Blog For Free!
Archives
Home
2009 November
2009 October
2009 September
2009 August
2009 July
2009 June
2009 May
2009 April
2009 March
2009 February
2009 January
2008 December
2008 November
2008 October
2008 September
2008 August
2008 July
2008 June
2008 May
2008 April
2008 March
2008 February
2008 January
2007 December
2007 November
2007 October
2007 September
2007 August
2007 July
2007 June
2007 May
2007 April
2007 March
2007 February
2007 January
2006 December
2006 November
2006 October
2006 September
2006 August
2006 July
2006 June
2006 May
2006 April
2006 March
2006 February
2006 January
2005 December
2005 November
2005 October
2005 September
2005 August
2005 July
2005 June
2005 May
2005 April
2005 March
2005 February
2005 January
2004 December
2004 November
tBlog
My Profile
Send tMail
My tFriends
My Images
Sponsored
Blog
| Talk about serendipity... Wow. |
| 05.30.08 (8:00 am) [edit] |
Good morning Boys and Girls, Her search took her to Craig's list, where she found the very bike she'd been looking for, and at a price she was willing to pay. The problem was, the bike was in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. |
| Time. Please put your pencils down. |
| 05.28.08 (8:51 am) [edit] |
|
Good morning Boys and Girls. I see Wake Forest has decided to make the submission of S.A.T. scores with admission applications optional. Great. Nice timing. Aren't you about, lets see..., thirty-three years too late? I'm quite sure I'd have applied if I could have avoided that little roadblock. (So what if I'd probably never heard of Wake Forest back then.) Actually, I never took the S.A.T. The schools I'd chosen to apply to accepted the A.C.T. and I took it instead. I knew I was getting away with something since I'd always thought of the A.C.T as the minor leagues of high school evaluation tests. At the time, I remember feeling a little guilty for not stepping up to see how I'd have done in the majors. I did well enough on the A.C.T. but for some reason I was deathly afraid of the big bad bully test and avoided it like the plague. Part of my fear came from the experience of a friend of mine who was a year older than me and who'd had great grades in school, but had bombed the S.A.T. the year before. His score, he was quite sure, cost him acceptance at the University of Michigan. My grades weren't anywhere near as good as his, and I figured if he'd had problems, how was it possible I'd do any better? Funny, because these days, he's very successful. In fact, he has been all his life, or at least he has since he got over the devastation of losing out on chance of going to the school he'd had his heart set on attending all his life, which did take a few months. Regardless, I'm glad to see the S.A.T. losing a little of its inherent gloss. Somehow, for me, it provides a sliver of vindication, though for the life of me, I can't figure out how or why that ought be the case. I'll have to give it some thought, I guess, but it has something to do with young people being judged largely based on their ability to simply regurgitate that which they've been taught, as opposed to emphasizing testing them on their ability to evaluate information thoroughly, and whether they're able to extrapolate from there from that which they've determined to be literally factual. There's so little of that in our society - in so many aspects of life - that I really think it needs to change. Be good to everyone. |
| What do you mean, "What is it?" It's a deep fryer for caviar, of course. |
| 05.26.08 (12:04 pm) [edit] |
|
Good morning Boys and Girls. What a fun weekend I had. Spent it on my knees digging stuff out of some woman's kitchen cabinets. (See emerging's post.) Actually it was fun. We took plenty of time to do less productive things along the way and frankly, I left her with a lot more work she's stuck doing on her own than I helped her accomplish while I was there. (heh heh heh) The goal was to empty and completely reorganize all her kitchen cabinets, but, aside from the pantry closet, we really only got through the food and spice cabinets Saturday. We did empty a couple of pan cabinets yesterday before I had to take off, so she could start deciding what she wanted to keep and what could go before she started putting things back. (My Mantra? "Let it go. Trust the force, Luke.") The woman has LOTS of pans and the like - some of which are pretty nice - but lots of stuff that she never uses, nor, because the cabinets were so jammed with stuff, can she even conveniently get to many of them anyway. Let's just say this: there seemed to be a "few" duplicates; that and examples of specialty items of dubious cooking value - at least to my way of thinking. (Does anyone really need a device specifically designed to cook quail eggs? Okay, okay, I'm kidding. -Sort of.) For instance, did you know one person can own three crock pots? Honest. Or seven hundred and thirty two pieces of tupperware-like plastic crap? I tell you it's a good thing she's so cute, or I'd have thought she was a nut-job. Wait. She IS a nut-job, but she's cute to boot, so, who am I to complain? I stole two tomato corers when she wasn't looking and threw them away. Hope she doesn't notice. Here's the problem; I like gadgets too. I gave her the world's weirdest gadget just a few months ago, cuz I use mine so often that I thought she'd need one badly. It's one of those stupid apple/potato spiral cutters that I use to make one continuous potato slice. (Sprinkle with olive oil and seasoning and throw in the oven at 425 for 22 minutes. Mmmm. Sounds good even now.) Anyway, I use mine a couple of times a week, and for making apple pies or other such deserts, it really does speed the process and makes using sliced apples more enjoyable. Like when you use the thing for potatoes, you end up with one long slinky of peeled apple in about ten seconds. A couple of slices with the knife and, presto, enough sliced apples for a pie in about a minute and a half. Having said that, if I'd have run across hers this weekend? -I'd have tossed it in a heartbeat, so fervently was I caught up in the spirit of creating garbage out of her perfectly useful items. She'll probably never speak to me again. Bummer. Just got back from Iowa a few hours ago after sleeping a while in a rest area so I wouldn't kill anyone. Poor Roadie has been on her own here since Friday when Dot stopped in to feed her and take more stuff to her new apartment. I'm glad to say Roadie missed me big-time and spent a good hour just sitting on my tummy and purring like crazy as I relaxed in my recliner. A nice homecoming. Be good to everyone. |
| Preaching in the bathroom. |
| 05.22.08 (9:18 am) [edit] |
|
Good morning Boys and Girls. Got a phone call from Jesus last night. Actually, he called back after I'd left him a voicemail a couple of days ago. Hadn't spoken with him in a couple of weeks and was a little concerned. Plus, as it happened, I had a funny experience yesterday I'd wanted to talk with him about, so his call last night about eleven was welcome indeed. "Hello?" "Hey surr, How you doin'?" "Jesus. Wow, good to hear your voice. I'm fine. How are YOU?" "I'm okay. Good really. I'm tired as can be though." "Yeah? Where are you? The cell delay seems longer than normal" "China. Trying to help with the search and rescue, but really, I don't think we're going to find anyone else alive. Ya never know though, so we keep at it." "I thought you might have gone over there. Did you go to Myanmar too?" "I did, but they wouldn't let the team I was with in, so there really wasn't much point in my going in by myself. Here at least, they want the help, though honestly, it's been disheartening. I'm with a half dozen other people and we really don't feel like we've accomplished much. Mother Nature can be one tough old lady." "Hey now, didn't God cause those?" "The earthquakes? Come on surr, you know he doesn't work that way. He never did. For goodness sakes, I'm too tired to explain this to you again, you goof. So what's going on with you? You still in Iowa?" "Yeah, Going home tomorrow. My grass is probably a foot high." "You'd better then." "Yeah." "You okay?" "I'm okay. Tired too, but for no good reasons really. Hey, yesterday I stopped to get an iced tea a McDonalds, and I found this perfectly written note written on a napkin telling people "how to get saved." It was sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser. It was interesting. Perfect printing, maybe a page and a half - the guy had to fold it over to finish on the other side. He even wrote, "over," like it was a note you'd pass out in class." "Come on. He left it on the toilet paper dispenser? Weird. Did you take it?" "Jesus. Who do you think I am? Of course I took it. Want me to read it to you?" "Sure." "Hang on. It's in my pocket upstairs. (I ran up to get it.) " Okay... here... I'm going to read it verbatim, puntuation and all. Ready?" "Yeah, go for it." "HOW TO GET SAVED! ACTS 2:38 THEN PETER SAID UNTO THEM RE--PENT (THEN TURN FROM ALL SIN) AND BE BAPTIZED EVERY ONE OF YOU (NOT-SOME OF YOU) IN THE NAME OF-JESUS CHRIST (NOT THE FATHER SON AND HOLY GHOST) FOR THE REMISSION (FOR--GIVENESS) AND YE SHALL--RECEIVE THE GIFT OF THE HOLY GHOST. ACTS 2:39 FOR THE PROMISE IS UNTO YOU AND TO YOUR CHILDREN, AND TO ALL; (SO ACTS 2:38 IS TO ALL; TO EVERYBODY). ACTS 2:41 0VER- -THEN THEY THAT GLADLY (NOT MADLY) RECEIVED HIS WORD WERE BAPTIZED AND THE SAME DAY THERE WERE ADDED UNTO THEM ABOUT THREE THOUSAND SOULS. IN ACTS 2:47 AND THE LORD ADDEED TO THE CHURCH DAILY SUCH AS SHOULD BE SAVED. CHRIST APOSTOLIC TEMPLE 1230 EAST SEVENTEENTH ST. DES MOINES IOWA... There. What do you think?" "surr, Come on. what do I think? You find this hand copied note on a napkin in a restroom quoting Acts and you want my impression? Of what? Those are indeed quotes from Acts. Close anyway. I didn't have anything to do with any of that, so why should I offer an opinion on something like this?" "For fun." "Okay. I think you're an idiot. Did it ever occurr to you that napkin might be full of the germs of some dude who has nothing better to do than sit drumming up business for his "temple?" "Oh. Yeah. Point taken. Sweet Lady said the same thing about the germs. Touche' to you both. But what about his message? "His message? You need me to say it? Fine. His misunderstands the whole concept of ... You know what? Cut it out. Another time, you monumental goof. I've gotta go. Listen, drive carefully on your way home. I'll call when I'm back in the States. Probably another week or too." "Okay Jesus. Be safe." "Thanks. Bye." (click.) Be good to everyone. |
| Come out, come out, wherever you are... |
| 05.18.08 (8:01 am) [edit] |
|
Good morning Boys and Girls. Again. It's happened again. After going to bed with a solid idea in my head; an idea I'd pretty well thought through - I think - and about which I'd planned to write a post this morning; I simply can't remember what it is - or, more properly said - what it was. I can't tell you how frustrating it is. Well I can, really. After all, I'm doing exactly that. I made coffee and paced a little, outside, hoping it would come to me. I tried to think about the events of the evening, and the three or four discussions I had with various family members here over the course of the evening, trying to see if that would stimulate the memory gears in my head. Dan, Sweet Lady's older brother, told me about how, as a teenager, he once had a summer job working for a landscaping company. One of the company's accounts was a retirement home, and one day, as he worked, he struck up a conversation with one of the residents there, and ended up talking with the fellow for hours after work, hearing tales about the older man's military service during WWII, a topic Dan had always found very interesting, since both of his Grandfather's had served in that war as well. Wouldn't it be cool, Dan wondered, if elderly people living in such places were thoroughly interviewed about their lives and work history, and then matched with young people with similar interests so their knowledge could be passed down to people who could really use it and appreciate it? It sure would be cool, I agreed. Win-win. Sweet Lady's son and I were into a lively discussion about some of my crazy religious beliefs for a while. I swear I wasn't deliberately trying to corrupt him, and, to his credit, he did look at me as if I was a deranged monkey a time or two; but since that's nothing new, I let it roll off me like water off a duck's tush. The drag was, we were just getting to the part where he'd realize how brilliant I am, when a knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Damn. I'll have to start all over. The little one and I spontaneously wrote and sang a couple of songs using her little battery operated mini-keyboard as accompaniment that will surely become top ten hits just down the road a piece. That was fun, since at her age she's a kind judge when it comes to other peoples' singing and is too excited you'd even try, to worry whether there's any tune in your tune. Hmm. Any of these conversations COULD have stimulated an idea for a post, but for some reason, I don't think the idea had anything to do with any of them. Maybe it'll come to me as I line up a putt here sometime in the next few hours. See? I have to play golf today, or there's no way I'll ever retrieve this blasted idea, and we all know what a tragedy that would be. Right? Be good to everyone. |
| A pristine silver-blue 1992 or '93 Buick Park Avenue - matched her hair. |
| 05.16.08 (10:02 am) [edit] |
|
Good morning Boys and Girls. So. Life has twists and turns. Life has blips and bumps. Life is... Life. I'm trying to roll with the punches, bop and weave with the events of the days; trying to figure out why my whiskers grow faster one day than the next. Why, in Iowa, mid-grade gasoline at the Phillips Stations is always a full dime cheaper than regular. Why, at one of my accounts, they stay busy all the time even when their neighbors and competitors who seem to do things exactly the same way, continuously cry the blues about how bad business is. Why the old woman who zapped all those traffic cones in front of me yesterday still has a drivers license. This last one is worth expanding on as it was a funny thing to witness. Yesterday, about eleven a.m. I exited 131 South at Leonard Street in Grand Rapids. The ramp dumps onto a four lane one way street that runs along the highway for a little while before it crosses the main street, Leonard, where three of the four lanes end. Two are specifically for left turns, one is for right turns only and the second lane from the right is reserved for folks continuing south along this service drive. I'd guess that from the bottom of the exit ramp to Leonard is maybe a quarter mile. During the morning at some point, they'd redone the lane markers with bright white, and placed traffic cones at each end of freshly painted lines, in hopes, I assume, that we drivers might make our lane changes between the lines - something easily doable, so much room was there - until the paint dried sometime later when - and once again, I'll admit I'm making an assumption - they'd remove the cones. When I exited the freeway, there was only one car ahead of me, maybe five or six car lengths, and no cars were on the street at all. When the driver of the car ahead finished a tortured merge onto the empty street, all of a sudden the car started jerking to the left and right, looking like one of those commercials they end with a warning about the thing having been filmed on a closed course and with a professional driver, and that we - mere mortals - should never try such a thing on our own. The difference was that instead of expertly driving around the cones, this driver seems to be taking out every single one. I could tell it was someone panicking, trying to figure out what to do to get in the lane of her choice, and what were they thinking putting these awful obstacles in her way? At the stop light, she ended up in the second lane from the left, with me to her right. She had to be eighty-five or ninety, complete with oxygen tubes hanging from her nose. The look on her face told me she'd just been through a harrowing experience. I could see her shaking from my vantage point, twelve feet away. I found myself feeling sorry for her, being angry with her for driving at all, and feeling like I'd witnessed one of the funniest things I'd seen in months, and all at the same time. I suppose she's just trying to roll with the punches. Bobbing. Weaving. Banging into her obstacles. Hey, what do I know. Maybe she did it on purpose, Maybe the shaking was the adrenaline coursing through her body at having just symbolically killed everyone who'd slighted her during her many decades. Maybe each cone was an old lover, an ex-husband, a bad boss, or an ungrateful child. Maybe I read too much into things. Be good to everyone. |
| I thought that they'd want, what I want... |
| 05.13.08 (8:19 am) [edit] |
|
Good morning Boys and Girls. We'd count every vote -and make sure it's fair. They're acting like clowns I think they're clowns -sort of sorry I came. I find, I'm in tears I'm thinking we might lose again A circus has clowns Well perhaps, in four years. |
| Gentle Giant never came, but Bob was loyal... |
| 05.11.08 (8:37 am) [edit] |
|
Good morning Boys and Girls.
For you Moms. youtube.com/watch?v=IGoelj7l668 |
| Hiatus. |
| 05.09.08 (6:53 am) [edit] |
|
I'll be taking a break for a while.
Enjoy. |
| Anyone have a hammer? My head needs a tap or two. |
| 05.08.08 (9:01 am) [edit] |
|
Good morning Boys and Girls. Yesterday morning, I got to work just a little early. Went around and made a list of the jobs I wanted to do but the guy I check with at that particular place wasn't there quite yet, so I couldn't get started just then. I went back to my Jeep and did a little paperwork. After a few minutes I decided to go across the street to grab a cup of coffee. Got the coffee, then saw the owner pull in as I walked back. Went and spoke with him, got my list approved, then went to my Jeep to get my stuff. Damn. Doors were locked and there were my keys hanging from the ignition switch. Grrr. First time I'd done that in years. Luckily, I was at a car dealership and one of the mechanics lent me a fancy-assed version of a stiff coat hanger made especially for the job. I broke in to my Jeep in a few minutes with little fanfare. No harm. No foul. Still felt stupid. About noon it started to rain. I debated whether I should continue working right then, pulling cars in, but decided that since I had to go to Home Depot anyway, I'd do that and see if the rain let up over the next hour or so. Got to Home Depot and remembered I had a couple of cans of spray paint I'd bought for something a week or two earlier, but hadn't used after all, that I should return. They sat on the floor on the passenger's side under my laptop bag and another plastic garbage bag I put on top there just to disguise the computer. Went around to that side of the car and dug them out. Went in, returned the paint, looked at the other things I needed, but decided I didn't like the quality of the wood they had in the size I needed, and headed out to my car. My keys weren't in my pocket. My heart sank, my mood turned dark, as I stood there remembering and realizing that my keys very likely sat on the passenger seat under that plastic garbage bag I'd moved when I was getting those two cans of paint. I cursed my own stupidity. I went back in to the store an spent ten bucks buying a little steel rod and a tiny pry bar. This time it took me a good ten or fifteen minutes to maneuver the rod into place and pop the electronic lock. The day ended up being productive enough, but it never got much better. I slept fitfully and had a zillion episodes running through my head that I could have handled differently during my life. Nothing like feeling stupid in the present to make you realize how stupid you've been in the past too. Be good to everyone. |
| You should have seen that monster! |
| 05.06.08 (9:03 pm) [edit] |
|
Good evening Boys and Girls.
Just went to my kid's website and saw this. Someone did a weird youtube video to one of Ryan's strangest songs. If you're interested, go to ryanparmenter.com (He's not in the video at all, but it is him singing.) |
| Everyone likes a quickie every now and again, right? -Here ya go. |
| 05.04.08 (3:41 pm) [edit] |
|
Good afternoon Boys and Girls. A quick note from the I-80 truck stop on my way back to Michigan. It's a busy place on Sunday afternoons. I'm trying to get energy for the drive. Only been on the road a couple of hours and I'm dragging already. Met Sweet Lady's Mom this weekend over in Lincoln, Nebraska. That was fun. We finally got around to watching Sweeny Todd last night. I enjoyed it, but it's definitely wayyyyy darker than the play, even though the story was identical. The music was outstanding. I'll try to write a post tomorrow at some point. Enjoy your Sunday afternoon and evening folks. Be good to everyone. |
|
American Deaths in Iraq:
|