , ME had three surgery on thirteen months : my left rate was rebuilt , something of diverticulectomy ex my bladder , as well utterly ( I`ve to hope for the best! ) my left knee barters on June. ME do not possess clear vigour neither clear mobility on either this rate neither this knee , short of this twinge has diminish with z ninety percentage. As you know , confirmed twinge varies this way one lives one's life , yes ME I'm very pleased to be solvent live my life more this way ME want vis-a-vis. Thank you for yours undertakings , yours arrival , as well yours care for my most precious possession while were on your country is. Warmest several regards

Warmest several regards, indeed.

W

2008-12-09T19:30:00.000-08:00

Tuesday is gomer day at the dollar cinema, which means $2/each. We saw W.

I'm not and have never been a fan of Ollie Stone's work, and have avoided it pretty successfully since NBK, so that's been almost fifteen years.

Though subtlety and nuance will likely never find a place in his quiver, Ollie kept the W mellerdrama at a minimum. Only the Condi Rice portrayal seemed over the top. Josh Brolin's Geo was amazingly dead-on. The vocal tics, the shrugs, the goofy sincerity of 44 were all there. When he spake the famous "Is our children learning?" phrase, boy howdy.

From all I've read over the past 7 years 10 months, I think the movie captures the man and those who surround him really well. Highly recommended.

Witnessing Warsaw's Wonders

2008-12-04T14:17:00.000-08:00

Herself and her business partner are currently bringing their not inconsiderable expertise to Chopin's fellow citizens. About 14 hours of air time over, two days of lectures, then a bit more than that on the way back, as they must stop in Munich. She e-mailed that she'd been up for more than 24 hours and was thinking of a nap before going back into the almost vowel-less fray.

My dear friend Mariusz met them at the airport and is shepherding them about. M is a brilliant doctor, head of endocrinology for the largest hospital in Poland, which pays him something like the equivalent of $700/month american. He and his beautiful wife and two kids live in a top floor four-room flat with a kitchen roomy enough for one person at a time, almost. A couple email excerpts give a feel for what a sweetie he is:

we are all so excited about K visit to Warsaw. We didn't see you all a few years!
I am writing to you a few infomation for K, because I am not sure if K got my e-mail which I have sent a few days ago to her. A temperature in Poland is +1 od C and there is a little snow in Warsaw, but they say that from Friday it will be a little warmer - but it is better to take some warm clothes. I will wait for K in the Warsaw Airport and I will take them to hotel which is very closed to our home (5 min walking distance).

I often remind my stays at your home and our trip to Grand Canyon and our climbing to pyramids in Mexico.
I hope that in the next future it will be occasion to meet. What a pity that you will not come with K to Poland...

Your friend
Mariusz
P.S. I like your blog but I have problem with my English language and it is a little too difficault for me to understand all you write, but I promise to learn more English

Any problem that there may be is not yours my friend, not at all.

The House Hasn't Closed

2008-12-04T13:55:00.000-08:00

And probably won't, as scheduled, on Tuesday -

As best as I understand it, when the house was built, in 2002-3, Pinal County kept construction records on two separate computers. When they decided to consolidate the info onto just one, they - wait for it - lost the data from the computer that had this house's records.

Now comes Mr Garcia who wants to sell his house to me and Herself, excepting "We ain't gots no record of dat dere Ziptic Tank bean approved, bud" is how I'm guessing it went across the gnarled counter of the keeper of the records. Mr G protesteth, and not just a little, subsequent to which he gets the "lost data" story.

Gentle Reader thinks to itself, "Well, how can that be Mr G's problem?"

Because this is Gubmint in the wild west, dammit. And Gubmint tells Mr G he must contract an engineer to re-certify said ziptic tank, e'en though it only last week passed the rigorous sludge depth measurements, intake baffle inspection and cleansing douche of Apache Junction's own Cooper's Sewer & Drain, who pronounced it fit for lots and lots more shit.

Mr G grows weary. Were he flush with tender, he'd not be in the position of giving up the home he built with loving care, no doubt hoping to live there with his (former) dearly beloved and five bedrooms prodigious with progeny. Now he has to pony up - sorry - even more buckolas to get to the closing table. Ahhhh, life. It's bigger. And why can't I stop Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant" from playing over and over in my mind?

Roy G Biv & His Not-So-Bright Brother

2008-11-27T10:01:00.000-08:00

We got about half an inch of rain yesterday afternoon. We were having a glass of Shiraz as I gave her her weekly thrashing at Cribbage. She got up to close the blinds on the west slider, turned and exclaimed, "Oh!! Look at that!"

The Bleat Goes On

2008-11-26T08:07:00.000-08:00

We met with the realtor at the title office yesterday for the multiple-tiple-tiple signatures required even before closing on the house, now tentatively scheduled for Tuesday.

The seller has yet to begin moving his stuff out of the house. We surreptitiously cruise the 'hood, furtively peering at the windows, hoping to see empty rooms. The two junker trucks, the abandoned ice chest, the corral with the forlorn, emaciated horses, all as they have always been. Any way in hell he can get out in five days, with Thanksgiving wedged into the middle?

Hey! Who says I can't write an attractive real estate ad?

Nebraska News

2008-11-26T08:03:00.000-08:00

USA Today reports that Tom Larvie faces nine misdemeanor counts of public indecency, having been accused of leaving "greasy graphic imprints of his naked behind - and sometimes his groin - on the windows of stores, churches and schools."

There's a jury pool I would definitely find a way to avoid.

Pinal County Layoffs Delay Closing

2008-11-18T08:28:00.000-08:00

We were supposed to close on the new Fools On The Hill manse today, but a delay in the county recorder's office has put us off by probably two weeks. Bummer doubled in that our mortgage rate guarantee expires on the 28th. Costs $100 for a 15-day extension.

I'd required that a height restriction be recorded on the deed and that the two-acre parcel be divided, as I don't have and don't intend to have use for 40,000 square feet of horse corral.

However, the pool was built "too far" west, meaning that in order to get it onto our parcel - and to still meet the county requirement that a parcel be no more than 1% less than an acre - some heroic surveying had to be done, including running the west lot line congruent with the pool fence. Apparently in an unincorporated area of Apache Junction, no setback is required.

The other parcel now looks like a capital L with a real fat vertical stroke and a skinny little 33' X 182' horizontal road easement running along the south of our parcel.

Several facts allayed my concerns: the road has already been built, south of the easement; nothing can be constructed or stored on a road easement; and because of the geography, only javelinas and rattlesnakes are likely to be comfortable clambering into and back out of that area.

The timing stinks, though. Herself will be bringing the Message of Quality Diabetes Care to the good citizens of Warsaw in that time frame, I'll be schooling my buds in the fine points of Road Trip Knucklehead Golf, and we have another week scheduled at the cabin with the Mensan flying in for a cameo appearance. We're staying cool. It will all work out.

Probably

Scenes From A Marriage

2008-11-10T15:53:00.000-08:00

Who could have guessed that a morning that started with Her calling out from the kitchen, almost as an afterthought: "Oh! I think I've successfully put the kabosh on you getting a pot bellied pig for your birthday" could cloud over by early afternoon to "Maybe it'll be a good thing after all that we own two houses".

Talk about succinct.

Bad News, More Bad News, and Good News

2008-11-08T16:08:00.000-08:00

Michael Feldman reports that the Faux News Service has already proclaimed the Obama administration a failure.

Unemployment is at a 14 year high; but then again

GW Bush's name is soon to be on those roles.

Hell: A Logician Shouldn't Worry

2008-11-06T09:42:00.000-08:00

This marvelous meld of physics and scripture was forwarded to me by the smartest woman I know in Florida.

The following was a question on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term.

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there are more than one of these religions, and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell must expand proportionately as souls are added. This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over. So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Tammy during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you', and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then #2 must be true, and I would be sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary to this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, Hell is not accepting any more souls and is therefore extinct......leaving only Heaven, and incidentally proving the existence of a divine being by way of last night when Tammy kept shouting 'Oh my God.'

An Historic Day

2008-11-06T08:15:00.000-08:00

I never thought I'd be grateful to the Cheney-Bush administration, but a large measure of the nation's willingness to embrace a candidate with such an nontraditional appearance and such an unlikely name is due to their relentless cronyisms and contempt for the Constitution.

A writer to the Times noted that, on one day at least, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, jr.'s dream was realized, that a man was "judged by the content of [his] character and not the color of [his] skin".

And on a slightly lesser level of importance, yes, I am breaking with the Times' style editor and continuing the use of 'an' before a hard H. Hey, some changes are just too difficult.

President Barack H Obama

2008-11-04T20:51:00.001-08:00

Is this a great country or what?

Some peoples is hard to discussions with

2008-11-03T19:33:00.000-08:00

Her: You know, you're getting on my last nerve. I don't like your attitude.

Me: What!? My attitude is fine! You're a little crabby, though.

Her: Me? Crabby! I don't know what gets into you some times. I'm just not in the mood, do you hear me?

Me: Of course I hear you. I'm right here, aren't I? Look! Right here!

Her: You know, you can just go right now and lay in some ditch, some hole, go on, go ahead. Just go lay in a hole some place.

Me: It's lie. Now if you said "Go lay yourself down in some ditch, that would be ok. But what you should have said was "lie".

Her: (FCC regulations prohibit quotations with references to certain acts which are physically impossible anyhow.)

And We Call It Golf

2008-10-29T09:34:00.000-07:00

(Email from the host)

All invitations have been extended and the host committee is pleased to announce an extraordinary field for this inaugural event. The headliners include:

Gxxxx, The First Five Putts are For Range and Then I Get Serious, Mxxxxxxx (stay tuned for an announcement on his putting clinic); Tom, Whining for Strokes, Bxxx; Tom, No These are Not Pajamas, They are My Favorite Golf Slacks, Bxxxxxx; Larry Mxxx, reigning champion of the Resort Classic last played at White Witch in Jamaica; and the 305th place player on the 1972 LPGA money list, Lyla, I Need an Operation, Sxxxxxx.

The Logistics Manual with all of the important travel details and tips you will want at you fingertips is drafted but has been delayed in production. Apparently in is in queue after Volumes 1 and 2 of the Abridged Invitational Rules with foreword by the master of rules, Mr. Ponicki the Pole. The Logistics Manual and each Rules Volume is sold separately for $19.99 but as a Founding Member you can reserve your complete souvenir set if you act now for only $29.99. Operators are standing by to assist with your order. The Logistics Manual will include details on all of the following and much, much more:

North bound travel: Mxxx and Bxxxxxx approved for take off late Friday afternoon from Las Sendas. Open seat available for Boyd if the time is suitable for his needs but he may want a separate get away vehicle. Mac and Swen otherwise engaged Friday late and will arrive at the first tee at the appointed time. GPS will likely be involved for a successful arrival.

Prelim round: 11:00 at Silver Creek with 5some format approved. Competitors to nominate interesting 5some wagers and to select all that apply before the first striking of a ball. A modified Captain and Pig is under consideration but additional proposals are encouraged. Final determination will likely involve whining, crying and other childish acts.

Post round: Drinking and carrying on. Perhaps a game of Corn Hole at the Fun House. Rules provided by Ponicki the Pole even though he knows little of the game.

Dinner: steaks fried by that player with the highest putt count for the day. Food provisions to be pre-purchased by the host committee and the hat passed.

Surprise evening entertainment: sponsored by Gxxxxxx.

Sunday coffee at 7:00 AM if the 5 knuckle heads can operate Donna's new coffee maker. It resembles a '57 Plymouth dash board with push button tranny. If the coffee maker is uncooperative Bloody Marys will be substituted. Full and balanced breakfasts including donuts and candy bars available at Circle K a short sprint from the Fun House.

Final round: 8:30 at Concho Valley, 5some permitted but the Whiner anticipates a cash shortage and possible need to head down the hill early.

Adult beverages: BYOB for those that have a particular flavor but well brands and Rolling Rock available.

Post round: lunch, one for the road and purchasing lottery tickets for fire arms. Travel home.

Cookie snacks on the course: by Gxxxxxx. He picks them up wherever he finds them.

Maps, directions and scorecards available for only $9.99 plus shipping and handling.

(Response)

Putting aside for a moment my despair at your tortured syntax and circular logic, a few questions remain:

Are we to bring our sleeping bags, towels and, in my case at least, a wash cloth pre-soaked with my favorite ointment? or will the heat be on in the Palatial Estate and we be doing sheets, towels, and, in my case, one well used wash cloth on Sunday? And wouldn't it make more sense for Donna to run up the hill real early Sunday morning to make our coffee and breakfast, rather than tend to the lingering needs and wants of Jxxxxx and Lxx? I thought she loved us!? And how old is that kid, anyway?

Now about your writing. They let you write contracts over there on Van Buren? I'm seeing no more than six degrees of separation between that fact and the current state of the economy.

And it's "God Forbid - Another Freaking Operation!" Prince Lyle the Magnificent, thank you very much.

Boydski - You're welcome to ride up Saturday morning with the Putting Fool and me. We're leaving Ahwatukee at 6:45 and could easily swing by for your tattered, tawdry ass.

And It Begins

2008-10-28T08:43:00.000-07:00

The realtor calls. "Ok, the inspector will meet you at your new home at nine on Wednesday. It will be $490.75, but that does include checking the pool equipment and the termite inspection. You can just pay him then."

I know this drill. It was taught me almost exactly eleven years ago, before my daughter's wedding.

'Take out your wallet, hold it open, and extend it toward any and all who approach you.'

Yeah, I remember. And then say 'Thank you'.

Boy! That Didn't Take Long!

2008-10-26T11:20:00.000-07:00

Guess who are the newest hillbillies in Apache Junction? Almost. Escrow opens tomorrow on the northwest corner of Boulder at North Prospectors Road. I submit this information because Google Earth doesn't recognize the actual address and sends its tracker instead to some place in Mesa.

You won't see much about the house, except where it is in relation to the Stooperstitions. It's at almost 2100 feet, more than 800' higher than our current house, and the views are terrific. It's almost twice the square footage of our home, all on one level. The best part? A year ago it was listed for $709,900 and our offer was accepted for under 3.

A quick tour is available at visualtour.com/shownp.asp?t=1436816&sk=13&prt=10003

House Hunting

2008-10-23T14:13:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe we've lived in the same home more than 22 years. Might not be much longer, from the signs and portents.

"It's time for an adventure!" She blithely announced a couple weeks ago. I sighed, figuring it would be another stint of dinners out at odd new restaurants with stingy portions and goo on the entrees, maybe new carpet (no, we just did that), and I inwardly committed to remaining placid amongst the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Boy was I wrong .

Turns out we need a new, bigger house.

But, but, but - the kids are gone (last one moved out 13 years ago), we're down to one cat and the occasional cold-blooded interloper and her six-legged lunches, but no, we need more room - and it all should be on one floor and in a newer house and close to the grandkids and on the way to the cabin and near the Superstitions. "It's your fault! You've spoiled me with that huge kitchen in the cabin and all that room! Here, it's just, just the same, day in, day out. There you sit in that Ugly Blue Chair!"

Oh, OK.

So a couple days each week we've trooped through some poor subprimed schlub's soon to be temporary domicile, and found some terrific bargains. Though I guess I can't personally describe anything as a bargain that's well into six figures, but damned if a few of these homes were not too long ago a bit into seven figures. We'll see.

If She needs an adventure, some dramatic change in her life, - - - let's just say that for a guy like me (and I think you know what I'm talking about) it could be a lot worse - a hell of a lot worse - than moving to a different house.

A wacky, mostly stinkoid, ultimately pretty good thirteen months.

2008-10-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

So it had been about a year since I’ve posted, and from the chorus of inquiries, about three people noticed.

I guess that would be a trio of inquiries.

I didn't stop so much from the lack of creativity that had starkly defined my earlier writing, as it was the wide variety and vast quantities of medication that accompanied three surgeries in 13 months.

I’d damaged my left foot almost four years ago, and foot pain is a relentless nuisance. It got worse and worse, and I finally came to the not-at-all independent realization that it wasn’t getting better and wasn’t going to. Had that puppy sliced open, rebuilt and stabilized with a pin running through my second toe down through the middle of the foot.

Shortly thereafter I had my abdomen remodeled (Diverticulectomy: a fist-sized spare container taken off my bladder), and finally, in June, got my knee replaced.

I didn’t realize the effect of the meds through all this. Thought “with all this time off, it’ll be a good time to switch the office over from Windows to Mac”.

Wrong.

Thought I was literally losing my mind for about a two- or three-week period there, to the point that I told the missus it was time for us to do some serious planning for her independent future. She kindly indicated that, while she did occasionally have idyllic dreams of that eventuality, right now did not jibe with her timing.

With her analysis, we narrowed my terrifying descent into madness down to a cursed little pill I was taking to sleep through the pain: Ambien. Be verrrrry careful if that or a similar medication is prescribed for you. Be careful if anyone you care about is taking it. And stay the hell away from any bookkeeping functions.

I'm off the hard drugs, almost pain free for the first time in a very long time, and if you're willing to check in once in a while, and maybe post a comment from time to time, I'd be delighted to try to irritate you with my opinions and gleanings. Thanks

Things Up With Which I Must Put

2008-10-14T17:25:00.000-07:00

It's not as if she shouldn't have known.

I'm midway through a weekend, watching great football, and I have to put the game on pause, get up out of my chair, and march out to the back yard to remind Her that it's time for my lunch!

The mower was so loud I couldn't get her attention from the patio, and had to go clear out to where she was bagging the clippings. I made myself pretty clear, you can darn betcha, that this was going into her file.

It's just not right, you know?

2008-10-12T19:08:00.000-07:00

Last week the Mensan flew in from DC and joined the parents of my grandchildren to drive to Anaheim for their annual Halloween Dinnyland week. In your mind, Halloween may be a one-day event, but not for Walt’s wonderworkers; it’s a month long gala.

The grandmother and I “couldn’t “ go this year, as someone had to take care of Fluffy, the grand-gecko. No small responsibility, he. Restrictions and caveats flowed like the muddy waters of the Amazon. First came three e-mailed pages of directives, including the proper care and feeding of crickets and millworms. Who’d have guessed fresh crickets (about a two day shelf life and six cents apiece) have to be put into a baggy and shaken into a protein powder, before being dumped into the lair of the Fluffster? Who would have known about keeping millworms in the refrigerator, semi-comatose until the day of their denouement, when you let them thaw a bit before spooning them (plastic, disposable spoon) into a special Millworm Enclosure?

The worms in the refrigerator were a tough sell.

Parts of the three pages were quite nice, such as “His favorite bedtime story is “Goodnight Moon” which sometimes must be read through twice, to calm him if the crickets have been rowdy.” The wind wasn’t blowing very hard the day that acorn fell from the tree.
Nearing the transfer date, and on one of the two or three times weekly we’re at my grandchildren’s house, when The Tall One comes home from work, I suggested that I may as well take possession of the Fluffinator now, save a trip, all that.
“No. I’d rather bring him over myself, just to . . . be sure.”

That stung, a bit.

So the Tall One brought Fluffy over, ok’d his accommodations, reviewed the rules, adding “And here is some special sun block to use twice a day.” Then a shriek of laughter, a doubling over of an overly long body in giggles, “If you could have seen your face, pops!”

Polls & Voters

2007-10-03T22:10:00.000-07:00

Okay. Which had the most #1 hit songs? Led Zeppelin, The Who or Jimi Hendrix?

Do you remember which song beat out "Hey Jude" for the Best Song Grammy in 1968? It was "Little Green Apples."

None of those three ever had a number one hit record.

And yet we wonder how Bush got elected.

Youth In Asia

2007-09-27T20:05:00.000-07:00

With the missus off Factoring Moose in our Gentle Neighbor To The North, I gots some time on my hands. Like most of you - ok, both of you - sometimes when I read movie reviews, something about them sticks in my mind and a "Ding" goes off in my brain when I see them among the bazillions of movies the nice folks at Cox bring me each month for slightly less than $200.

This week I got dinged twice: once with "Festival Express", a documentary about a trainload of hippiepinkofags including Janis Joplin, Jerry Garcia, The Band, Buddy Guy and others of their ilk riding west across Canada in 1970, doing gigs every other night and jamming on the train in between. Little wonder most of em's dead now.

Tonight I caught "The Sea Inside" which I'd remembered getting real good reviews from peeps I'd agreed with pastly. It's a Spanish film, subtitled, and man oh man. I knows there's chick flicks and stuff, but this one had me getting all puffy-eyed and sniffly before the end of the third act. Superb acting, understated directing, amazing subtlety, what I used to call a Powerful Film until the daughters threw that term back at me after I made them watch Free Willy - a Paarful Film.

Back to the narrative: so I google (that's a verb now, right?) the film, to see how other cogent (sorry) viewers reacted to the flick. Here's the first I review I happed upon, no kidding:

Boriest film ever

I can't understand why people LOVE this movie. People is like sheeps, one follow the others. Let's see. If we change the end of the movie, suppose the man decides to doesn't kill himself... The movie would be the BORIEST FILM EVER !!!. There's nothing to catch your attention at the begining, nor in the middle of the movie. Has no argument!, except the obvious and constant idea of suicide and decoration with a poetical script, and extremely boring by the way. One guy thought: "If we make a movie about eutanasia?, is an Oscar subject!!", so, he take one real life case, filled it with boring dialogs, some landscapes and that's it, you have "The Sea Inside". Now I'm sure. The Academy gives awards with no criteria.

Ok then. Maybe I was wrong, mofo. But you sends you old lady nort for a week or more, and less see but youse aint all sniffly and shit wid da death and dying shit too, man. Dat's what I'm talkin about.

Ciao, Gala

2007-09-19T11:53:00.000-07:00

The circumstances through which Gala came to live with us are lost in the murky mists of my miasmic memory, but it was before the kids got married, and that will be ten years this November. Regardless, she and her step-brother the orange and garrulous SnapDog have been here to greet us, foul up the a/c filter with pillowcase loads of hair, and cough up fur balls for more than a decade.

Gala always acted as if I'd recently given her the beating of her life, and that another assault was imminent. If I came into a room, she'd skulk out of it. When unbeknownst to me she'd nap between my desk back and the wall, if I tarried too long in the kneewell, a sudden burst of black and tan would dash across my feet and flee the room, all the better to languish under some safer place. This was not conducive to cordial relations between us, but I gave her her space and we co-existed.

Gala'd been sick of late. The fur balls were gone, replaced with a vile mix of bile and partly digested - well, suffice it to say, she was real sick, several times a day, several different places in the house, and even if you got on the carpet spot immediately, it was permanent. The carped took on the look, if not the texture and desireability of some of my beloved's favorite clothing items.

This type of thing happens with cats, but it wasn't getting better and in the last few days she would cry out just before offering up another odiferous emanation. Then Herself decided we were getting new carpet.

This morning I took Gala to the vet. On the trip she described to me in copious detail the many wrongs I'd done her, and tried to enlist the aid of passers-by, many of whom stared at my truck, their unspoken question obviously "What can he be doing in there to that poor creature?" The vet's rejectionists quickly ushered me into an exam room, as Gala was upsetting not only the other pets but their owners as well. I hung my head, my body language clearly professing innocence. The vet's exam didn't take long, and certainly did nothing to assuage Gala's protestations. He could operate, of course, if I insisted, but this was a cancer, probably of the stomach, and she was almost certainly in her last days.

The grief/cremation consultant slunk through the door. A cadverous young woman, here to share my grief. A hug, a murmured 'Perhaps it was meant to be." (What the hell does that mean? I wondered.) And luckily, in the onset of my mourning, my choices were two: For $243.22 (where did they get that number?) Gala could be given a Private Cremation, after which her ashes would be returned to us in an Urn Suitable For Your Mantle. Appearing to carefully consider the view to the mantle from my chair at the dinner table, I queried, "You said there are two options?"

For $44.25 (another odd number) Gala could become part of a Mass Cremation. "Mmmm hmmm?" I pondered. She continued, "They do a real good job (I'd know a bad cremation?) and they have a lovely pond on site, where they scatter the ashes afterwards."

In my mind's eye I have a vision of Gala's ashes being scattered across the pond, not unlike the way the dust is scattered across the lawn if I'm not careful when I empty the flapping vacuum bag. Now I'll have to go poke out my mind's eye.