Peachtree 2009 started with the usual 4:30AM WAKE UP!!! A quick shower and a
liquid breakfast to-go and I was on the road. Arrived at the Kroger parking lot on Piedmont at 5:30AM. After checking that I had everything like number, hat, ID and sunglasses, I started the trek up Peachtree to the starting line. Along the way I noticed an officer with a friendly looking dog coming down the street. The dog had a hyper-active nose, he was smelling everything. I surmised that someone had dumped some drugs to avoid being caught with a stash. Soon, I saw the same thing on the other side of Peachtree, another dog, not as cute as the one on my side of the road, sniffing everything in sight. Then it dawned on me, it was the bomb squad looking for explosives! During the race, I saw one lady running wrapped up like a mummy. I stayed clear of her in case she blew up. You never know.
THE START
My queue area was the Lenox parking lot. There was no rhyme nor reason to the way the port-a-johns were arranged, back-to-back, facing each other, making it next to impossible to form a line in front of them. One guy in our twisted, meandering line that coiled itself back toward the bandstand for the evening fireworks show, came up with a master plan, going through the rows of green closets and knocking on each to determine if they were occupied. Thus, our line dissipated while the other lines grew exponentially as more and more runners arrived from the trains. I found my friend at our UDL (undisclosed location), a place we can sit until moving to our start location. One idiot came down our way and relieved himself on a wall instead of the ample bushes nearby. That is going to smell when they open the mall for business I thought. He also apparently thought he was well hidden behind the clear, glass doors...NOT!
We got to our starting corral at 7:00AM. I remembered that I had forgotten the bottle of Gatorade I was going to drink 5 minutes before the start. I grabbed a couple of cups of water, but it is not the same. One guy in our corral was painted like the flag. Should we salute this fellow? An Asian guy thought he had discovered the perfect pickup line, accosting every good-looking girl he could find and reminding them to be aware of the timing board across the road this year to record when you cross it with the chip tied to your shoe. Why he thought this little bump would endanger only young women and no one else is one clever mystery to me.
MILE ONE
Taking it easy to check out the system. All signs pointed to a good race. Mainly, the legs felt rested and springy. One poor fellow was seen running against the current, trying to get to the starting line without being trampled in order to get his chip recorded, otherwise, his time would not be recorded.
A couple of goofs that had inched their way up to the front of our group before the race turned out to be pretenders. They were walking! I gave them my best frown as I blew by.
MILE TWO
Where the fun begins. T-shirts being tossed in the air and chaos taking place in the scramble to obtain a Planet Smoothie or a Chik-Fil-A T-shirt for nothing! Except maybe breaking your neck. My baseball skills got me a Planet Smoothie Tee just for me. Ripped it from the outstretched arms of a pretty, young thing. They are always the intended target, it seems. For those who missed breakfast, a donut or a slice of pizza was available on the sidelines.
MILE THREE
Not many jump-ins this year probably because everyone had a timing chip, and you don't get recorded if you don't cross the starting line. We reached three miles in 32 minutes, not as good as expected but I still felt fresh for the hills to come. Hit the water stations big time in miles 3,4 and 5.
MILE FOUR
Long haul to drag myself over the hill at Piedmont hospital and the Sheppard spinal center. When you see people in wheelchairs cheering you on, it makes the pain in your legs and lungs go away. Raced all the old ladies I saw up the hill, a matter of pride.
MILE FIVE
A lesser, sneaky hill to overcome here, and you haven't recovered yet from the big one. What's this? An unopened Coors rolling across the pavement in front of me. Resisted the temptation and didn't break stride. Got into a footrace with Superman, at least he looked like Superman, cape included. He was faster than the elderly ladies, had to let him go.
MILE SIX
After making the turn onto 10th, it is all down hill. As we passed the photographers, one guy stops and congratulates himself, then looks puzzled as runners continue passing him by. I gave the news that it was a photo finish and the real finish was another quarter mile down the road. I've never seen a more disappointed look. The finish is still so spread out between water, t-shirts, port-a-johns, find-your-friends area and other refreshments that it takes another 2 miles of walking to cover each station. I opted for water, t-shirt and friends before heading for the car 5 miles away. Watching the other runners helps pass the time, 55,000 is a huge amount of people. I can only imagine the logistics required to move 100,000 soldiers around on a battlefield. It seems easy when you read it in a history book, but it must have created much chaos in reality.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Thursday, July 02, 2009
TEN FROTHYS PLEASE
1) Believing 9/11 is an inside job is being so open-minded that your brains dropped out and proves only half of us have IQs above 100.
2) Most sizzling Peachtrees were 80 degrees at start: 1970/1973/1977/1980/1983/1994. This proves that Al Gore never ran the Peachtree. Ready to win Peachtree. All I have to worry about is stride length/frequency, ground contact time, isometric torque, hamstrings/quadriceps ratio, asymmetry. Did I mention anthropometric, gait and lower extremity strength characteristics? I can win this Peachtree! I can, I can...maybe not.
3) Minnesota - land of 10,000 comedians. Al Franken will fit right in with the rest of the goofballs in congress.
4) Class reunion last weekend. Everyone is older but I am younger than that now.
5) I'm on a road to nowhere, but at least I know where I'm going.
6) When you run in the heat your running buddies turn out to be trees, and your brain seems to focus on only one thing, a banana popsicle.
7) NATURAL CHEESE. What does that mean? Is something going on in Wisconsin that I don't know about?
8) What is Victoria's secret anyway? Does it have anything to do with pizza? Does she work at Fellini's?
9) Antiperspirant is nice and all, but it takes SO LONG to cover my pony.
10) "Son, if you really want something in this life, you have to work for it. Now quiet! They're about to announce the lottery numbers." - Homer Simpson
Friday, May 15, 2009
GOLF MAY NOT BE YOUR GAME IF
1. You started playing golf because Play It Again Sports
gave you an even swap on a set of golf clubs for your
old StairMaster.
2. The only muscles you have are golf muscles and only
your bathroom mirror knows this truth.
3. Your once had visions of joining the senior tour when
you retired until you found out that triple digit scores
would not qualify you.
4. The last time you played a skins game you had to
mortgage the house to cover your losses.
5. The PGA Tour had a charity tournament to pay for
your golf lessons.
6. A video of your golf swing got 5 million hits on
You Tube.
7. You hit so many water balls that you carry a wetsuit
in your bag.
8. Pro golfers throw things at you to when you ask for
their autograph.
9. The only thing of value your got you from your
divorce was a box of Pro-V1's which the lawyer kept for
his fee.
10. When you play by yourself, you still don't win.
11. You were able to "fix" the last golf tournament you
entered.
12. You threw your underwear at Tiger while attending
the Masters in Augusta this year. He complemented you
on your tiger costume.
13. You have Golf plays that you call while on the
course.
14. You charge $20 or more for an autograph while
playing, no takers yet.
15. Your handicap is over 20 but still dream of
making $9 million per season on the pro circuit.
16. You took golf lessons from Charles Barkley.
17. You read the book, "How To Break The Rules
And Get Away With It."
18. Your 5 year ban from Augusta ended last year.
19. You do everything possible to disrupt the play
of your opponents.
20. Your golf shorts have never been in the laundry.
21. You have a 3-stroke limit per shot.
22. You have exceptional intelligence and can count
to over 100 except when you play golf.
23. You change the rules as you play.
24. You have to be accompanied by bodyguards when
you play at your club.
25. You wear a shirt that says "Leave me alone" when
you play.
26. Other golfers tend to taunt and punch you, hence,
the bodyguards.
27. Pro golfers try to renegotiate their earnings
when they see you following them.
28. Golf is the only thing that you are in shape
to do.
29. The only time you drink and drive is when you
play golf.
30. You don't hear birds chirping when you approach
your ball like when you watch a pro golf tournament
on TV and wonder why.
gave you an even swap on a set of golf clubs for your
old StairMaster.
2. The only muscles you have are golf muscles and only
your bathroom mirror knows this truth.
3. Your once had visions of joining the senior tour when
you retired until you found out that triple digit scores
would not qualify you.
4. The last time you played a skins game you had to
mortgage the house to cover your losses.
5. The PGA Tour had a charity tournament to pay for
your golf lessons.
6. A video of your golf swing got 5 million hits on
You Tube.
7. You hit so many water balls that you carry a wetsuit
in your bag.
8. Pro golfers throw things at you to when you ask for
their autograph.
9. The only thing of value your got you from your
divorce was a box of Pro-V1's which the lawyer kept for
his fee.
10. When you play by yourself, you still don't win.
11. You were able to "fix" the last golf tournament you
entered.
12. You threw your underwear at Tiger while attending
the Masters in Augusta this year. He complemented you
on your tiger costume.
13. You have Golf plays that you call while on the
course.
14. You charge $20 or more for an autograph while
playing, no takers yet.
15. Your handicap is over 20 but still dream of
making $9 million per season on the pro circuit.
16. You took golf lessons from Charles Barkley.
17. You read the book, "How To Break The Rules
And Get Away With It."
18. Your 5 year ban from Augusta ended last year.
19. You do everything possible to disrupt the play
of your opponents.
20. Your golf shorts have never been in the laundry.
21. You have a 3-stroke limit per shot.
22. You have exceptional intelligence and can count
to over 100 except when you play golf.
23. You change the rules as you play.
24. You have to be accompanied by bodyguards when
you play at your club.
25. You wear a shirt that says "Leave me alone" when
you play.
26. Other golfers tend to taunt and punch you, hence,
the bodyguards.
27. Pro golfers try to renegotiate their earnings
when they see you following them.
28. Golf is the only thing that you are in shape
to do.
29. The only time you drink and drive is when you
play golf.
30. You don't hear birds chirping when you approach
your ball like when you watch a pro golf tournament
on TV and wonder why.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
WHAT TO DO ON A RAINY SATURDAY MORNING
Here's is what I did last Saturday as if anyone would want to know:
I woke up at 5:30 AM this morning. Why would a retired person get up this early, you ask? Crazy my wife says. I mean, the squirrels haven't even raided the bird feeders yet. Today is The Thrill in the Hills 21K Trail Race. I know thiswould normally motivate me, a morning run in the woods, but it is pouring down rain outside and my stomach was hosting a virus that it was determined to eject. I crawled to the shower to wake up the rest of me with steaming hot water. I dressed for the weather, poured myself a big glass of chocolate milk, and was out the door before six. Not many vehicles on the road at this hour on a Saturday morning, only thing you have to do is avoid the loonies feeling their way home from a Friday night to remember. When I reached Winder and turned onto the road to the park, I saw blue flashing lights in the rear view mirror. I pulled to the side of the road to let three Winder prowlers zoom by, probably heading to an accident caused by a possum crossing 316. It had rained all night, meaning the trails would be slippery and perhaps flooded, but I didn't imagine just how bad it would be. I passed the time waiting for the race to start listening to CCR and trying to decide what-to-wear. At last it is time to go to the starting line. The hardest part of a race is waiting for it to start. Before me was a long, half mile hill with a clearing for the power lines full of tall grass with a narrow trail in the middle. As I was feeling the ions being sucked out of me, the gun went off and about 300 of us brave souls headed up the big hill, jockeying for position. I quickly established my place in the pecking order toward the rear of the pack and dared any stragglers to pass me. By the time I reached the top of the hill, I felt like I'd already run 4 miles. The thought of doing another 13 miles made me wonder about my decision making capabilities. It didn't get any better after we turned right into the woods where the same narrow trail was now bracketed by tall pines. The overnight rain had done its damage, the trail was wet and sloppy with plenty of puddles. These puddles caused an immediate backup, and the task of packing 300 people onto a trail wide enough for maybe two people at most, turned the race into a social stroll until we sorted ourselves into a single file. Still, the novice runners who thought they were here to view the natural surroundings and sniff the flowers, kept trying to avoid the puddles and keep their newly bought trail shoes pristine. I felt like throwing mud balls at them, but soon found that it was easy to pass by running through the puddles, leaving a big wake that soaked the squeaky cleans who opted to avoid getting their feet wet. Unknown to them was that. The most solid footing was where the water runs off, while the sloppy goo lies to the side of the trail. These people would pay me back later, when they passed me lying face down in the mud. Three times I slipped and fell! After the third fall, I decided to throttle back and enjoy the scenery. Falling down consumes much needed energy, and after 7 miles the hills became taxing. Each one took something out of me even at a slower pace. My legs remained strong, but my heart rate started to max out every time I thought about a hill. The rain kept coming, turning the path into a small creek in places. One mud hole came up to my knees, still I push onward. All the From 7 to 13.1, I averaged 4 minutes a mile slower than the first 7. I passed a poor girl at 10.5 who had the chills, but the water stop people had her wrapped in blankets, not giving me the benefit of an excuse to drop out of the race to assist her. I saw no one in front or behind me for the last two miles of the race. This allows your mind to work on you. You start to think that maybe you took a wrong turn which leads you to test your tracking skills, examining the shoe prints in the mud to see which direction they are going. When you discover 4 going one way and 1 going the other, it is time to panic, choosing the majority direction doesn't ease the paranoia. Soon, you think that you may be running around in the woods for another week or so. When all hope of reaching civilization again is lost, you see someone waving a flay at the top of a hill. As you draw closer you realize that the wording on the sign says FINISH. After an inspired dash to the finish, I try not to pass out as I remove my chip. Only then do I see that the clock guy and the flag guy are the only two people left around. Walking down to the awards building where the bananas, PowerAde, and medals are given out, I find it empty. A Dirty Spokes truck is outside already loaded and ready to go home. Am I the last finisher? The last person I saw was the cold chill girl at mile 10. Did the rest of the runners behind me also drop out? We all paid to be tortured. Should slugs be discounted because the super fast have all been accounted for. In addition, the T-shirts for these XTerra trail events have become generic. Two years ago, there was a big frog on the shirt and it said, "Thrill in the Hills." The new ones just say, "Terra Series." How many of these do you need? I don't know whether I got an age group medal or not, no one was around to tell me, and there was supposed to be a medal for finishing this run in the quagmire. No one around to give me one of those either. Back at my car I wipe off the muck with a towel, somehow manage to reach my shoes to untie them, and peel my sticky wet shirt off and replace it with a dry one. I head home empty handed, dreaming of a long hot shower to rid myself of the mud and blood (left knee bore the brunt of the three slip downs). Next race, the INGA half marathon ON PAVEMENT!
I woke up at 5:30 AM this morning. Why would a retired person get up this early, you ask? Crazy my wife says. I mean, the squirrels haven't even raided the bird feeders yet. Today is The Thrill in the Hills 21K Trail Race. I know thiswould normally motivate me, a morning run in the woods, but it is pouring down rain outside and my stomach was hosting a virus that it was determined to eject. I crawled to the shower to wake up the rest of me with steaming hot water. I dressed for the weather, poured myself a big glass of chocolate milk, and was out the door before six. Not many vehicles on the road at this hour on a Saturday morning, only thing you have to do is avoid the loonies feeling their way home from a Friday night to remember. When I reached Winder and turned onto the road to the park, I saw blue flashing lights in the rear view mirror. I pulled to the side of the road to let three Winder prowlers zoom by, probably heading to an accident caused by a possum crossing 316. It had rained all night, meaning the trails would be slippery and perhaps flooded, but I didn't imagine just how bad it would be. I passed the time waiting for the race to start listening to CCR and trying to decide what-to-wear. At last it is time to go to the starting line. The hardest part of a race is waiting for it to start. Before me was a long, half mile hill with a clearing for the power lines full of tall grass with a narrow trail in the middle. As I was feeling the ions being sucked out of me, the gun went off and about 300 of us brave souls headed up the big hill, jockeying for position. I quickly established my place in the pecking order toward the rear of the pack and dared any stragglers to pass me. By the time I reached the top of the hill, I felt like I'd already run 4 miles. The thought of doing another 13 miles made me wonder about my decision making capabilities. It didn't get any better after we turned right into the woods where the same narrow trail was now bracketed by tall pines. The overnight rain had done its damage, the trail was wet and sloppy with plenty of puddles. These puddles caused an immediate backup, and the task of packing 300 people onto a trail wide enough for maybe two people at most, turned the race into a social stroll until we sorted ourselves into a single file. Still, the novice runners who thought they were here to view the natural surroundings and sniff the flowers, kept trying to avoid the puddles and keep their newly bought trail shoes pristine. I felt like throwing mud balls at them, but soon found that it was easy to pass by running through the puddles, leaving a big wake that soaked the squeaky cleans who opted to avoid getting their feet wet. Unknown to them was that. The most solid footing was where the water runs off, while the sloppy goo lies to the side of the trail. These people would pay me back later, when they passed me lying face down in the mud. Three times I slipped and fell! After the third fall, I decided to throttle back and enjoy the scenery. Falling down consumes much needed energy, and after 7 miles the hills became taxing. Each one took something out of me even at a slower pace. My legs remained strong, but my heart rate started to max out every time I thought about a hill. The rain kept coming, turning the path into a small creek in places. One mud hole came up to my knees, still I push onward. All the From 7 to 13.1, I averaged 4 minutes a mile slower than the first 7. I passed a poor girl at 10.5 who had the chills, but the water stop people had her wrapped in blankets, not giving me the benefit of an excuse to drop out of the race to assist her. I saw no one in front or behind me for the last two miles of the race. This allows your mind to work on you. You start to think that maybe you took a wrong turn which leads you to test your tracking skills, examining the shoe prints in the mud to see which direction they are going. When you discover 4 going one way and 1 going the other, it is time to panic, choosing the majority direction doesn't ease the paranoia. Soon, you think that you may be running around in the woods for another week or so. When all hope of reaching civilization again is lost, you see someone waving a flay at the top of a hill. As you draw closer you realize that the wording on the sign says FINISH. After an inspired dash to the finish, I try not to pass out as I remove my chip. Only then do I see that the clock guy and the flag guy are the only two people left around. Walking down to the awards building where the bananas, PowerAde, and medals are given out, I find it empty. A Dirty Spokes truck is outside already loaded and ready to go home. Am I the last finisher? The last person I saw was the cold chill girl at mile 10. Did the rest of the runners behind me also drop out? We all paid to be tortured. Should slugs be discounted because the super fast have all been accounted for. In addition, the T-shirts for these XTerra trail events have become generic. Two years ago, there was a big frog on the shirt and it said, "Thrill in the Hills." The new ones just say, "Terra Series." How many of these do you need? I don't know whether I got an age group medal or not, no one was around to tell me, and there was supposed to be a medal for finishing this run in the quagmire. No one around to give me one of those either. Back at my car I wipe off the muck with a towel, somehow manage to reach my shoes to untie them, and peel my sticky wet shirt off and replace it with a dry one. I head home empty handed, dreaming of a long hot shower to rid myself of the mud and blood (left knee bore the brunt of the three slip downs). Next race, the INGA half marathon ON PAVEMENT!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
WHY KIDS PLAY VIDEOS
Ezra's parents have been trying to cut back on Ezra's constant video game playing. He's got a compelling argument:
Ezra on playing video games: "I know you don't like me playing video games, but it's my job to do it...."
"...and it's my first video game and I haven't played it in a while and so I HAF to do it."
Ezra on playing video games: "I know you don't like me playing video games, but it's my job to do it...."
"...and it's my first video game and I haven't played it in a while and so I HAF to do it."
Sunday, January 11, 2009
YOGI TALK
From brainyquote.com:
A nickel ain't worth a dime anymore.
All pitchers are liars or crybabies.
Always go to other people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to yours.
Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical.
Congratulations. I knew the record would stand until it was broken.
Even Napoleon had his Watergate.
Half the lies they tell about me aren't true.
He hits from both sides of the plate. He's amphibious.
How can you think and hit at the same time?
I always thought that record would stand until it was broken.
I just want to thank everyone who made this day necessary.
I never blame myself when I'm not hitting. I just blame the bat and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, if I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself?
I never said most of the things I said.
I think Little League is wonderful. It keeps the kids out of the house.
I wish I had an answer to that because I'm tired of answering that question.
I'm a lucky guy and I'm happy to be with the Yankees. And I want to thank everyone for making this night necessary.
I'm not going to buy my kids an encyclopedia. Let them walk to school like I did.
If people don't want to come out to the ball park, nobody's gonna stop 'em.
If the world was perfect, it wouldn't be.
If you ask me anything I don't know, I'm not going to answer.
If you come to a fork in the road, take it.
If you don't know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.
In baseball, you don't know nothing.
In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is.
It ain't over till it's over.
It ain't the heat, it's the humility.
It gets late early out there.
It was impossible to get a conversation going, everybody was talking too much.
It's like deja-vu, all over again.
It's pretty far, but it doesn't seem like it.
Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets.
Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded.
Slump? I ain't in no slump... I just ain't hitting.
So I'm ugly. So what? I never saw anyone hit with his face.
The future ain't what it used to be.
The only color I don't have is navy brown.
The other teams could make trouble for us if they win.
The towels were so thick there I could hardly close my suitcase.
There are some people who, if they don't already know, you can't tell 'em.
We have deep depth.
We made too many wrong mistakes.
When you arrive at a fork in the road, take it.
You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I'm not hungry enough to eat six.
You can observe a lot by just watching.
You should always go to other people's funerals, otherwise, they won't come to yours.
You wouldn't have won if we'd beaten you.
You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you are going, because you might not get there.
A nickel ain't worth a dime anymore.
All pitchers are liars or crybabies.
Always go to other people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to yours.
Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical.
Congratulations. I knew the record would stand until it was broken.
Even Napoleon had his Watergate.
Half the lies they tell about me aren't true.
He hits from both sides of the plate. He's amphibious.
How can you think and hit at the same time?
I always thought that record would stand until it was broken.
I just want to thank everyone who made this day necessary.
I never blame myself when I'm not hitting. I just blame the bat and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, if I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself?
I never said most of the things I said.
I think Little League is wonderful. It keeps the kids out of the house.
I wish I had an answer to that because I'm tired of answering that question.
I'm a lucky guy and I'm happy to be with the Yankees. And I want to thank everyone for making this night necessary.
I'm not going to buy my kids an encyclopedia. Let them walk to school like I did.
If people don't want to come out to the ball park, nobody's gonna stop 'em.
If the world was perfect, it wouldn't be.
If you ask me anything I don't know, I'm not going to answer.
If you come to a fork in the road, take it.
If you don't know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.
In baseball, you don't know nothing.
In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is.
It ain't over till it's over.
It ain't the heat, it's the humility.
It gets late early out there.
It was impossible to get a conversation going, everybody was talking too much.
It's like deja-vu, all over again.
It's pretty far, but it doesn't seem like it.
Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets.
Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded.
Slump? I ain't in no slump... I just ain't hitting.
So I'm ugly. So what? I never saw anyone hit with his face.
The future ain't what it used to be.
The only color I don't have is navy brown.
The other teams could make trouble for us if they win.
The towels were so thick there I could hardly close my suitcase.
There are some people who, if they don't already know, you can't tell 'em.
We have deep depth.
We made too many wrong mistakes.
When you arrive at a fork in the road, take it.
You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I'm not hungry enough to eat six.
You can observe a lot by just watching.
You should always go to other people's funerals, otherwise, they won't come to yours.
You wouldn't have won if we'd beaten you.
You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you are going, because you might not get there.
Monday, November 10, 2008
ATTENTION GOLFERS
From bunkershot.com:
The USGA Would Like To Inform All Golfers of a major rule changes to the game of golf, that will go into effect after November 4, 2008.
This is only a preview as the complete rule book is being written now.
Here are a couple of basic changes.
Golfers with handicaps:
- below 10 will have their green fees increased by 35%
- between 11 and 18 will see no increase in green fees
- above 18 will play for free and even get a check from the club/course played.
The dollar amount put in for bets will be as follows:
-for handicaps below 10 an additional $10
-between 11 and 18 no additional amount
-above 18 you will receive the total amount in the pot and you do not even have to play.
The term "gimme putt" will be changed to "entitlement"
and will be used as follows:
-handicaps below 10, no entitlements
-handicaps above 11 to 17, entitlements for putter length putts
-handicaps above 18, if on green, no need to ever putt, just pick it up
These entitlements are intended to bring about fairness in scoring so that the final scores of all players will be about the same.
In addition, a Player will be limited to a max of one birdie and/or six pars, any excess must be given to those fellow players who have not yet scored a birdie or par. Only after all players have received a birdie or par from the player making the birdie or par, can that Player begin to count his score again.
The current USGA handicap system will be used for the above purposes but the term "net score" will be available only for scoring those players with handicaps 18 and above. This is intended to "redistribute" the success of winning by making sure that in every competition the above 18 handicap players will post only "net score" against every other player's gross score.
These new Rules are intended to CHANGE the game of golf. Golf must be about Fairness Only, it should have nothing to do with Ability.
The USGA Would Like To Inform All Golfers of a major rule changes to the game of golf, that will go into effect after November 4, 2008.
This is only a preview as the complete rule book is being written now.
Here are a couple of basic changes.
Golfers with handicaps:
- below 10 will have their green fees increased by 35%
- between 11 and 18 will see no increase in green fees
- above 18 will play for free and even get a check from the club/course played.
The dollar amount put in for bets will be as follows:
-for handicaps below 10 an additional $10
-between 11 and 18 no additional amount
-above 18 you will receive the total amount in the pot and you do not even have to play.
The term "gimme putt" will be changed to "entitlement"
and will be used as follows:
-handicaps below 10, no entitlements
-handicaps above 11 to 17, entitlements for putter length putts
-handicaps above 18, if on green, no need to ever putt, just pick it up
These entitlements are intended to bring about fairness in scoring so that the final scores of all players will be about the same.
In addition, a Player will be limited to a max of one birdie and/or six pars, any excess must be given to those fellow players who have not yet scored a birdie or par. Only after all players have received a birdie or par from the player making the birdie or par, can that Player begin to count his score again.
The current USGA handicap system will be used for the above purposes but the term "net score" will be available only for scoring those players with handicaps 18 and above. This is intended to "redistribute" the success of winning by making sure that in every competition the above 18 handicap players will post only "net score" against every other player's gross score.
These new Rules are intended to CHANGE the game of golf. Golf must be about Fairness Only, it should have nothing to do with Ability.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
RIGHT DOWN PEACHTREE
It is so much fun to get on the road at 4:30 in the morning. Ate nothing solid, drank my usual 1/5 coffee, 4/5 skim milk on ice jumbo to give me a kick-start. Decided to park near the finish this time because it was so screwed up, and almost another mile down the road from Piedmont Park. Think they wanted everyone to rendezvous at the civic center. Did anyone actually go there? Parked car near 14th Street and caught MARTA at the Art Center. Had to switch trains at Lindbergh station. Some runners did not get off? Were they going to another race? Got off at Lenox. Still had to walk a good distance to the start, about the same as walking from Piedmont where I have parked for about 10 years. Will probably go back to the old way next time. Too many goofs riding MARTA. First stop is the port-a-johns which became a problem because many of them still had nylon ties to keep them shut. Had to wait for people to get desperate enough to rip them open by any means necessary before they became available. It was good entertainment watching innovative people in shorts with their legs crossed. Next stop is hydration. There is plenty of water around, but I bring my own. Don't know what else is in those cups. I sip my water,making it where I run out just before the start. Otherwise, another pit stop would be necessary when everyone is trying to get some relief. There is a bench around the corner from the thongs of people that I sit on and view the runners pouring in from MARTA. People come in the oddest shapes and sizes. Big and ugly is by far the most prominent breed of man. You would think the pretty ones would have an easier time finding a mate. At 7am I made my way to the 20,000 area and made myself comfortable, sitting in the middle of Peachtree. Taking a look around you wonder if you look as bad as the people around. I do, but without mirrors it is only an unproven theory. As the clock ticks closer to 7:30, the runners start to get antsy as if they could somehow manage to get a head start on the rest of us. Our time comes soon enough and we are headed down Peachtree for the 31st time. When I first started running there only 6,500 participants. That is still around the number that can actually run the race. The others are out here just to say that they did it. Some will jump in along the way. Even at the 5 mile mark you will see parents jump in with their 10 year old to get a photo of their kid finishing the Peachtree Road Race. Who knows what they did to get a valid number for the kid. the minimum age is 12. Nothing like teaching your kids to lie and cheat in order to get what you want. The first 3 miles are more downhill than uphill. The last 3 are just the opposite, more up than down. That's the way I ran the race, clocking 28 for the first half, then wilting to a 40 for the remaining 3.2 which was longer by more than a tenth according to my GPS sources. That's what happens when you move the finish line. They made us run longer to fit their own vision of how a finish should be. My vision certainly did not include being corralled like cattle into a fenced corridor which immediately brought the word "stampede" into my head. The way people watching the race were screaming at us, maybe we needed the security of the fence between us and them. Everyone nowadays seems to have an agenda and they are not happy unless they can persuade you to think like them. Several of these a "poco locos" were on the sidelines with banners telling me everything I needed to know about saving the planet, who to vote for, how fast I ought to drive, how many dogs I should own, and how to tie my shoelaces. I needed a notepad to get it all down. The finish had a major logistics problem this year. The water, T-shirt, locate friends, etc. areas all led you away from the MARTA station where I was parked near 14th Street. As soon as I got my T-shirt, I found a hole in the fence to escape the prison compound and head back to my car. Along the way I enjoyed watching the mass of runners still coming down Peachtree in a seemingly endless stream. My favorite was the boom-box guy who was sporting a huge Afro wig. People get weird when they get sweaty!
Friday, May 09, 2008
GREAT TO BE A FATHER ON MOTHER'S DAY
Oliver Martin Johnston, Jr. (October 31, 1912 – April 14, 2008) was an American motion picture animator. He was one of Disney's Nine Old Men, and the last living member. His work was recognized with the National Medal of Arts in 2005. He was a directing animator at Walt Disney Studios from 1935 to 1978. He contributed to many films including Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Fantasia, Bambi and Pinocchio. His last full work for Disney came with The Rescuers, in which he was caricatured as one of the film's characters, the cat Rufus. The the knowledge and techniques that were developed at the Disney studio in his time are priceless.
When I was young, everyone thought I would grow up to be an artist. I drew on everything. I enjoyed creating the captions almost as much as drawing the characters. Peas-NO-Nuts, The King Wizard of Mad Mumblings, Whombie of the Desert, and Frothy Froth kept me as busy as any homework assignment in high school.Working my way through college became a slow and tedious process. I decided to delay my cartoon career and set out on my own to discover the world. I joined the Air Force. They had no need for a cartoonist, but computer geeks were practically non-existent and the need for them was growing. They put me in electronics school. A year later the USAF decided I had enough electronics background, so they sent me to computer classes. Six months later I emerged as a Control System computer technician in the Strategic Air Command. Most of my cartoons were now done on computer paper. The Air Force frowns on perpetrators of unauthorized writing or drawing on a government surface I found out, but they never caught me. After the Air Force, I joined AT&T and they sent me to school to get a First Class Radio License, a requirement for repairing and tuning microwave generators and radio transmitters carrying thousands of phone messages across the airways of the USA. Then I got married, had two of the most unique children imaginable, and spent years of coaching youth soccer. By 1975, AT&T had discovered my background in computers and sent me to school to introduce me to computer software,somewhat akin to Luke going over to the dark side, being a hardware geek until this point. I found this niche satisfied my creative cravings (so what if it was in a computer language that nobody ever read as long as it worked) and it was rewarding when my 50 lines of novel coding did the job of a 1000 lines of esoteric criteria. When the kids went off to college, I thought about my deviation from the original course of my life. AT&T would not pay for me to become an cartoonist, abstract or otherwise, so I changed my major to Computer Information Systems (CIS) and got my BBA degree. I did manage to get Frothy Froth published for a couple of years in a local AT&T newsletter, circulation 900.
Fast-forward now to that night when Ward and I were in line to meet Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston, the last two of Disney's famed Nine Old Men, in town to promote a collection of limited edition sericels and prints from THE JUNGLE BOOK.I knew that at this moment we were in was a time-lock, where the control of time is being handled by those in charge of it. I could see the admiration in my son's eyes as the line moved closer to these animation giants. At last we were standing in front of them. Frank was doing most of the talking as Ollie was a bit under the weather. Ward gathered the courage to speak to Frank, "Very nice to finally meet you. You know, I'm an artist and I want to become an animator. What advice do you have to give to someone just starting out?" Frank's eyebrows went up slightly when Ward mentioned that he wanted to become an animator. He leaned in closer and said these three things to Ward:
OBSERVE EVERYTHING
COMMUNICATE WELL
DRAW, DRAW, DRAW
It was quite the definition of satisfaction for me to witness this event. Ward still displays this quote on his drawing board for inspiration.
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!
When I was young, everyone thought I would grow up to be an artist. I drew on everything. I enjoyed creating the captions almost as much as drawing the characters. Peas-NO-Nuts, The King Wizard of Mad Mumblings, Whombie of the Desert, and Frothy Froth kept me as busy as any homework assignment in high school.Working my way through college became a slow and tedious process. I decided to delay my cartoon career and set out on my own to discover the world. I joined the Air Force. They had no need for a cartoonist, but computer geeks were practically non-existent and the need for them was growing. They put me in electronics school. A year later the USAF decided I had enough electronics background, so they sent me to computer classes. Six months later I emerged as a Control System computer technician in the Strategic Air Command. Most of my cartoons were now done on computer paper. The Air Force frowns on perpetrators of unauthorized writing or drawing on a government surface I found out, but they never caught me. After the Air Force, I joined AT&T and they sent me to school to get a First Class Radio License, a requirement for repairing and tuning microwave generators and radio transmitters carrying thousands of phone messages across the airways of the USA. Then I got married, had two of the most unique children imaginable, and spent years of coaching youth soccer. By 1975, AT&T had discovered my background in computers and sent me to school to introduce me to computer software,somewhat akin to Luke going over to the dark side, being a hardware geek until this point. I found this niche satisfied my creative cravings (so what if it was in a computer language that nobody ever read as long as it worked) and it was rewarding when my 50 lines of novel coding did the job of a 1000 lines of esoteric criteria. When the kids went off to college, I thought about my deviation from the original course of my life. AT&T would not pay for me to become an cartoonist, abstract or otherwise, so I changed my major to Computer Information Systems (CIS) and got my BBA degree. I did manage to get Frothy Froth published for a couple of years in a local AT&T newsletter, circulation 900.
Fast-forward now to that night when Ward and I were in line to meet Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston, the last two of Disney's famed Nine Old Men, in town to promote a collection of limited edition sericels and prints from THE JUNGLE BOOK.I knew that at this moment we were in was a time-lock, where the control of time is being handled by those in charge of it. I could see the admiration in my son's eyes as the line moved closer to these animation giants. At last we were standing in front of them. Frank was doing most of the talking as Ollie was a bit under the weather. Ward gathered the courage to speak to Frank, "Very nice to finally meet you. You know, I'm an artist and I want to become an animator. What advice do you have to give to someone just starting out?" Frank's eyebrows went up slightly when Ward mentioned that he wanted to become an animator. He leaned in closer and said these three things to Ward:
OBSERVE EVERYTHING
COMMUNICATE WELL
DRAW, DRAW, DRAW
It was quite the definition of satisfaction for me to witness this event. Ward still displays this quote on his drawing board for inspiration.
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
MY FAVORITE SUPERHERO
Mr. Fantastic (Reed Richards) is a fictional character, a Marvel Comics superhero and a member of the Fantastic Four. Created by writer Stan Lee and artist/co-plotter Jack Kirby, he first appeared in Fantastic Four #1 (November 1961).
Possessing a mastery of mechanical, aerospace and electrical engineering, chemistry, all levels of physics, and human and alien biology, Richards is often considered one of the most intelligent human beings in the Marvel Universe, alongside Bruce Banner, Professor Charles Xavier, Doctor Doom and a few others. He is the inventor of the spacecraft which was bombarded by cosmic radiation on its maiden voyage, granting the Fantastic Four their powers. Richards gained the ability to stretch his body into any shape he desires.
He is the leader of the Fantastic Four, although his methodical manner sometimes makes him seem cold and distant to his teammates, particularly best friend the Thing, who somewhat blames Richards for his transformation into a large, rocky creature. Whenever he is confronted with a scientific challenge, his attention can be so focused that he can neglect even his own family which has caused marital problems between him and Sue and has put his family in danger on rare occasions. He is, however, the husband of Susan Storm, father of son Franklin Richards and daughter Valeria Richards, and mentor of the Human Torch. According to BusinessWeek, Mr. Fantastic is listed as one of the top ten most intelligent fictional characters in American comics.
Possessing a mastery of mechanical, aerospace and electrical engineering, chemistry, all levels of physics, and human and alien biology, Richards is often considered one of the most intelligent human beings in the Marvel Universe, alongside Bruce Banner, Professor Charles Xavier, Doctor Doom and a few others. He is the inventor of the spacecraft which was bombarded by cosmic radiation on its maiden voyage, granting the Fantastic Four their powers. Richards gained the ability to stretch his body into any shape he desires.
He is the leader of the Fantastic Four, although his methodical manner sometimes makes him seem cold and distant to his teammates, particularly best friend the Thing, who somewhat blames Richards for his transformation into a large, rocky creature. Whenever he is confronted with a scientific challenge, his attention can be so focused that he can neglect even his own family which has caused marital problems between him and Sue and has put his family in danger on rare occasions. He is, however, the husband of Susan Storm, father of son Franklin Richards and daughter Valeria Richards, and mentor of the Human Torch. According to BusinessWeek, Mr. Fantastic is listed as one of the top ten most intelligent fictional characters in American comics.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
TURKEY TROT
Hope you will be having a good Thanksgiving. I'm doing what I have done for many years, running down Peachtree. In the old days I would be glued to the TV set watching the football games, but it doesn't matter much to me anymore who wins what. All the "pros" make too much money nowadays and it shows in the way they play the game. Occasionally, I will get caught up in the excitement of a game if it is a close one. I didn't watch one baseball game this season and didn't care who won the World Series. Performance enhancement being put in a pill where someone can crank out more homeruns kind of sours the game for me. Having commercials which has a guy explain what the tattoos on his body mean doesn't appeal to me either. The same thing is going on in celebrity world too. Has the average IQ of Americans taken a dip? Seems like every day another body part has been violated with a piercing. And how many wrecked Mercedes does it take to make one realize that you need to grow up? And what ever happened to good-looking? It is hard to find anyone out there that I want to know what they've got cooking anymore. How does anyone drop a Jennifer Aniston for Angelina Jolie? I would always have this crrrreepy feeling that I was about to kiss Jon Voight every time Angelina puckered up. The only time I enjoyed Jon Voight is when he played Mr. Sir in "Holes."
Friday, October 19, 2007
A LOT OF TIMES!
Here is another jewel from Andrea. Keep in mind that, save my mother, I have never seen anyone talk as much as her. Hope you enjoy it.
A couple of days ago, Ava asked me why people have to work. Why does daddy have to go to work? We've already had this conversation but that did not stop me from launching into a loooong explanation about the basics of life and how these basics cost money and how, in most cases, you have to work to earn money. Things like houses, food, electricity, heat, health care, clothing-- these things are not free. Almost everybody has to work to make money. and then we talked about about how sometimes just the dad works, sometimes just the mom works, sometimes both the Mom and dad work. Sometimes there is just a mom and she has to work. Sometimes there is just a dad and he has to work. And then I was knee deep in a whole thing about how even though I stay at home and don't bring in an actual paycheck, I still work too. Many, many words later and I was still explaining what it is I actually do. I even threw in something about how I occasionally teach to make a little extra money.
Then she asks about the paycheck and how does that actually work? Do you get real live dollars or what? This should have been a short, sweet little answer comparing the similarities between a weekly allowance (which we've just starting giving her) and a paycheck but then, I don't know, somehow I managed to turn even that into a big long overblown blahbiddyblah about how checks and debit cards work and how the bank works and what happens when people bounce checks and how important it is to keep track of how much money you have and how important it is to save money, to set aside some for a rainy day. Even though I am certainly in no position to be telling anybody anything about the act of saving money.
So I was sort of proud of how thoroughly I'd broken it all down for her and I wanted to tell her that conversations like this, they're a big part of my job too. but of course, I didn't say that. I just asked her if she had any more questions about work or money. Or anything else. She told me no, not really. Because it's too much, it takes too long. Well, some questions have longer answers than others, I said. Sometimes there's a lot to tell you about something and it's my job to make sure that I answer your questions in the best way I know how. Sometimes it takes a little longer to explain things. Which is when she told me that actually, it's a lot of times, mom. A LOT OF TIMES!
A couple of days ago, Ava asked me why people have to work. Why does daddy have to go to work? We've already had this conversation but that did not stop me from launching into a loooong explanation about the basics of life and how these basics cost money and how, in most cases, you have to work to earn money. Things like houses, food, electricity, heat, health care, clothing-- these things are not free. Almost everybody has to work to make money. and then we talked about about how sometimes just the dad works, sometimes just the mom works, sometimes both the Mom and dad work. Sometimes there is just a mom and she has to work. Sometimes there is just a dad and he has to work. And then I was knee deep in a whole thing about how even though I stay at home and don't bring in an actual paycheck, I still work too. Many, many words later and I was still explaining what it is I actually do. I even threw in something about how I occasionally teach to make a little extra money.
Then she asks about the paycheck and how does that actually work? Do you get real live dollars or what? This should have been a short, sweet little answer comparing the similarities between a weekly allowance (which we've just starting giving her) and a paycheck but then, I don't know, somehow I managed to turn even that into a big long overblown blahbiddyblah about how checks and debit cards work and how the bank works and what happens when people bounce checks and how important it is to keep track of how much money you have and how important it is to save money, to set aside some for a rainy day. Even though I am certainly in no position to be telling anybody anything about the act of saving money.
So I was sort of proud of how thoroughly I'd broken it all down for her and I wanted to tell her that conversations like this, they're a big part of my job too. but of course, I didn't say that. I just asked her if she had any more questions about work or money. Or anything else. She told me no, not really. Because it's too much, it takes too long. Well, some questions have longer answers than others, I said. Sometimes there's a lot to tell you about something and it's my job to make sure that I answer your questions in the best way I know how. Sometimes it takes a little longer to explain things. Which is when she told me that actually, it's a lot of times, mom. A LOT OF TIMES!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
A BUTTER IDEA!
(This is an episode that my son's wife, Andrea, recently wrote about)
Ezra has done something with the tub of butter. When I asked him about it this morning, he seemed to know all about it. Then, when gently pressed for more details, he said he 'don know where dat budder is'. Kind of funny at first, but now I'm scared. I've been looking for the butter all day long.
we are all still looking for the butter. I'm telling you, we've looked everywhere-- under beds, couches, chairs, in toy bins, sock drawers and trash cans. Ezra's story changes on an hourly basis. yesterday morning, we decided to call off the search, get out of the house and explore the city. Which meant a trip to the farmers market, a ride on the streetcar and a stop at little Finnegan's (where we bought hello kitty erasers, tiny wind-up robots and put Ezra into the photobooth with a viking hat on his head). Later that afternoon, the subject of the missing butter resurfaced. again, cryptic answers from a giggly, TOTALLY GUILTY Ezra.
I know it's time to let it go. I know the butter (well, earth balance) will eventually turn up. Hopefully when I'm in a good mood. Hopefully on a day when I need a good laugh. And hopefully soon. but I'm having great difficulty letting it go because how does an entire tub of butter go missing like that? Where could it be? It's making me loco. Which has me thinking of how crazy I get when I lose things. I lose things all the time-- mainly my car keys and cell phone but every once in a while, I lose something special, something irreplaceable. Once, I lost my brother's wedding ring. On his wedding day and just moments before the ceremony was to begin. Total nightmare situation for anyone, but especially if it's your first stint as maid of honor and the groom is your brother and he is counting on you (of all people) to keep your head on straight during such an important sort of day.
Well, that ring-- it just disappeared. At least, that's what it felt like. The second I realized it was gone, I was a mess. I remember wildly dumping the contents of my tiny purse over and over and over again, all the time whispering no no no nooooooooo. I remember getting on my hands and knees in my floor-length dress, frantically searching the dressing room, the bathroom and hallways of the church, beads of sweat forming along my upper lip as I scanned every possible surface. Then it was time for the ceremony to begin, which also meant it was time to come clean and tell The Bride. Omg, omg, omg what would Kendra put on Nate's finger when it came time to exchange rings? I wanted to cry, my eyes were watering and I felt sick to my stomach. Where could that ring be? Where where where? When I lose things, I tend to repeat words. As in: Where, where, WHERE? Why, why, WHY? and NO, NO, NO! Just seconds before I was to walk down the aisle, we asked my cousin if we could borrow his wedding band-- just for the ceremony. Then I sped down the aisle at a most ridiculous pace-- step together step together step together in double, triple, quadruple time. I remember feeling nervous and stupid. I remember trying not to cry. More than anything, I remember thinking WHERE COULD THAT RING BE? Beautiful ceremony, yada, yada, yada. Slight look of befuddlement on Nate's face as Kendra slips a yellow gold band onto his finger instead of the white gold one they'd picked out together. And then they were pronounced husband and wife (at which point, the sounds of the Jackson five's ABC filled the sanctuary, a pleasant surprise to us all). in this moment, I was happy. I'd forgotten about the lost ring, that I still had to face my brother (and everyone else) afterwards. I knew he'd understand, I knew he would not hold it against me. Still, I hated that I was the one responsible for losing his wedding ring. I couldn't stand the idea that this would be one of the stories they'd tell about their big day and that I'd forever be the flaky, flighty sister who lost the ring and then lost her head over it.
Immediately after the ceremony, the entire wedding party (turned search party) convened in the back dressing room. Groomsmen dumped make-up bags and pawed through pots of lip gloss and tubes of mascara. Bridesmaids crawled around on all fours and looked under tables and chairs. Pairs of wadded-up pantyhose were carefully inspected. Kleenex boxes were torn apart. And the bride and the groom were there too-- when they should have been basking in newly-wedded bliss and posing for photographs, they were back in that hot little room with me and everyone else, tearing everything apart, desperately hoping to find that ring.
And then I felt it. Something cold and small pressed against my chest. I closed my eyes and slowly reached inside the front of my dress. There, near the bottom of my bra, was The Ring. It had been there all the time, nestled comfortably in the dark hollow of cleavage that I'd been so careful to conceal that day (because who wants to showcase cleavage on your brother's wedding day? I mean, really). Time stopped just then, as the rest of the room realized that the ring had been recovered, that it had been with me all long (and in my bra, of all places). Ah, just the visual my brother wanted on his wedding day, I'm sure. Well, at least I'd found it, okay. Unfortunately, that didn't change how stupid I felt. I then remembered having a conversation with a few of the bridesmaids about the ring. I was worried that I would lose it and joked that maybe I should cram it inside my bra for safe-keeping. That way I would know exactly where it was, I said. Ha. Obviously, not one of my better plans. really, how could I have forgotten that? How did I get through the whole ceremony without feeling that thing rolling around in there? How, how, how?
What this has to do with a lost tub of butter is... not a lot. Except that I think I will feel just as relieved when that tub of butter is recovered. The moment the great mystery of the missing butter is solved will be right up there with the moment I pulled Nate's wedding ring from my cleavage (in terms of personal triumph, that is). Ah, but only the little viking knows the answer, folks. only the viking.
Days later...
We found the butter inside a huge silver stock pot and way up high, in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets. I don't even want to know how he got up there. How did he get up there? How did he get his hands on a pot that I have to use a step stool to get to? I swear, I haven't had that big pot out in ages. I laughed out loud when I saw it and felt like taking a victory lap around the house. Look buddy! I yelled. it's the butter! We found the butter! How in the world did you get up there? Huh? HOW? He smiled that little closed mouth half-moon smile. I sorry mommy, He said. I din mean to, I SORREEEE! Still with that half moon smile and me standing there, holding that tub of liquidy yellow goo, completely puzzled.
Ezra has done something with the tub of butter. When I asked him about it this morning, he seemed to know all about it. Then, when gently pressed for more details, he said he 'don know where dat budder is'. Kind of funny at first, but now I'm scared. I've been looking for the butter all day long.
we are all still looking for the butter. I'm telling you, we've looked everywhere-- under beds, couches, chairs, in toy bins, sock drawers and trash cans. Ezra's story changes on an hourly basis. yesterday morning, we decided to call off the search, get out of the house and explore the city. Which meant a trip to the farmers market, a ride on the streetcar and a stop at little Finnegan's (where we bought hello kitty erasers, tiny wind-up robots and put Ezra into the photobooth with a viking hat on his head). Later that afternoon, the subject of the missing butter resurfaced. again, cryptic answers from a giggly, TOTALLY GUILTY Ezra.
I know it's time to let it go. I know the butter (well, earth balance) will eventually turn up. Hopefully when I'm in a good mood. Hopefully on a day when I need a good laugh. And hopefully soon. but I'm having great difficulty letting it go because how does an entire tub of butter go missing like that? Where could it be? It's making me loco. Which has me thinking of how crazy I get when I lose things. I lose things all the time-- mainly my car keys and cell phone but every once in a while, I lose something special, something irreplaceable. Once, I lost my brother's wedding ring. On his wedding day and just moments before the ceremony was to begin. Total nightmare situation for anyone, but especially if it's your first stint as maid of honor and the groom is your brother and he is counting on you (of all people) to keep your head on straight during such an important sort of day.
Well, that ring-- it just disappeared. At least, that's what it felt like. The second I realized it was gone, I was a mess. I remember wildly dumping the contents of my tiny purse over and over and over again, all the time whispering no no no nooooooooo. I remember getting on my hands and knees in my floor-length dress, frantically searching the dressing room, the bathroom and hallways of the church, beads of sweat forming along my upper lip as I scanned every possible surface. Then it was time for the ceremony to begin, which also meant it was time to come clean and tell The Bride. Omg, omg, omg what would Kendra put on Nate's finger when it came time to exchange rings? I wanted to cry, my eyes were watering and I felt sick to my stomach. Where could that ring be? Where where where? When I lose things, I tend to repeat words. As in: Where, where, WHERE? Why, why, WHY? and NO, NO, NO! Just seconds before I was to walk down the aisle, we asked my cousin if we could borrow his wedding band-- just for the ceremony. Then I sped down the aisle at a most ridiculous pace-- step together step together step together in double, triple, quadruple time. I remember feeling nervous and stupid. I remember trying not to cry. More than anything, I remember thinking WHERE COULD THAT RING BE? Beautiful ceremony, yada, yada, yada. Slight look of befuddlement on Nate's face as Kendra slips a yellow gold band onto his finger instead of the white gold one they'd picked out together. And then they were pronounced husband and wife (at which point, the sounds of the Jackson five's ABC filled the sanctuary, a pleasant surprise to us all). in this moment, I was happy. I'd forgotten about the lost ring, that I still had to face my brother (and everyone else) afterwards. I knew he'd understand, I knew he would not hold it against me. Still, I hated that I was the one responsible for losing his wedding ring. I couldn't stand the idea that this would be one of the stories they'd tell about their big day and that I'd forever be the flaky, flighty sister who lost the ring and then lost her head over it.
Immediately after the ceremony, the entire wedding party (turned search party) convened in the back dressing room. Groomsmen dumped make-up bags and pawed through pots of lip gloss and tubes of mascara. Bridesmaids crawled around on all fours and looked under tables and chairs. Pairs of wadded-up pantyhose were carefully inspected. Kleenex boxes were torn apart. And the bride and the groom were there too-- when they should have been basking in newly-wedded bliss and posing for photographs, they were back in that hot little room with me and everyone else, tearing everything apart, desperately hoping to find that ring.
And then I felt it. Something cold and small pressed against my chest. I closed my eyes and slowly reached inside the front of my dress. There, near the bottom of my bra, was The Ring. It had been there all the time, nestled comfortably in the dark hollow of cleavage that I'd been so careful to conceal that day (because who wants to showcase cleavage on your brother's wedding day? I mean, really). Time stopped just then, as the rest of the room realized that the ring had been recovered, that it had been with me all long (and in my bra, of all places). Ah, just the visual my brother wanted on his wedding day, I'm sure. Well, at least I'd found it, okay. Unfortunately, that didn't change how stupid I felt. I then remembered having a conversation with a few of the bridesmaids about the ring. I was worried that I would lose it and joked that maybe I should cram it inside my bra for safe-keeping. That way I would know exactly where it was, I said. Ha. Obviously, not one of my better plans. really, how could I have forgotten that? How did I get through the whole ceremony without feeling that thing rolling around in there? How, how, how?
What this has to do with a lost tub of butter is... not a lot. Except that I think I will feel just as relieved when that tub of butter is recovered. The moment the great mystery of the missing butter is solved will be right up there with the moment I pulled Nate's wedding ring from my cleavage (in terms of personal triumph, that is). Ah, but only the little viking knows the answer, folks. only the viking.
Days later...
We found the butter inside a huge silver stock pot and way up high, in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets. I don't even want to know how he got up there. How did he get up there? How did he get his hands on a pot that I have to use a step stool to get to? I swear, I haven't had that big pot out in ages. I laughed out loud when I saw it and felt like taking a victory lap around the house. Look buddy! I yelled. it's the butter! We found the butter! How in the world did you get up there? Huh? HOW? He smiled that little closed mouth half-moon smile. I sorry mommy, He said. I din mean to, I SORREEEE! Still with that half moon smile and me standing there, holding that tub of liquidy yellow goo, completely puzzled.
Monday, May 21, 2007
WHEN RODENTS RULE
What is this crap about Amy Fisher and Joey Buttafuoco getting back together? These are probably two of the most dull people on the face of the earth. You just know there is a reality show in the making in the hopes that they might kill each other on camera. Shouldn't they both be in prison somewhere? If this show goes on the air I will have to take my TV out in the yard and shoot it.
Last year, scientists described the body of a squirrel-like rodent found for sale in a meat market in Laos. They believed it belonged to a previously undescribed family and named it Laonastes aenigmamus. Upon closer analysis of the creature's teeth, a second group of researchers determined it was a member of the previously known rodent family, the Jimmynastes Cartermus.
Last year, scientists described the body of a squirrel-like rodent found for sale in a meat market in Laos. They believed it belonged to a previously undescribed family and named it Laonastes aenigmamus. Upon closer analysis of the creature's teeth, a second group of researchers determined it was a member of the previously known rodent family, the Jimmynastes Cartermus.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
RETIREMENT AND TACT
Saintly Man, Recently Retired Wrote...
It is important for men to remember that, as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive, and there's nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.My name is Jim. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Peggy. When I retired a few years ago, it became necessary for Peggy to get a full-time job along with her part-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed. Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from the golf club about the same time she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home-cooked grub when I hit that door.She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed. Another symptom of aging is complaining, I think. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But, boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is one of my strong points.When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me, too. I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Peggy. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other.
Signed,
Jim
EDITOR'S NOTE: Jim died suddenly on March 27 of a perforated rectum. The police report says he was found with a Calloway extra long 50-inch Big Bertha Driver II golf club jammed up his rear end, with barely 5 inches of grip showing and a sledgehammer lying nearby.His wife Peggy was arrested and charged with murder. The all-woman jury took only 15 minutes to find her Not Guilty, accepting her defense that Jim somehow, without looking, accidentally sat down on his golf club.
It is important for men to remember that, as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive, and there's nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.My name is Jim. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Peggy. When I retired a few years ago, it became necessary for Peggy to get a full-time job along with her part-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed. Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from the golf club about the same time she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home-cooked grub when I hit that door.She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed. Another symptom of aging is complaining, I think. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But, boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is one of my strong points.When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me, too. I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Peggy. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other.
Signed,
Jim
EDITOR'S NOTE: Jim died suddenly on March 27 of a perforated rectum. The police report says he was found with a Calloway extra long 50-inch Big Bertha Driver II golf club jammed up his rear end, with barely 5 inches of grip showing and a sledgehammer lying nearby.His wife Peggy was arrested and charged with murder. The all-woman jury took only 15 minutes to find her Not Guilty, accepting her defense that Jim somehow, without looking, accidentally sat down on his golf club.
Friday, March 09, 2007
GRAND THEFT AUTO
When my son's 2 year old son was at the house around Christmas, he played with my daughter's son's matchbox car set he had brought down with him from Indiana. When my daughter's herd got ready to leave, Matt said that one of his cars was missing. Ezra did not offer us any clue as to where this car might be, and a search of the house turned up nothing. It was concluded that Matt, a math whiz at school, had simply miscounted the number of cars that he had brought. He insisted that he knew one was missing, but caved in to the majority ruling. Fast-forward to March, I got home from playing golf and as I removed the golf bag from the car, I thought I heard a faint rolling noise in the bottom of the bag. Thinking thatI might have dropped a ball down in the club area, I brought the bag in, removed all the clubs and turned the golf bag upside down and shook it. I couldn't help but laugh when a miniature 1968, Z28 Camaro fell out of the bag and onto the floor. My guess was that little Ezra had taken an imaginary road trip into the den where my man-toys were stored, and driven it off into the abyss of the golf bag. Being unable to retrieve the Camaro, he probably went and got another car from Matt's collection to finish his trip.
On my birthday we all went out to eat at Longhorn's. The child plate included some grapes. While the adults were engaged in conversation, Ezra suddenly and emphatically demanded every one's attention. We all turned in unison to see what his problem was. On each side of his mouth you could see a grape bulging in his cheeks. His arms were raised with his fists clinched and when he saw that he had every one's attention, he slammed his fists into his cheeks, we watch him get this huge grin on his face as the grapes exploded in his mouth. The kid's got talent.
On my birthday we all went out to eat at Longhorn's. The child plate included some grapes. While the adults were engaged in conversation, Ezra suddenly and emphatically demanded every one's attention. We all turned in unison to see what his problem was. On each side of his mouth you could see a grape bulging in his cheeks. His arms were raised with his fists clinched and when he saw that he had every one's attention, he slammed his fists into his cheeks, we watch him get this huge grin on his face as the grapes exploded in his mouth. The kid's got talent.
Friday, February 09, 2007
WHO NEEDS A CIRCUS?
Things seem to be unraveling this week:
The bizarre trip of Astronaut Lisa Nowak putting on an Astronaut's diaper and driving 900 miles to do harm to Air Force Captain Colleen Shipman in Orlando Florida, for catching the affection of Astronaut William Oefelein. Guess she hasn't come down from space yet.
Anna Nicole Smith dying hours after Rosie goes on a rant about her, bad timing.
Ryan O'Neal thinking he was in a movie set saloon, shooting a hole in his ceiling to restore law and order in his household after finding his younger son Redmond tied up in a dog run by his older son to prevent him from taking anymore drugs.
Al Gore apparently rendered despondent by the weight of his environmental knowledge, wants to have it that the greener-than-thou crowd is saintly, while the producers of cars, power, food, fiber, roads, and roofs are appalling. The simplex "good vs. evil" theme of his little movie.
This got Nancy Pelosi to thinking that she would look good in a swankier jet that produces 10,000 pounds of carbon dioxide an hour, and tried to rationalize her own contribution to global warming.
The bizarre trip of Astronaut Lisa Nowak putting on an Astronaut's diaper and driving 900 miles to do harm to Air Force Captain Colleen Shipman in Orlando Florida, for catching the affection of Astronaut William Oefelein. Guess she hasn't come down from space yet.
Anna Nicole Smith dying hours after Rosie goes on a rant about her, bad timing.
Ryan O'Neal thinking he was in a movie set saloon, shooting a hole in his ceiling to restore law and order in his household after finding his younger son Redmond tied up in a dog run by his older son to prevent him from taking anymore drugs.
Al Gore apparently rendered despondent by the weight of his environmental knowledge, wants to have it that the greener-than-thou crowd is saintly, while the producers of cars, power, food, fiber, roads, and roofs are appalling. The simplex "good vs. evil" theme of his little movie.
This got Nancy Pelosi to thinking that she would look good in a swankier jet that produces 10,000 pounds of carbon dioxide an hour, and tried to rationalize her own contribution to global warming.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
ATTENTION SHOPPERS
Mr. and Mrs. Coots are retired and Mrs. Coots insists her husband go with her to Wal-Mart, but he gets bored with all the shopping trips. He prefers to get in and get out, but Mrs. Coots loves to browse. Here's a letter sent to Mrs. Coots...
Dear Mrs. Coots,
Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite acommotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may ban both or youfrom our stores. We have documented all incidents on our videosurveillance equipment. All complaints against Mr. Coots are listed below. things Mr. Bill Coots has done while his spouse was shopping inWal-Mart:
1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them inpeople's carts when they weren't looking.
2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at5-minute intervals.
3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the restrooms.
4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in a officialtone, "Code 3" in housewares.............and watched what happened.
5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and asked to put a bag ofM&M's on layaway.
6. September 14: Moved a "CAUTION - WET FLOOR" sign to a carpetedarea.
7. September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and toldother shoppers he'd invite them in if they'll bring pillows from the bedding department.
8. September 23: When a clerk asks if they can help him, he beginsto cry and ask, "Why can't you people just leave me a lone?"
9. October 4: Looked right into the security camera, used it as a mirror and picked his nose.
10. November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department,asked the clerk if he knows where the antidepressants are?
11. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously loudly hummingthe "Mission Impossible" theme.
12. December 6: In the auto department, practiced his "Madonna look" using different size funnels.
13. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsedthrough, yelled "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"
14. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumes the fetal position and screams "NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!" And last but not least.............
15. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waitedawhile, then yelled very loudly, "THERE'S NO TOILET PAPER IN HERE!!!"
Regards, Wal-Mart
Dear Mrs. Coots,
Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite acommotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may ban both or youfrom our stores. We have documented all incidents on our videosurveillance equipment. All complaints against Mr. Coots are listed below. things Mr. Bill Coots has done while his spouse was shopping inWal-Mart:
1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them inpeople's carts when they weren't looking.
2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at5-minute intervals.
3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the restrooms.
4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in a officialtone, "Code 3" in housewares.............and watched what happened.
5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and asked to put a bag ofM&M's on layaway.
6. September 14: Moved a "CAUTION - WET FLOOR" sign to a carpetedarea.
7. September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and toldother shoppers he'd invite them in if they'll bring pillows from the bedding department.
8. September 23: When a clerk asks if they can help him, he beginsto cry and ask, "Why can't you people just leave me a lone?"
9. October 4: Looked right into the security camera, used it as a mirror and picked his nose.
10. November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department,asked the clerk if he knows where the antidepressants are?
11. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously loudly hummingthe "Mission Impossible" theme.
12. December 6: In the auto department, practiced his "Madonna look" using different size funnels.
13. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsedthrough, yelled "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"
14. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumes the fetal position and screams "NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!" And last but not least.............
15. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waitedawhile, then yelled very loudly, "THERE'S NO TOILET PAPER IN HERE!!!"
Regards, Wal-Mart
Friday, January 05, 2007
A ZANY NEW YEAR
I think my son's-wife's-brother's wife had an interesting start to her new year.
What do you think?
So the last two days have been a ride. It's been like a series of crazy incidences. Odd things have been happening left and right! I mean, how often do you find your 12 month old wandering around chewing on a snow globe? How often do you pick up that child with a snow globe in her hand, and begin to wonder why your sleeve is wet? And when you look down at your sleeve you find the snowglobe leaking its odd liquid all over you? And then you realize that is why your 12 month old was sucking on it? And how often do you freak out and call poison control because your daughter ingested "snow globe liquid?" And how often do you hear someone say "we have no recorded incidences of stomach pumping because of a snow globe?" They did however, warn us to keep an eye out for the big V or big D and fever, due to bacteria in the liquid. Shaved another couple years off my life...! Zaine seems to be fine aside from some crazy diapers (her body fighting the substance, thankfully) but--I keep waiting to find glitter or some fake snow....
Then today I was in the basement with the girls watching Nate build the walls. Our basement is unfinished but we are trying to get it built before the end of the month, and he is doing all of the work he can before hiring out. So we have this big rule about "wearing shoes" because, of course, there are dangerous things lying all around like nails and splintered boards and such. Well Luxie had a moment of dancing around crazy and I had to calm her immediately because just behind her was this board with nails sticking up out of it. I could just see her step back on top of it or worse yet fall onto it. And no more did I get the words out of my mouth before I stepped back RIGHT onto a nail pierced board. Yes, I know, slippers hardly count for shoes and I ought to know better, but WOW was I surprised by that nail. "A NAIL! A NAIL! I STEPPED ON A NAIL!" I must have said it 700 times while balancing on one foot with Zaine in my arms. Nate grabbed my foot and pulled the nail board out and im not kidding, I felt a little suction "pop". "Take the baby, take the baby, take the baby..." was all i could get out and when Nate grabbed her I headed for the stairs crawling up on my hands and knees. All I could think about were those horror stories of lockjaw and I knew I hadnt had a tetnus shot in YEARS. I was heading straight for the antibacterial whatnot--anything to prevent the side effects if there were going to be any! What's funny is that when I got to the bathroom, I realized there wasnt much pain, and actually, there wasnt any blood. The hole was there.. small, but definitely there, so I have no idea what happened! And thankfully, it never really ended up hurting too badly. And my jaw seems to be working just fine, so another tragedy averted....
And now Im off to bed, to get some rest before a new day dawns. I have no idea how to prepare for what mishaps await me in the morning!
What do you think?
So the last two days have been a ride. It's been like a series of crazy incidences. Odd things have been happening left and right! I mean, how often do you find your 12 month old wandering around chewing on a snow globe? How often do you pick up that child with a snow globe in her hand, and begin to wonder why your sleeve is wet? And when you look down at your sleeve you find the snowglobe leaking its odd liquid all over you? And then you realize that is why your 12 month old was sucking on it? And how often do you freak out and call poison control because your daughter ingested "snow globe liquid?" And how often do you hear someone say "we have no recorded incidences of stomach pumping because of a snow globe?" They did however, warn us to keep an eye out for the big V or big D and fever, due to bacteria in the liquid. Shaved another couple years off my life...! Zaine seems to be fine aside from some crazy diapers (her body fighting the substance, thankfully) but--I keep waiting to find glitter or some fake snow....
Then today I was in the basement with the girls watching Nate build the walls. Our basement is unfinished but we are trying to get it built before the end of the month, and he is doing all of the work he can before hiring out. So we have this big rule about "wearing shoes" because, of course, there are dangerous things lying all around like nails and splintered boards and such. Well Luxie had a moment of dancing around crazy and I had to calm her immediately because just behind her was this board with nails sticking up out of it. I could just see her step back on top of it or worse yet fall onto it. And no more did I get the words out of my mouth before I stepped back RIGHT onto a nail pierced board. Yes, I know, slippers hardly count for shoes and I ought to know better, but WOW was I surprised by that nail. "A NAIL! A NAIL! I STEPPED ON A NAIL!" I must have said it 700 times while balancing on one foot with Zaine in my arms. Nate grabbed my foot and pulled the nail board out and im not kidding, I felt a little suction "pop". "Take the baby, take the baby, take the baby..." was all i could get out and when Nate grabbed her I headed for the stairs crawling up on my hands and knees. All I could think about were those horror stories of lockjaw and I knew I hadnt had a tetnus shot in YEARS. I was heading straight for the antibacterial whatnot--anything to prevent the side effects if there were going to be any! What's funny is that when I got to the bathroom, I realized there wasnt much pain, and actually, there wasnt any blood. The hole was there.. small, but definitely there, so I have no idea what happened! And thankfully, it never really ended up hurting too badly. And my jaw seems to be working just fine, so another tragedy averted....
And now Im off to bed, to get some rest before a new day dawns. I have no idea how to prepare for what mishaps await me in the morning!
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
A CHRISTMAS STORY 2006
This one comes from my son's family, enjoy:
so we were on our way home saturday night when we heard it.
we'd spent the better part of saturday rushing around like crazy people and unfortunately, it all culminated with a dreaded (but necessary) trip to The Mall to purchase ezra's big christmas present: a buzz lightyear doll. I should also preface this whole thing by saying that the ez has been a little out of sorts lately. nothing major, just the usual toddler stuff-- super wiggliness, extra grouchiness and a whine that makes you to want to pull your eyelashes out one by one. by saturday night, we were all on the verge of something big and ugly, but somehow, we made it. we made it through without any major meltdowns and with the dignity of the family fairly intact. I think I even had some eyelashes left. most importantly, buzz lightyear made it to the car with ezra none the wiser. doesn't seem like a major feat, but not too much gets by the kid and ward and I were basking in it. we were feeling pretty cocky, ready to celebrate. best of all, we were finally in the car and headed towards home. the crying and the wiggling and the whining had finally stopped and when I caught sight of ezra's heavy-lidded eyes, I felt the sort of relief that only comes at the end of this kind of day. the car was silent. dear readers, it was a thing of beauty.
and then we heard it. loud and clear and from the trunk:
"BUZZ LIGHTYEAR TO THE RESCUE!"
"TO INFINITY AND BEYOOOOOOND!"
ward and I looked at each other with great horror. we looked back at ezra-- his eyes immediately popped open and he was wild with excitement. as if the rescue he'd been waiting so long for had finally come, as if he'd always known it would happen this way. his mouth made the tiniest little 'o' shape and his eyes were wide as silver dollars, he could barely speak. ward abruptly stopped the car. we kept looking at each other, waiting for some sort of divine intervention. then ezra began to scream for buzz, pointing upwards and backwards, laughing and struggling to turn around in his car seat.
we made a quick decision to play dumb. what else could we do? we pretended we had not heard the Voice From The Back. we turned the radio on, spoke to him soothingly, pleaded with him to go back to sleep. but the child, he knew. HE KNEW WHAT HE HAD HEARD. and he was not about to abandon hope. he kept screaming, "MY BUZZ! MY BUZZ! MY BUZZ!" and I'm sure he was thinking I KNOW I'M NOT CRAZY, I KNOW WHAT I HEARD. but what else could we do? nothing to do but keep on driving. we were desperately hoping he would fall asleep and forget. and he did (finallly) fall back asleep. but he did not forget. at three in the morning, he remembered. at six in the morning, he remembered. by eight o'clock, he was trying to put a set of car keys into the hands of his very groggy father, pulling him towards the front door. buzz! buzz! buzz! in back, he'd say. slowly and with great emphasis, just in case there was any confusion as to the exact location of the beloved buzz. still, we continued to feign ignorance.
and it broke my heart just a little, but it had to be done. come christmas morning, the pay-off is going to be monumental. cameras will be charged and ready to go.
unless we pull another rookie stunt and mess that up too.
Ward's add-on to the story:
When I was wrapping Andrea's birthday gift today, Ezra sauntered into the room and after taking one look at the wrapped present, he looked up at me, pointed at the gift and said, "My Buzz? Yes, my Buzz."
And later on in the evening, we were at one of our favorite restaurants and after eating, I walked outside with the boy so he could get all his wiggles out. There were some short bushes in a nicely landscaped area near the front of the building and it wasn't before long when I found Ezra going through each one, peering into the shrubbery looking for his Buzz.
Kid's got a ONE TRACK MIND.
so we were on our way home saturday night when we heard it.
we'd spent the better part of saturday rushing around like crazy people and unfortunately, it all culminated with a dreaded (but necessary) trip to The Mall to purchase ezra's big christmas present: a buzz lightyear doll. I should also preface this whole thing by saying that the ez has been a little out of sorts lately. nothing major, just the usual toddler stuff-- super wiggliness, extra grouchiness and a whine that makes you to want to pull your eyelashes out one by one. by saturday night, we were all on the verge of something big and ugly, but somehow, we made it. we made it through without any major meltdowns and with the dignity of the family fairly intact. I think I even had some eyelashes left. most importantly, buzz lightyear made it to the car with ezra none the wiser. doesn't seem like a major feat, but not too much gets by the kid and ward and I were basking in it. we were feeling pretty cocky, ready to celebrate. best of all, we were finally in the car and headed towards home. the crying and the wiggling and the whining had finally stopped and when I caught sight of ezra's heavy-lidded eyes, I felt the sort of relief that only comes at the end of this kind of day. the car was silent. dear readers, it was a thing of beauty.
and then we heard it. loud and clear and from the trunk:
"BUZZ LIGHTYEAR TO THE RESCUE!"
"TO INFINITY AND BEYOOOOOOND!"
ward and I looked at each other with great horror. we looked back at ezra-- his eyes immediately popped open and he was wild with excitement. as if the rescue he'd been waiting so long for had finally come, as if he'd always known it would happen this way. his mouth made the tiniest little 'o' shape and his eyes were wide as silver dollars, he could barely speak. ward abruptly stopped the car. we kept looking at each other, waiting for some sort of divine intervention. then ezra began to scream for buzz, pointing upwards and backwards, laughing and struggling to turn around in his car seat.
we made a quick decision to play dumb. what else could we do? we pretended we had not heard the Voice From The Back. we turned the radio on, spoke to him soothingly, pleaded with him to go back to sleep. but the child, he knew. HE KNEW WHAT HE HAD HEARD. and he was not about to abandon hope. he kept screaming, "MY BUZZ! MY BUZZ! MY BUZZ!" and I'm sure he was thinking I KNOW I'M NOT CRAZY, I KNOW WHAT I HEARD. but what else could we do? nothing to do but keep on driving. we were desperately hoping he would fall asleep and forget. and he did (finallly) fall back asleep. but he did not forget. at three in the morning, he remembered. at six in the morning, he remembered. by eight o'clock, he was trying to put a set of car keys into the hands of his very groggy father, pulling him towards the front door. buzz! buzz! buzz! in back, he'd say. slowly and with great emphasis, just in case there was any confusion as to the exact location of the beloved buzz. still, we continued to feign ignorance.
and it broke my heart just a little, but it had to be done. come christmas morning, the pay-off is going to be monumental. cameras will be charged and ready to go.
unless we pull another rookie stunt and mess that up too.
Ward's add-on to the story:
When I was wrapping Andrea's birthday gift today, Ezra sauntered into the room and after taking one look at the wrapped present, he looked up at me, pointed at the gift and said, "My Buzz? Yes, my Buzz."
And later on in the evening, we were at one of our favorite restaurants and after eating, I walked outside with the boy so he could get all his wiggles out. There were some short bushes in a nicely landscaped area near the front of the building and it wasn't before long when I found Ezra going through each one, peering into the shrubbery looking for his Buzz.
Kid's got a ONE TRACK MIND.
Friday, December 08, 2006
A LEAF NEVER FALLS UNTIL YOU RAKE UP THE ONES ALREADY ON THE GROUND
Marriage has made me even busier than before. I spent most of the week raking leaves in the morning, running around noon, and playing golf until dark in the afternoon. I know that I should not complain about my mostly goof-off retirement lifestyle, but I could use a few more hours in the day to go online and check my email, write a book, look up some relative that lived long ago or update my blog like now. Being a software guy for all those years it feels strange to have to ask one of my kids how to do something on the computer. The laptop has slowly crept into their daily lives like the TV did in my day. I rarely visit either of my children when they are not multi-tasking, cooking dinner or watching TV while they photoshop a picture, make an entry to their blog, or update their website using their laptop. My son is always asking me about how it was in "my day." The urge is to tell him that it still is my day, but he means no malice so I let it go while at the same time realizing that
technology is changing our lives at a record pace. And speaking of records, It was 78s, then 45s, then tapes, then CDs and now iPODS. What will it be tomorrow? Do I need an MP3 player? My cellphone is outdated because it won't play music, though I can reach the Internet and take pictures with it. Everyday it is something new. That's what makes life exciting though. Think I will go recharge my batteries.
technology is changing our lives at a record pace. And speaking of records, It was 78s, then 45s, then tapes, then CDs and now iPODS. What will it be tomorrow? Do I need an MP3 player? My cellphone is outdated because it won't play music, though I can reach the Internet and take pictures with it. Everyday it is something new. That's what makes life exciting though. Think I will go recharge my batteries.
DO GERBILS LIVE IN GERNOBLE?
How was Thanksgiving? I did my usual routine. I got up at four in the morning, took a showerand drank a quart of fat-free chocolate milk. I was then "race ready" and drove to theChamblee MARTA station to take advantage of my preparations. After sitting in my car forabout 30 minutes watching the early arrivals prancing around in the nippy morning air, Igot up the courage to leave the warmth of the SLK and proceed up the hill to the Clairmontbridge where the starting line for the half-marathon is. I had a good gauge on what to wear from my previous observations of what the early bird arrivals were attired in. I usually pick something a little on the warm side of the middle wear. Too old for the cold. I had a good race strategy as it turned out as I ran within a minute of my 2000 time. Kind of erased 5 years of slowing down in one race. My plan was to push it early as the first 7 miles are mostly down hill while the last 6 miles contain some really steep hills including the one by Piedmont Hospital that the Peachtree Road Race runners grumble about each year. It went so well that I was 2 minutes ahead my planed split time at the 7 mile mark. I just tried to hang on the last 6 and beat last year's time by 16 minutes. I think the new neighborhood has helped because it is so huge compared to my Snellville neighborhood which only had one main road that was about a mile long. You had to get out on a major highway in order not to feel like a gerbil.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
RATATOOIE
The last movie we saw was THE DEPARTED. Does Scorsese know anyone that doesn't use profanity? You will think not after watching this plane crash. Seems everyone in the film has a problem identifying who they are. Any good notions soon go sour as people are being blown away and their blood splattering everywhere. The whole premise of the film is unbelievable. There is this preoccupation with rats, in this case one has infiltrated the mob, while the other is a mole in the police department. Leonardo is a good cop who goes undercover to get the goods on the rat with all the cheese, Jack Nicholson. Meanwhile, Matt Damon is a rat in the police department with ties to the Nicholson rat that go back to his childhood days in sunny Boston. We know that it is Boston because everyone talks like JFK. It was like winning an Oscar depended on who could produce the heaviest accent. My nomination goes to Mark Wahlburg. Why is it that Nicholson could not figure out that the new guy in his organization might be the rat? And it would have taken Columbo about 15 minutes to catch the rats scurrying about the police department. Matt and Leonardo both have a thing for this department psychiatrist. This little mouse is so dumb that she can't figure out that Matt is bad pretending to be good while Leonardo is good pretending to be bad. Not only do we have two guys both having an identity crisis, schmoozing the same girl who doesn't have a clue who they are even though she gets paid to do just that, but we also have the whole police department and every mobster in Boston that can't figure these guys out. Anytime the dialog goes south, the guns come out and bullets fly everywhere causing more blood to splatter. After they kill everybody off, they have to end the film, which is a good thing, at last.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
FINISH IT
I heard this on the Dr. Phil show, you too can find inner peace. Dr. Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you've started and never finished." So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished, and before leaving the house this morning, I finished Off 23 Bud Lights, a bottle of Absolute, a package of Oreos, the remainder Of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos and A box of chocolates. You have no idea how freaking good I feel.
Friday, October 20, 2006
STUPIDER AND STUPIDEST
In Honor of Stupid People . . . .
In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed through stupidity, here are some actual label instructions on consumer goods. On a Sears hairdryer -- Do not use while sleeping. (That's the only time I have to work on my hair.)
On a bag of Fritos -- You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside. (the shoplifter special?)
On a bar of Dial soap -- "Directions: Use like regular soap." (and that would be???....)
On some Swanson frozen dinners -- "Serving suggestion: Defrost." (but, it's just a suggestion.)
On Tesco's Tiramisu dessert (printed on bottom) -- "Do not turn upside down." (well...duh, a bit late, huh!)
On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding -- "Product will be hot after heating." (...and you thought????...)
On packaging for a Rowenta iron -- "Do not iron clothes on body." (but wouldn't this save me time?)
On Boot's Children Cough Medicine -- "Do not drive a car or operate machinery after taking this medication." (We could do a lot to reduce th e rate of construction accidents if we could just get those 5 year-olds with head-colds off those bulldozers.)
On Nytol Sleep Aid -- "Warning: May cause drowsiness." (...I'm taking this because???....)
On most brands of Christmas lights -- "For indoor or outdoor use only." (as opposed to what?)
On a Japanese food processor -- "Not to be used for the other use." (now, somebody out there, help me on this. I'm a bit curious.)
On Sainsbury's peanuts -- "Warning: contains nuts." (talk about a news flash)
On an American Airlines packet of nuts -- "Instructions: Open packet, eat nuts." (Step 3: say what?)
On a child's Superman costume -- "Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly." (I don't blame the company. I blame the parents for this one.)
On a Swedish chainsaw -- "Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands or genitals." (Is there a lot of this happening somewhere?)
In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed through stupidity, here are some actual label instructions on consumer goods. On a Sears hairdryer -- Do not use while sleeping. (That's the only time I have to work on my hair.)
On a bag of Fritos -- You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside. (the shoplifter special?)
On a bar of Dial soap -- "Directions: Use like regular soap." (and that would be???....)
On some Swanson frozen dinners -- "Serving suggestion: Defrost." (but, it's just a suggestion.)
On Tesco's Tiramisu dessert (printed on bottom) -- "Do not turn upside down." (well...duh, a bit late, huh!)
On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding -- "Product will be hot after heating." (...and you thought????...)
On packaging for a Rowenta iron -- "Do not iron clothes on body." (but wouldn't this save me time?)
On Boot's Children Cough Medicine -- "Do not drive a car or operate machinery after taking this medication." (We could do a lot to reduce th e rate of construction accidents if we could just get those 5 year-olds with head-colds off those bulldozers.)
On Nytol Sleep Aid -- "Warning: May cause drowsiness." (...I'm taking this because???....)
On most brands of Christmas lights -- "For indoor or outdoor use only." (as opposed to what?)
On a Japanese food processor -- "Not to be used for the other use." (now, somebody out there, help me on this. I'm a bit curious.)
On Sainsbury's peanuts -- "Warning: contains nuts." (talk about a news flash)
On an American Airlines packet of nuts -- "Instructions: Open packet, eat nuts." (Step 3: say what?)
On a child's Superman costume -- "Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly." (I don't blame the company. I blame the parents for this one.)
On a Swedish chainsaw -- "Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands or genitals." (Is there a lot of this happening somewhere?)
Thursday, October 12, 2006
CALIFORNIA LIVING
In California (especially Silicon Valley), they don't gripe about the weather-- they gripe about the high cost of housing. For those of you just starting out (or for those of you who have already been there), allow me to offer you:
The Complete Guide to Apartment Ad Deciphering by Justine Ehlers
What They Say vs. What It Means
Spacious - To anyone living in their car. That's why we're charging $200 above the going rate
Easy access to transportation - Particularly in Mountain View and Sunnyvale, this can mean:
(a) in the flight path of Moffet Field
(b) next to the railroad tracks
(c) next to a major road/freeway/highway
(d) a&b, b&c, c&a above
(e) all of the above
Friendly staff - Doberman pincher mentality
Free utilities - That's the only way we can entice people in this dump. Would you pay this high rent AND the water and garbage?
Heated pool - Only when the sun's out and there's water in it
Workout room - Four walls, some free weights, a machine or two and a clunky stationary bike
Great views - Overlooking the garbage dumpster, overlooking the pool, overlooking the cute guys/gals apartment
Affordable - to:
(a) anyone with an income of $100K
(b) anyone with wealthy parents
(c) anyone who is wealthy
(d) anyone who wants to spend $$$ on housing
Please fill out our marketing survey - "What?! You didn't fill out the annual income? We can't show you anything until you fill that out. You won't? I'm sorry, but we can't show you anything."
Pets welcome - Kids aren't, we just never got the odor out AEK - All Electricity Kancelled W/D - Will be Disgusted or Worried/Depressed people AC - Atrocious Carpeting
WWC - Wall to Wall Crap
Great rent bargains! - located in East Palo Alto (Complex insurance does not cover bullet holes in car, self-protection devices, frequent theft and/or life insurance)
Light and airy - Built as cheap as we could, cold and drafty
Secure parking - The manager's apartment overlooks the parking lot, no one's been robbed on the street
Move in bonus! - No one else wants it, it hasn't been rented in six months, includes last tenant's stuffed parrot
!!! - Desperation is directly linked to the number of "!"s used
Rustic - Classic 60's decor, nothing has been fixed since the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake outhouse is in the back, only one heating vent
The Complete Guide to Apartment Ad Deciphering by Justine Ehlers
What They Say vs. What It Means
Spacious - To anyone living in their car. That's why we're charging $200 above the going rate
Easy access to transportation - Particularly in Mountain View and Sunnyvale, this can mean:
(a) in the flight path of Moffet Field
(b) next to the railroad tracks
(c) next to a major road/freeway/highway
(d) a&b, b&c, c&a above
(e) all of the above
Friendly staff - Doberman pincher mentality
Free utilities - That's the only way we can entice people in this dump. Would you pay this high rent AND the water and garbage?
Heated pool - Only when the sun's out and there's water in it
Workout room - Four walls, some free weights, a machine or two and a clunky stationary bike
Great views - Overlooking the garbage dumpster, overlooking the pool, overlooking the cute guys/gals apartment
Affordable - to:
(a) anyone with an income of $100K
(b) anyone with wealthy parents
(c) anyone who is wealthy
(d) anyone who wants to spend $$$ on housing
Please fill out our marketing survey - "What?! You didn't fill out the annual income? We can't show you anything until you fill that out. You won't? I'm sorry, but we can't show you anything."
Pets welcome - Kids aren't, we just never got the odor out AEK - All Electricity Kancelled W/D - Will be Disgusted or Worried/Depressed people AC - Atrocious Carpeting
WWC - Wall to Wall Crap
Great rent bargains! - located in East Palo Alto (Complex insurance does not cover bullet holes in car, self-protection devices, frequent theft and/or life insurance)
Light and airy - Built as cheap as we could, cold and drafty
Secure parking - The manager's apartment overlooks the parking lot, no one's been robbed on the street
Move in bonus! - No one else wants it, it hasn't been rented in six months, includes last tenant's stuffed parrot
!!! - Desperation is directly linked to the number of "!"s used
Rustic - Classic 60's decor, nothing has been fixed since the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake outhouse is in the back, only one heating vent
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
BRAIN CRAMPS
Question: If you could live forever, would you and why? Answer: "I would not live forever, because we should not live forever, because if we were supposed to live forever, then we would live forever, but we cannot live forever, which is why I would not live forever," --Miss Alabama in the 1994 Miss USA contest
"Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that, but not with all those flies and death and stuff." --Mariah Carey
"Smoking kills. If you're killed, you've ! lost a very important part of your life," --Brooke Shields, during an interview to become Spokesperson for federal anti-smoking campaign.
"I've never had major knee surgery on any other part of my body," --Winston Bennett, University of Kentucky basketball forward.
"Outside of the killings, Washington has one of the lowest crime rates in the country," --Mayor Marion Barry, ! Washington, DC.
"That lowdown scoundrel deserves to be kicked to death by a jackass, and I'm just the one to do it,"! -A congressional candidate in Texas.
"Half this game is ninety percent mental." --Philadelphia Phillies manager, Danny Ozark
"It isn't pollution that's harming the environment. It's the impurities in our air and water that are doing it." --Al Gore, Vice President
"I love California! I practically grew up in Phoenix." --Dan Quayle
"We've got to pause and ask ourselves: How much clean air do we need?"--Lee Iacocca
"I was provided with additional input that was radically different from the truth. I assisted in furthering that version." --Colonel Oliver North, from his Iran-Contra testimony.
"The word 'genius" isn't applicable in football A genius is a guy like Norman Einstein." --Joe Theisman, NFL football quarterback & sports analyst.!
"We don't necessarily discriminate. We simply exclude certain types of people." --Colonel Gerald Wellman, ROTC Instructor.
"Traditionally, most of Australia's imports come from overseas." --Keppel Enderbery
"Your food stamps will be stopped effective March 1992 because we received notice that you passed away. May God bless you. You may reapply if there is a change in your circumstances." --Department of Social Services, Greenville, South Carolina
"If somebody has a bad heart, they ! can plug this jack in at night as they go to bed and it will monitor their heart throughout the night. And the next morning, when they wake up dead, there'll be a record." --Mark S. Fowler, FCC Chairman
"Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that, but not with all those flies and death and stuff." --Mariah Carey
"Smoking kills. If you're killed, you've ! lost a very important part of your life," --Brooke Shields, during an interview to become Spokesperson for federal anti-smoking campaign.
"I've never had major knee surgery on any other part of my body," --Winston Bennett, University of Kentucky basketball forward.
"Outside of the killings, Washington has one of the lowest crime rates in the country," --Mayor Marion Barry, ! Washington, DC.
"That lowdown scoundrel deserves to be kicked to death by a jackass, and I'm just the one to do it,"! -A congressional candidate in Texas.
"Half this game is ninety percent mental." --Philadelphia Phillies manager, Danny Ozark
"It isn't pollution that's harming the environment. It's the impurities in our air and water that are doing it." --Al Gore, Vice President
"I love California! I practically grew up in Phoenix." --Dan Quayle
"We've got to pause and ask ourselves: How much clean air do we need?"--Lee Iacocca
"I was provided with additional input that was radically different from the truth. I assisted in furthering that version." --Colonel Oliver North, from his Iran-Contra testimony.
"The word 'genius" isn't applicable in football A genius is a guy like Norman Einstein." --Joe Theisman, NFL football quarterback & sports analyst.!
"We don't necessarily discriminate. We simply exclude certain types of people." --Colonel Gerald Wellman, ROTC Instructor.
"Traditionally, most of Australia's imports come from overseas." --Keppel Enderbery
"Your food stamps will be stopped effective March 1992 because we received notice that you passed away. May God bless you. You may reapply if there is a change in your circumstances." --Department of Social Services, Greenville, South Carolina
"If somebody has a bad heart, they ! can plug this jack in at night as they go to bed and it will monitor their heart throughout the night. And the next morning, when they wake up dead, there'll be a record." --Mark S. Fowler, FCC Chairman
Friday, October 06, 2006
PUMPERS & LEAKERS
We had a crazy day at the golf course. A person was hit on the head with a golf ball. He seems smarter now. A cart ran into the end of an open gate almost killing the guy on the passenger side. Fortunately, he managed to avoid a direct blow to the head, but he did suffer a glancing blow to the chest which cracked a couple of ribs. Just before going home, I took a walk in the woods to look for golf balls, stepped on a fallen tree limb which flipped up and tripped me. I thought I was okay except for some bleeding from a small wound on my right shin. I took out the first-aide kit and bandaged it the best I could. It seemed to bleed a lot for such a small injury, my sock had turned completely red by the time I patched myself up. That night, I cleaned and re-bandaged this small in my leg and went to bed. Not wanting to bloody up the bed in case it started bleeding again during the night, I took some old sheets and a couple of pillows and camped out on the kitchen floor. To my surprise, in the morning I awoke to something much like that horse-head-in-the-bed scene in Godfather. I was lying in a pool of my on blood. After cleaning myself up once again and miraculously only getting blood on tile floors and not the carpet due to my adept new skill of towel walking, I woke my wife and told her that she needed to drive me to Emory Emergency. Sunday morning is a much better time to have an emergency than Saturday night. We were in and out in two hours. After deciding whether I was a pumper or a leaker (I was the latter), they stitched me up and I'm as good as new except I couldn't run for a week. Turns out I had punctured a vein (leaker) not an artery (pumper). It wasn't going to quit bleeding until I got stitches or stuck a hot knife into the wound like they did on Gunsmoke.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
MUTANT COWS
I went to see Barnyard one evening, but it had to overcome some serious gender-bending going on. This animated venture just might be the Transamerica of computer-generated family films. It's a mildly funny movie that entertains young audiences, but one aspect is utterly mystifying: The two main characters, father and son bovine creatures, have large, distracting udders. If you can get past that hurdle, the movie has some funny sequences. While still trying to fix my brain's broken logic circuits from seeing that Barnyard flick, I watched Fight Club on TV. I thought this movie was about fighting not a film about masculine identity in the service class. It was dark, yet funny, inspiring much laughter, both nervous and hearty, with one of those Sixth Sense endings. Just what I needed. Think my brain has suffered a severe blow to the logic matrix from viewing these two films. Where did I put that book that I was going to read?
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
HAWKISH ENCOUNTER
I was putting out signs for a golf outing the other day when
I came upon a huge hawk stalking a squirrel. The had just
shot up a tree, leaving the hawk on the ground who was now
glaring up at him trying to figure out his next move. I thought
I would do the squirrel a favor and shoo the hawk off. I tossed
some ice cubes from my drink at him, but all it did was switch
his glare from the squirrel to me, the ice tosser. He was only
ten yards from me and when I went eye to eye with him, I
thought that the the ice strategy might have been a poor plan
of attack. The hawk seemed to grow larger by the minute. I got
out of my cart to maybe join the squirrel in the tree, but the
hawk didn't come any closer. This gave me the chance to pick up
some pebbles to throw at him. It became abundantly clear why I
never pitched in the major leagues as the rocks sailed to the left,
to the right, in front of, and over his head. None them phasing the
hawk. I don't think he has any natural enemies and, therefore,
didn't see me as a threat to him, especially with the inaccuracy of
my "wild thing" arm. He starts walking down the cart path to get
a better look at his next meal while I'm scrambling to find something
more intimidating to throw at him. I go into my lunch bag and pull out
a couple of grenades (cokes) and fling them at him. One flies over his
head, but the second coke lands at his feet, spraying him with
carbonated cola and sending him soaring off into the wild blue yonder
in search of a local bird bath.
I came upon a huge hawk stalking a squirrel. The had just
shot up a tree, leaving the hawk on the ground who was now
glaring up at him trying to figure out his next move. I thought
I would do the squirrel a favor and shoo the hawk off. I tossed
some ice cubes from my drink at him, but all it did was switch
his glare from the squirrel to me, the ice tosser. He was only
ten yards from me and when I went eye to eye with him, I
thought that the the ice strategy might have been a poor plan
of attack. The hawk seemed to grow larger by the minute. I got
out of my cart to maybe join the squirrel in the tree, but the
hawk didn't come any closer. This gave me the chance to pick up
some pebbles to throw at him. It became abundantly clear why I
never pitched in the major leagues as the rocks sailed to the left,
to the right, in front of, and over his head. None them phasing the
hawk. I don't think he has any natural enemies and, therefore,
didn't see me as a threat to him, especially with the inaccuracy of
my "wild thing" arm. He starts walking down the cart path to get
a better look at his next meal while I'm scrambling to find something
more intimidating to throw at him. I go into my lunch bag and pull out
a couple of grenades (cokes) and fling them at him. One flies over his
head, but the second coke lands at his feet, spraying him with
carbonated cola and sending him soaring off into the wild blue yonder
in search of a local bird bath.
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