Life

Here is the deal, if you are just starting out and decide that you might want children there are some things you should know that will absolutely make the rearing process go more smoothly. I didn't say smoothly, I said more smoothly. Sort of like if you fall off a hundred foot cliff, hit a tree halfway down and land on a big rock at the bottom. If you somehow got some advice and avoided hitting that tree, the fall would have happened more smoothly. Not that raising children should be compared to falling off a cliff. No parent would make that analogy. It's more like when you're on a strange country road. You get a little confused about direction and maybe veer off a sharp corner and careen wildly down toward the valley floor for twenty years or so. It's more like that.

Step one: The pregnancy...Girls like being pregnant. Oh, they may throw up some (the word some, in this context, means-constantly for one to seven months), gain a few pounds, get some stretch marks, retain water, not be able to tie their shoes, or walk, or put on clothes without help, or sit, or sleep, or eat, or poop, or play football (The little parasite has gobbled all their calcium and the bones tend to get a little brittle). I won't go into heartburn because I don't have the room or time to discuss that adequately, but they like it. Their back might hurt a little but, what ever you do, don't say, "At least you're not having menstrual cramps any more." Be supportive. Remember when you were first dating and, after too many alcoholic beverages, you would hold her hair while she puked? Be like that.

Boys tend to not understand the pregnancy phase. Girls know this and, no matter how hard you try to pretend you do, they will say mean things to you during delivery...Let it go.

Step two: The miracle of birth...Girls need no advice here, they understand completely.

For boys, they get to watch their wife go through nine months of absolute torture culminating in the most horrific thing a man has ever seen. They lie there and undergo bouts of excruciating pain which intensify and lengthen as the intervals of respite get shorter and shorter. A fella is first awed at how someone, whose body has to be nearly spent after undergoing the previous months of pregnancy, has the capacity to endure. Then the delivery itself. I have designated this site as not for adults only, so can't go into the exact detail, but if a guy went through that he would need years of counseling and they would have some acronym for it like PTSD, (Pregnancy Triggered Inability To Function as a Human any Longer) People would look at him with pity, shake their heads, and say things like, "His trauma was so severe the letters in his acronym don't even fit the medical term for his disorder."

The miracle comes when he, after watching his beloved go through the experience, sees her instantly recover completely and actually radiate light when the baby is placed on her belly for the first time.

Having and rearing children is a complicated process, one that might require another post to cover it adequately.

Driving tip:  It is your, as a driver, prerogative to trust other people. When backing up, if you let someone else tell you when to stop, they will always yell stop very abruptly and loud immediately after you feel a jolt and hear a bang. That is one absolute you can count on (If you decide to trust other people).  

Little Arrows

Did you ever find yourself reading something you shouldn't? The other day I was doing some Christmas shopping and I noticed letters on an article of clothing. Ordinarily I would never have stared 'there', but these words kind of jumped right out at you and you couldn't help checking them out. There was this arrow pointing up and the words said, "My Eyes Are Up Here!"

So there you go, a person doesn't want me staring at a particular place yet hangs a sign on it? What's up with that? When it dawned on me what was written there, I instantly turned a cherry red and this dude standing in front of me started laughing. There was no getting around it. I was looking where I shouldn't and I got caught. I tried to play it cool and casually asked, "Why would you ever write something like that on the front of your pants?" He was laughing so hard he could barely talk, "Why were you looking?"

When something like that happens you can't really say anything. You can try, but trust me, nothing you can think of will seem appropriate. You do, however, get an immediate and clear understanding of Alfred Hitchcock. Sometimes a situation presents itself where the only reasonable conclusion would be to hack someone to death with a butcher knife. I couldn't wait to get away from that scene, left the line and went back to the housewares department. I got this really great butcher knife but by the time I went through the checkout and into the parking lot the only sign I saw was on this Goodwill truck asking me to give to the needy.

I threw my brand new still unopened package containing a 14 inch, stainless steel, rosewood handled knife into the bin. I figured, from then on, I would keep my eyes front and put the whole episode behind me but you never know. Some needy guy might not be as sophisticated as the new me and have occasion to stare where he shouldn't. I hope he appreciates my gift. In the meantime, if you ever throw on your 'my eyes are up here' pants, stay away from needy looking people.....You never know.

Driving tip: "Objects are smaller than they appear."(maybe I should invent some pants that say objects are larger than they appear) That sign on your mirror should also say, "Do a head check because some objects may not appear at all." Two things. You have a blind spot, be aware. Other people have blind spots too. Be aware.

Third Toe Alters History

John the Baptist came over on the Mayflower one day...no...it wasn't John the Baptist, it was a guy named Myles, I always get those two confused. Anyway, Myles the Baptist came over on the Mayflower one day and had some real bad luck. I mean he started out all happy. He got out of bed, heard his kids giggling in the next room and decided to run in there and scare them (Myles was a little weird). Well I don't have to tell you the story...you remember. He took off across that cold floor in the dim light of his rustic bedroom all smiling and everything and slammed the third toe of his right foot into the iron leg of his wife's spinning wheel. The pain was immediate and intense. His whole foot seemed to throb and hot searing anguish shot up his shinbone clear to his knee.

He belonged to a very religious group who tried earnestly to live by the law and Newton's first law states that an object in motion tends to stay in motion. Knowing his momentum wouldn't allow him to just stop and nurse his poor toe he did that amazing...grab your foot with one hand, keep your balance with your other, while quickly bounding on one foot till you slow enough to allow a safe collapse where you can lay on your side, hold your sore toe, and rock back and forth.

His wife, seeing her husband in such a state, inquired, "Are thee all right?" He, being from the part of Pilgrimarica where they spoke real English, and annoyed that his 'all about me moment' was interrupted, answered, "Are the what all right?" She tried to explain that in her dialect the phrase 'thee' meant...you. He didn't get it at all. "My toe hurts and you're talking gibberish, just like you did when I got that parchment cut the other day. You have any idea how bad a parchment cut hurts?" It's a lot worse than a sliver, I'll tell you that."

She smiled, helped him up and said, "Thou Needst to make haste. Thy guests arrive to bid us good morrow at the hearth and make ready the pottage. Now get your breeches on and let us not go arsy varsy." She departed while he stood there shaking his head. "What the hell did she just say?" He hobbled out the door to a yard filled with people. There on the table were his sister-in-law's rolls, his sister's potato salad, his daughter-in-law's banana pudding and the most perfectly cooked turkey he ever saw. He marveled at how someone so young as his daughter-in-law managed to find bananas and Nilla Wafers in Plymouth in 1620 but was grateful and thankful for all the bounty and love before him.

His foot still hurt so he had to lean against a tree to keep his balance as he said grace. He began by apologizing for not being able to stand erect but pointed out that with one foot on the ground it wasn't actually standing but was still kind of standish. That is how we remember him today....Myles Standish. 

Driving tip: When going over the river and through the woods remember that because there is no warm earth (only cold air) under a bridge, they tend to ice before the road.  When in the woods there may be portions of roadway that stay shaded and do not see the warm sun. Those places tend to ice early as well. Be careful. Happy Thanksgiving.    

Inspiration

I just saw a commercial where you can give these guys a hundred bucks and they can take pictures of you and super impose them on other pictures. All of a sudden you can have a picture of yourself hanging ten over the tip of a surfboard while riding a twenty foot wave, leaning over the neck of a thoroughbred as it glides over a six foot fence or be sitting behind the wheel of a car as it does a four wheel drift around a hairpin corner at a hundred and ten miles an hour. I got pretty excited, I mean for 100 bucks I could make my life look interesting. My friends would be so jealous.

I thought about some of that for awhile then got all pragmatic. If I really wanted to impress people who know the real me, I could maybe show them a picture of me opening up a letter containing my credit score. They would gaze at it and see me smiling at the giant 675 and they'd sigh and dream of one day becoming a financial guru such as myself. In reality, the last time I requested a credit score all I got for my trouble was a bunch of bills from people who were really grateful I finally disclosed my new address to someone in the finance industry. You can't trust those credit score people.

The fact is, with my financial credibility, we, as a nation can be grateful I didn't effect history in a more substantial way. For instance,  it's lucky I didn't bet on Seabiscuit. If I had, there is no way he would be a legendary racehorse today. He'd  be pulling a coal wagon. Can you imagine how sad that would be? A seventy seven year old horse pulling a coal wagon? I'm serious, he would have lost. He would not have inspired us to raise above the great depression. We would still be all depressed, I know I am, and we'd all be out walking the tracks gathering spilled coal to try to sell for enough change to buy a Dr. Pepper.

So here lies the hope. If you are currently unemployed, rent that Sea Biscuit movie or better still, borrow it. Take heart in knowing I did not bet on that horse, we did rise up and will again. For your sake, I will take the money I would ordinarily bet on whatever new inspiration comes our way and maybe send it to one of my creditors. They can rejoice with my five bucks and things will get better. Remember, when things begin looking up....you owe me big. You're welcome.

Driving tip: It rained last night, then it got cold. Your door locks are now frozen and you can't get in your car. Do not try and force the key. It will break off in the door, trust me on that. You can heat the key with a lighter, stick it in the door, re-heat it and keep repeating the process till after the outside temperature gets above freezing for three hours and, your door will open. Or, buy a can of fuel line antifreeze, pour it on your key and try it. After a few applications that should work. If you are handy to an electrical source and you have, or know a person who will loan you, a hair drier, turn that baby on high and aim it at your door lock area for a few seconds... voile. (It also works great for frozen pipes but tell your buds your using your heat-gun. They will be all jealous and wish they were a real man like you who owned his own heat-gun.)

My Lot In Life

The alarm goes off at 4:00 but you don't really need it because you're a dairy farmer. Your body knows it's time to bang on the shed walls and wake up the cows. They, like you, don't need the morning ritual but that's how it is. They head down to the barn and milk shed where they get a treat of oats while being milked. After 107 of them go through the process they wander happily back to the field while you fire up the tractor, load fifteen 80 pound bails of hay on the trailer, and feed the sons of b...I mean daughters of... black and white Holsteins. You know you have to shovel up what they just left on the floor of the barn and with that to look forward to you head on down to get yourself some breakfast. They don't have to be milked again for twelve hours so there will be plenty of time to shovel the barn, feed the calves and tend to that sick heifer before you cut and bail hay this afternoon.

Your wife, on the other hand, just lazes in bed till 5. Then after getting breakfast for you and those three sons of b.. two sons, and one daughter of...Bill and Betty, she gets to escape the hell-hole and go to work. Her job is easy, she's a waitress, or a nurse, or a secretary, or a manager, or a police officer, or a teacher, or a City official or whatever it is she does. She thinks she's the one who has it rough. You're stuck out on the ranch all alone. She gets to see and hear other people all day. Bosses, customers, kids, co-workers...All you see and hear are cows, birds, frogs, wind in trees, a dog bark, the creek constantly babbling. Yep, she sure needs to re-think how things really are.

 

Driving tip: Next time a big truck cuts you off in traffic, instead of thinking sinister thoughts about all truck drivers, think about how many trucks didn't cut you off. I guess it's human nature but when a car gets out of line you despise that guy. When a truck does it, you tend to hate everybody in that industry. I get that, it's called ad hominum. For instance, if a politician is evil and corrupt that doesn't mean all politicians are evi....never mind, bad example. But if you work on your own attitude a little you will be calmer and much more able to deal with unexpected situations in traffic. Like say when that son of a Bill and Betty swerves his bull rack and cow pee spills all over your car. With a good attitude you can concentrate on how to get out of the skid and not on how to kill Bill.    

         

Dessert

Don't you just love cookies? I mean somebody gives you one of those and they can track every time you visit their site. They're all like, "Welcome back George." and you go, "Wait a minute, I'm not George." You panic a little, "Why do they think I'm George? What if George owes those people money? What if George goes to those sites where people shouldn't go?" You consider closing the site, maybe erasing your history or, if you're really nervous, pulling out all the stops and going for the hard boot. You begin to hate your wife a little for ever saying it was OK to get that first computer back in 1980. If she wouldn't have been so soft you wouldn't be here today. You grit your teeth, your brow furrows in concentration and you think maybe, when she isn't looking, you might just reach over and pinch her real hard. You know you won't, she would just tell and you'd have that to deal with, but you feel a little better for having thought it. You look back at your screen and could swear that the font on George got bigger. You're almost at your wits end. You start wishing you had never gotten that stupid computer, or that dog, or that haircut back in 8th grade. That magazine made it look soooo cool. You begin to fantasize about taking that magazine down. You could cyber-attack them and the cops would be looking for some dude named George. This could turn out OK. George could start e-mailing people and tell them what you really think. George could go to those sites people aren't supposed to.

Over time you become a little jealous of George. He can do anything he wants with no repercussions. He gets to live a life of fantasy and you have to clean up the dog poop in the living room. He's out there taking down magazines that feature stupid hair cuts while you rake your lawn. You detest George, that bastard has no idea how hard life really is. You wish he'd never been born. You would do anything to be rid of him...anything. The corner of your upper lip curls into a snarl as you plot his demise. What to do? What to do? All the air rushes from your chest, your shoulders fall and your head drops in despair. George is a formidable opponent. You're no match. You accept it and resolve to move on in George's shadow, gleaning whatever small pleasures your shambled life can provide.

'Welcome back George.' You read those words once more and a little hope glimmers from inside your heart. You let the corners of your mouth edge upward in a small smile. You catch your breath as you read the words following that introduction...'Not George?' You laugh out loud, cursing the hell that spawned that creature as your pointer descends onto the left click button of your mouse.

Don't you love pie? With pie you can measure the diameter of a circle, divide it by two, and find its circumference or area.

Driving tip: This one is mostly for the women. No chauvinism here, but women tend to start to fuel their car and then get back in. Men like to stand by the pump, hold the nozzle and look cool. I think it has to do with clothing fabric, humidity and a lot of scientific stuff but when you slide your butt on the seat you can build up a static electricity charge. When you exit the car carrying that invisible charge and grab the nozzle to remove it, you might get a spark. Especially on a hot day, when fuel vapors are more likely, your whole fueling experience gets incredibly dramatic. If you return to your car seat while fueling, touch something, any metal thing, on the car before you grab the nozzle. You may get a little zap but you won't blow up your car.
Boys, the same thing applies when filling up a lawnmower can. Set it on the ground before you fill it. Do not leave it in the bed of your awesome pickup. A spark will ruin your paint and, after you get out of the hospital, people will point at your rig, laugh and say, "That thing looks like it was in a fire."        

What Did He Say?

Remember when you were a kid and your mom asked you to try and do a better job cleaning your room but it came out, "I wish we would have stopped having kids when your sister was born." and so you didn't get too excited and resolved to hope she didn't check your room anymore? If you didn't, you should have learned then that people don't always say exactly what they're thinking. For instance: Your boss might want you to pay better attention to the details of your work. It will sound like, "Get your head out of your ass or find another job." Your barely teenage daughter might want to experience debauchery and sin untold..."Can I stay at Mary Joe's tonight Daddy?" And you know your son is up to no good whatsoever if he hits you with..."Morning Dad." You can always tell about a son.

Armed with this knowledge about humanity's tendency to be vague about true intent you will be better prepared when a politician says, "I will fight for you." ( I can make a lot of dough if you are stupid enough to elect me.) or someone says, "Excuse me." ( I didn't think that fart would be that loud.) or...

"Are you OK?" (Man, if this person isn't OK I will be able to save them and be some big hero and they probably have millions that no one knows about and will reward me and I will be able to get a better handle on my daughter and more control over my son's future and be able to tell my boss where to get off and my mom will wish she stopped having kids before my sister and resumed again just after and I can get thicker, more sound absorbing underwear and life will be good.)

"Yeah, I'm OK, thanks." (I don't have any money but I was a little impressed at the volume of your anal outburst and I really don't want you touching me just now.) 

"I'm glad. I was worried about you." ( Shit, I knew this loser didn't have any money and he probably didn't even hear what I did a few seconds ago...it wasn't that loud, I'm just being self conscious.)

"I'm fine, really, thanks again Sister Theresa." (In church? Puts a whole new spin on 'Sound the trumpets'.)

"Go in peace." ( There is no way he heard that. Why would whoever is writing this portray me as a nun when they just suggested through my thoughts that I had a son and a daughter?)

"Bye." (I hope I can keep a straight face when Father O'Shay refers to her as a windbag and I doubt if anyone will catch the part where I said she had a son and a daughter.)

See what I mean? People never say exactly what they're thinking. (I'm sure glad they are reading this instead of hearing it. That would sure be embarrassing. I think I need some tissue.)

Driving tip: Winter tries to get you anytime you drive. If you experience ice, you need to bring up everything you know about physics. A corner you might easily negotiate at sixty miles an hour when dry becomes a challenge at 40 when ice gets involved. A two hundred foot stopping distance might triple or, if you're going downhill and lose traction, you may not be able to stop at all. The key to corners, hills and driving in general in winter is traction. Lower your speed, increase your following and stopping distances. If your car loses its grip and starts sliding, steer in the direction of the slide. Get your front tires back in front. If you leave the road and careen down a hill it is much better to be able to steer your way around a tree than to be sideways and get your paint all messed up. In the north there is usually some sand on the shoulders left over from the previous storm. Remember that. Be careful and leave the cell in your pocket.  

  

Navigation

If you are old enough, you remember when the new fangled watches came out that if you held your pointer on one button while pressing on another with your pinky and pushed the third with your chin you could slip your toe up there and spin a little dial and the amazing contraption would actually tell you what time it was. Those were the days.

I miss the times when new advances in electronics were so astounding. I have this new GPS device that will tell you exactly where you are anywhere on the planet. Some people don't seem to be as enthused as me and actually get a little exasperated at my ability to utilize new devices. I was driving home the other day and my wife called on my cell. I Bluetoothed her into the midrange speakers of my 27 audio source media outlet (fully web accessible) and when she asked where I was I replied, "27 minutes, 33 seconds North by 33 minutes 17 seconds West. She asked when I might get home and I said I couldn't let her know just then as I was in traffic and needed to keep my toe on the pedal, so couldn't access my watch.

Things got a little hectic then. I intended to look at my navigation screen to see if I needed to turn but instead brought up my rear view camera display. This guy behind me had these really cool 51 inch rims with tires that had a sidewall of less than a quarter inch. Man, I wanted some of those. While distracted by those shiney beauties I heard the beep beeping of the crosswalk alerting blind people that the light was going to change and mistook it for a back up alarm on a Lincoln Navigator (the car, not the device) and swerved to miss it. Long story short, I drove off a cliff and crashed into a 400 foot cell tower. Now here is where I got lucky.

 When I fell off the cliff my six point safety harness held the top half of my body securely but my legs were free to flail about at the whim of physics. My right foot wound up near the steering wheel and when the front airbags deployed they shoved my foot up and to my left. The side airbags pushed my arm into my face and my toes somehow wrapped around my wrist and jammed against my watch (I have no idea what happened to my sport 2 exercise shoes, the laces on those things are primitive). I took a deep breath to compose my excitement before commanding Onstar to call my wife and tell her that I just happened to know it was 6:30, I was at the cell tower 2 blocks from our house and should be home around 10. The blue sky looked awesome as I stared at it in my rear view screen and I couldn't wait till the jaws of life would finally allow me to get out, get online, and see about some new rims.

If it had been 1963 I would have already been home (less traffic then), my phone would have rung (ours was one long and two shorts), and all I would have had to talk about was whether or not Jim and Margaret were going to allow Betty (Princess) to go to the sock hop. James (Bud) would have hit Kathy (Kitten) with a basketball and the Andersons would be living a much more exciting life than me. As it is, if I can just move my toe a little to my left, I can activate my stopwatch program and see if it takes longer than usual for the rescue squad to get me out this time.

Driving tip:  Most accidents happen within 10 miles of home. Don't let your guard down because you are in familiar territory. I believe that statistic to be true but the fact is, most driving is within 10 miles of home. You should really not let your guard down...ever. Your children and paint will thank you.

Don't Blame Me, I Voted.

Did you ever wonder how serious people are about their bumper stickers? The other day I was facing backward, my hands under the bumper and my back against the trunk of my wife's car. It took me almost three hours to get her to work. I sat to rest and admired my shiny "I'd rather push a Chevy than drive a Ford slogan". This one dude walked up and laughed at my situation. I asked why he was walking and he replied that he had a perfectly good Ford but his friends wouldn't let him drive it. I understood. The rub was when this brand new Caddy drove past with a sign that said my other car is a Cadillac.

Stickers really are intriguing, my best bud has one that says, "say it with a gun" I told him I didn't get it and he laughed at my ignorance. My eyes flew open then, and I nodded my head in acknowledgement just before I pulled the trigger. I am going to miss that guy, he was so profound and real smart. He even had a sticker that said he was in the top 2 percentile in intelligence and he could care less about the other 95. I wasn't sure about that. If you really are in the top 2 percent I think you don't necessarily need to heart the other 95 but some compassion might be appropriate. What about the girl whose kid serves honor rolls to the students at that famous school? Or the guy who supports the arts? His kid and money go to the movies on Saturday night. Or the fella that would rather be driving a Titleist? That poor soul wants to drive a car that doesn't even exist. Maybe he got hit in the head with a golf club or something but the point is...compassion.

I had this great idea for a sticker that would say that bloggers do it at least three times a week unless they're busy or tired or can't think of anything to say and then it might be just two but for sure on Fridays, or Saturdays at the latest. I'm going to need a bigger bumper but that's cool. It will give me a better chance for a good grip when I'm pushing my wife to work.

Driving tip: If you can read the sticker on the car in front of you, you are not paying attention to the road. That can be really hard on your paint.

Soccer

Эй вы, русские, спасибо за чтение моего блога.
Slow down now, I am not going to write the whole thing in Russian. I just wanted to thank those guys over there for reading my stuff. I hope I said what I wanted to, I trusted Google translator and have no idea what the first part says, really.
Language is peculiar. Remember when you were one and it sounded like everybody was talking gibberish so you talked a little gibberish and everyone said how cute you were? Then you got older and thought they were making sense and finally you grew completely up and realized that you were right when you were one. Full circle.


I wanted to talk about sports some more and let you know what sort of person is drawn by a particular sport. For instance, If you like football you tend to eat a lot of nachos and are probably a beer drinker. You like telling other people how to do things when they can't really hear you and you probably own some ridiculous shirts. If you like baseball, you eat a lot of nachos and...Actually, all sport enthusiasts are exactly the same except golfers. If you like golf you are a liar. You're lying to me, all your friends, and most importantly, yourself. Nobody likes golf. If you participate, you have serious issues with your mom and are a little bit of a masochist. That's right, a masochist. You like pain and anguish while getting screwed by a sport that could not care less about your physical and emotional needs. 


All sports have officials except golf. Oh yeah, some guy in a plaid dress carries some bagpipes around and acts all important but who calls the fouls? You do. If you lie about a particular shot, maybe take a Mulligan, then your mom is right there, sitting on your shoulder, going "tisk, tisk", and pointing her chubby little, or long, bony finger at you. You don't see a 110th yard in football or a fifth base, there is no beyond the blue line or the other side of the key, but there is a nineteenth hole isn't there. Saddened people trying to drown out their mothers. If you ever meet someone who brags about being a five handicap you now know that you are really looking at a person who does not respect their mom. Do you really want to associate with that type?


Be careful that you don't overload with sports information like me. If you get too much you get confused. The other day I was drying my hand off at the line of scrimmage on lane five. The guy in lane seven began running toward the foul line. No one blocked me at all and I hit him just below his hips. He had that 14 pound Black Diamond back , just ready to toss it,  and he fumbled. I thought I would be a big hero but everyone just stared like I had done something stupid. Go figure. Stupid would have been that time the guy on lane nine lofted the ball toward the goal and I ran across four alleys, dived through the air, and took it out with my head. 


Driving tip:  Don't ever let someone else make driving decisions for you. If it is raining or icy out and most people seem to be going faster than you, do not speed up. They don't know how your tires are, the condition of your suspension or least of all your personal capabilities. Stay in your own comfort zone. If you are holding them up, get out of the way, go down an off ramp and up the on to give them a chance to go on down the highway. Be courteous, be safe and keep your paint in good shape.  

Hoot

Be scared, be very afraid, the scariest creatures to roam the earth will be out this weekend in droves. Vile flesh eaters. Entities that try to eat children and devour the elderly. Those people will be gone after Nov 2 but till then we need to try to hide---maybe disguise ourselves. I had a great idea to this end. On Oct 31, I am officially declaring national dress-up like something other than yourself day. It sounds a little far-fetched but I think the idea will catch like wildfire in a warm wind. Wait and see. There will be witches, goblins, Sponge Bob Square Pantses and more than one Transformer. I'll just bet you every city in this great nation will see some sort of result from my declaration. 


When I was in 2nd grade my mom felt much the same as I do now. She got me this great disguise where I wore a mask that looked like an owl face. I had a black one-piece suit with a picture of that scariest of birds on the chest. His eyes were two big circles With an H on one side and a T on the other. It sort of looked like: H eye eye T. People would see me and go Hoot, Hoot. I never understood that. They should have gone HeyeeyeT but, whatever.


By the time I got in fifth grade the mask was gone and that one-piece was a little tight. People would see me and go: "What the hell are you supposed to be?" Keep em confused, that's my motto. I offered to loan that incredible costume to my son who had a party to attend. The ingrate ripped the right side almost off while trying to get it over his 22 year old head and now it just says H eye. Why someone would try to put a one-piece on by pulling it over the head is beyond me but I realized with great enthusiasm that I might still wear it myself, sort of like a shawl now, but wear it I will. I can color the eye in and make it look like an O. Make my statement to those politician types by sporting the initials for: Hang Oppressors. I bet I get a lot of confused looks when I start ringing doorbells with that on my chest. They won't know what HO means. They'll probably think it stands for: Herman O. West who, known as H. O. West, was the co-founder and later owner of a chain of thirty-three department stores in mostly north Louisiana and southern Arkansas. From 1923 until his... Got that off Wiki cause I couldn't think of anything for H O either but that is probably what people will think anyway. Maybe I could get a horse and call it silver and holler H.O. Silver away. 


Mostly I will stay in the shadows and be very afraid because, according to the TV, every two years we are in some really scary times.  


Driving tip: Bonus today, not just a driving but a health and economy tip as well. I call it a threefer. Most people in the United States get way more exercise than they need. That is obvious by their insistence on parking as close to the store entrance as possible. They will burn 5 bucks worth of gas cruising for the best spot rather than walking half a block. 


If you park at the outer edge of a lot you won't get so many door dings (good for paint) you will save gas (not driving for five extra minutes for the good spot) and you will get some exercise (walking an extra hundred yards). The big bonus, I should have called it a fourfer, is that when you back out of your space there won't be a Suburban on your left and a van on your right. You might not bash into someone driving around looking for a good parking spot as quickly if you can see.  

Teeth

Had to go to the doctor for a checkup the other day. Came back with a total clean bill of health. Carol decided the guy had to be a quack. I eat too much, I eat the wrong stuff, I don't exercise, I have a bad attitude, I don't sleep, there is no way I can't be dying. She has been a nurse her entire life, she recommended the guy, she made me go. She has definite parameters guiding her in selection of physicians. She knows who is good or who had bad luck recently, what schools and experience they might boast or what hospitals allow them privileges. I, on the other hand, tend to go with the doctor having the smallest fingers.

My appointment was for ten o'clock and I arrived early to fill out any paperwork. The receptionist asked a few questions and gave me a clipboard with the required forms. I sat next to an elderly couple and just across from a woman with a four year old child...Billy...

Jumping straight to it I, having a reasonable comprehension of my history and being fairly quick with a pen, finished just after lunch. I'm 55 years old and can't imagine why they want to know about any trauma but I spent over an hour, and nine sheets of paper, telling them about the time I was kidnapped by Jimmy Tom and Booky when I was 5. I probably wasted my, and their, time because it wasn't really that big of a deal. Jimmy Tom's mom gave us cookies and they had every stolen toy in town to play with. When I told them I had to get going they said see ya later. I wonder if other kidnap victims have tried the I have to get going escape method? Anyhow, when I finally got to see the physician's examination room I was glad to find, after lying on the table for about fifteen minutes and then going through all those drawers, a pack of bandages. There were several bruises on my legs and a fairly deep bite wound on my arm. That Billy was a feisty little kid.

The doctor came in about four o'clock. Apparently some old guy died in the waiting room and they had to clean that up. He stuck a stethoscope on my chest and then on my back, made me cough and then grabbed something warm with those ice cold fingers and made me cough again. Count your blessings. The next thing he did with those fingers made me real glad he had a chance to warm them up first. At five after four he told me to put my shirt and pants back on and wait in the reception area for my results. Results is a medical term for bill.

The old lady still sat next to my chair looking all sad and when I asked how her husband was she started crying. Billy was in the corner getting his ass kicked by some five year old. His mom was all frantic but Billy bit the kid on his ear and that was that. I told you he was feisty. The receptionist finally gave me a prescription to ward off bite wound infection and let me go. I resolved to save time and not mention Jimmy Tom if anybody ever asks about trauma. I'll replace that with a tale titled, 'My Visit to the Doctor'.

Driving tip:  Most vehicles will provide power to only one tire. Unfortunately, that is always the tire with the least resistance. For instance: you have front wheel drive and your right front tire is in a mud bog. The rest of your car is high and dry but that right front will spin till you are out of gas. Press on the gas to get the tire spinning, Not hard, try not to dig yourself in deeper. While you have the tire spinning, put pressure on the brake with your other foot. The left tire is just sitting there, the right one is spinning against the brake causing friction and heating (and swelling) things up. After 30 seconds or so the right brake is hot. Now, let off the gas. step gently down on the brake and push gently on the gas. The mud tire should be locked by the hot brake allowing the left (cold tire) to turn. When the car moves a few inches get off the brake and go on your merry way.     .

Sport Stuff Again

Everyone, it seems, is involved in some fantasy sport or another. I, too, have fallen prey to the seduction of sitting on my butt, drafting players, and seeing how well my team stacks up against the opposition. The last few weeks haven't been good. One of my stars is down with an injury, a second was penalized and has to sit out three games and some of them, it seems, are playing with less than perfect equipment.

This week I am supposed to play my daughter. No easy task on a good day, but when I fired up my computer and logged on to Ultimate Fantasy Sport dot Org dot com I was stunned to find my highest scoring player is on a bye. I don't have to tell you how bad it sucks when the little girl you used to trounce at practically all sports suddenly turns seven and can take you in almost any physical activity. Fantasy was my salvation. I kill at fantasy. Even if I lose I can fantasize I win. What a great concept!

Anybody that indulges will sympathize when they find out my seeker is not scheduled to play due to a bye. The really awful part is that in Quidditch a bye can last for months. What a drag! (Sorry, showing my age) I mean what a bummer! So here I am, my seeker is on a bye, my best chaser is injured and his cohorts couldn't tell a bludger from a snitch. One of my beaters turned a ref into a toad and got a three game penalty and my quaffle turned green.

There is no questioning my superior intelligence when it comes to sports and this fantasy match-up shouldn't be such a big deal. I mean really, when you think about it, fantasy is foolish. Hogwarts are hogwash, Dallas are dumbells, Steelers are stupid, Niners are ninnies, Green Bay is slow way and the Yankess got their butts kicked and the Rangers are going to the super bowl. Go Mark Cuban!

Driving tip:  Dogs are people too. They have pet seat-belts available these days. Author Stephen King was struck by a car while walking on the shoulder of a road. The driver was distracted by his dog who was trying to get into a cooler and steal treats. A pet seatbelt will not only protect your beloved animal in an accident, it might even keep you from running over Stephen King. That's kind of important.

Habit

Walked up to the cashier and paid for my purchase with 17 one dollar bills. The girl took my money and casually asked, "Are you a dancer?" I have never. Can you believe that? It just goes to show you how crude some people can be. Anybody can take one look at me and tell that, if I even considered such a profession, those would have been twenties.

We are all guilty of mis-reading first impressions. I, myself, actually looked at a person once and instantly thought I could trust him. I guess it was the police uniform that threw me. He wasn't very big but my first impression was that he was a servant of the people, risking life and limb to keep us safe. After signing the $200.00 ticket I was left knowing he was nothing more than a shill for the establishment, a pawn of the court. I was only going eighty two, it was an interstate, if those slow pokes hadn't been in my way I would have been home. How much of a menace to society could I be? I'm surprised he even saw me as dark as it was. The creepazoid was hiding behind that 65 mile an hour speed limit sign just waiting to pounce on some poor innocent like myself. People like him have no idea how they impact society. Before 'the incident' I was cruising along not paying attention to my speed but carefully motoring down the highway. After, I waited till I was around the hill and purposely kicked it up to 67. I knew I was going to do it. I, a law abiding citizen, became a pre-meditated law breaker. It was all his fault.

Some people can really fool you. I read about an engineer who tried to kill his business partner by cutting the red air bag wire and, while the two of them headed to a convention,  purposely drove into a tree. His plan was sound enough on the outset but his passenger's air bag deployed flawlessly. His own did not. You see? It got you too. When I said he was an engineer you assumed he was smart. Well, when you take a second to think about it, we all know it's the blue wire you need to cut if you want to kill your passenger. What an idiot. Remember the old adage we learned in grade school? Blue kills you, red I'm dead. How could an engineer forget that?

As you go through life don't be fooled by first impressions. Just because she's wearing a nun's habit does not necessarily mean she will whack you with a yardstick. And just because he's scrawny doesn't mean it won't hurt when he kicks you in the......pocketbook by giving you a stupid two hundred dollar ticket.

Driving tip: If you have to pull over it is O.K. to get your tires dirty. If the shoulder is level or gentle, get your car at least half off the pavement. Those people on the highway aren't going to slow down. They should, but they wont. Turn on your flashers. Somebody driving along dead-tired will drive right into your trunk if all they see is taillights.
If you are doing 82 in a 65, you deserve the ticket. Don't whine about it.

 

GMAO

I read about this study where they took 3 control groups of twenty students. All sixty kids had to throw a given number of free throws with a basketball. The results were recorded and the study began. The first group then had to practice throwing free throws one hour a day for two weeks. The second group was not allowed to touch a basketball but rather concentrate about throwing free throws for an hour a day. The third group was not allowed to touch or think about basketballs. They just ate pizza and played Atari for the two weeks (it was an old test). The pizza group put up the same numbers at the end test as they had at the beginning. The practice group showed, like, a twenty percent improvement. The concentrate group also showed a twenty percent improvement.

Needing to get in better shape, but too lazy to exercise,  I decided, after reading this study, to make an honest effort and think about doing sit-ups and stuff for an hour a day. No improvement!
Coupled with my need to get in shape, is a compulsion to surf the internet. I am going to share an ingenious new concept that will guarantee you to lose weight and get in better physical condition. All you need to do is send me 50 bucks and I will tell you to put your computer at the top of a fifteen foot rope. You have to climb it and can only surf as long as you can hang on. The other thing I will share for an additional twenty dollars is to hook your computer to a tread mill generator. You can only surf if you are running fast enough to generate power.

Once you employ my new techniques for a month or so your friends will begin to post on Facebook how great you look. When they ask your secret you can say, "I exercised. GMAO!!!!!" Only you and I will know that the G stands for Google. You can charge them, like, fifty bucks, to tell them our secret. There are other solutions you might employ such as FBMAO (facebook) or FTMAO (farmtown) or like me, BMAO (blogged). Get creative, Don't send every pitch over the fence like those lazy-assed Yankees. Put them in center-field so you have to do a little running once in a while.

Driving tip: For most driving situations, push your side mirrors out just past the point where you can see the back corner of your car. You still need to head-check, but the side mirror will help to reduce blind spots if it looks a little further out. Don't go crazy and shove it out so far you can't tell if someone is approaching from your right. When you need to back up, toggle the mirror switch in to help you line the back of your car with the space you need to occupy.    

Strength Of Youth, Wisdom Of Age

Carol dispatched me to get a supplemental Christmas present for my son and I walked in the store to peruse what was offered. Several people were engaged in a this one's mine, no I want that one, this one has a bad wheel, or I need to put my baby in the carrier, game of shopping cart selection. I sort of smiled at those idiots, I mean, I was getting one item, why does everyone think they need a cart? The toy section was still pretty well stocked and I wandered up and down the aisles waiting for that perfect something to jump off the rack and holler, "Here I am, take me." They had this one doll that promised to actually soil its diaper and there was a truck made out of plastic. Can you imagine, a truck made of plastic? Who would ever buy such a stupid toy.
I came around a corner and all the lights in the city went out, all, except one. This brilliant spotlight focused on the perfect gift for an 8 year old boy. A host of singers formed a semi circle around me and began to ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahhhhhh. That song might lose something on paper but it you were there you would agree it was really cool. I caught my breath, it was stunning, I stood there, face to bumper, with a red, 14 horse, go-cart.

That baby had a roll bar and chrome rims, let me say that again, chrome rims. My son threw his crappy bike in the weeds, jumped in the seat and was just pulling that shiny red baby into the dirt lot at the end of our street, his enormous smile contorting his face. The neighborhood kids stood back in awe, some of the girls held there hands to their faces and sighed. The boys dropped their jaws and cried. Some lady bashed into me with her cart and I came back to the store. I slowly reached out and touched one of the tires, they were pneumatic. Let me say that again, they had air in them. I turned the tag over and read, $489.00. I smiled and shook my head. That was only $189.00 more than I paid for the car I was actually driving in those days. Well, it was really 239 more because I still owed the guy fifty bucks, but it would be 189 when I got it paid off.

I threw my crappy Buick in the weeds and was just pulling that shiny red beauty into the parking lot at work. The guys were all stunned, my boss nodded his head in affirmation. Some guy's kid slammed into me when he came around the corner too fast and I was back in the store. Why do people let their kids run in stores? I grabbed a 110 lb junior bar bell set and headed for the registers. It was only twenty dollars and, when my son got done working out with that baby, no bully was going to kick sand in his face while he sat on a beach with some blonde haired chick. You would need to have read comic books back in the sixties to understand my thinking but old people know what I'm talking about.

I was about twenty third in line,(see older post-7-7-10) the guy in front of me had a cart with like--two items in it. Some people. I held my 110 pound junior bar bell set in my right hand and thought what an idiot he was but I guessed everyone can't be as young and strong as me. Ten minutes later the old lady in front, with the seven bags of purchases in her cart, walked toward the door. I switched my barbell set to my left hand. The next puke in line had to write out a check. I waited another five minutes and switched my son's gift to my right. After the next three people were finished I stood there holding that box with both hands. I was growing a little impatient, the guy in front of me was humming jingle bells. Fifteen more minutes and I began to hallucinate. Some idiot was humming jingle bells and everyone on earth had coupons and check books. I stood there with one knee cocked to rest part of my burden on my leg and when I finally reached the till I had a startling revelation. I could not lift that damn weight set up to the counter. What a dumb gift a bar bell set is anyhow, who would ever want to give something like that for a present? I figured, if I stand it on the floor and grab it low with both arms, give a mighty heave, then maybe...The lady behind helped me get it to the counter but I could hardly lift my pen to write out my check (The numbers came out all funny looking).

Carol and I were at the supermarket the other day to grab some sour cream and were nearly to the back when she said we needed some milk. I turned and started walking toward the front. "Where you going?" I rolled my eyes and couldn't believe she could be so naive. "To get a cart."

Driving tip: All summer you took the time to put the foldy visor under your windshield to keep the sun off your car's interior. If you live where it snows, begin throwing a small blanket over your driver's seat. In the morning when you open the car door and fresh snow blows in all over the seat, you will brush it off, but you won't get it all. You can bet your wet butt that you will wish you had paid attention when I said put a throw over your driver's seat. You could have just shaken it out, tossed it in the back and been on your dry, merry way.
 

Technology

Back in the 60s you sat in the living room and listened to Biff and Jack call a ballgame.
"It's a hot one today Biff."
"You know it Jack, that hot dog smells good though."
"We got old Swing Away Smitty at the plate. He sure has been parking a lot of em lately."
"That's true Jack but Fast Ball Freddy isn't going to make it easy for him."
"The count is 0 and 1 and Smitty takes a cut at that famous curve, bringing it to 0 and 2."
There's the delivery."
You hear a sharp smack and people screaming in the background.
"Man oh man, Smitty got ahold of that one. Right through the hole at left and he is safe on first."
"That brings up Lefty Louie and the crowd is on their feet."
"Boy, Biff. It looked like Lefty had some gum on his shoe or something. He was scraping it on the dugout steps before he took the plate and now he doesn't look comfortable in the box."
"Back to the game. One on, zero away here in the top of the first... and the windup...."

Those were the days, you could sit there and feel like you were actually at the park. Those were also the days before computers. Today it comes across a little different.

It is 93.647 degrees Fahrenheit out today, that's 34.248333333333335 degrees Celsius, Biff."
"You know it Jack, that hot dog smells good though."
"We got Swing Away Smitty at the plate. He's batting 377 against right handers this season."
"That's true Biff, but his average on away games is only 263. He could be in trouble against Fast Ball Freddie. His win-loss percentage is .773 with an ERA of 4.39. Out of 33 starts he pitched 80.1 innings and faced 763 batters with 171 strikeouts and only 149 hits allowed."
"All good numbers Jack. But if you consider that he faces a righty with the humidity at 78.335 percent you see his base on balls numbers jump from 95 up to 111. Smitty has a pretty good chance of getting on without even swinging the bat."
"No argument here Biff. But Smitty is twenty seven years old with 356 plate appearances this year. He has 35 home runs and 27 RBIs."
"You're forgetting the 7.832 mile per hour wind out of the Southwest Jack. That, statistically, puts a real damper on Smitty's numbers."
"Valid point Biff but....."
"Back to the game. Two on, one away, here in the bottom of the eighth. The score is three to six and Billy Ballwacker is addressing the plate."
"You know, Billy really has a good chance of tying the score here, with an RBI of 132...."

Used to turn the AM to 860 and enjoy the game. Talked Carol into a state of the art system but by the time you adjust your equalizer to get the bark out of the midrange and the trill out of the tweets, the game is almost over. My dad used to talk about the good old days. I wonder if, back then, you could actually go to a park and watch a game in person.

Driving tip: Throw a pack of post-its in your console. When the sun is glaring at you from between the visors or the back of your side window, slap a couple post-its on the glass. Don't impair your vision, but you might be able to improve it with some simple office supplies.

More Sports

I'm not sure where the misconception began but the World Cup is not a plastic device to be put in a cotton receptacle and placed over the groin of the world. It has nothing to do with a giant brassiere or colossal printing system. It does, in fact, refer to soccer. Soccer is an event your granddaughters participate in on Saturdays and it can be a little complicated so you should pay attention. First, if you intend to get involved in soccer you need to get up early. There are a lot of parents and grandparents and they all seem to want to take their own personal vehicle. I guess they figure there's a chance of getting in a fight with their wife  and don't want to be stuck at the soccer field. Anyway, get up early or you won't get a good parking spot.

As in all sports, there are specific rules applying to soccer.
1...All little girls, on both teams, must remain as close to the ball as possible, all the time.
2...Time is never called, but both teams get to rest for a recurring event wherein either coach participates in a process called little shoe-tie.
3...Grandpas are not allowed to talk. They do, but never say the appropriate thing.
4. Goals can only be scored if you are at the concession, or in the little blue cubicle.
5...Little blue cubicles are to be maintained to always be in the most disgusting condition possible.
6...If you have more than one grandchild their games must be scheduled at 2 hour intervals, never back to back. (The league tried 4 hour intervals but too many grandparents snuck away and had breakfast.)

Remembering the rules, and getting up early, will make soccer as enjoyable for you as it is for me. I hope I was able to clear up any questions about this wonderful sport.

Driving tip: Steering into the skid means exactly that. It is always a good idea to keep the front of the car ahead of the back. If you lose traction and the back of your car starts sliding to the right, you need to GET OFF THE GAS and steer your car to the right. Get the front back in front and regain control. If the back just 'kicks out' a little, a slight correction with the wheel is appropriate. It the back goes crazy away you need to work on your reaction time. (refer to comment about GET OFF THE GAS)
Whenever you experience icy conditions you need to be extra cautious and alert. Be prepared to react quickly. Drive as if the road was covered with frozen water.
If your whole vehicle is sliding that is not a skid....Stay tuned.

Sports Series 1

It is October  6, 2010 and, if you're like me, the first thing that comes to mind is water skiing. I know!. If you've never been, I can give you some tips. The first and foremost is of course, don't go. If you insist, then you need to know a couple things. Water skiing is primarily done on water. Sometimes, in an effort to impress the girls, you might get a little too close to the beach and find yourself involved in sand or gravel skiing. This activity should be reserved for the more advanced skier and is rarely successful when attempted by a beginner. It does, however, have a great effect. Believe me, chicks never expect to get sprayed by dirt while sunbathing.

First, get a boat, then some rope and some skis. A good life jacket, and several friends that are excellent swimmers is also a good idea. Now, get in the water. If you are in the southern states watch for snakes. If in the north, snakes aren't a problem. They, unlike humans, don't often indulge in 40 degree water. Now, put on your skis. This process can take up to 30 minutes for a beginner, especially if he/she finds it difficult to expel water from the lungs. Once the skis are attached, grab the rope. It will be anywhere from 17 to 40 yards off to your left or, in some cases, right. Bend the knees, make the skis perpendicular to the water and hold the knees together with your forearms. Scream hit it.

I should have told you the part about letting go of the rope if you fail to get up. Sorry about that. Take a few minutes to compose, expel water from your lungs, and allow the concerned people in the boat to stop laughing. This time remember that you are in water. If you try to stand your feet will go out from under you, kind of like that time you tried roller skating in front of those chicks from high school and the ambulance had to come. We won't go into that. Wait until you feel the water slapping your butt. It's kind of cool but don't just  sit there and enjoy that, people will think you're odd. Stand up. You are skiing!

That whoosh whoosh noise you heard just before you nearly drowned was what experienced boaters call the wake. Somebody should have told you about that. It sneaks up behind a beginner, grabs you by your ankles, and throws you out of the water so your head is the first thing to smash back into the brine. I know that term usually refers to salty water but it's kind of cool like pirate or mizzen-mast and I had already used the term water once in that sentence and everybody at my writer's group yells at you when you say things like water more than once in a sentence.

Now you know how to water ski. You're welcome. I intend to do a series on all the various sports. Ask anybody that knows me and they can tell you, "That Jerry knows sports." They won't, but they could if they wanted to.

Driving tip:  Smoke tells a story. If you ever notice something odd coming out of your exhaust check the color. White means water. You have a head gasket leak, a cracked block, I'm not sure, but it's probably pretty sinister. You need to get that checked out. Blue means oil. You have bad valve seats, bad rings, a broken piston, I'm not sure but it could be something serious. Maybe your engine was cold and some oil leaked into the cylinder. I think you should worry a little. Black means fuel. You are running too rich, have a bad oxygen sensor, a stuck choke, I'm not sure, but you might get that fixed. Really loud and red means back fire. You have a bad timing belt, open exhaust valve, loose distributor, I'm not sure, but that is something you might investigate further. Be careful out there.     

Clear View

I went to my granddaughter's school play the other day and found myself reminiscing about when their (my grandkids) parents were doing their stints in elementary school grandeur. I stood in the fourth row and if you held your head a little to the left you could see around the hat of the lady in front. The guy beside her had really big ears but if you looked just left of his lobe, and under that tuft of hair, you could see the corner of my granddaughter's head. She was beautiful. The corner of her head stood out in that crowd of kids and she took my breath away. I almost cried a little at how wonderfully she stood and she didn't fidget or fall down or anything. I was so proud and, actually, felt a little sorry for the other parents and grandparents. They were pretending to be infatuated by their own children but they knew. They knew that the tuft of blond hair with the purple ribbon sticking out just behind that annoying boy, who obviously didn't know the words, was the best singer in the house.

When the program got over Carol and I waited in the hall to greet and congratulate her. She came bouncing up all excited, her bonnet securely fastened  with the orange bow and she looked stunning. I commented that it was a little hard to see her in all those kids but my dear wife admonished me. "She was standing right in the front row."
"Yeah, but that lady with the hat was blocking me."
It was a little surreal. Reminded me of the time I watched her mother, our granddaughter's mother, not Carol's, perform in a similar event. I was equally stunned at that production. Afterward, when I congratulated her, Carol pointed out that it was our son, not our daughter, who was on stage. It wasn't my fault though, it was the 80s and the lady in front of me had really big hair.

I've learned, now, to quietly stand and enjoy whoever I think might be in that crowd of blurry little kids on the stage and then wait till after Carol tells them how wonderful they were. I then, knowing full well who the star was, speak up and say, "yeah."

Driving tip: "Keep your eyes moving", applies everywhere when driving. The other day I walked out of Big Lots and saw a stunning event. The lady in the Lincoln, facing northeast, looked and saw no one was coming. She stared at her left mirror and started backing out of her parking space. The guy opposite her, in the Caddy facing southwest, looked and saw no one was coming. He stared at his left mirror and started backing out of his space. There was a loud racket when their cars smashed into each other. They both jumped out and admitted that neither had seen the other. I kind of got a kick out of that. I never really expected them to say, "Yes, I saw you."
Just because you are all alone when you start an action doesn't mean things are going to stay that way. Keep your eyes moving.

Do You Know Jack?

I jumped on Facebook the other day and said that I was feeling a little gloomy. I couldn't wait to see all the things my friends would say, just out of concern, to pick me up. I checked back about ten minutes later and there were four thousand six hundred and seventy two posts. Not unusual considering that, not wanting to brag, but I do have 17 friends. Apparently, after seeing my post, my niece thought it would cheer me up to know that her puppy pooped in the kitchen. A good bud told me that he became friends with John, Stephanie, Susan, Mark, Bill, and about forty other people. Actually, to save time, I should just say that seven of my friends became friends with forty three hundred friends. There is a tree somewhere that I should join a group about and someone, I've never heard of, is having a high school reunion somewhere I've never been (or intend to). There seems to be some concern that Democrats are ruining the world and a high priority post about Republicans who are going to ruin the world.

Now the good stuff. If I join some club that is only four hundred dollars a month they are going to help with my credit problems for free. I think they are pretty up-front because they said that I would be solely responsible for the outcome. Some of my high school friends appear to be looking for me and my aunt got some points in a game but she is looking for a rabbit. My nephew is really pissed at someone for something and some guy, who is a friend of mine, keeps making fun of the fact that we've never met but somehow, became friends. He might be my friend but let me tell you, "A puke like that is no friend of mine." My cousin said happy birthday to Jack. She doesn't know Jack but one of her friends heard, from one of her friends, who knows a friend of Jack's, that if you tell Jack happy birthday you will get one dollar for every friend that does that and Mary Swenson got a check for five hundred million dollars. We all need to support the Gordo Republic and should check out their website, and another of my friends (in my top 17) doesn't want to be friends anymore. I'm a little curious about that because twenty three people 'like' that post and I only have seventeen friends.

I'm no longer gloomy, I am a little confused. I'll keep checking just in case I miss something but it's a little work. I wanted to check out that Gordo Republic website but since I mentioned it I've gone back six hundred posts and still can't find it. By the way, Happy Birthday Jack.

Driving tip:  About horns. If someone pulls out in front of you, you have several options at your disposal. You have your steering wheel, your brake pedal, and your gas pedal. Maybe, if the guy is going quick enough, you can accelerate, get ahead of the car on your right and swerve into that lane to avoid a collision. Maybe, you can just slam on the brake. Maybe a hard brake combined with a slight swerve.
You evaluate the situation and react. You see the guy coming and have a pretty good idea what his intentions are. If you lay on your horn, things may change. He too has three options and your horn signals him to utilize one, or all three of them. Now it's much harder to guess the outcome.
If you can't avoid a wreck then laying on your horn does give some satisfaction. At least that S.O.B. will look when he hears your horn and see it coming. If you want to teach someone a lesson then stay off the horn, the brake, or the steering wheel. Sailing into someone at thirty miles an hour is something they won't soon forget.
My buddy Phil was waiting behind some idiot who didn't go the second the light changed. Instead of a little toot to wake the guy up, Phil laid on his horn. The guy didn't go, he, instead, got out. I won't say what he did but now, whenever Phil has a little gas everybody knows it.

Lucky Me

I've heard some incredible ideas about what people are going to do when they win the lottery. They say that morale is low these days but I find it comforting to know that everyone I've met is eventually going to win. They're all making plans but I fear that I may be doomed. You see, I am not all that confident in my lotto luck. I've heard that your odds of getting struck by lightning are greater by five times. If I don't win, the alternative is a lot of burnt hair. Buying a ticket puts you on a fast track to a hot head and where does that lightning exit? If you're sitting down with your feet up all relaxed when you get hit, then the juice would have to leave through your, I don't even want to think about it.

"When I win, the first thing I'm going to do is get an unlisted number."
I believe a 900 number is more appropriate. If people want to talk to you, they have to pay.
"I'm going to quit my job."
I don't think you really need to quit your job. I know he or she is an idiot, but after seeing the news and getting a 900 number when they call after you haven't shown up for a month, even YOUR boss will figure out you're not coming back..
"I'm getting a new car."
Don't lie to yourself, be realistic. I won the lottery! I'm getting several new cars is more appropriate.
"I'm going to get a tax attorney."
This one isn't bad. I heard about a guy who won a hundred million. When Uncle Sam got done with him he only had 77 left. How in hell the government expects you to eat with only 77 million is beyond me, the bastards. Actually they're not all bastards, just the ones that aren't in my party. But the point is, a guy just can't escape ordering from the dollar menu.

In reality, the odds of winning are like a kajillion to one. My wife came home the other day telling of taking care of some poor soul that had been hit by lightning twice. She didn't understand my smile, but I couldn't help thinking, I'm that much closer.


Driving tip:  Look out the window.... Between Three Forks and Bozeman Montana there will be 35 plus cars in the median, or ditch, on any given snow day. Those people all know they have to drive 83 miles an hour to get to work on time if they leave at 16 minutes to eight. They never know it snowed till 16.5 minutes till eight, when they walk out the door. They're an optimistic bunch, "It snowed but I can probably still make it, no way I'm going to wreck." On your way to shower, look outside. If it snowed, scrub a little quicker.

We All Have Our Reasons

Back in the seventies they lowered the speed limit in Montana from 'however fast you could make that damn thing go', to 55. That would have been at about the exact time I, and a lot of other good citizens, participated in our first acts of civil disobedience. Actually the state enacted a 5 dollar fine and the crime was titled, voluntary waste of a natural resource. A five dollar fine isn't exactly the same as 20 to life in Leavenworth but, give us our due. We were civil disobedient sons of bitter women and men who wanted to go fast too. The ticket did not go on your record and your insurance would never know. I know the government thinks they made some kind of big difference with that limit and the other steps taken but the only evidence they can produce is that we reduced, by better than half, our nation's dependency on oil. Fair enough but, come on! We were in a hurry.

There I was, following that International Scout down that muddy road at about six miles an hour. That 4x4 was doing fine but my Pontiac was struggling, just a bit. When we finally got to the pavement I was furious, and doing about 75, when I went around him. That's what the officer said anyway.

There I was, sitting in that patrol car watching that Scout plod on down the highway at about 45. After a polite visit, and the transfer of a five dollar bill, I resumed my trip. I had only gone about ten miles when I caught that ridiculous Scout again. Man I loathed that guy. That time I was going 93 miles an hour when I showed him who was boss. I'm almost dead sure I was going 93, because that's what the second officer said his radar gun revealed.

There I was, sitting in that second patrol car, when that Scout ambled by a again. I guess I should point out that the Montana Highway Patrol kind of gets it when a guy wastes a natural resource while passing a Scout. They will, however, exercise their power to the extent of their five dollar limit if that guy is still voluntarily treating that resource all willy-nilly five miles after he passed said Scout. I pointed out that my car got 11 miles to the gallon whether I was going 55 or 95 so I wasn't really doing excessive wasting due to my haste. The officer suggested that, if I tell that to a judge, I might start getting tickets at any speed. I decided not to fight that one. I cruised at about 58, or 9, the rest of the way home. I never did see that jerk in that Scout again and resolved that I would simply live my life hating Scouts and their owners.

Here I am, a reformed natural resource waster, who can now use this platform to explain why, to this day, I never pass a Scout without getting all dry-mouthed and constantly checking my mirror. Next time I'm at a party and introduced to someone new, if they mention that they used to ride in the hills with their uncle in his Scout, they might cut me some slack when under my breath, I say, "the bastard."

Driving tip:  Remember if you are stuck behind some clown in a Scoutesque vehicle on a two lane highway, always do a head check before you pull out to pass. The guy behind you might have had previous experience with Scouts and already be beside you in his haste to get that thing behind him.

 

Entertainment

What a morning, I mis-typed morning just now and it came out moron. I guess that might fit, depending on who you ask. I apologize for the late entry and ask that you immediately stop calling your internet provider. They have all been inundated, and suggested that I got some splane-ing to do. Should you hyphenate splaning? I think so, otherwise it reads like splanning. Anyway, I'm late for the most accepted reason since the beginning of time. The cable guy was coming. What a powerful three word sentence. If you are late for a court appointment and the judge furiously asks you if you're trying to make a mockery of his court, just throw that at him, or her. An immediate apology from the bench will follow.

My cable always works great till the last ten minutes of whatever I am watching. When the picture goes away it's awful, I mean it's like runny eggs and warm beer. You can't stand the eggs but you manage to make-do with the beer. After about seven of them, you figure the eggs might not be so bad and, I know I don't have to tell you..... that is always a mistake. They know just how to play you too. You're waiting there, all mad and stuff, but the guy doesn't show. By the time he does nock you have gone through all seven stages. Shock and denial, (What the? This damn thing can't be broken again.), Pain and Guilt, ( Man, my hand hurts where I punched that TV. I'm sure sorry I did that.), Anger and Bargaining, (That really pisses me off. Maybe I'll offer the cable guy some warm beer or, he might want to polish off those eggs.), Depression, Reflection, Loneliness, (My life sucks, nobody gives a crap if I watch TV. A man with no TV has no friends.) The upward turn, (Maybe I could read a book, TV is a waste, I might become intellectual.) Reconstruction, ( I guess I should repair that hole in the wall, I never should have thrown the remote so hard.), and finally, Acceptance, (I guess I will just go through life without Family Guy.)

Exactly when you reach that point, the bell rings. You greet the dude like he's Santa Clause. You offer him beer (and eggs), he fixes your set and only bills you two hundred dollars. You can't write the check out fast enough. Those eggs slide down really well when you're watching a good reality show. You heard that heat promotes healing and put the beer can on your tender knuckles. It is 16 degrees outside but so what, the beer will keep you warm and the heater guy will probably be there any minute.

Driving tip: If your seat belt rubs your neck on a long trip, get yourself a chip clip, or any spring loaded clamp. Get in, put the belt on, and get comfortable. After ascertaining where the belt wants to be, pull it out a quarter of an inch and clamp it. Do, absolutely not, pull it out so as to make it loose. Doing that also makes it useless. If you need to wear earmuffs because the clamp keeps whacking you in the side of the head, get a smaller clamp.

Equestrian?

I guess it's time I told you what I know about horses, tack, and latigo....
Enough of that, my next topic... Wait a minute, I know about horses. Why just the other day I asked some youngster what he knew about latigo. The silly goose said it was a big leather strap used to tie a cinch to a saddle. I laughed hard at that one. Obviously somebody hasn't heard of Stan Lynde.

As a little guy, I guess about eight or nine, I spent part of a summer on a dairy ranch. That is where I met Slim. Slim was a retired quarter horse used primarily for calf roping. The horse was superbly trained. He was stunning, you could rein him with one hand. If you threw a rope at a calf he would stop immediately and back up to hold the rope tight so the cowboy could throw and tie the critter. If you made a chick chick sound with your cheek and tongue that horse would instantly take off like a shot. He knew if there wasn't anyone aboard, and his reins were hanging loose, he shouldn't move, no matter what. What a great horse. I loved that horse.

I would get on him and, if someone other than me went chick chick, I would get up off the ground, go to where he was standing after he realized I was no longer aboard and his reins were loose, get back on, and away we'd go. I took him to a pasture to practice roping one day, all cowboys need to know how to throw a lasso. We were on a dead run and I tossed my lariat at a fence post. The instant that rope landed on the ground, about 12 feet from my target, the horse stopped and backed up. I landed closer to the post than my rope but I figured I was on to something. Why throw a rope around a calf? If your horse has the ability to throw you around the calf you're a step ahead aren't you? I learned about headers and heelers that summer. A heeler is a guy who can toss his lariat and ensnare the back legs of a calf. A header is what you take when your horse stops when you aren't ready. All those things considered, a young boy loves his horse.

One great afternoon me and old Slim were loping along across some field and came to some railroad tracks. The bed was raised about five feet above the field, and pretty steep. I decided to get off and lead my best pal up the side, over the tracks, and down the opposite slope. I was plenty cowboy enough, but I wasn't sure if he was horse enough to get that done with me on top. Halfway up I slipped, my foot slid back down the hill, and that dumb horse stepped on it. He didn't just step on it. When I slipped I let go of the reins so he stood on my sideways foot and that son of a bitch wouldn't move. I started punching him in the foreleg and he just stood there muttering something about his training. I finally remembered to get hold of the reins and back him off me. I hated that horse.

As a matter of fact, I think I might hate all horses. One time I was riding my brother's horse Gypsie, and found out I am actually faster than a horse. We were going around a corner at a cantor. I think we were actually running but when you're writing about horses you need to use words like cantor and lope. Lope, that's what I was, a lope for ever getting on one of those things. We were going around a corner and I let her have a little extra rein. I figure why be stingy, I had all that rein, why not share? Next thing I know, I see her head passing about 3 feet below me as I fly past, and above, her. She thought it was pretty funny but if we were racing to that piece of ground I broke my wrist on, I would have kicked her butt.

No real cowboy ever led his life without getting tossed off more than one horse. The difference between me and cowboys is, they keep doing it again. I, on the other hand, switched to a 350 cc dirt bike, no one ever got hurt on one of those but that's a different story.

Driving tip: Winter is coming, buy a couple bags of kitty litter and throw them in your trunk. When you are at the market and they ask if you need help to your car, say yes. Kitty litter is clean, (new kitty litter is recommended) and, if you have rear wheel drive, gives you a little weight. At any rate you can use it to sand your way out of a slick parking spot. Or sand your grandmother's way across a slick sidewalk. In the spring, take it back to the store if you didn't open it, and tell the kid to get that stuff out of your trunk.

Blue

If I win the lottery..... If I win the lottery it will be great. I'm going to buy a plane, hire a pilot and fly wherever I need, to meet all record holders in the Guinness Book. Some fellers, scratch that, all fellers, think one can elevate oneself through personally knowing someone else. (ie) "I have a car with 400 horse power." "Oh yeah? I know a guy who has a car with 406 horsepower." If there are three guys, the third will quip, "My uncle has a car with 409 horsepower." You need to beat the others, but only by a little bit. Wouldn't want them to think you're just talking B.S.

That is going to change. No doubt, I'll be 'the man' when I get back from my trip, "I made 3 pancakes for breakfast." "Oh yeah, I know a guy who made 34,818 pancakes." "My uncle John died the other day but they were able to resuscitate him." "Oh yeah, I know a guy who died 31 times." Yes sir, people are going to think some pretty significant thoughts about me. "I wonder if I should get this mole removed." "I don't know, I know this chick who had a neck tumor that weighed 17.6 pounds." It will be awesome.

I don't need Guiness for everything, I do have some personal achievements. Like the other day when I sprayed a bunch of wasps that were building a new nest under my eave. My son said there were 28. I get a kick out of the fact that someone would actually take the time to count those dead wasps, probably wants to brag about his old man someday. Who would do something like that, count dead wasps? Actually there were 29, I guess he must have missed one. The point is, any accomplishment can have astounding significance. My son doesn't have to lower his head when people start bragging about their old man. He can stand proud.

It occurred to me just now, that I don't even need to meet all the record holders, just the important ones. "I can run the 100 meter hurdles in 21 seconds flat." "Oh yeah, I know this chick that does it in 22.35." When the guy scoffs at that feat I'll give him a second to make a total fool of himself before I announce, "In swim fins." It's going to be grand.

Driving tip: You know how that jerk in the left lane who has to pull into the crosswalk area at a red light and make it really tough for you to turn right? You have to put your hood out in traffic to see around that idiot. Think about that next time YOU are in the left lane. When they make it OK for all of us good, considerate drivers to pound all the idiot drivers, you want to be on the right side. I know there are a lot more of them than us but we can take em. You'll have me on your side and I am over 60 percent Irish (and killed 29 wasps). You might not think that's a big deal but that will change when you find out that I know 1253 people who, on July 18, 2008 in Castleblayney, Co Monaghan, Ireland, painted themselves blue and dressed as Smurfs.....You thought it was going to be about beer. (it probably was.) When the good versus evil drivers battle breaks out we need to remember to stay sober.

Empty plate

Most people have a problem doing what they're told. Sometimes you have to trick them. If you want someone to turn their head to the right don't say, "Turn your head to the right." What you should say is, "Don't look right!" I don't know why that works, but it does...every time.
If you're in a crowded supermarket, want crushed peanut toppers for your ice cream and say, "I need crushed peanut ice cream toppers for my wife." No one will notice you. If you add, "She's pregnant." Everyone in the place will drop what they're doing and start looking for peanut toppers. If your budget is a little tight, and you buy a new boat, don't say to your wife, "I bought a new boat." No follow up here, just don't do that, trust me.

The other day I wanted the last doughnut so I quick like went to my repertoire of commands. "I want that doughnut!" She didn't flinch. "Look to your right" Her eyes didn't move. "My wife is pregnant." Nothing, guess she knew she wasn't pregnant. "I bought a new boat." I got the doughnut. When I left the house I felt uncomfortable. Funny how sometimes a victory is hard to enjoy. When the proctologist handed me that doughnut I just didn't feel like eating anymore.

I hobbled around for several days catching up on all the little things she wanted done around the house in an effort to apologize. When I was sure all the tasks were done, I grabbed a pillow off the bed and placed it on the couch cushion so I could sit down. I told her I knew we couldn't afford a boat and hadn't bought one. She smiled, told me she knew that, and that wasn't the last doughnut.

Driving tip: Throw a roll of toilet paper in your glove box or trunk. Do it as soon as you finish reading this. A roll of toilet paper can sit in your glove box for years and still remain surprisingly fresh, like Twinkies.
If you're ever on a trip and have to use a public restroom, rip some of that paper off and put it in your pocket. If the facility is clean, fresh, and well stocked like most public restrooms, no problem. If it's more like the extremely rare unkempt public restroom, you owe me big. I think in the real world you'll find this tip to be a good one.

Board Games

There are definite signs that a project or event isn't going well if you pay attention. Say you are standing on a ladder removing limbs from a tree. You drop a branch, look down to see it land and notice your left foot laying on the pile. If you're pragmatic like me, the first thing you think is, "How the hell did I do that?" That thought is quickly followed by panic, "How am I going to get down this ladder?" or, "Carol is going to kill me when she sees these pants." and a little self pity, "No one is going to want to dance with me Friday night." Then you start the should haves, "I should have put the trampoline at the base of the ladder." and the I wishes, "I wish I hadn't just bought those high dollar boots." followed by the next times, "Next time I won't wear my good pants."

You're pulling your brand new boat down a steep hill. You're going about 40 MPH when your boat gets in the passing lane and goes around you doing about 60. Your first reaction is to slap the person next to you, point, and between roars of laughter say, "Look at that! Some dumb ass lost his boat." Your second thought is, "Hey, his boat is just like mine." Followed by panic, "I hope his boat didn't hit mine." and a little self pity, "At the rate that boat is going he'll, beat us to 'the lake'. Then you start with the should haves, "I should have been going sixty two." followed by the I wishes, " I wish I had two feet." and the next times, "Next time I'm going to have someone else take down those limbs."

You're at your daughter's high school prom when the principal walks up to you and says, "Aren't you a little old to be at prom? You get all pragmatic and think, "I'm not a kid anymore, if I got in a real good shot I'll bet I could take you now." Followed by a little panic, "What if he smells beer on my breath?" and a little self pity, "I bet no one here is going to want to dance with me either." Then comes the should haves, "I should have worn my Bobby Rydell T-shirt." and the I wishes, "I wish I hadn't wrecked my boat." and the next times, "Next time I'm going to use gin, I heard they can't smell gin."

Treat life like a game of chess. If you notice subtle signs that things aren't going well you should just calm down, wait till nobody is looking, and rearrange the pieces.

Driving tip: I don't care how big and tough you are, if we get in a fight and you decide that now would be a good time to text all your buds that you are in a fight, you are gonna get smacked a few times. I practically guarantee it. There are over 200 million registered vehicles in the U.S. Trust me, when you are on the road, you are in a fight. I'm sure that all drivers are competent, careful operators. I'm sure the moon is made of cheese. If you take your eyes off the opponent, even for a second, you are going to get smacked. Maybe not, but if you think it's OK to text while you're supposed to be driving, you really do need a beating.

Saving Time

Mom always had a case on a guy named Pete. No doubt she worried about him more than she did my sisters, my brothers or me. We were constantly reminded that Pete had worth and his was higher than ours, we were even tasked with chores whose sole purpose was to benefit Pete. If you were given a specific job and failed to get it done mom would always ask why it hadn't been completed. She would be angry and we all learned that the reason kids are given duties is specifically for the sake of Pete. There were others whose sake we should be wary of, pity, cripe and goodness, but Pete's was the primary. My father didn't go to church much but I believe he was deeply religious. Whenever he noticed an order hadn't been followed he too would ask why. He, however would invoke the sake of Christ. As children we all learned there were two main reasons you were given chores by adults. First, because they said so, and second, for the sake of someone or something specifically.

I tried to sort out some order as to whose sake was most important. For instance, one time I got a drum for Christmas. I was playing it in the kitchen where my mother said, "Go do that in the living room for Pete's sake." Not wanting to jeopardize Pete, I headed to the living room where my father said, "Take that in the kitchen for God's sake." I told you he was religious. I figured the Lord trumps Pete so immediately went back to the kitchen. Mom demanded to know why in heaven's name I was back. I told her, "Precisely." She ordered me back to the living room and instructed me to tell anyone who questioned why I was there, was because she said so. Dad threw me a curve ball. He looked up and exclaimed, "What the hell?" It was all about Heaven or Hell with him. I told him mom said so and he said something that confuses me to this day. He picked up his paper, walked outside muttering, "I'll be damned."

I panicked a little, ran back to the kitchen, and explained to Mom that her actions had condemned my father to an eternity of fire and brimstone. She didn't look up but shook her head, rolled her eyes and said, "For crying out loud." She didn't appear to be the least bit concerned about Dad so I guess that phrase offers absolution.

I asked my son to mow the lawn the other day and in order to spare him the confusion I endured growing up, explained at length why he needed to do that task. I was eloquent in my speech but he interrupted me after about ten minutes, rolled his eyes as he headed out the door and said, "Why don't you just say because I said so?"

Driving tip: If you're pulling a trailer at a steady speed and it sways, you need to cautiously pull over and check the tire pressure in the tow vehicle and trailer. If it pulls fine but sways when you are going downhill or decelerating, the thing is trying to pass you. This is not good. The tow vehicle is not big (heavy) enough to safely pull that trailer. If you find yourself in this predicament you need to stay in front of that trailer. Do not brake hard. Get back on the gas just enough to get ahead of it (straighten out). Then slow down gently. Reload the trailer and tow vehicle or get a bigger rig. When a trailer is heavier than (and trying to pass) the tow vehicle and the driver slams on the brakes, the trailer will choose a side and go on around. (Really hard on paint.)

Economics

When I think about camping I fantasize about laying back looking at the stars, holding hands around the campfire while singing Kumbaya, and a refreshing swim in a cool lake. Hotels cost upwards of a hundred dollars a night. Restaurant meals aren't cheap and most venues require something resembling first and last month's rent to let you in the door. A family can pack up the old wagon, head for the hills, and spend a weekend getting back to nature without having to worry about how they are going to pay the power next month. Yes sir, why give all your money to Corporate America when nature is just sitting there waiting to be enjoyed.

We have this terrific tent. It set us back four bills but it has two rooms and a zip porch. When we go out for a weekend the thing folds so small that we have no trouble tossing our camp stove 49.99 at Sears, our sleeping bags, 12.99 each for the kids and 137.49 at Cabella's for the mom and dad (it's a good one but we're the mom and dad), all the accessories like lamps, dishes, coolers, folding table, chairs (I could go on and on but you get the idea), 1,365.87 at Wal Mart, Jim's Sporting Goods, Sears and Pottery Barn (I don't know what we got at Pottery Barn but when I saw the receipt Carol said it was for camping so I'm sure it was money well spent). Oh yeah, and our boat, 35,486.23 at Bill's Best Boats (it's a little under powered but has two swim steps and Bill told me in secret that it was a real good deal).

Anyhow, we load up and pile in the old Suburban, 58,472.26 at Karl's Chevrolet (it's a little over powered but Karl told me personally that we were getting a steal), go down to Quicky Gas to top off the tanks, 172.55 (lucky the boat was still full because it rained the whole time we were out last) and we're on our way. When we get to 'the lake' (ever notice how odd it is that there are millions of lakes in the U.S. and they're all named 'the'?) we meet up with my brother and his crew. He has a 35 foot self contained camp trailer that must have cost him over ten grand (fools and their money) but he figures he can afford it because he didn't buy a boat (he says you don't need a boat, you just need to know someone who has one).

When you get to 'the lake' and put your boat in the water, you sort of remember lecturing your son about never leaving the keys in the ignition (someone might start it up in the driveway, that would be awful, so it's best to keep them safe in a kitchen drawer). You drag the thing back up the ramp and park it over by the edge of the lot where people might think you park it when you're not at 'the lake', and didn't just forget the keys so you can't use it even though you really are at 'the lake'.

It's around 700 degrees in the tent so you spend the afternoon playing pinochle in your brother's trailer (I wish he would have upgraded a little, the air conditioner was so loud you could barely hear the birds and crickets outside. You go to 'the lake' to enjoy nature don't you?) At dinner time you slog back to the tent to make some grub (that's what you call food when at 'the lake') and Carol is sort of looking down her nose at you.

I love my wife but, just between us, she really isn't too bright. She gave me a list when I told her I was going to the store. She didn't even think that I might see our neighbor and spend an hour in the driveway showing him our boat and explaining about how camping is a way better way to enjoy a weekend than dumping a couple hundred bucks at an amusement park. She actually thought I would pick up the supplies. We've been married a long time and she still has faith in me. Like I said, slow learner. Anyhow, you gather up the gang, walk back to your brother's camper, and ask if he might share some food. He is your brother, he has to feed you.

Come evening, you get ready to build a campfire for the sing-a-long but hear that they are getting ready to vote someone off the island on your brother's TV. So you spend the evening curled up with your wife on his couch and catch a little idiots in the wilderness action til bedtime. Next morning you load it all back up and head for the house. You really feel content and are glad you spent your free time enjoying nature with your family and not standing in line at some dumb amusement park. The sunburn and bug bights you earned at 'the lake' are badges of honor, not at all like the stupid ones you get throwing your money away at Six Flags.

I think I just might jump on the computer and look up the words to Kumbaya. Next week will be fantastic and I will save some real dough, this will be the second week in a row I don't have to buy gas for the boat.

Driving tip: Sometimes your car tells you things. When you turn your steering wheel and you hear a variable pitched awwwerrrruuuoooohhhaawwwerr, you should check your power steering fluid. If your brakes squeal high pitched all the time except when you step on them the sensor is telling you to replace them. If they squeal when you step on them but are quiet the rest of the time they are glazed. They got hot trying to hold your boat back on that hill or you drive with one foot on the brake and one on the gas. You can't do both, one foot, one pedal, that's the rule. A really high pitched squeal when you rev the engine usually indicates a loose fan belt. A long horn honk from the car behind means the light has changed and shrieking and screaming from the passengers means you should pay better attention to the road.