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 |  Groovy Blog v 2.0 |
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| Merry Christmas, everyone. It's supposed to be ten below zero this weekend. Yay. It's been a little less stressful for me this Christmas season because I think I finally got to the bottom of the Herbie vs. Hermey debate that haunts me every December. For years I thought the whiny little elf with the wicked hair gel and a desire to study dentistry on Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was named 'Herbie'. That is until a few years ago when I read something somewhere that referred to him as 'Hermey'. I didn't dig deeper because, like...whatever, right? Of course he's Herbie! Everyone knows that! Right? But the controversy wouldn't go away and each year it's been getting harder and harder to look the other way. So this year I finally did the research and it turns out the little bastard really is Hermey. Just great – all those years of stopping random people on the streets and yelling, “Herbie doesn't like to make toys!” They must have thought I was a fool. But, you know, it's an honest mistake. It's not all my fault. The grumpy slavemaster elf clearly refers to him as Herbie. Even Hermey supporters agree with this, but the original script has him as Hermey so Hermey it is, I guess. What's not so cut and dried is the appearance of the little girl doll on the Island of Misfit Toys. She has no apparent defects and this controversy will not go away quietly, despite the fact that one of the show's producers, Arthur Rankin, explained just last year that her problems were 'psychological'. Yeah, try explaining that one to a five-year-old. A poor political cover-up if I ever heard one. The problem actually was born of laziness. The original airing of Rudolph in 1964 only featured the misfit doll for a few seconds. Every subsequent airing has her on screen for much longer, and with actual speaking lines, yet the producers didn't bother to work in a defect. In short, she was a hit in 1964 and demanded more screen time. This also happened with Fonzie on Happy Days, who had no defects either. What I think happened (and I explained this to my kids when they were young) is that King Moonraiser (and there's another controversy...is it 'Moonraiser' or 'Moonracer'?) traveled the globe each night kidnapping little toys, but realized things were getting a little tense on the island with all that toy testosterone, so he brought in a little action for the guys in the form of the misfit doll. She's the only female on the island, I think. You'll notice that Hermey gave her no attention during his visit to the island, and that Rudolph tip-toed out of the cottage that one night in the wee hours of the morning, leaving Hermey and Yukon Cornelius alone together inside. This further explains Mr. Rankin's obvious cover-up. Then, to top it all off, Santa throws the little misfit toy bird that can swim but not fly to its death in the final scene as he flies through the sky at about 35,000 feet above sea level. All the other misfits got parachutes. Not the swimming bird. Truly a disturbing program. Last night A Charlie Brown Christmas was on and I suddenly realized how Charlie blatantly used the malnourished tree and Christmas play to try to brainwash the gang into his transcendental Krishna cult. The shaved head was my first clue. But I don't have time to get into that now. Before I go, I found this list of actual books for sale online that might make great Christmas gifts for your reading loved ones. -The 120-Year Diet -Bombproof Your Horse -Nuclear War: What's In It For You? -A Pictorial Book of Tongue Coatings -Inflammatory Bowel Diseases: A Personal View -Waterproofing Your Child -How To Avoid Huge Ships -The Interpretation of Geological Time from the Evidence of Fossilized Elephant Droppings in Eastern Europe -The Secret of Sphincters. Did I mention it's supposed to get to ten below this weekend? Yay. Can't wait. |
| Last night I think I finally got a clue as to why I'm not more successful in life. As my own family was busy being constructive – the twins working diligently on their senior projects while my wife was expanding her brain with her weekly bible study – it hit me. People in their 40s and younger all over this great land were busy making decisions and doing noble work to try to further mankind. Ideas were being tossed around, people were making sacrifices, stuff was getting done. Even the man just elected to run the most powerful country in the world is basically my age and I'd say he's been pretty successful so far. So what was I doing last night while all of this was going on? I was searching hard online for the Spongebob Squarepants episode where he ripped his pants. And I finally found it! Ever seen that one? It's a classic and features Spongebob on the beach singing the Ripped Pants song which include these inspiring lyrics: “No girl ever wants to dance with a fool who went and ripped his pants.” Yeah, I'm going far I tell you. But, thinking ahead, how can I make more money in an Obama economy? Capitalism will probably start to die, unless tailored to the left, but as I was eating lunch at McDonald's this week and peeling Monopoly stickers off my Big Mac box, I had an idea. I thought I'd try marketing a new version of Monopoly called Obamanopoly. It'll have basically the same layout. Game pieces include a hammer, sickle and an acorn. Familiar stops like Free Parking (Democrats only. GOP pays $10) and Jail will be included, though the jail will feature a likeness of Joe the Plumber behind bars. Boardwalk and Park Place are gone – in fact, every single street will now be Baltic Avenue. The dice only have a 'one' on them so no one can get ahead of anyone else, and when you pass 'Go' your $200 is automatically put into a redistribution pot so you never actually see it. There are no houses to buy because Obamanopoly comes with no money. It's kind of a boring game that nobody ever wins, but it might have some appeal among Democrats. And it's certainly not a good time to buy stock in any companies that make bumper stickers. Now that G-Dub is out, that industry's going to take a hit. In the short term the bleach and laundry detergent companies will see increased manufacturing due to a high demand associated with all the pants that were peed in glee last Tuesday night. But in the long term, I'm not sure what to do. On one hand, the pressure is off my party and it's kind of tempting to just sit around and do nothing but complain for four years like they did, but I want to help, by golly. Okay, okay...I'll be nice for a while. Time to move on, right? So I propose this in the spirit of unity and moving forward: For every day that Obama does NOT use the 'George Bush and the failed policies of the past eight years' excuse, each American donates one dollar to the national treasury. Every day he does mention it, we get our dollar back with 4% interest. Sound fair? Like the prophets Devo once said -- “Go forward! Move ahead! It's not too late. To whip it. Whip it good!” This is a good start for all sides. I have spoken. Let it be written, let it be done. The grandfathers have said so. Let us smoke. See, I can be useful for things other than Spongebob searches, though I am really good at that. In other big news today, it is raining, I have a Friday off, and my wife apparently looks like Sarah Palin. When she wears her glasses she gets stopped all the time. This isn't necessarily a good thing since I live in a very liberal community. Have to get her to start packing heat like Sarah. |
| I'm home today not making money. Things are slow at work for a few weeks between job projects, so here I sit. Yesterday was much more productive. The boss took three of us to Spokane, WA, to play some golf. This is the fourth time I've golfed with him this year and each one gets farther away. First was on a course 55 miles northeast of town, then we played one 65 miles north, then 100 miles southeast, and yesterday we traveled 200 miles west and two states away to play. Soon we'll be overseas. Indian Canyon Golf Course in Spokane is pretty cool. It's the second course I've played this year listed in the top 100 public courses in America. Lots and lots of tall pines and other mature trees to bounce balls off of, as well as huge elevation drops and gains which made the golf cart races a lot more exciting.. It is in a canyon, but I saw no Indians. And, I actually did NOT take last in our foursome, which is a miracle since they all golf frequently and I don't. I DID almost take the boss's head off while trying unsuccessfully to hit through a narrow opening between two pines. I warned him to take cover before the shot, which he did, but the ball would not be denied. Missed his face by inches. Yes, I actually do like my boss and did not intentionally try to sever his head. He takes us golfing in other states and everything. The best part of having four male golfers together is the productive and intelligent conversation. Ideas bounce off each other like golf balls in the pines. First we debated what year the movie 'Tommy Boy' was released in theaters. Answers ranged from 1993 to 1996 and text messages sent home to loving wives for the answer went unanswered for some reason. (The answer is 1995, I learned this morning) Then we discussed arthritic frogs and how the development of an arthritic frog bass lure would be much more effective than a normal frog lure since the bass would recognize the easier target. An arthritic popping sound in the frog's legs, only heard by fish, would be key in its development. Later on, we wondered why 500-plus pound men weren't gainfully employed in the hockey goalie and bull-rider industries, as no hockey puck could find an opening against such girth and no bull would get off the ground, making for a much smoother ride. And, turning to current affairs, we also found a solution for the country's economic woes – selling off individual states to the highest bidder. We decided to start with Arkansas. If, say, Spain should win the auction, they would get all of Arkansas and all of its inhabitants and goats. It is their responsibility to haul the state away. If we need more cash, Ohio goes next. Then, after getting back home late last night, I was reassured why we got cable hooked up again this week after a year and a half hiatus. Watching 'Slam Dunk, Ernest' at 1:30 a.m. is what cable's all about. A perfect end to a pretty good day. |
| After 18 months, I finally gave in and ordered cable television again. The kids somehow survived the past year and a half, but are still a little excited to be getting the Discovery Channel back, and I'm more than a little excited to be able to watch some college football again. But the thing that pushed me over the edge and caused me to make that call to the cable company is the major network's shameless political 'reporting' this year. Can't take it anymore. Journalism has indeed died in 2008, so I need to add some weight to the right side of the media scales to find some balance and I'll only find that on Fox News. Can you imagine how the America of today would react to the events and people who helped create this country? Can you imagine how today's media would cover it? Tonight on MSNBC, public outrage at Patrick Henry's 'Give me liberty or give me death' speech which seems to have sparked some colonists into military action against impending British forces. 67% of colonists denounce the use of the word 'God' in Henry's speech and label him as nothing more than a 'dangerous troublemaker' and a 'rabble rouser'. Nearly all polled feel he should not hang for his crimes, but receive government-assisted counseling for his anger issues. In a related story, only 26% support the Revolutionary War effort and believe we should withdraw all troops immediately and negotiate with the British. 65% feel paying higher British taxes is fair as long as they are taken care of and not forced to 'work the land'. They feel the military money would be better spent on education and teaching tiny colonial children to sing songs about James Madison as well as funding future erotic corn art museums. President George Washington's approval rating plummeted to an all-time low 29% this week. Sales of 'Not MY president' and 'Impeach W' horse-and-buggy stickers have skyrocketed. Most now feel his earlier career move to cross back over the Delaware in a counter-attack of British forces was a bad idea and a rash decision brought on by ego and greedy selfish motives. To this day, Washington's major political opponents refuse to acknowledge that the surge back across the Delaware was effective. And later, stay tuned for a special report from Keith Olbermann -- “Paul Revere – American Hero or Greedy Grandstander?” Keith will tell us how Revere's famous ride was actually not to warn of encroaching British forces, but was simply a showboating marketing tool to boost his fledging silversmith business. He'll also report on new evidence that Revere kept a mistress in Concord. Then, you won't want to miss Katie Couric's quiz interview with Washington's running mate, John Adams. Here's an excerpt: Couric: “Not to belabor the point, but can you tell me the exact day of the week and the exact time of day and the exact weather conditions on the day George Washington claimed to have had a successful day of battle against the French back in 1754, as well as what he was wearing that day?” Adams: “.....uh.....” Sometimes I think it's a miracle this country exists at all. Anyway, another good thing about cable is I'll now get all the Hannah Montana I want!  |
| Good Morning. Time for another round from the Beacon. These are actual police calls reported in the Flathead Beacon, a small weekly newspaper covering local events in the Flathead Valley north of here. 12:42 p.m. Seen: a man in a red jacket walking with a cane down U.S. Highway 93. 2:23 p.m. A woman, who was walking to Libby on a bike path near Highway 2, felt like someone was stalking her. She sat down, got back up and started for Libby again. 2:55 p.m. Two neighbors were arguing over a cat. One of them is throwing cat crap in the other's yard. 3:52 p.m. A man with a smashed up face didn’t know how he got to a Kalispell golf course. 4:33 p.m. Two “falling-down drunk” transients were told to stay off the highway on their way to the soup kitchen. 7:12 p.m. The same drunken transients hadn’t made it to the soup kitchen yet. 9:02 a..m. Someone working in Bigfork called in to report that they had a headache. 2:53 p.m. A report of a very thin horse on Whitefish Stage turned out to be unfounded. 8:46 a.m. Someone in Polebridge is missing a fishing pole. 1:03 p.m. A black garbage bag was found at Murray Lake. The person who found the bag said it was full of bones. She never looked in the bag, but said, "she could feel them in there." 3:33 p.m. A woman in Columbia Falls left her home after a gun went off. Initially, it was thought that she had been shot in the arm. She wasn't. 5:31 p.m. A person called in to report that their brother had met some people from Washington and they were now all at one campsite. 9:15 p.m. A man called in to report that his garage light was on. 7:01 p.m. A woman received an offer on the phone that she didn’t apply for. 4:34 p.m. Authorities put out a toaster fire. 9:34 a.m. A man in a green shirt appeared to be drunk, and possibly not wearing pants, according to a caller who spotted him lying in the grass of their Conrad Drive yard. In other news, I see that NASA has a shortage of astronauts. It doesn't say what experience is necessary or the hourly wage, but I thought I'd go for it. I have experience with a mini-van and the windshields are similar to spacecrafts. I'm off to work now. I like Thursdays. Thursdays are almost as good as Fridays, but better than Wednesdays. I'll do some blog catching up later tonight. Have a groovy Thursday! I like Thursdays. |
| The world is full of bastards, the number increasing rapidly the farther one gets from Missoula, Montana. That line from the movie (and book) 'A River Runs Through It' has been running through my brain this weekend away from our Missoula home. Down here in Jackson, WY, people haven't been that friendly! It seems everywhere we go, the customer service is adequate at best. But, to be fair to Wyoming...uh...'ites'?...most of the employees here are from other countries, which surprised me. Still, I haven't felt a whole lot of the Montana good cheer I'm used to. Maybe they're just all ready for the summer season to end. The smiles they sported back in May and June have worn off by Labor Day. Well, we're heading home today -- back through Yellowstone and Old Faithful. It's a cool, rainy day, but that's fine. It makes those Geysers steam all the more dramatically. We did manage to cross three more states off our license plate list -- Vermont, South Carolina, and Pennsylvania (Thanks, Kay! ). We still need Delaware, Arkansas, Rhode Island, Kentucky, and West Virginia. I'm at 45 states right now and as I mentioned the other day, my record is 46 for a road trip. If you live in one of those five missing states, get your butt out to Yellowstone TODAY! Park in the Old Faithful parking lot. I'll find you. Might even buy you a cup of coffee! I'm behind in blog reading, but I promise to catch up when we get back home to friendly Missoula. Happy Labor Day! Here's hoping you're not in labor today. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The kids in Grand Teton NP. Grand Teton in background. Aug. 31, 2008 |
| Arkansas Delaware Kentucky Pennsylvania Rhode Island South Carolina Vermont West Virginia If you live in one of these eight states, I need your help. Jump in your car and drive west FAST! And make yourself visible -- those are the only state license plates we haven't seen yet after Day One of our little family three-day weekend mini-vacation. We're currently in Jackson, WY, after driving nearly 500 miles through southwest Montana and Yellowstone Park today. 42 out of 50 ain't bad, and we even got Hawaii, but my record is 46 out of 50. So help a guy out, will ya'? We'll be hanging out down here in the Jackson/Grand Teton area until Monday (there is possible snow in the forecast down here for Monday!), then we'll head back up through Yellowstone and back home to western Montana. So, you have a few days to get here. Drive safely and don't forget your license plates. I hope you're all having a groovy summer send-off weekend! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Yellowstone River in Hayden Valley, Yellowstone National Park, August 30, 2008 |
| I finally got my Dad up on the river yesterday. It was the first time all year he's come along which is a little sad. Just as recently as a few years ago he would come with us all the other 363 fishing days as well (Thanksgiving and Christmas off). He claims he doesn't come as often anymore because of his old dog, Maggie, who can't get around the woods like she used to. Dad hates leaving her home alone for long, but that's what he did yesterday for about half a day. It was a beautiful day up the old canyon yesterday and I caught 31 fish, my high for the summer so far. This was more than Dad caught which is important. However, neither of us caught any lunkers. We did see some range cows and one medium-sized bear feasting on serviceberries. We did not see Bigfoot. According to an article in our crappy local newspaper a few weeks back, Dad and I should have been concerned because Bigfoot is on the prowl for fishermen here in Montana. This article actually passed for front page news in our paper and told the story of a concerned motorist who was driving along the Clark Fork River near Alberton, a small town west of here, and spotted Bigfoot stalking two unsuspecting fly fishermen. He immediately called 911, but the article didn't really say if the police responded. There were no details from the two fishermen at all -- such as their fish totals, though I'm sure it was less than 31. Instead, the article contacted a leading Bigfoot researcher from some other state who was actually skeptical of the sighting, but still claims that there are between 6,000 and 7,000 Bigfoot roaming the earth. When asked why no one has ever come across a Bigfoot carcass in the woods, he asked how many people ever find a dead bear or mountain lion yet we know they exist, plus the fact that there are reportedly thousands of Obama supporters who actually claim to understand his political platform but to this day not one has been found. Anyway, while I was fishing yesterday I realized that we've only had three generations of my family fishing at the same time – Dad, me, and my son. Maybe someday we can be like one of those cute human interest stories where there's, like, twelve generations of a family thrown together – probably for the first time ever - for a day of fun and cuteness. You know the type -- the oldest is pulled from his deathbed and wheeled up to a pond with a fishing rod resting on his lap while all the others try to look like they care. It was a historic day in our little town last Saturday as twelve generations of the Schwartz family gathered for a day of fishing and family reminiscing. Despite complaints about the 112 degree heat and swarms of horseflies, the Schwartz family spent the afternoon baiting hooks and trying to remember who each other was. Great great great great great grandpa Herman Schwartz, the oldest of the family at 162, was in fine spirits. “Fish were bigger back then. I hate trout, they taste like fish.” When asked what the day meant to him he responded, “You know, I would've voted for Custer for president if he hadn't got himself kilt. Am I wearing a hat? Because I like cheese.” Great grandpa Bodean, 91, was fishing for the first time since he was a young boy and stuck a 3-inch treble hook in his lip, requiring reconstructive surgery. “Hook uz beeg!” he said. “Fiz etfz slib fer da unzrebus ins bid florpz a bitsffs.” While changing Bodean's soggy bib, Grandma Mertle exclaimed through tear-filled eyes, “Isn't this wonderful?” while Aunt Edna wondered why fishing was supposed to be fun. “Men are just really stupid, I guess,” she decided. Uncle Roy might have been the most excited about this day! Just last Thursday he was released early from prison after serving four years for sexually harassing his sister Gladys, who was scheduled to attend the Schwartz family reunion but suddenly moved from town Friday morning. Roy's happiness was obvious as he lit a cigarette and mingled with frightened female family members. “I don't fish. Not for fish anyway, if you know what I mean,” he chuckled. “Besides, I'm here because Grandma promised chicken and beer, but so far all I see is bologna and #@%#ing Kool-Aid.” Little Harley, just nine-years-old, was enjoying his first-ever fishing outing. When asked if he understood the importance of the Schwartz reunion, he managed to pull out one earbud and exclaim, “Fishing is gay.” He then stomped off to the car but not before declaring his family was “retarded.” All in all a memorable day for the entire Schwartz family! Ah, maybe someday that'll be me. |
| Today, August 11, 2008, is a big day for Montana. On this day our great state will open its very first Hooters, which is some kind of owl institute I think, and it just so happens that it's pretty darn close to where I live. How lucky for me, since I've always liked owls! Apparently the institute even sells food and drinks to enjoy while you're gazing at the owls. Cool! I saw somewhere that the very first Hooters Owl Institute opened in Florida years ago. I didn't even know they had owls down there, but someone told me they actually have lots and lots of them! This is such a nature-loving community, I think it'll be nice to have a place where rednecks like me and Obama-huggers can come together and simply enjoy being in the presence of these magnificent creatures. My wife doesn't care much for wildlife biology, so it's probably best she stays home. I hope the owls are still out on display by the time I get off work. And I hope they have some really big owls! It's always exciting to see one of those....or even two. |
| I just bought way more gas than I wanted to at a station I don't normally visit. First of all I was mesmerized by the sign on the pump that asked me to 'Pre-pay for fuel in advance'. As I was trying to figure out how to pay before I paid in advance, suddenly the sweet sounds of Air Supply drifted down from the speaker above the pump. This brought on another trance where I was taken back 80 years to Air Supply's glory days and had me trying to remember if I actually ever wore wide-leg jeans back then. I really hope not. Before I knew it, the pump clicked off, shaking me out of my fog AND out of more of my crinkly green cash than I had intended! (I'm one of those guys who never fills up the tank. Psychological advantage over the oil companies. I know -- I'm in denial.) I was hypnotized by Air Supply at the pump. See if I ever visit that station again. Bastards. Hey, the toilet in our son's bathroom works again, courtesy of my brother-in-law who showed up out of the blue from Portland with his family. He fixed it one day while I was at work, bless his plumber's heart. Before they headed on their way I thanked him and told him I'd think of him every time I went to the bathroom. That's all I got. Happy Saturday. |
| While walking through the neighborhood yesterday morning, my wife and I came upon a potato. It was a rather large potato, fresh and full of promise, but it was just laying there on the sidewalk, abandoned. We decided to leave it be since the Humane Society wasn't open yet anyway, but it must have meant something because I wound up having french fries for lunch at the Uptown Diner, which is actually downtown. I then hiked to the top of Mt. Sentinel which kind of resembles a potato if you squint your eyes really really hard and think of potatoes. Didn't see anything on the way up, but on the summit I found a bowl of plain mashed potatoes with a note that read 'Seek ye the gravy in your life lest your life be bland and starchy and...um...gravyless'. Okay, other than the morning potato and the french fries for lunch, I found no other tater signs. Must have just been a random potato sighting. Here's a picture of a potato, though not the actual potato. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Hi, everyone! How's your summer been so far? Ours has been great – much cooler than last summer and very few fires. The bossman treated a couple of us who have been working 43-hour days the past few weeks to a day of golf in Anaconda at Jack Nicklaus's Old Works Golf Course on Friday. Mucho fun that was, and I really got my money's worth by hitting the ball many more times than everyone else. Old Works is unique in that it uses the old black slag from Anaconda's mining days for their 'sand' bunkers. Strange seeing black bunkers, but it feels pretty much the same as sand. I felt it a lot. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** One of the few black bunkers I missed My daughter's become quite the little hiker this summer, which I'm loving. We climbed to the top of St. Mary's Peak in the Bitterroots a few weeks back. It was a perfect day and we only saw three hippies, none of whom said a word about Obama, so that was nice. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Me on top. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Shelby on top. We spent some time in Glacier National Park recently. Didn't see gypsy4evermore  , though I think she told me she was there at the same time. Hey, it's a big park, even if she is pretty tall. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Wife and kids at Lake McDonald. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Twins somewhere along Going-to-the-Sun Road ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Mount Clements We had a lots o' fun up there. Tons of snow left, so I was even able to glissade off the base of Mount Clements in my sandals, which was somewhat cold but worth it. Got to enjoy an overpriced huckleberry milkshake in Hungry Horse, though the quaint little shack where we met Gypsy a few years ago has been replaced with a new, modernized version. Durn huckleberry progress anyway! One of the perks of driving into Glacier country is all the little local newspapers. For some reason they have about 427 of them, and many make for entertaining reading, though I don't think that was their intention. The best is the Flathead Beacon and their police blotter section. The writing is often bad and opinionated and you simply can't make up stuff this good. A sample of actual calls to the police department reported in the Beacon. Things get exciting in Glacier Country. 3:34 p.m. A chainsaw-wielding man turned out to be cutting down trees on his property. 3:02 a.m. A street sweeper in Whitefish blew a tire. 1:53 p.m. A man in Hungry Horse can’t seem to find the words to communicate with his neighbor. He has replaced the standard wave with his middle finger. 11:39 a.m. Someone on Rhodes Draw was greeted by a puppy at their doorstep. 3:36 p.m. A 31-year old woman called in to report that as a 4-year-old her father had neglected her. 3:19 a.m. In Bigfork, when a man woke up from an alcohol-induced nap he found that he was still intoxicated and only 15 feet from the bar. The bar, however, was closed. The man walked home. 9:14 a.m. An inspired lawn ornament was stolen from a home on Eagle Bend Drive. 5:09 Someone called in to report a bunch of naked males on an island in the middle of Foys lake. When law enforcement arrived the men were only half naked. 8:28 p.m. An 18-year old male drove to the hospital after he shot his own hand. He thought the .45-caliber handgun was unloaded. He was wrong. 4:15 p.m There was fire behind a house. Law enforcement was not sure whether it was a greenhouse or a green house. 6:10 p.m. A man was spotted in Swan Lake near mile marker 76. He may have been swimming. 8:09 There was a black cow in the road. 8:48 a.m. Fishy goings was the report in Lakeside. When authorities investigated they found it to be old damage to the dome. 4:23 p.m. A man in Whitefish had a nosebleed. 9:47 p.m. A good-looking bear was spotted in a Columbia Falls residents yard. 4:42 p.m. Two annoying male peacocks got into a fight on Airport Road. 6:39 p.m. A sweet old lady called in to report that her dog was stolen. Upon investigation it was determined the woman didn’t have a dog. 3:04 p.m. Someone called in from Ferndale to talk about a cow that stood alone in its pasture and looked as if it needed to be milked. There was an article in our own newspaper this morning of a guy who's selling moose poop! No way! That was my idea! This guy doesn't just give you poop, though -- he includes all kind of extras like matches and incense holders and moose facts. However, the article also says that he's struggling to find poop lately. Heh heh heh heh heh....I know where the mother lode is, plus my plan is to include a free moose in every bag. This will probably affect the return of customers, so I'll charge more per bag. Okay, we're off to Flathead Lake to get some (locally) famous Flathead Cherries. They're finally out and ready to purchase at inflated cherry prices. Later, taters. Have a groovy Sunday! |
| Yesterday the entire family (and then some) gathered at my Dad's for a farewell gathering for my oldest brother, Mike, and his wife, Rose. Mike was recently offered a job with an oil company in Valdez, Alaska, with a starting salary $80,000 a year higher than what he currently makes. As he put it, "It was a no-brainer for me." Mike and Rose and their two young kids moved from Montana to South Dakota in 1981 when he was offered a job he couldn't refuse from someone in Rose's family. It was a hard time for us younger brothers. This would be the first 'breakup' of the family; the first time one of us would not be living in the same town, but instead over a thousand miles away. They talked frequently of moving back and they visited when they could - usually every two or three years for a week or so, but after their kids grew up and moved out they began to feel an even stronger pull to come 'home' to Montana. In the summer of 2002, they packed up everything they had, put their house on the market, and came back - without so much as a job waiting or any real plan at all. They just wanted to come home. They quickly got established here - Mike finding a decent job (for this town, where the pickings are few) and the two of them buying a nice house south of town. It's been wonderful having them back. Family is very important to Mike and it's been a joy to have the two of them a part of our everyday life again. Holidays have been that much sweeter, and there have been countless days of fishing, camping, barbeques, and just hanging out like families do. They fit seamlessly back in like they'd never been away, which we knew they would. And now, just six short years later, they're leaving us again. I have mixed feelings about this move, but I will keep them to myself. Mike and Rose are both excited for this new opportunity, and we all share in that excitement though I know there are many hidden feelings about him leaving Montana again. Mike has never been driven by money or careers to the point of putting them ahead of family, but he has always been a very practical man. He thinks more with his head than his heart, and we Montanans are well aware that our state ranks dead last of the fifty in income. Opportunities like this don't come along very often. As we made the quiet drive home from Dad's last night, my wife asked me what I was thinking about my brother leaving. I told her it was it was starting to sink in deeper because I know this is the big one - he won't be back, at least not until possibly retirement age. He's basically tripling his current salary. He won't be back. I told my wife that if it were me being offered a triple-salary raise to move to Alaska, I wouldn't even give it a second thought. It's a no-brainer - I wouldn't go. Not for all the money in the world will I ever leave Montana. This is my home, my family's home, and my heart is so firmly rooted here it hurts to even think of leaving. If this all sounds like criticism of Mike for taking this job, it's not. Not at all. Yes, I admit to having a few small pangs of hurt that he's willing to leave, for any price, but mostly my thoughts are of how people are so different when it comes to careers and home. To some, the job is most important and they can adapt just fine to wherever that job happens to be. Others, like me, become such a part of their surroundings that it's nearly impossible to transplant them without slowly killing them. I'm not trying to be judgmental of Mike or of me for how we think on this subject. Hey, if he wants to be a buttface and leave, that's his problem.  Kidding! There is no right or wrong from either side. It's just life and doing what you feel you need to do to survive and provide for your family. And the bond of family can't be measured in miles. Or, as my mother-in-law likes to close her e-mails, "however far, forever near". Still, it's not the same and I'm going to miss them more than ever this time because I know it is the big one. |
| It's almost summer, but spring has finally arrived here in Montana. Okay, it looks like it might be taking Memorial Weekend off already since it's cold, rainy, windy and snowy out there right now, but basically it's kinda sorta arrived. February was long and swallowed up March and April. Along about February 78th I was starting to lose my patience and considered a vacation down south somewhere like Wyoming. But May has been better. The signs are all there -- grass is green, flowers are blooming, and the smell of hippies is once again drifting through the air, plus the surface temperature of the toilet seat has risen to acceptable levels. The hair dryer is no longer required to warm it in the mornings, which is good because hair dryers and commodes don't mix. I have been battling a sinus infection since February. Tried two prescriptions and they did nothing but separate me from some of my cash. So I'll live with it until it kills me, I guess. I gave a few over-the-counter medications a try, but there are about 9,012 to choose from that cover billions of symptom combinations. "Sinus pressure plus congestion." "Sneezing, sinus pressure, no congestion." "Congestion, sore throat, left eye watery, four sneezes per minute, light left nostril pressure." "Partially sore throat, left nostril 70% congested, right nostril 25% congested, two sneezes, excessive whining, olive-pea green snot (refer to color chart on box)." Sheesh! Anyway, it's weakening on it's own I think. But it has had an adverse effect on my sleep which means I don't have the energy to hike and run much these days. This is putting a serious crimp in my 25-year fitness plan to be ready for the Chippendales Senior Tour! Durn it. Have a great Memorial Weekend. Oh, guess what I learned the other day. Never carry a large television set from one room to another without first tying your shoelaces. No, wait, I forgot something else - I bought a Zune. You know, Bill Gates' answer to the iPod? It is a MAJOR upgrade to the fossilized MP3 I had, which worked fine but only held about 3 ½ songs and didn't have one of those groovy screens that show the artists picture while the song plays. The instruction manual made about as much sense as an Obama speech so I had a little trouble setting it up, but I finally figured it out (unlike Obama). Now I have billions and billions of tunes at my disposal and can ignore people for much longer than I used to! Groovy. Oh yeah, one more thing. I stopped getting junk e-mail this week. I have no idea why. I used to get my standard lot of 10 to 15 a day, but about four or five days ago they just stopped coming. I didn't do anything differently, but for some reason I haven't received a single junk e-mail since about Tuesday. My self-esteem has plummeted and not coincidentally, it hasn't stopped raining since Tuesday. I'm not even good enough for discount Viagra adds. I feel like I Am Legend. Alone on the internet. I long for just one of those "girls used to laugh at me, now I laugh at them" e-mails. Maybe today. Get out there and kick off your summer in All-American style this weekend! Get your mower runnin'...head out on the backyard. Grill stuff! Me, I'm heading over to the theater this afternoon to watch Indiana Jones And The Really For Sure Last Lost Temple Of The Hidden Kingdom Of Doom Crusade Featuring The Final Lost Crystal Skull, or whatever. It'll be fun watching a 92-year-old Indy race around in his wheelchair and whack commies with his cane.  Oh, and I put my MySpace link over there for anyone who wants to be my friend. Some of you are already my friend. I need more friends now that Viagra snubbed me.Okay, I'm almost done. I'll leave you with this serious question. Let's say your spouse is happy one day and decides to spare the life of a bumble bee that's trapped inside your house. It's buzzing by the kitchen window so you suggest using a cup and a magazine to trap it and transport it to outdoor safety. Your spouse then grabs YOUR coffee mug, successfully performs the bumble rescue, then places YOUR mug back on the shelf like nothing ever happened. Like it's clean or something. How would that make you feel? I'll tell you how it made me feel! I grabbed that sucker off the shelf and gave it a good scrubbing! Who knows where that bee's been or what it was doing in its dark journey from kitchen window to front door. For one thing, it probably had the crap scared out of it, so there's that. And who knows what other kinds of bodily bee fluids escaped and were running down the inner walls of my sacred coffee cup. I couldn't see anything in there, but I wasn't really sure what to look for. Just to be safe, I scrubbed. I just witnessed true trust and love in action! Without saying a word, my wife walked up to me, handed me a pair of scissors, then knelt down with her back facing me. I figured she wanted me to cut a tag off her shirt, but in some relationships that might not have happened. However, I am not a fiend anymore and did not kill her. Love means never having to cut off your own tags. Okay, now I'm REALLY done. Happy Weekend! |
| One interesting aspect of having the flu is how time no longer holds any meaning. Morning turning to afternoon then to night doesn't mean a thing. Breakfast, lunch and dinner? Sunrise, sunset? Nope. All of those events structured by time when you're healthy go out the window when you're sick. 2:27 a.m is the same as 5:42 p.m is the same as 11:09 a.m. There are no boundaries of time with the flu. It's kind of cool in a way -- probably what it feels like to be a rock star, minus the girls and money, but with legal drugs. Or a cat. Cats live like they have the flu – eating when they want, sleeping when they want, etc. Plus, they throw up on the carpet sometimes, like flu people. Yes, I've been home sick with the flu this week, but in a burst of unexpected energy yesterday afternoon, I decided to start pulling my weight again and do some household chores. I swear I could hear the theme from Rocky playing somewhere, though it was more of a Michael Keaton moment from the scene in Mr. Mom where he shaves off his beard and decides to be good and starts cleaning house. I'm the first person in the history of the world to be inspired by Michael Keaton. Another good thing about the flu is I'm able to blog. I've been working out of town the past few weeks and will continue to do so until well into the summer, so my online time has been, and will be, very limited. Thank goodness for viruses! Anyway, the carefree fun of the flu is over and it's back to work this morning. I managed to stumble out of the bedroom the other night and wound up watching The Biggest Loser. I've seen it a few times in my life, but I'm always amazed at the crying. People cry a lot on that show. That one guy last night must have cried out at least 14 pounds of water weight which seems highly unfair. The trainers cry. The host cries. The guys seem to cry more than the girls, though everyone does their fair share. They probably have to audition their crying skills before being accepted. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Meet Scott. Scott is my friend and comes in my kitchen for his walnut each day if I remember to leave the door open. Scott is not my wife's friend but she tolerates Scott because Scott is my friend. My wife thinks Scott has it too good and that our house resembles a hillbilly shack where squirrels come and go freely. It's only one squirrel. The others are too scared, but Scott is special. One day I looked up to see that an impatient Scott had come in the front door, climbed up the wall and was getting into the cupboard where the walnuts are kept. Maybe my wife has a point. My Dad says Scott would make a good squirrel pot pie. I took this pic with my phone from about two inches away. Scott trusts me and I would never eat him. My wife and I finally figured out why out power bills went through the roof this winter. And I mean WAY more than they should have. I'm surprised the cops didn't come knocking asking if we had some big-time weed-growing operation going on inside. First, though, my wife and I did our best to ignore the problem. “Why is our power bill 42 times higher this month, honey?” “Gee, I don't know. Let's pretend it's not and hope it changes next month, okay?” “Okay, good idea.” “Is American Idol on yet?” Next month... “Why is our power bill 93 times higher this month, honey?” “I don't know, sweetie. Let's just keep paying it until all our money runs out. Maybe it'll get better by then.” “Okay, good idea.” Eventually we ran out of money and I went searching for the problem. I found it in the form of two leaky hot water pipes that run under a section of the floor and went unnoticed. Amazing how fixing them caused a 30% drop in humidity in the house and an end to the condensation on the windows we've been baffled by all winter! Gee, who would've thought that rising electric costs and obscene amounts of unexplained moisture in the house could be related!  One of these days ignoring a problem WILL work for me! I just need to have faith and believe. I promise I'll do a much better job of catching up with everyone when I get home tonight. Have a groovy Thursday! |
| Thanks, everyone, for the good wishes and positive vibes for my Dad. He's home and doing okay, but is facing some challenges in the months ahead – the biggest being a faulty heart valve. He also has the largest prostate the doctors have ever seen and that will be checked for cancer next week before they decide whether to remove it or not. Anyway, that's the health update on Dad. I was able to go on the annual Good Friday hike last week, though I went alone again because my pansy brothers chickened out due to all of the snow (four more inches fell Friday morning to add to the 4,927 inches already on the ground). I found no moose poop or any poop or any signs of animal life whatsoever, other than the one tiny set of bunny tracks eight miles up the trail where I stopped for the afternoon. According to our local newspaper this morning, moose have been leaving the woods and hitting the towns since the snow is so deep up high. One even stole a steak off someone's backyard grill. If moose acquire a taste for meat, we're in trouble up here. 'Maniacal Meat-Eating Moose of Montana, The Movie. They only wanted to collect a little poop...little did they know that soon they would be the poop. Rated R for moose sex, moose nudity, moose poop, and moose violence.' A few boring pics from my hike. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** See...no moose, no poop, just snow. Waist-deep snow, I discovered, after removing the snowshoes. Snow on the crotch is no fun for a man, and possibly a woman. Usually this stretch of trail is clear on Good Friday, but this has been an unusual winter and spring. Global warming my frosted buttocks! It's entirely possible that a moose was under all that snow, but I will return in a month or so when the moose really come out to play and poop. It's actually quite an easy harvest because a moose can lay down a sizable pile of crap - unlike any you've ever seen outside of Africa...which reminds me that our front page headline today warned us that Hillary Clinton will be visiting our town on April 6. Did you know that the plural of moose is moose? Did you know that Rocky and Bullwinkle shared the same middle initial? Rocket J. Squirrel and Bullwinkle J. Moose. How weird is that? Did you know that 'it is always moose and squirrel' (according to Boris)? Without googling, do you remember where Rocky and Bullwinkle lived? My daughter and I were attacked by a moose once. Well, chased anyway. I don't think it was so much that the moose wanted to attack us – he just wanted us dead. Or maybe he just wanted some steaks. Anyway, we survived, and now I have a 'moose attack' story to blurt out at random times when I'm 92-years-old. Like, when everyone's sitting around the dinner table at Thanksgiving some year while the blessing's being said. 'And thank you, Lord, for this bounty of - ' 'I was attacked by a moose once back in '97!' I know this to be true, by the way. I have proof. True story – my brother, Jeff, was driving down the highway one day years ago when he noticed quite a bit of smoke coming from a car parked down someone's lane. Fortunately, Jeff wasn't on his way to the golf course or he probably wouldn't have stopped, but that day he decided to turn around and check it out. By the time he pulled in the lane, the front half of the car was now completely engulfed in flames. He ran to check if anyone was inside and, sure enough, there was an old man sitting unconscious in the driver's seat. The man was not in flames, but old people tend to be very dry and brittle and highly combustible, so Jeff quickly pulled him out of the car and started dragging him toward the man's front porch. Someone else suddenly appeared and gave Jeff a hand dragging the man to safety, but as they did so, the man's pants fell down to his ankles. Of course, this is when he came to. The first thing he saw was two men holding him up firmly by his upper arms while his pants were down around his feet. Jeff said the man was asking 'just what the hell is going on', when his wife suddenly came running out the front door, surveyed the scene, and straightened it all out with her half-naked husband. Later, when he regained composure and realized he wasn't the victim of bizarre pantsing ritual, he tried to give Jeff fifty bucks, then told him, 'I want to thank you for saving me from a horrible death. Well, any death is horrible, I suppose. I'm 80-years-old! You know, I was attacked by a bass on Salmon Lake once.' See? It happens. So, I've got that moose story going for me. Someday when I'm old and dry and highly combustible, I'll embarrass my family with it. |
| Well, durn it! I was working on the most amazingly amusing entry in the history of the world. One that would have had everyone peeing all over themselves and anyone else in range! Okay, not really. Well, I was writing an entry, but I got a call from my Dad who told me he's admitting himself into the hospital today. This comes as quite a shock since he's just about the most active and healthy 75-year-old you'll ever meet, but he never goes near a doctor unless he's really concerned about something so it must be serious. I know nothing right now, but will find out more later today. So, I might not be around for a little while. But then, maybe I will...just not sure what's happening yet. I might have to house-sit and dog-sit up at his place 50 miles north for a while. He lives out in the country and only has glacial speed dial-up and a 1934 wood-burning computer. Dang, right when the new and improved Battle of Gettysburg was just heating up over at CC's place! Oh well, I'll catch up.I did hear this morning that two sisters in Virginia are auctioning off a Cornflake in the shape of Illinois over on Ebay. According to the radio, they had a bid of 100,000 pounds for it from someone in England, though they didn't say if it was Scarlett or not. I never get anything exciting in my cereal, durn it! Once I had a Cornflake that looked like a Fruit Loop impersonating a Wheat Chex, but that's it. Okay, see ya' when I see ya'! Hopefully soon. Happy Wednesday! Happy Spring tomorrow! (he said, hopefully, as he peeled the frost from his shorts...grrr...stupid Spring, late for its own party) |
| Not feeling too well this morning, so I'll be brief. Or I'll wear briefs. One of those. As I type this, my 16-year-old son, Caleb, is walking down 7th Avenue in New York City, on his way to Carnegie Hall for his high school's wind ensemble performance this afternoon. He plays the trumpet and they already had their sound check at Carnegie this morning (I received a groovy pix message on my phone). He's been in New York since Saturday and has been in awe ever since. Understandable for a boy from the mountains of Montana. They've seen all the familiar sights and I have the pix messages to prove it.  According to my brother, however, Caleb's most important mission while in New York is to buy a Carnegie Hall refrigerator magnet to go with the other 9,438 magnets he already has from around the country. I actually found one online last night from Carnegie's gift shop and text-messaged Caleb. He said he'd try. I said 'no biggie'.I did have hopes of getting a Sunday edition of the New York Times, but Caleb couldn't find any. He said every place he tried was sold out, and late Sunday night down in their hotel lobby where he was trying one last time, I received a text message that read 'there are three New Yorker chicks following me, but I got away in the elevator'. They also performed in Central Park's band shell, though it was cold, and they went on a cruise last night from where I received more pix messages of the Statue of Liberty and the city skyline at night. I sure hope he took the time to take some real pictures. I've only been to one big city in my entire life. My wife, brother and I spent an afternoon in downtown Los Angeles many years ago. That was pretty cool, just to say I did it, but I have no need to return and can now die in peace here in the mountains of western Montana. The streets of Hollywood were very strange, with many...uh...interesting people. And I've never been on an airplane! Well, other than one short flight on a single engine contraption when I was about seven or eight. And speaking of text messaging....I had this conversation with my text-messaging-challenged wife the other night while I was over at the university watching the conference b-ball tournament. Me: Halftime. We're losing by one. Wife: Euro. Me: Euro? Wife: Dutsproom. Me: ??? Wife: Anion. I gave up at that point. I'm not quite sure what language she was tapping into or just what she was trying to call me, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to. |
| I'm so tired I could eat a horse. Can't sleep again, dang it. I go to bed around 1 a.m every night, count cat hairs on the bedspread till around 4 a.m. or 5 a.m., come back out and turn on the coffee. Wash, rinse, repeat. Life-changing decision at the washing machine this morning. Do I turn my teen son's socks right-side out before washing, or do I not turn my teen son's socks right-side out before washing? Do I really want to put my hand in there? I face this same decision a lot and have managed to survive to this point, but it's not one to take lightly because it really can spoil a mood for an entire weekend if you have to decide on a Friday and choose wrong. Must have been the lack of sleep because I went for it this morning. My mood? It's too early to tell. The next 48 hours will be critical (soap opera doctor talk). Oh, and if you're ever in the mood to gag, but don't happen to have any teenage boy's socks handy, I've got just the thing. Try cleaning out your computer keyboard. I did this the other day for the first time since we bought our PC over five years ago. First I got some of that groovy super-cold canned air, and after spending a few minutes giving the parakeets brain freezes, I shot it down in between all the keys while I held the keyboard up at an angle. Good grief! You would not believe all the crap that came out of there! By the time I was done, there was quite the stash of crumbs and other goodies piled up on the desk, and I'm not so pleased to report that my gag reflex is functioning just fine, thank you. Along with flushing out five years worth of food particles, I also found a set of keys, some underwear, and one of our missing hamsters in there. yawn Well, one good thing about being tired like this is I usually start to have really deep, pondering thoughts, like how I'd play Deal Or No Deal if I were a contestant. That's pretty much the only television show I watch. There's a morbid curiosity that brings me back each week to see who's going to flush their gift-of-a-lifetime down the toilet this time. How many times have we witnessed this scene after a contestant receives a huge offer? Howie: “What would $327,000 mean to you?” Sobbing Contestant: sniff sniff “Oh, Howie, it would mean everything to me and my family. sniff sob sniff We could pay of our debts, get grandpa his medicine, move out from under the bridge... dabs eyes while sniffing. dramatic pause featuring more sniffing. camera zooms in on several models crying. ...buy a car, get the kids back from social services, buy a dog for the kids we get back from social services....sniff sob....................NO DEAL, HOWIE!” And then they wind up going home with $20. Dumb Or Not Dumb might be more fitting. But, yeah, for me the strategy would begin and end with picking my case to start the game. When a contestant chooses their case, the model will actually bring it down and exchange a brief greeting with them before exiting the stage. So, the only question I need to ask myself is which model do I want to kiss and hug. It's the only shot I'll get so I have to make it count. It's a toss-up between #5 and #26, but once that's over the game would be all downhill from there. |
| Some interesting responses the other day concerning the breakdown of our bloodlines, particularly the Irish within us. My middle name is Patrick, so that'll make up for any Irish blood deficiencies, I'm sure. I do have plenty of Irish, but I don't know the exact figures. However, before the marvelous invention of pomegranate body wash, I once had my mouth washed out with Irish Spring, and Lucky Charms can usually be found in our cupboard. Those things count. Oh, and my eyes are green. All year long. Admit it, you thought I said my eyes are red, didn't you? Admit it, you're now very confused. Celebrate diversity, man! My house needs wrung out. Something deteriorated this winter and the roof now has some leaks. I'm quite sure that much of the insulation up above the ceiling is saturated because the humidity inside was a whopping 99% the other day and regularly hovers around 90% anymore. But it's a dry humidity! Anyway, I think we've reached maximum absorption. All visitors spending time in our SpongeHouse FunHouse will leave feeling fully hydrated. The natural way, no drinking required. It's almost like spending time in a rain cloud, except for all those clinging mold spores and the brown carpet. Less than two weeks until the 23rd Annual Good Friday Hike and Moose Poop Harvest. Since Easter Weekend is earlier than normal this year, and there's been a ton of snow this winter (lots last week), the hike will be more of a challenge than it usually is, but I'm hoping for a good crop of poop. The best gathering grounds are about seven miles up. The poop must age for a while at room temperature, so it'll be too early to tell how good this year's harvest is until a month or so later. Last year's wasn't bad, but not up to par with the year 2000 – a banner year for moose poop and one that had the nation buzzing and set the standard for years to come. Today is my ex-girlfriend's birthday...and my wife's ex-boyfriend's birthday as well. Weird, huh? Almost as weird as the fact that we remember such a thing. Anyway, I'm sure that means something really important, but my DNA is much too shallow to comprehend such deepness. But, you might want to check with your spouse and compare your ex's birthdays. If they don't match, you probably aren't meant to be together. My wife, daughter and I took advantage of the beautiful weather last weekend and went hiking. Sunshine is good. I saw a bald eagle fly over the ridge not far above me. It reminded me of baldness and eagles. The trails are becoming little rivers of snowmelt. They reminded me of little rivers and melting snow. Despite some lingering snow and ice, late winter/early spring really is my favorite time of year, even if I did take one hard slippery fall the other day that reminded me of pain. And, I actually got a teeny tiny little bitty hint of color on my face, and not from the embarrassment of my fall either. I experienced trace amounts of sunburn, which will eventually change into a kind of dull white that's not quite as white as the blinding bleached white I've earned from an entire Montana winter with no sun. This very subtle 'darkening' of the skin isn't visible to the naked eye, though dogs can see it. But, hey, it's a start. I think the official Crayola color name for this shade is 'David in March'. Oh! My son's friend mentioned the other day that his cat sucks on people's upper lips while they sleep, giving them a hickey. He says he's not making it up and I have no reason to dispute it. I hope it's true. Did you all remember to 'spring forward' on Sunday? If not you probably figured it out by now. It's important to coordinate the clock-changing with the rest of the family, otherwise you might be springing forward two or three times more than what is necessary. This can cause problems because your body will instinctively be craving eggs, bacon and toast, but instead getting a bologna sandwich forced down its throat simply because the clock reads 1 p.m. instead of the 10 a.m. it really is. Always have a designated springer. Sheesh, can my blog entries become any more random? I hope not. It's my shallow DNA with matching short attention span, I'm thinking. Oh, and my son uttered these words of wisdom as he went out the door to his job yesterday afternoon, so I will pass them on to you: “Work is better with gum.” Words to chew on. Ha. Happy Tuesday! |
 (See the pretty flower? See? Isn't it precious?) Children whine when you tell them to 'hang in there' for a year or whatever, but kids have a right to be impatient when it comes to long-term goals. Think about it – for someone so young, that's a large chunk of their existence. Take my daughter for example. She first got her braces when she was 14-years-old and was told to 'hang in there' for the next two years. For someone that age, the subconscious part of the brain registers those two years as nearly 15% of their life on the planet to that point. That's a lot. 15% of my life right now would be almost seven years. I'd whine, too. Plus, kids are stupid and don't know any better. The minority within us. It's funny how many people seem to be the most prideful about the smallest part of their heritage. This month especially, those with even a hint of Irish will let you know about it. I am reminded of my childhood friend, Danny, from the Indian reservation where we both grew up. Danny had 1/16 Indian blood running through his veins, but you'd have thought he was Chief Sitting Bull. I don't know how many times he scolded me with 'You stole our land'. My usual reply was something like 'You're 15/16 white. You stole your land from yourself. How do you live with the inner turmoil?' Then he'd hold up his arm next to mine to show me he had darker skin, but I usually tanned better than him so I always won. I do have to say that I'm not particularly thrilled with the drop or two of French I have in me.  I drink too much. Not alcohol, but just about anything else. If I'm awake, I'm drinking. Coffee, Diet Coke, water, anything that's handy and tastes reasonably good. If I could have an IV hooked up while I sleep, I probably would. Because of this, I know intimate details about our bathroom walls, ceiling, floor, cupboard, towel rack, that the rest of the family doesn't. I've done my time in there. Plus, any road trip over four miles will be interrupted. I admit it, I like Miley Cyrus. My kids don't. I wish for her a non-Britney life. I also like MySpace. One of the best parts of a MySpace page is the song you choose to represent your page. Though WDC is a writing site, the blog page is a little more informal and it would be cool to have the same thing here. We could change it with our moods everyday. My WDC song for today would be 'My Uncle Used To Love Me But She Died' from Roger Miller. What would yours be? I think I thunk too much. |
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