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 |  My second blog. What you get are pieces of me; my humor, my memories: be welcome. |
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MY BOOK! http://www.lulu.com/davidmac73 This picture was in the header of my first blog and I wanted to bring it back. Me and my sweetie on our wedding day....it is my favorite picture. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This is my second Blog on WDC. The first Blog, Random Thoughts, is finished and done and I loved almost every minute I spent doing it. This blog will be somewhat different than the first because I want to use this space for my humor and my memories. The humor may sometimes fall flat and the memories may, at times be boring, but isn't that the way it is with life. Please join me here and partake in these pieces of me and if sometimes you find the jokes unfunny or the memories dull, then please come back another day and maybe you will find something to your liking. After all, like my daddy always said: "Some days you get the bear, some days the bear gets you." Thank you, vivacious   for this neat new logo for my blog! Yup, this about says it all, I think!** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I thought that Independence Day was the appropriate day to put this great new siggy in my blog....Thank you sultry ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please check out Scarlett's Newsletter for Bloggers: The Blogville News
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Thank you, Startiara  for this lovely Siggy!! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I almost didn't do a blog today because I am just wiped out. I just finished a day in what can best be described as the inner circle of Dante vision of Hell. You see it rained today. Let me be a little clearer on that, saying "it rained" is like calling the last ice age a "cold spell". Actually the storm dumped tons of water on us, the wind howled and the rain fell in almost vertical sheets. It started about ten minutes after I got to work and continued until I left the building, eight hours later. Now of course, when a storm like this happens, people around here react in what has to be the strangest manner, at least I hope it is strange to the rest of the world....the idiots can't be everywhere can they? You see, as soon as the storm hits, every brain damaged, ambulatory idiot in the county beats a path to our front doors! What the hell is it with these people? it's as if they are sitting around their house and when they realize that a storm of bibical proportions has decided to strike, they get the irrestible urge to go to Wal-Mart to go SHOPPING! Now I have looked around my house, I have taken inventory and I gotta tell you: There is not one damn thing which, if I ran out of, I could be coaxed out in incliment weather to replace...NOTHING, NADA, ZILTCH! Yet they always come and they come in human waves which would make the Chinese army so very proud. Now have you got the picture yet....let me recap for you. Giant storm, rain and wind, people charging through the doors in a pure buying frenzy....got it? Okay now add the proven fact that every person who goes to Wal-Mart on a fair day automatically drops 20 IQ points when they pull into the parking lot and you have a perfect recipe for me to go postal. You see, as if I didn't have enough to do on a normal day, when it rains I am required to wipe each and every shopping cart dry before the customer lays hands upon it. That's right, I normally handle almost a thousand carts a day and when it rains I gotta DRY THEM! It never fails either. Some idiot will stumble in out of the driving rain, dressed like a lobster man during a Nor'Easter off the Grand Banks, and demand: "Don't you have any dry carts?" ARRRGGGGG! I want to scream at them: "WHAT? YOU RUN OUTSIDE DURING A DRIVING RAIN, MAKE YOUR WAY THROUGH HIGH WATER AND DO THE BACK STROKE INTO THE STORE AND YOU WANT A DAMN DRY SHOPPING CART?" "YOU WANT A DAMN DRY CART THEN DRIVE TO ARZIONA...MAYBE IT AIN'T RAINING THERE!" But I don't...God help me I just smile, grab a soaking cart and lift the back wheels off the ground and slam it down causing water to cascade off it in all directions including all over the offending customer and then I say: "Oh here you go buddy, let me just finish wiping this one off and you can have it." I then hand him a WET paper towel so he can try to wipe HIMSELF down from the water which flew off the cart. I know, I know, its a small victory but I live for those. So now I am home....my last nerve frayed and pulsing...it's time for a nap. God I hope it don't rain tomorrow. |
| This will be a short entry today, I plan on taking a small nap before tackling a large pot of beans and cornbread which I am getting for supper. Speaking of BEANS....I came home today to discover that Mel had done a real number on me in her blog. I am shocked and dismayed that she chose to share with you my fictious bodily gasses....SHE LIED! I do not pass gas like that and besides.....mine don't stink! Anyway, like I said, I am shocked that she would stoop so low as to spread bald-faced lies about her loving hubby like that. I know why she did it. You see she is losing the Winter Wars as you could tell by her whining in her blog YESTERDAY. So, of course she had to come back in here and distract you by slandering my good name! That is soooo like a woman for you. Iffin they can't beat you fair and square, they sneak around and attack you from the rear.....so to speak  .So I wonder if I'm gonna have to rename the war the FARTING WINTER WAR! I see I shall have to give this whole thing some thought and then come back in here tomorrow and "spank" her with my rapier-like wit! Or I could just surrender...save time and face! |
| Those of you who are at least semi-regular visitors to this blog are acquainted with my other half: Mel aka Mrs Tor . You have probably also remarked on occasion, what a sweet, loving lady she is and how nice it is to see two people so very much in love. Yeah, well I'm here to tell you that, like the old song, "There's trouble right here in River City." That's right, all is not well at Casa McClain, the bloom is definitely off the dang rose around these parts! We are in the midst of our annual Winter Wars here at my house and by God it is getting ugly. As usual the hostilities commenced as soon as the temperature dipped below 40 degrees. I usually end up, if not winning the war, at least battling to a draw and gaining some concessions from the enemy (Mel) but this year the war is not going well and I could actually end up on the losing side. You see Mel is from Michigan and of course being from this alien landscape, she dearly loves all things Winter. I, on the other hand am from Texas and I have been raised in the civilized belief that ice has only one place on this earth and that is in a glass, floating in a combination of whisky and soda. Therein lies the rub, dear reader. Each winter we go through the battle of the house temperature. Last night the temperature dropped below 35 and the first salvos were exchanged between us when I got ready for bed. Now all day long the bedroom door had been shut and I had no idea what awaited me when I jumped out of the shower, toweled off and headed back to the bedroom to ease between warm sheets. When I opened the door a blast of cold air struck me full force causing small droplets of water still clinging to my body to instantly turn to ice. This, of course elicited a blood-curdling scream from yours truly and instead of retreating, I plunged on into the room and slammed the door. To my horror I found the ceiling fan going full bore and on closer examination, through ice encased eyes, I see the heating vent CLOSED! MOTHER OF GOD, IT'S A WINTER-TIME MAN TRAP! I had stumbled into the ambush like the greenest of recruits forced to walk point for the first time.....I was toast. As I slowly attempted to get my frost-bitten feet to shuffle back out the door and to the safety of the living room my eyes caught sight of the small aquarium Mel has on her night stand which is home to a beta fish. The poor creature is entombed in solid ice and is holding up a tiny sign that said: "PLEASE COOK ME, AT LEAST I WILL BE WARM!" Luckily my survival instincts kicked in and I managed to drag my half frozen body out of the meat locker that had been my bedroom. As I reentered the hallway I was greeted by gales of laughter coming from the living room. "What's wrong sweetie," Mel called, trying to choke back her giggles. "What the hell did you do to the bedroom!" "Nothing dear, I just made it so that we can sleep better, you know how that heat dries out your sinuses." I shook my head; so that's how it's going to be is it. Well the first shot had been fired and now it was up to me to mount a suitable counter attack.... "I'm going to bed," I growled at her. "Hopefully I won't freeze to death before morning." "Alright sweetie," she answered calmly. "I still have some stuff to do on the computer so I will be in there in about an hour." Hehehehehehe! An hour later I am awakened by a growl that would have frightened a lion off a fresh kill. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Mel stood over the bed, both hands on hips and THE LOOK all over her face.....she was not a happy camper. What I had done was: 1. turn up the thermostat to 80 degrees 2. Open the heating vent in the bedroom 3. Turn the electric blanket up past "high" to "Cook a small roast" 4. Disable the overhead fan. 5. Deposit hot coals in a can under the bed. The war has begun and the battle is joined.....stay tuned! |
| The prices and the complexity of toys for children today never cease to amaze me. Computers, Ipods, Xboxes and so many other technological marvels which kids not only look forward to on Christmas day, but actually demand, just leave me shaking my head. Now I know that it has already been well established in this blog that I am indeed, older than dirt so I would hope that you would take that into consideration as you read these thoughts. Having said that, I have to ask: When did the notion of simple pleasures go out of fashion? When I was a child-about a day after the Big Bang Theory took place-our expectations for Christmas morning was considerably lower than those of today's kids. My brothers and I would normally get one "store bought" gift for Christmas and a number of either home-made or hand-me-down gifts. The homemade gifts were always clothes sewn by either my mother or grandmother. They were both wizards with needle and thread and both would collect flour bags during the year which would be transformed into shirts. Do any of you even REMEMBER when flour came in print bags so that they could be used in this manner? Well, I do, so there! Anyway, we could always count on each receiving a couple of nice, new shirts which only a short time before had served to hold 25lbs. of flour. To us they were beautiful and we proudly wore them to school after Christmas break. The "hand-me-downs" were sometimes clothes too, but mostly they were toys which our cousins had grown tired of and were sent to mom and dad by various aunts and uncles. We loved these too because they were always new to us and we got another year or two worth of use out of them. My all time favorite store bought gift which I ever received for Christmas had to have been the set of WW2 soldiers I got when I was eleven years old. Now it wasn't just any old set of soldiers, mind you. This one had like 400 pieces! I am sure there has to be at least one or two of you out there who remember those army sets they use to sell. This one had soldiers, made of plastic and about two inches high. Along with two complete "armies" of different color (olive green for American and light brown for "enemy") the set came with Tanks and artillery for both sides. You have no idea how excited I was when I tore off the cheap wrapping paper hiding my gift. You could have heard my squeals of surprise and happiness a half mile down the road when the final vestiges of paper were discarded and the large box of men and equipment were revealed to my childish eyes. I HAD DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN! You see, mom and dad knew that even at that young age, I was already in love with Military History. I loved to read about famous battles and I was constantly drawing them out using stick figures for men....I know, twisted wasn't I. I spent the rest of the evening playing with the set in my room until mom finally threatened my life if I didn't go to bed. At first light I was up and out of the house with the large box of soldiers. I spent the day after Christmas down below our house where a small stream flowed. The first hour was spent damming us the little stream and creating a fairly large pool of water. The pool lapped against the sand which made up the ground about the stream, creating a very passable model of the Normandy Beach. I positioned the "enemy" forces on the high ground overlooking my artificial ocean and I carefully placed my friendly forces upon the "beach". I would then use handfuls of gravel to simulate small-arm's fire and larger rocks to simulate cannon fire. I would throw handful after handful at the attacking forces then run down to the "beach" and do the same thing toward the "enemy" positions. After each volley I would move the men into different positions. I did this all day long, trying first one tactic then another in an effort to see what strategy worked the best. I would then analyze whose strategy was best; mine or the combined generals of WW2....LOL! Hey, sometimes mine were pretty dang good. I played like this, with those toy soldiers for a year before the attrition of war rendered the set less than ideal for large scale operations. You see, on the Forth of July, when we were allowed to by fireworks the gravel and rocks were replaced by firecrackers, skyrockets and roman candles, thus the toy tanks, artillery, and men suffered major damage during each campaign I reenacted. So you see....simple toys...simple pleasures. There was not one movable part to that whole set and the only thing a boy needed to enjoy it was imagination, and the willingness to actually interact and move about in the outdoors. They could be used indoors but you just lost a lot of the effect if you did that. I think the whole set cost my parents something like ten dollars. Of course ten dollars back then was quite a sum, especially if you were as poor as we happened to be. But, then how many kids spend a whole year playing with a gift they get for Christmas? Usually whatever toy you buy them is forgotten within a matter of a couple of months. So I have to ask again: When did the notion of simple pleasures and simple toys which force the child to use their imagination go out of style? Now if you will excuse me, I have to go play with my Xbox which is what I do on my day off.....Okay, don't say it! |
| I got this in an email the other day and it was attributed to Bill Gates, from a speech he gave a high school graduating class. Well as funny as it is, it just didn't sound like something Bill Gates would come up with so I went to Snopes.com and did a search. Sure enough, it did not come from a speech by Mr. Gates, it came instead from a book written by Charles J. Sykes in his book: Dumbing Down Our Kids: Why American Children Feel Good About Themselves But Can't Read, Write, Or Add After reading Mr. Sykes' list of 10 (sorry Scarlett) I have got to go out and find the book. Here is the list for your reading enjoyment. If you don't like what the guy wrote, don't throw rocks at me....blame HIM! Rule No. 1: Life is not fair. Get used to it. The average teen-ager uses the phrase "It's not fair" 8.6 times a day. You got it from your parents, who said it so often you decided they must be the most idealistic generation ever. When they started hearing it from their own kids, they realized Rule No. 1. Rule No. 2: The real world won't care as much about your self-esteem as much as your school does. It'll expect you to accomplish something before you feel good about yourself. This may come as a shock. Usually, when inflated self-esteem meets reality, kids complain that it's not fair. (See Rule No. 1) Rule No. 3: Sorry, you won't make $40,000 a year right out of high school. And you won't be a vice president or have a car phone either. You may even have to wear a uniform that doesn't have a Gap label. Rule No. 4: If you think your teacher is tough, wait 'til you get a boss. He doesn't have tenure, so he tends to be a bit edgier. When you screw up, he's not going to ask you how you feel about it. Rule No. 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burger flipping. They called it opportunity. They weren't embarrassed making minimum wage either. They would have been embarrassed to sit around talking about Kurt Cobain all weekend. Rule No. 6: It's not your parents' fault. If you screw up, you are responsible. This is the flip side of "It's my life," and "You're not the boss of me," and other eloquent proclamations of your generation. When you turn 18, it's on your dime. Don't whine about it, or you'll sound like a baby boomer. Rule No. 7: Before you were born your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way paying your bills, cleaning up your room and listening to you tell them how idealistic you are. And by the way, before you save the rain forest from the blood-sucking parasites of your parents' generation, try delousing the closet in your bedroom. Rule No. 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers. Life hasn't. In some schools, they'll give you as many times as you want to get the right answer. Failing grades have been abolished and class valedictorians scrapped, lest anyone's feelings be hurt. Effort is as important as results. This, of course, bears not the slightest resemblance to anything in real life. (See Rule No. 1, Rule No. 2 and Rule No. 4.) Rule No. 9: Life is not divided into semesters, and you don't get summers off. Not even Easter break. They expect you to show up every day. For eight hours. And you don't get a new life every 10 weeks. It just goes on and on. While we're at it, very few jobs are interested in fostering your self-expression or helping you find yourself. Fewer still lead to self-realization. (See Rule No. 1 and Rule No. 2.) Rule No. 10: Television is not real life. Your life is not a sitcom. Your problems will not all be solved in 30 minutes, minus time for commercials. In real life, people actually have to leave the coffee shop to go to jobs. Your friends will not be as perky or pliable as Jennifer Aniston. Rule No. 11: Be nice to nerds. You may end up working for them. We all could. |
| I just wanted to thank each and every one of you who commented on my last blog entry and to tell you that I have just finished doing a re-write of the story then putting it in my port as a stand alone item. Now I would like to ask you one more small favor. If you have the time, could you please drop by my port and give the new story a review? Thanks so much to all of you who gave me such warm encouragement in regards to my entry and I am thinking, now of maybe submitting it somewhere.
Again...thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Now I am going to go catch up on some blog reading, I am way behind right now. |
| Whenever I think of Christmas there is one in particular which stands out in my memory. Dec. 25, 1965 was the single most perfect Christmas I can ever remember. I think one thing that made it special was the fact that for the first time since I had been old enough to remember the holiday, we were having a gathering of the family at our home. Two uncles, three aunts and all their assorted families from my father's side and three aunts and three uncles and all their families from my mom's side. That was a total of eleven spouses and about twenty five kids, not to mention mom, dad, me and my brother and my grandmother...mom's mother, all of them converging on the house Christmas eve and all were spending the night so they could enjoy the whole of Christmas day together with us. We had a very small, three bedroom house so that night there were bodies laying about everywhere on every available space in every room, for us kids it was great! Some of these folks I had not seen since I was twelve years old and that was at my older brother's funeral. He had died of cancer at the age of 21 leaving a widow and a small baby girl behind. Mom and dad had withdrawn from all family gatherings after that as a pall of pain and loss totally encased them. So you see, this particular gathering was made extra special for me because I knew that this marked a milestone in their healing process. Now as special as all that was, the really wonderful part was waiting for us all when we awoke the next morning. As was the custom on Christmas morning, all the men along with the male children over the age of ten would be up before daylight and head off for a morning of deer hunting. This, of course gave the women a lot more space to work their magic in the kitchen, a talent which each of them excelled in. Well it was a good hour and a half before daylight when dad woke me with a gentle nudge. "Get up, sleepyhead," he said softly. "You have a surprise waiting for you outside". I knew it wasn't a gift because we had decided not to open gifts until after lunch so I was a bit confused as I stumbled up from my mat on the floor and followed dad into the living room. This room sported a large picture window which looked out upon our front yard and to my surprise most of my cousins who would be hunting that morning were already standing in front of that window, their mouths hanging open. When I shouldered my way to the front of the crowd where I could look outside, I understood their awe..... A full moon illuminated a foreign landscape for those of us who had lived our lives in Southeast Texas. The ground was completely covered with a fine carpet of snow! Snow and ice clung to the tree limbs as if God had decided to decorate for Christmas. The whoops and yells coming from us was deafening and served to wake the rest of the sleeping household. We could not wait to get dressed and head outside into this rare environment. There was a general melee of all of us kids charging about trying to get dressed. All the grownups were already dressed, of course and they were waiting on us so we could head out on the deer hunt. As everyone made ready to leave, I hung back. Today of all days, with this special blessing of snow, something I rarely got to see other than in picture books, was not a day I wanted to share with a mob of kinfolks. I pulled mom and dad off to one side and I explained that I didn't want to go hunting that morning. I told dad that I had a special place I wanted to go to by myself. I think dad must have understood what I wanted because he didn't put up a fuss at all. He just told me to be sure and take my saddle-gun with me in case I ran across any deer, which I promised to do. So they smiled and watched as I tore out to the barn and saddled up my horse. The rest of the men were loading into trucks as I lead Skipper out of the corral and mounted up. I sat silently in the saddle as they pulled out of the driveway on their journey to the deer camp about ten miles from the house. After they had gone I wheeled Skipper about and walked her into the woods. I can still remember the magic of that three mile ride in the bitter cold. The snow-there really wasn't much by northern standards, maybe an inch on the ground-served as a pristine blanket. As I rode deeper into the woods I was amazed at the hundreds of small trails of animal tracks visible in the fresh snow. They cris-crossed each other like mad little highways going from who knows where to somewhere else. While I rode I was keenly aware of the silence of the pre-dawn forest; all sounds muffled by the fresh fallen snow. I was aware too of the puffs of smoke-like breath coming from the soft, brown muzzle of Skipper as she walked carefully in this unknown stuff on the ground, her hooves making small crunching sounds with each step she took. My eyes, my ears and even my nose were assailed by the strange whiteness, the silence and the clean smell of what had been a very familiar woods. It was now an almost alien place for both me and Skipper. I had a place in mind where I wanted to go to spend this morning and even though it was hard to pick out landmarks with everything wearing a new white coat, I managed to steer Skipper to our destination. As the sun was just beginning to cast out it's first weak rays upon this changed earth, I left the thick forest and entered a small clearing. Rocky creek lay just below me. The clearing I was in ended in a bluff bank which sloped downward about ten feet to the edge of the stream. Just above this spot was a small waterfall. I say small for it only fell about four or five feet to a small pool below. The water was not flowing....everything was frozen. The morning sun reflected off the water, frozen in mid-fall and onto a pool of ice below it. That light reflection off the ice was the most beautiful thing I think I had ever seen up to that day. I sat quietly in the saddle, my breath fogging out of my nose and mouth. I was in awe of the beauty of the land around me. Soft, silent and white; frozen not only in the moment of cold, but also in my memory forevermore. I almost cried at the beauty of the landscape as I sat astride my horse and felt so very small and insignificant amid this wonder of nature. I was about to climb off Skipper and go down for a closer look at the frozen waterfall when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I sat perfectly still and waited. Within a few moments my patience was rewarded. A doe and a young yearling deer came walking into the clearing, nosing the ground in search of something to eat. I watched their soft, tan bodies as they walked about trying to graze. The deer ignored me because I was still on my horse and to them I was a part of that animal and they had no idea of the danger they were in. As I continued to watch them they were suddenly joined by a large buck with a massive rack of horns adorning his head. He too began to forage for a meal after giving me and Skipper the slightest of glances. My hand eased, ever so slowly down to the scabbard which rested against the saddle and under my leg. Inside that scabbard I carried a loaded 30-30 rifle...my saddle gun. I had eased the gun half-way out of the scabbard when I stopped. Suddenly it just wasn't right. I didn't want to kill these beautiful creatures below me, peacefully grazing in the dim, cold morning sun. I just wanted to watch them live. I wanted more than anything else to cherish their freedom and their surroundings in this magical, white fairy-land the snow had made of my forest. I gently replaced the gun in it's scabbard and settled back on the saddle and enjoyed the scene....my heart soared at such beauty. There would be time enough for killing another day, this day was magical and to be enjoyed by man and beast alike. Besides, the deer was not what had brought me to this particular place. No, this place had been shown to me when I was ten years old. My older brother had brought me there as a special treat....just me and him. He had wanted me to know that waterfall and the land around it for it was special to him too. It had become my secret place, my special spot to go to whenever I needed to refresh my soul, or just to feel better. It was the place I always went to after my 12th birthday when I wanted to be near my brother again. Mom always said he was in Heaven but to me he was always there, at that waterfall, in that forest. I knew, when I first saw the snow that I had to be there in order to, in some way share this special Christmas with my brother. I stayed there a long time, watching the deer and other animals which ventured down the water's edge. Finally I turned Skipper around and made my way home. I arrived in time to greet the successful hunters who were just arriving back from their hunt and I took some good natured ribbing for coming home empty handed. I didn't mind at all for you see I was not empty handed....my heart was full. I got to spend Christmas with my brother, what more could a kid ask for. |
| I made a startling discovery today. After coming home I read some blogs which is my usual routine and after making a few comments, I decided to try and find something for Scarlett to use in the upcoming newsletter, The Blogville News. Here is when I made my discovery. You see I decided to go back into my first blog and pull up a couple of different blog entries which showed two different sides of Christmas. Well it took some searching on my part and I began to read some of my old entries. That is when it hit me like a ton of bricks.....My old blog is much better than the one I write now! I have always been honest enough to judge my own writing objectively and I can tell you...the old one was better written, funnier and even edgier. I had a lot more of my own Rants and opinions in the old one that is lacking in this one. I have to admit that it is my own fault. When I started the new one I even put in the blog header that I wanted this blog different; more stories and memories of my own and less opinions. What I got, I see after going back over the old one was more Vanila and bland. I have noticed over the past few weeks that my views have been dropping steadily as have the number of comments so maybe someone besides me has seen this difference in the two blogs. Right now I have no plans to change my writing style just to regain readers. No, I WANTED this blog to be different so I guess I will stick with what I am doing, but dang.....the first one was so much better. Okay, that's it from me. I just wanted to share with you my discovery and maybe get some input. Go ahead and consider the comment section a mini-review page....does this blog need help? Is the writing in need of some fire? What do you think? |
| As those of you who read this blog on a regular basis know, I suggested, a few entries ago that you all go over and read Budroe 's blog. I was happy to see that many of you took my advice and checked him out. Now those of you who have been reading the exceptional blog by this exceptional man already know the battle he finds himself in the middle of fighting. You also know that he wages the war with wit and humor....two of his most potent weapons. For those of you who have yet to read Bud's blog, well check it out and read it from the beginning to get the full effect.
Now all of the above is by way of introduction to the meat of my blog topic today. I just received a reply to a comment I left in Bud's blog and his reply so touched me that I felt I had to share it with all of you. Of course, I contacted Bud and asked his permission first before using his email and of course, being the gentleman he is, he gave me his blessings. Here is the email I received from him. David: Thanks for the vote of confidence, and the support. At first, I refused to even consider yet another Blog. But, as you can see, Deb (and others) have been persistent in the matter. I will never be able to, even at this early juncture, thank you all enough for the support, the encouragement, and the love that have been showered upon me. This kind of love is, as I am sure you know, humbling in a way that most humans simply cannot conceive. Yes, it is a difficult journey, and I won't shy away from those moments either--or at least I pray I will not. But, as the journey begins, the outpouring of support has been deposited in the bank for regular and future withdrawals. What amazes me is the interest on the account which is accumulating in such proportions. People are sharing THEIR stories, as well. It seems as if many of them are saying their words for the first time. It is not simply that they do understand. You, and so many others, are becoming so much more than fellow sojourners as this thing develops. You are becoming wonderful teachers, and fellow travelers who, having already trod the road, are voluntarily walking it again--just for me! And, the STORIES!! If, as I hope, there is help to come from this, for even one person, then the effort will have been well worth the result. While I am compelled to feel as if my story is of little value compared to these champions (and I do), what I see developing is a sharing of trials, fears, and victory unlike anything I could have possibly imagined. And, that tells me, without fear of successful contradiction, that Dad is surely in this endeavor. And, He is in it in such a way as I could not possibly have dreamed. I once had a friend, shortly before his death from Cancer, say to me "Don't you realize that yours are the only arms that Dad has to hug me with?" I am receiving, and cherishing those hugs in such large measure, David. I only hope that you, and Mel, and everyone else can know and feel the hugs I am trying to return. Sorry to go long, but your kindness caused this. And, as I said in my reply email to Winda only moments ago: Perhaps the book IS being written--by us all, one entry at a time. Wouldn't that just be grand? In His Care, Bud This email touched me so very deeply when I read it. This, my friends is what blogging can be about. Doing a blog means different things to different people. Many, maybe even the majority of blogger feel they need to entertain and share their views on world events and different situations in sarcastic, biting humor. Some live to stir up people, believing that by getting folks mad enough even more will read their blogs. Now if this works for a person, then Lord love em, they need to do what makes them happy. The thing is, that's not what's important about this strange medium of the Blog to me. To me the act of doing a blog has always been an exercise in reaching out to my fellow humankind. I share my stories, humor and memories and put them out there for people to read and maybe, just maybe, once in awhile to connect with another human somewhere on the planet. This particular email from Budroe reinforced this belief. Through his wonderful blog he has reached out around the world and drawn a number of us together to share his journey as he battles terrible illness. We find ourselves rejoicing in his small victories and laughing at his bright humor as he deals with the unimaginable. We are pulled into his world and we are with him through his struggles and each and every one of us are made better by going along with him on his journey.This is what blogging is all about for me. Touching others, sharing their life...the good and the bad and learning life lessons along the way. So you see, I owe Bud a debt. Not only has he allowed me to share his life through his words, but he has also reminded me of the reason I decided to do a blog in the first place. If you have not joined Bud yet, please do yourself a favor and go introduce yourself to one of the strongest men I have ever known and a man with character. There just isn't that many of them around anymore. |
| I am going to get my hair cut today. Now I know, on the surface this is not the most interesting of topics to blog about but you really have to look at the "backstory" to see what is interesting in this tale. I am getting my hair cut today because, in a moment of supreme weakness a month ago I allowed my wife to cut my hair. I know, I know, what man in his right mind would allow his wife that close to vital organs with a sharp instrument? Well I did say it was a moment of weakness didn't I. You see we were in the midst of cutting out all unnecessary expenditures at the time and it only seemed reasonable to do away with the barber. Besides, it was my wife's idea. "Oh honey, I can do that as well as that barber," she said with that calm, Madonna-like certainty that I knew from the past, would brook no argument. "Uh....are you sure about that?" I couldn't help it, I had to voice some concern. Arms crossed, foot tapping....THE LOOK. "I cut my son's hair for years," she snapped. "Oh you mean the guy who now keeps his hair at stubble length and has anxiety attacks at the mere mention of scissors?" Did I mention that I sometimes allow my 45 cal. mouth overload my .22 cal. ass? Anyway, after the head wounds healed, I found myself dutifully sitting in a straight backed chair as Mel worked diligently with various sharp instruments and hair flew about the room like so much refuse from a band-saw. When she was done cutting then combing and snipping here and there to give it the finishing touches, she proudly handed me a mirror so that I might admire her handiwork...not to mention take inventory of my ears just to make certain I still owned two. Well I was amazed. The haircut wasn't bad at all. Maybe it was the light or the way I held the mirror, but the hair looked pretty dang good...not to mention that I still had two ears! Unfortunately, the trouble came later that night when I took a shower. After I was done, I stood in front of the mirror and combed my hair and it was then I noticed something funny; my hair was about seventeen different lengths all over my head! If that wasn't bad enough, after I dried my hair and tried to comb it....I discovered ten different lengths which had been hiding. Did you know that there is a standing rule that Wal-Mart people-greeters are not allowed to wear hats? Of course my manager told me, between gales of laughter, that even if there was not a rule against it, he still wouldn't let me hide this "Work of Art". Yeah, he's a real funny guy...the turkey! I really can't blame him for laughing though, I mean, hell I have seen straighter lines on European Grand Prix courses! So today I will be keeping an appointment with my barber who I am sure will be hard pressed to complete the haircut between the belly laughs....yeah I'm surrounded by comedians. I am pretty sure that I will end up getting a dang buzz-cut just to allow the hair to grow back at an even length.....if it grows back at all. That is a recurring nightmare I have these days: the hair won't grow back! Of course Mel blames the whole bad haircut on me. She said I must have moved the wrong way or something while she was trying to cut it. Yeah, right. I couldn't have moved enough to cause that kind of damage had she cut it during an earthquake! Okay, almost time for me to leave for town. I gotta go look in the bedroom for a suitable hat to wear for the occasion. |
| Today has been both busy and also productive for Mel and myself. I have been told, on good authority (U.S.Government)that all things are normal now....or at least as close to normal as my life ever was. Be of good cheer, I have, it seems, single-handedly seen to it that the government of the United States of America does not go broke in the forseeable future. Personally I find it all hard to believe and I don't think I will truely draw a easy breath until I get my next paycheck and see for myself, with my own eyes, that funds are no longer being syphoned off to somewhere like Homeland Security or wherever they sent half my check every two weeks. My bank happily assured me that for their part, I am indeed home free. The account was no longer frozen. Oh, they said, there was that little matter of something like seven hundred dollars worth of penalities which I had incured because they had to cover the checks which had been out when the neuclear strike was made upon my finacial empire. It is funny how quickly a banker's sneers can become heartwarming smiles when you hand him money. It just gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling all over....much the same way getting mugged one late night in Houston made me feel. Hell, the President of the bank even offered me a bag of their complimentary popcorn from the machine in the lobby. He even bagged it himself! Can I be far from a seat on the board of directors? At any rate...it is done. A huge boulder has rolled from my shoulders (too bad it couldn't land on the IRS) and I sit here this evening content and at ease for the first time is a very long time. To celebrate our escape from a governmental firing squad, Mel and I did something we haven't done in almost three months (NOT THAT. Get your minds out of the gutter), we went out to eat. Now for two people who have been living on a food budget of about $45 every two weeks this was heaven! I had a big steak, medium rare and so tender I could cut it with my fork. Mel had to help me when the food came to the table. I just automatically tried to spread the steak on a piece of bread and was confused when it did not spread like the peanut butter I was accustomed to eating. Don't worry, I got the hang of rather quickly! So now I am home. My belly is full, my mind is at peace and I may just have to chase Mel around the house here in a minute (YEAH, THAT! Go ahead and put your minds back in the gutter). Oh and I am blessed. I have good and true friends...You know who you are....thank you. |
| It got cold today when the first "Blue Norther" of the season blew into our small town. Like so many things that happen now at this stage of my life, this weather change brought back memories from my past. It reminded me of when I was a small child, following along beside my father as introduced me to the way of the forest. By my ninth birthday my father decided it was time for me to learn woodsmanship, hunting and fishing and so began my education. I can still remember sitting with him under a large oak tree and watching one of those "Blue Northers" blow in upon us. At first, I was frightened, watching the fast approach of the threatening, blue-black line of angry storm clouds. I remember how he kept watch on the sky, intent upon watching the storm. No words would come from him as he sit there like a statue. Then, as if suddenly given a signal, he would stand up and tell me to come along and we would walk very fast back toward the house. The first couple of times I had no idea what was going on but I did notice we would arrive at home just ahead of the rain storms and the plummeting tempertures...safe and sound and dry. Slowly, over the space of a winter season, dad taught me what he was doing and how to do it....to read the weather. He taught me to be aware of the change in the air before a big storm, how to taste and smell the water in the air, how to read the changing wind and the scuddling clouds. He told me how important it was to be able to do this so as not to be caught unaware out in the deep forest when a storm hit. He taught me how to time its arrival so that I might be able to get home or to find shelter of some kind in the forest itself. I thought about all of this today as this particular blue norther blew in. I thought about it as I stood on the sidewalk and smelled the storm and felt the swirling winds as they caressed my face with their message of impending change. I had to laugh when, upon walking back in the store, I informed one of the cashiers that we had about five minutes before the rain hit and she didn't believe me....until five minutes later when it started raining. Yes, I think about my father's teachings often. Though absolutely nothing the man taught me was ever from a book, I am constantly finding the lessons of value throughout all the days of my life. But, after all, that is what father's lessons are supposed to do isn't it....help us long after they are gone. I hope my own children found some lessons to hold to from my own life. |
| After living through yet another "Black Friday" and diving head-long into another Christmas season at Wally world, I have come to an inescapable conclusion: The vast majority of people on this planet are just too stupid to live! Why is it that your average, run-of-the-mill human being tends to drop about thirty IQ points whenever they pull into a Wal-Mart parking lot? It's like they are attacked and kicked in the ass by the Stupid Fairy as they walk toward the front door. By the time most of them walk inside they are unable to find their butts with both hands. I have my own theory. I believe that their minds tend to automatically "Dumb-Down" so that their bodies can carry out the needed Christmas custom of spending in advance all the money they will make for the new year on gifts for snot-nosed brats who won't appricate the effort anyway. This way the pain of throwing away all that hard earned money will be deadened...somewhat. I sometime muse, as I watch them walk past me like so many extras in a bad Zombie movie, that if Darwin's theory of the Survival of the Fittest were to be strickly adhered to, most of these folks would just drop dead. Think about that the next time you go to a Wal-Mart store. Chances are, that guy with the glazed eyes and the set expression on his face that hands you a shopping cart is thinking the very same thoughts....I feel his pain. Now that I have vented my spleen I feel ever so much better so I would like to change the topic and bring someone to your attention. We have a new blogger in our midst and he is Budroe . I strongly suggest that each of you go over and read his blog. It only has five entries so start at the beginning. I promise you, you will not be disappointed. You know how it is when you read a new blog and the sheer talent of the writer just jumps out at you? Well this is one of those blogs.
Now if you want to read someone who is a true word craftsman then check this blog out. You will be glad you did, I promise you. |
| I stayed home from work today in order to be present for a rather important delivery. Since it is possible that the delivery may come during the time after Mel goes to work and before I come home, I decided to remain home so as not to miss it. Therein lies the problem. Mel has been pestering me for some time this morning to hurry up and do a blog entry so she can have the computer. She said that this time is normally her time to read blogs and stuff and I am taking that away by being home. So I am just going to make a very short entry this morning and maybe after she heads out to work I will do another one....Da Brat. This morning I just want to call your attention to one thing...Mel's blog. Please take the time to read "Invalid Entry"  and as you read it keep in mind this is from a woman who swears she can not write...YEAH, RIGHT! The last portion of her entry tells the most about the kind of person she is and why I love her... "Every morning when I awake, I think of what the day has in store for me. I wonder of what sights, of what drama, of what phenomenon awaits me today. I see life as an adventure. Some of it is exciting, some of it is stressful, but it paints the day and creates the past. I could fixate on all the bad things that are thrown my way, but why? I handle the tormoil and seek out the good, and when I close my eyes at night and let sleep overcome me, I can smile as I have added another day to my life's history. |
| The other day I got a letter from ANOTHER government agency. Well with the way things have been going for me lately, when it comes to the government, I almost didn't open this one...it was from the Social Security Office. "What now?" I yelled as I threw the unopened letter on the floor. "I guess these bozos want to recall my social security number!" Mel ignored my ranting and calmly picked up the discarded letter and opened it and began to read. I stood there fuming, waiting for even more bad news. Then Mel smiled and handed it to me. "You might want to read this one," she smiled sweetly. I took the dang thing in my shaking hands and began to read it.... Dear Mr. McClain, We here at your friendly Social Security Office are aware of your recent "unpleasantness" with the IRS and we felt it was time to make you aware of your standing with us...the kinder, gentler, Government agency which, by the way, holds the power of life and death over you once you decide to retire. We are pleased to send you the following information and we hope it serves to offset all the bad things that other mean, nasty agency has put you through: 1. Should you decide to retire at the early age of 62, we are happy to announce you will recieve the princely sum of: $XXXRead this figure as the same as what I pay in rent and utilities with no allowence for FOOD. 2.Of course, should you wait and take your retirement at the age of 66 then you will be showered with the vast amount of:$XYYRead this amount as the same as my rent, utilities AND food...if we eat once a month! 3.If on the other hand you choose to remain faithfully at work, being a productive member of Wal-Mart's slave labor pool until the age of 72 we, your friendly, caring Social Security Office will place you squarely in the lap of luxury by ALLOWING you to draw the kingly sum of:$XXXXRead this amount as equal to roughly half of what I make a month now AFTER taxs. This puts me firmly in the same financial bracket as a Katrina refuge a week after the storm! We here at the SSO are so very pleased to be able to bring this good news to you, especially in light of your recent troubles with You-Know-Who and we want you to know there is no need to thank us for this wonderful generosity on our part. We are just happy to able to dole out money which you have already earned through years of labor. Remember, unlike those other guys, we are the Beaucrats with a heart and we are here to help you in your golden years. By the way, you should remember that if, after you retire and begin drawing this money which is yours to begin with, you must be careful and not do anything which brings in any more money to you other than what we give you. If this should happen we will be forced to not only stop you from drawing any more of your money, but we will also make you repay any amount you have already drawn. Have a nice day. Your's Truly, Social Security Office It is really comforting to know that my golden years will be so well taken care of! I will sleep well tonight knowing that, in five more years, at the age of 62, I can retire and live the good life! God, I love my Government! |
| I thought it would be all together fitting and proper if I used today's blog entry to give my own little tribute to the genius comedy stylings of the great Mr. Bill Cosby. ********************* "William Henry "Bill" Cosby, Jr., Ed.D. (born July 12, 1937) is an American actor, comedian, television producer, and activist. He received an Ed.D. from the University of Massachusetts for his doctoral thesis on Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, an educational children's cartoon series he created." The above was taken from Wikipedia. My first exposure to Mr. Cosby was back in the dark ages, circa 1964. I was a freshman in highschool I believe, when Mom came home one day from her weekly shopping trip to town and she showed us what she had bought...a Comedy record by Bill Cosby. I can not tell you how hard our whole family laughed as we listened to the record. Me, my brother, my mom and dad were all busting up listening to Cosby as he not so much told jokes but rather just talked about life...it was some of the funniest stuff I have ever heard..even to this day. You see, that is Cosby's secret: He doesn't really tell jokes, he tells life stories and they speak to all of us, no matter what race or religion we happen to be. Listening to Cosby was my first real life lesson on how much the races are alike and not different. When Cosby told what he said to his son who had angered him: "Boy, I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it!" I realized that no matter what color he was, he sounded just like my own father. My father, by the way, was a big fan of Bill Cosby and Dad was not a man known for being interested in any entertainer of any kind...he loved Bill though...They thoght a lot alike. Yes, that was Mr. Cosby's appeal...He could make us smile just talking about everyday things. People all over the world could relate to him when he spoke. Maybe it boils down to a generational thing today. Those of us who grew up in the 60's just understand this kind of humor, we like it. At our age we have had all the conflict anyone could want in our real lives, we don't need those "In Your Face" comedians who are constantly yelling insults and off color comments. We enjoy being able to laugh at ourselves through the gentle stories of on who has been there himself. Yup, I am definately a Fan of Mr. Bill Cosby and I am also a great fan of our own "Cosby-like" Humorist: Nada YOU ROCK GIRL! |
| I don't know if I have managed to run off all my readers with the ridiculously sniveling entry I did the other day but rest assured, that entry has been cosigned to a deep pit in blog hell and will no longer be in evidence to assail your eyes, not to mention you other sensitivities. So, having said that, I would like to write the original blog entry I had planned to write the other day before the world decided to squat and take a dump on me! ********************************** I have always turned to music to calm the storms of my heart and soul. The old saying about music having the power to sooth the savage beast is very true, or at least it is when applied to myself. I own a walkman...you know...those things we use to listen to before the advent of iPod and all that other fancy musical stuff. Yes, it's big and clunky and the headphones make you look like a Morse code operator in the 1940's but the sound is still wonderful and it gets the job done for this old boy. Anyway, I take my walkman to work with me many days and on my breaks and lunches I can sit back in the break room, put on the headphones and I can let the music wash over me, cleaning out all the crap from work or just life issues in general from my mind and spirit. Now from time to time one particular song will stand out above all the other good music I listen to...it will speak to me personally; it will lift me up and allow me to soar. The other day I had a song do that to me while I was on my lunch hour and I promised myself I would blog about it and why it effected me in such a wonderful way. The song is from the Phantom of the Opera: "Love Changes Everything". Here are the lyrics: LOVE CHANGES EVERYTHING (Michael Ball) Love, love changes everything Hands and faces, earth and sky Love, love changes everything How you live and how you die Love, can make the summer fly Or a night seem like a lifetime Yes love, love changes everything Now I tremble at your name Nothing in the world will ever be the same Love, love changes everything Days are longer, words mean more Love, love changes everything Pain is deeper than before Love will turn your world around And that world will last forever Yes love, love changes everything Brings you glory, brings you shame Nothing in the world will ever be the same Off into the world we go Planning futures, shaping years Love (comes in) and suddenly all our wisdom disappears Love makes fools of everyone All the rules we made are broken Yes love, love changes everyone Live or perish in its flame Love will never never let you be the same Love will never never let you be the same Now I know what you're saying about now: "Yeah, nice lyrics but it's just a song afterall". Well I can understand that, you really need to hear the words with the music to get the full import probably but I would like to show you some of the lyrics that really spoke to me and examples of what I mean. Love, love changes everything Hands and faces, earth and sky This is such a true statement. Love really did change how I saw faces around me and the earth and sky...everything was given a gentler, softer tint when I fell in love. Love, can make the summer fly Or a night seem like a lifetime Yes love, love changes everything Now I tremble at your name Love did do this to me. When my love and I first met it was summer and that summer seemed to fly by on wings of happiness. I don't think my feet touched the ground twice the whole time. And, yes, now I do tremble when I hear her name because Love caused me to change and allow my heart to feel such feelings where before there was just an empty shell. Off into the world we go Planning futures, shaping years Love (comes in) and suddenly all our wisdom disappears Love makes fools of everyone All the rules we made are broken Yes, when Love found my lady and me it changed everything, it took away our senses and we began to plan our lives together and all the years just as if we were young kids striking out for the first time, full of hope and joy. All the wisdom we had garnered over the years that made us act like a couple of responsible grown-ups went flying out the window. Love made fools of us in a wonderful way as we both broke all the rules we had carefully put into place to keep the world and other people at a safe distance. Yes love, love changes everyone Live or perish in its flame Love will never never let you be the same. Love did change everything and live or perish, we will always cling together in our love and the rest of the world will never be the same....to us. So there you have it....a song that spoke to me directly and to my heart. These are the reasons the song so moved me and I hope I have made the meanings clear with my weak words, for words will always be weak when we try to describe our own personal Love. Oh and before I forget....this entry...this song...my heart..is dedicated to Melinda McClain. Her Love changed everything. |
| Well here it is Monday and Mel has threatened my life if I don't give the blog another entry. Since Friday and the death of my dog, I have not really been able to write anything at all and Mel knows that the only way to break out of the funk is to jump back into my blog....so here goes.... First of all, a couple of things off subject: The next edition of The Blogville News is due out any day now and if any of you have not yet voted for Blogger of the Month yet, please send Scarlett an email and tell her who you would like to see get the award. Second thing: I talked to ccstringtoday after I got home from work. When I called him he was halfway between two different dealerships, having to divide his time between both. He said his mom is still in the hospital dealing with her medical issues (her heart) and he has had to make that trip once already and may have to go back again. He wanted me to tell all of you how much he misses you and he promised to try to find a spare moment in the next day or two to pop online and catch up. Oh, and while we were talking on the phone he brought up a rather "touchy" subject. He had read about Deb's talent for taking pictures of her boobs and CC asked me what I thought were the chances of him getting a copy of those dang pics! I will, of course, let Deb deal with the little pervert! ****************************** Mel asked me to tell the story of my bull riding days, or should I say my bull riding DAY. We were sitting here at home Saturday and she happened to have the TV on and she was watching a rodeo. Well of course they were featuring the bull riders and as we sit there and watched Mel asked me: "Honey, did you ever do that?" I shook my head wryly as that particular memory came back to me. "Yes," I mumbled. "I did that once." I was hoping she would let the subject drop with that, but dropping a subject was never my sweetie's strong suit so finally I had to tell her about my Bull Riding Day. You see, when I was growing up I was a working cowboy. Now, contrary to what the movies and books might have you believe, a working cowboy was a lot different from those fools who preformed in a rodeo. A cowboy WORKED. He rode fence-line and repaired the breaks, he herded cows, branded and marked cows, repaired corrals and even hauled hay and corn out of the fields for winter feed. It was hard, sweaty, backbreaking work and there was nothing glamorous about it. We, the working cowboys, usually never missed a rodeo and a chance to laugh at those fools in the arena getting stomped into a wet spot by some pissed-off bull.....AND ALL THEY GET IS A DAMN BELT BUCKLE! HA! My own misadventure with the bulls came after my cowboy days were behind me. I was in my early twenties and like I had done in the past, I accompanied some of my buddies who were still cowboys to watch a local rodeo. Now I was all set to enjoy the evening and laugh at the guys getting stomped and gored by the bulls when one of my buddies made the off hand remark: "Hey Dave, You know those bull riders ain't so dumb after all". "How do you figure that?" I asked, surprised. "Well did ya see all them gals down by the fence. Did you know they are all there to watch the bull riders? Those women just go crazy for a bull rider." Now granted; at that age I admit that I didn't have sense enough to pour piss out of a boot with the instructions on the heel, but I really should have caught on to being set up...which was what my friend was doing. Maybe it was the bottle of Jim Beam we had been polishing off while waiting for the rodeo to begin or maybe it was because I was Twenty two and in a state of constant horniness....whatever the reason....I fell right into the trap. "Women love bull riders?" I asked, my brain working like crazy...a plan was hatching. "Yup, that's a durn fact," my buddy drawled, looking innocent. "Well Hell's Bells," I shouted. "I'm gonna just show those sweet thangs what a real cowboy can do!" "Do tell," said my buddy with a sly grin. He followed me over to the back pens and watched in silence as I bravely signed up for the bull riding event. I paid an entry fee, got assigned a number and drew for my bull, all the while my buddy was off in a corner talking to our friends and taking bets. I had my number put on the back of my shirt and I had just enough time to strut about and be admired by the ladies before my number was called and it was my time to ride. I was thinking...How hard could it be really. I mean, I had grown up around bulls and cows and I use to deal with them on a daily basis. Of course the fact that I had all my dealings with this animal from on top a horse never dawned on me. I must admit to a small moment of doubt however when I climbed to the top of the chute and made ready to get aboard my bull. I looked down at what must have been the biggest, meanest collection of blood, muscle and bone which God ever assembled on four feet. This monster was rearing up in the chute and trying to hook me with his horns even before I got on him. They finally got him calmed down enough so that I could take a seat and it was then I felt the full power of the great beast as he stood quietly for a moment, the tension and rage rippling through his body like an electric current; his muscles bunching and twitching between my legs. Given another three seconds, I might have come to my senses and climbed back off that bull but I will never know because just then the grinning fool who was in charge of the gate, threw it open. The bull exploded. That's the best way I can describe his actions. He went from a standing start, made one mighty leap and landed almost in the middle of the arena. The initial jarring of that jump caused my manhood to land somewhere over my ears and my teeth rattled so hard I thought they were going to fly out of my mouth. But I held on. The bull paused for just a second and I swear he looked back at me as if to say.."You should have ran when you had the chance, fool!" Then he executed a really nifty 360, then he went airborne again and twisted in mid-air. Stick a fork in: I was done. I went flying off the back of the bull as if propelled by a rocket up my ass! I had a sudden moment of clarity while I was airborne. It suddenly became clear why I had never tried this before: It's because plain old ordinary cowpokes know better than to jump on the back of a damn bi-polar bovine with homicidal tendencies and yell: "Giddy-Up"! Then I hit the ground about fifteen feet in front of the killer cow. For what seemed like days but was actually a matter of seconds, I lay there and took a silent inventory of my bodily parts to make sure nothing had shaken loose. I let out a sigh, everything was in place and nothing seemed broken. Then I looked up and looked right into the eyes of the bull who was charging at me like a runaway locomotive! I got stomped. I got hooked by his horns. It took three clowns ten minutes to get that dang bull away from my body. He was happily doing the Mexican hat dance on my shoulders, back and butt and I guess he wanted to finish the dance. They then carried me off and dumped me unceremoniously behind the stands where a doctor checked me out. I was bruised from the top of my head to the soles of my feet but nothing was broken. I had lasted three seconds of the required eight second ride. I didn't get a date out of the mess either. Just as well, I was in no shape to wax romantic for about three weeks. So that, my friends was my one and only experience riding the bulls. |
| The space under my desk is empty now. As I type this Mel has gone back to bed and she has taken Mollie and Sherman with her...all three of them are understandably upset right now. Why? Because, like I said, the space under my desk is empty now. The space under my desk is reserved for Rocky, or to use his complete name: Rockford Von Livingston...that's the way it appears on his papers. Rocky is a purebred, you know; A blueblood, German Shepard and quite the little prince around the house...thus the space under the desk was reserved, at an early age, for him and him alone. Rocky, from the very first day, attached himself to me. Shepards are like that; they tend to love everyone in the family but they will attach themselves to one in particular. I was the lucky one he picked. He spent his days, when I was home, curled up under my desk with his head resting on my feet as I worked away on the computer. As Rocky grew older we worried about him. He seemed to be in pain from his hips and the older he got the worse it seemed to get. Well two weeks ago we took him to the vet. He was concerned that Rocky had Hip Dysphasia and he wanted to do a series of X-Rays to find out the trouble. Well I have blogged before about our trouble with the IRS and how they are taking half my paycheck....so anyway, we had to wait two weeks to do the X-Rays and I had to cancel my own doctor's appointment so we could afford the $200 it took for the pictures of his hips. That is where we went today. The problem was severe we find out. Apparently, from birth Rocky has had this problem; he, in effect, has no hips. The balls of each hip are floating free, there are no sockets there at all. The pain he must have been in had to be horrendous. We knew he was having trouble walking and he would yelp and cry in pain every time he had to walk anywhere...we just didn't realize how bad it was. Thus it was that Rocky stayed under my desk, at my feet almost constantly. The doctor said the humane thing would be to put Rocky down. After all, we didn't have the option of spending three or four thousand dollars on an operation that might or might not help him. We had him put down today. This was one of the hardest things I have ever done and it was equally as hard on Mel. We both fought back tears as they prepped Rocky for the Shot. I held his face in my hands and petted him gently and Mel stroked his side as the Vet slipped the needle into his front leg. For a few seconds nothing happened, then he weakly tried one last time to lick my hand, then he yawned as if sleepy....then he died. This really wasn't a new feeling for me. I can't tell you how many times I have looked into a face whose eyes stared back at me, silently imploring me to stop the pain, make it better. Only to have those eyes glaze over as death claimed them. I am so sick of not being able to make it all better. I really thought those days were long behind me, but unfortunately I was wrong. I am sitting here typing and the space under my desk is forever empty. Another friend is gone and all I can do is sit here and type on the damn computer....its how I deal with the pain, it helps me..it doesn't save my friend. What do you do when your heart is suddenly just not into putting words on a screen anymore? I miss that furry head resting on my feet, waiting for me to finish up so I can pet him. I think I will Join Mel in bed and try to forget this day. This is Rocky when we first got him. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Rocky and his buddy Sherman in happier times. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Time for a small rant...is that like a mini-rant? Whatever. I got to ask it: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS COUNTRY? Stop! I saw you edging toward the door. Just sit there and listen for a minute, it won't hurt that much. What makes me ask this question? Well it's the newest hot toy just arrived in time for the Christmas season: The PlayStation 3. Now this little gem doesn't officially go on sale until midnight tonight all around the country but people are already lining up to snatch the things off the shelf...FOR $600! We started getting people in a line at Four A.M this morning! By the time I left the store there was at least fifty people, all sitting (the store gave them chairs) quietly...waiting. Now here's the punch line: We only have FOUR UNITS TO SELL! We told these idiots there was only four...they know this, yet they still line up. I asked one why he was staying in the line, after all he was about ten from the front, what was he hoping to accomplish? He just shrugged and said: "Well one of those first four might have trouble with their check or credit card and I might get a chance to buy one". I tried to be unobtrusive as I sneaked a peek at this guys forehead to see if he had the word: STUPID tattooed there. What will happen tonight when the thing finally does go on sell? Well as I see it, four people will shell out six hundred dollars and walk out of the store with a PlayStation 3. Four others will be waiting outside to rob them. Don't laugh, it happens every year with whatever hot toy is the must have of the season. At another Wal-Mart in Houston, the store manager had the people wait outside the store and wouldn't let them line up inside. So, of course a fight broke out when someone tried to cut in line and it degenerated into a complete riot and the store had to close! All this crap for a Toy? Has this country sunk so low into rampant commercialism that we riot in order for the opportunity to buy a six hundred dollar toy? Where the hell is our priorities when we would risk life and limb to buy junior a damn toy? Oh and you can't talk to these people...they see nothing wrong with what they are doing, they think it's perfectly normal! They seem to think that if their children don't get the very latest cutting-edge toy or whatever is hot and popular then the child is somehow damaged. GROW UP PEOPLE! Take the time and effort to teach your children a love of nature, an appreciation of Art and literature. Teach your kids to love and cherish their fellow man and help those who need help, don't just throw money and "things" at them and hope they get the right message. This country has, for years, been marginalizing humans and raising material consumption to the status of the New Religion. It has always seemed to be the ultimate in irony that this wanton gluttony of spending always takes place on the birthday of a man whose life was dedicated to love and mercy and simplicity. We really should be ashamed of ourselves. |
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I will give you till Tuesday, my official check in day. LOL