Leaving on a Jet Plane....Nope not yet.

     

     I do not have a fear of flying; I just don’t like to do it. Short flights of two, maybe two and half hours or less I can tolerate fairly well, though anything much longer than that I dread the thought of; it’s akin to that one unpleasant task that you don’t really want to do. You know that one thing you finally decided can’t be avoided and just need to follow through on. I know flying is the most time efficient way to travel long distances, I just don’t like that post-flight feeling of being beaten with a phone book; there are no bruises though it sure feels like there should be some. I basically walk out the gangway like I’m wearing a blindfold and only one shoe; I usually end up walking into something. I pretty much have figured out that ugh feeling has a lot  to do with the fact I can’t at any point say “Hey, Pullover, I want out”, like you can on a long car ride; one can’t really do that at 35,000 feet up.

     I count myself among the fortunate ones that can fall sleep almost anywhere; I learned as a kid long trips mean lots of naps. Take me on a long road trip by car and you get pretty much the same; if you want someone to keep your company let me drive a for a while, otherwise I’ll be leaving you with your own thoughts as the miles melt away.  However, it is not so handy a trait during those often pointless meetings at work; that’s me standing up in the back there so  I don’t snap my neck nodding. Plane trips usually turn into several 20 minute cat naps which definitely make the time go faster, however I occasionally miss out on those bags of 9 peanuts the flight attendants toss at you.

     I also experienced my first peanut free flight when the flight attendant announced over the PA that we would only be given pretzels during one leg of our journey. I wasn't aware the airlines even did that type of thing, though it makes sense in recycled air 6 miles up for folks with peanut allergies.  I’d sure miss my peanut butter if that ever happened to me.

     I've come to the conclusion that airline seats and Japanese motor cars are made for midgets. If you are taller than 5’10’ and weigh more than 160 lbs. you feel like a breakfast sausage; that same feeling you get when you put on the suit that has been in the closet for 5 years and the pants…are…a…little…snug! Phew! After the combination over the past decade or so of some airlines going bankrupt and a few others merging, it seems that the airlines that are left have pushed the seats closer together to stuff a few more people in; I don’t remember flying coach as being quite as cramped years ago. Then again I could just be a cranky old man that doesn't like to fly.

     There have always been PA announcements in airports, though the post 9/11 announcement that runs on a loop makes me wonder what we have done to ourselves. You know the one I mean, it starts off with, “If any unknown person attempts…”, then repeats itself 5 minutes later. I guess it must be geared towards the folks that don’t heed the warning on the back of those sun shades we put in our windshields out here; "Do not attempt to drive with sun shade in place". If you need to have that announcement repeated to you ad nauseum you probably shouldn't leave the house.

      

     Another aspect of the changes implemented by the airlines over the past decade or so has been the decrease in the number of non-stops. Now most flights have at least one stop and those layovers often are so short you have to almost run from gate to gate depending on the airport. Sometimes, like the layover we just experienced, they seem to never end; ours did eventually since I’m writing this at home instead of Southwest gate A10 in Baltimore.  Our layover in Baltimore was supposed to be only 35 minutes and we were supposed to stay on the same plane and continue to Phoenix: I should have known that was too good to be true. Fortunately for us we had no connecting flight to catch in Phoenix since it ended up being a 3 hour wait, though I hoped no one else on our flight had to make a connection.

     We were told we needed to get off the plane and wait in the passenger area for further instructions. So off the plane we troggle to sit in the chairs by the gate and wait, about 10 fidgety minutes later with no updates the ornery goat that doesn't like to fly decided he needed some instructions. As I walked up to the gatekeeper at his little podium I overheard him tell the man that had beat me there by 3 steps to “please go sit and wait sir there have been some changes to your flight and we will let you know more shortly.”  I previously worked for a small commuter airline so I really didn't want to be “that” passenger so I went and sat myself back down. I waited another 10-15 minutes during which I saw several people attempt to elicit information from the gatekeeper; he just stonewalled each one and shooed them away, then eventually disappeared. I decided to try my luck at another desk and the woman behind the counter at least was kind enough to tell me they were giving our plane to a group that had theirs delayed and our delay would be about another hour, adding also they would have to find us another crew as well. Really?  Another trip through Baltimore airport had turned into a delay. Why should I be surprised its happened every time I've gone through there? It is the airport equivalent of the Hotel California – you can never leave.

     The situation evolved from the ridiculous to the sublime a very short time later. That plane we came in on, the one that was supposed to be used by the passengers that got hosed right before we arrived, well that one was taken away so they had to wait for another one, which turns out wasn't ready to fly either. I stood up to go look at the board to see what time they had moved our flight to and it had disappeared from the board! Right about now I am doing a slow burn, I really didn't want to leave New York and I didn't want to have my next birthday at the airport in Baltimore.  I walked up to the desk and asked a woman standing behind it, wearing makeup by the pound, what was going on.

“Well sir it seems the plane we were going to give your flight isn't ready, and it looks like we are short a crew as well.”

“Why is it every time I go through here there is an issue with the plane? Do you bring all your broken planes to Baltimore?”

“Oh no sir Southwest doesn't bring all its broken planes to Baltimore.”

Standing to my right is another woman with a twinkle in her eye and a bit of grin who pipes in with, “Well Baltimore is a maintenance hub for Southwest.”

“Ahh. Okay I get it now, all the broken planes DO come through Baltimore.” 

Queue the crickets. The woman to my right, shrugs, as a smile tugs the corner of her mouth. The woman behind the counter looks at me like she doesn't know whether to shit or wind her watch. I thank the lady to my right and tell the Maybelline ad to drink some more Kool-Aid, do an about face and head back to my seat.

     Eventually we managed to find a plane and a crew and made it into the air for the last leg of our trip home. The attendants passed out free booze to those indulging and broke out the good stuff from the snack bin - packs of cheese filled Ritz and mini Lorna Doones. I wolfed down my share and settled in for my usual nod.  We finally arrived home a few hours later than expected, grateful neither of us had to roll in to work the day.

     I hope my next trip to Baltimore is to see family and not as a stopover. If it is I’ll remember to bring a pillow and a blanket in case the Hotel California is doing a thriving business.

    

     

Have a Stinky Day

     During my recent sojourn to upstate New York I discovered an interesting little shop along the main drag in downtown Saratoga Springs. While my wife and I were on an afternoon stroll, checking out the shops and the sights we happened upon a bright blue awning with a picture of a cartoon-like dog, inside a logo that said, "Stinky Dog”. Seriously how could we pass that up? We walked in the store and were greeted by a pleasant bundle of energy of a woman we found out later was the owner, Samantha. Her greeting? “Thanks for stopping in, hope you’re having a Stinky Day.” Needless to say we both giggled.  We spent some time talking with the owner and being one that is curious to a fault I asked her about the origins of Stinky.

     She told us he started out as a doodle that graduated into drawings of Stinky  that she ended up selling, which lead to more artwork showing Stinky in various spots around the globe selling, which eventually grew into an entire line of Stinky products. The store was definitely an extension of the owner; they both were bright and cheery. It was filled with all manner of Stinky paraphernalia. Of course we had to indulge.

     My wife picked up a couple of those smelly things you put in closets and bureaus; these were filled with pine so we could remember our trip every time we opened our dressers.  She also grabbed a sweater for her folk’s Yorkie. Of course when we got home later he had to try it on and being a Yorkie he already had the adorable thing going for him and the sweater just added to it. However, the look on his face reminded me of Ralphie from “The Christmas Story”, during the scene when his mom made him try on the bunny footy pajamas that his grandma made for him. Little Bailey stood in her parents kitchen and looked at each of us in turn like he was wondering if he was being punished. I imagine if he could talk he would have told us something along the lines of, “Yo, dude I don't do sweater vests.” I can relate to the feeling, I managed to conveniently lose several of those homemade sweaters vests back in elementary school. As cold as the winters get there in upstate New York he may change his mind.

     For myself, I had to add to the myriad of t-shirts and coffee mugs we have already; can you really have too many of those? I think not.

     I am really glad we decided to stop in to check out the store, since it was a fun little interlude in the midst of a fabulous vacation. The store and its owner were great examples of taking a dream and running with it by doing what you love and the rest will somehow manage to take care of itself.  If you are ever in Saratoga Springs and on the downtown stroll take some time to experience the Stinky Dog.

     Oh, one more thing. Have a Stinky Day.

 Website: http://www.stinkydog.com/default.asp

Original art by Samantha Norwood McCullough

Six Days in Heaven

                                                                            

     If any of you out there that read my words have noticed a decided lack of new posts, I apologize for not stopping amid the wonders that have assailed my senses the past week, though suffice it to say I was in heaven for six days. My wife and I took a trip to see family in upstate New York, where the air is clear and dirt free, the trees didn't come on a truck and the bodies of water you pass weren't made by a bulldozer. I gathered many ideas and threads to pull and though I took time to scribble a few notes I pretty much spent the time walking and drinking it all in. Note to self; it is time for some new walking shoes.

     Today was spent unpacking and putting life at home back in order after spending most of the past week just enjoying being out of the city and in among the trees. If I simply said I had a great time that would be an epic understatement. I think I OD’d on nature, not a bad way to go I’d say. This trip was a collection of firsts, as in first time meeting a big portion of my wife’s awesome family. The other “first”  really wasn’t a first, just a real long time in coming.  I was able to spend some time with one of my oldest friends from way back, the first time we’d seen each other in over 30 years.  Our conversations were spent remembering our days of glorious idiocy and some of the crazy things we did, but mostly we talked about what has gone on for each of us since we last sat in the same room. It was really good to see him and it sure didn’t feel like it had been 30 years since we’d seen each other; it felt more like 30 days. One could surely make this kind of stuff up, Hallmark movies are made with less material, though it most definitely happened to me and it was fantastic. I struggle for words as I write this knowing all that is contained on this page barely scratches the surface in describing the depths of feeling the past week or more has meant to me.

                                                                           

                               

     30 plus years gone in a flash, times change but good friends are forever. 

      My wife’s parents are both just real good solid folks, they are both warm, generous and have been welcoming to this old long-hair and made me really feel part of the family. They threw my wife and I a dinner party slash reception, hence the reason for our trip, so the rest of the family could celebrate our wedding with us,though a little late and I could finally get to meet them face to face. I must admit I was more than a little concerned beforehand, though any trepidation was quashed upon meeting them all. Each and every one made me feel a part of the family in their own way and the best part was being able to get a few minutes to talk to each of them in turn either at the party or over breakfast the next morning. Lots of genuine warm fuzzies were passed around.

     A whole host of things went through my mind over the course of those six days, including another note to self. When traveling to Saratoga Springs in October the next time bring more warm socks: I froze my ass off the first couple of days. It was definitely not easy to get back on the plane to come back here since I didn’t want to leave and because I don’t like flying, which is a rant for another post.

                                                                             

     Saratoga Springs has a really nice feel to it, when you can walk around downtown you notice the town has a lot of character. Most of the buildings are old and many of the ones that aren’t old are made in such a way that at least on the outside they keep to the general style of the area. If I needed to put that feeling I get walking around town into one word it would be homey; that cup of hot chocolate, old comfy sweater, curled up in front of the fireplace with a good book kind of homey feeling. I think this trip really drove home hard for me about how much I miss that feeling of hominess that is not easy to reproduce living out here in the desert, where 10 years old is old and there is no sense of permanence. Sure I may be romanticizing a bit, the winters would freeze the ears off a brass monkey and the snow is ass deep to an elephant in the dead of winter, though I still have the yen to put up with that again if I mainly because I can get the payoff in the spring, summer and fall. 


                   

The Adelphi Hotel in Saratoga Springs, just one of many cool old buildings.

With a world famous horse racing track in town many horse related items to see. 

Morning coffee view from the porch.

     Fall was always my favorite time of year when the leaves start changing color and littering everyone’s lawn.  Fall still is my favorite time of year, though here it just means I finally reached the point in the year I don’t feel like a boiled owl every time I go outside. We took a drive one day up to Jay to see relatives and I don’t think I said much, though per my usual, when a car trip starts, Gregg falls asleep before the odometer registers a mile. While I was awake I spent my time drinking in the leaves on the trees and watching the river flow by as we followed it for part of our journey. We stopped a couple of times to enjoy the scenery and the river, the highlight of which was the old covered bridge: the kind of place I could stay all day.

                                                                               

No description needed.

The Jay covered bridge. We spent some time hopping around the rocks in the river, just like a couple of kids on a holiday.

     A great trip for sure that was fulfilling in many ways and fantastic in its simplicity: Just spending time with really great people all the while surrounded by an amazing backdrop. Going back again won’t happen soon enough. And the answer is yes to those who are wondering; the when is the question, so we here are leaving all the windows and doors open for opportunity to present itself.

                                                               

                                                                               

Down by the river, pondering the possibilities.

Another One From the Vault

     I have a tendency to hang on to things that stir me within, occasionally during a bout of rummaging I’ll find them and read them once again. What follows is one of the many I've collected over the years. I found it a couple of days ago and gave it another read. Enjoy.

                                                                    

                                                                       

DISCOVERED HANGING IN A GHOST TOWN POST OFFICE IN THE MOJAVE DESERT

     Youth is not a time of life…it is a state of mind. It is not a matter of ripe cheeks, red lips, and supple knees. It is a temper of will, a quality of the imagination, vigor of the emotions. It is a freshness of the deep springs of life.

     Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity-of the appetite of adventure with the love of ease. This often exists in a man of 50, more than a boy of 20. Nobody grows old by living a number of years. People grow old by deserting their ideals, Years wrinkles the skin- but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear, and despair…these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust.

     Whether 6 or 60, there is in every being’s heart the love of wonder, the sweet amazement of the stars and the star like things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events-the unfailing child-like attitude for what is next…and the joy for the game of life.

     You are as young as your faith…as old as your doubt…as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fears, as young as your hope, and as old as your despair.

     In the central place of your heart, there is a wireless station. So long as it receives messages of beauty hope, cheer, grandeur, and power of form the earth, from men and from the infinite- just that long and no longer are you young.

     When the wires are all down - and all the central places of your heart are covered with snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism – then you grow old indeed.

                                                                     

I had an epiphany when I passed 30. Anyone who is alive is young. Namaste.

                                                                            

                                                               

                                                       

Horizon

On the road towards a vision, the end not in sight,

fighting fatigue I drove through the night.

The blacktop unending, its white line in spurts,

my eyes glaze over with a film of road dirt.

Over the flatlands with sweeping tall grass,

the horizon seems infinite, unending and vast.

Down the valleys both luscious and green,

through counties and cities most losing their sheen.

Over the mountains past boulders and curves,

Destination is certain, an arrival time not so sure.

Scorched by the desert with its stately cacti,

the horizon still beckons as it touches the sky.

Journey’s end comes of a morning while tired, and spent

asking is this trip’s inspiration really heaven sent?

Over breakfast and coffee I admire the view,

And wonder of discoveries as I plunge into the new.

(Found this among some of my scribbles, dated 1994. I wrote this not long after arriving in Arizona.)

A Stack of One

     

     There is an odd sort of kinship that exists among avid readers, and I count myself among both those groups;odd and an avid reader, a certified proud member of each group for many a year.  Many hard-core readers cannot let go of a good book we've read: it seems almost sacrilegious, like you are kicking a good friend out of the house. I considered myself among the keep every book group for quite a while until moving too many boxes of books too often lead to us finally parting ways. It dawned on me that I had so many I was using boxes of books for an end table or a night stand, and though it sure saved money on furniture here and there it didn't make a lot of sense keeping them all anymore. During one stretch I even had a stack holding up the broken corner of a waterbed pedestal, until the bed went to the best place for all waterbeds to go - to someone else’s house.  I’m sure if I had kept every book I had ever owned and read I would probably have at least one room in this house I could no longer use. I wonder how many books can fit in a 9’ x 10’ room with a 8’ ceiling and still allow you to open the door? Is anyone up for the challenge? Yeah, me neither.  I don’t keep a lot of books around anymore, most of them are specific niche type stuff, I have a few others that are out of print and several reference books, including an 1858 Webster’s Dictionary reprint and 1931 Webster’s unabridged edition that could inflict some damage if it was thrown at you; it weighs about 15 lbs. After being accustomed to having several hundred books stacked all around for so many years it feels like practically nothing.

     I began to use the local libraries quite a bit more after I moved here to Arizona.  We have some good ones locally, and they became a source of good free entertainment; a library card is free and I didn't have to find a lot of room for the few books I carted home, plus I discovered some authors I had never read before. The one drawback of course was dropping off the ones I had read, fully intent on not picking up more. Then I'd hear that little voice say “just take a quick look” to see if there is anything new, which inevitably lead to another stack going home under my arm; just like a kid in a penny candy store with a 5 dollar bill in his pocket.

     Books and reading were the catalysts to the prologue of my relationship with my wife. I happened upon her one day, just sitting on a bench, reading, in the smokers alley behind where we both used to work. I noticed she was reading one of P.N. Elrod's Vampire Files and mentioned I liked that series too. The conversation got around to authors and books we were both fans of, like Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Conan Doyle and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I thought I had overstepped my welcome when she told me that we shared a similar pet peeve; why do some people feel the need to start a conversation with you when you are trying to read?  We decided they must be none readers and don’t understand the concept of, “I’m reading a book leave me alone.”  Our story unfolded as any good one does, though this one we just keep writing it as it goes along. She has read a lot of the classics, myself I watched a lot of classic cartoons and really only read the classics that were stuffed down my throat in public school. We both have rather eclectic taste in our reading and we each have ventured into genres that neither of us expected too.  That is one of the great aspects of liking to read there are always authors to discover.  It is not uncommon to end our days, each with their own reading or to spend the start of a lazy weekend day sitting side-by-side each with a book over morning coffee. It is great just sitting next to the person you love and both doing your own thing together.

     A few years ago at Christmas my wife asked for a Kindle Fire and being one that liked books that I could hold in my hand I was not entirely convinced this was a good thing. When E-readers and the Kindle appeared on the scene I bemoaned the change on the horizon, which in hindsight I must admit was rather short-sighted of me. Needless to say from day one her Kindle has been by her side and she keeps it handy on Sundays to track Fantasy football online. She said it’s one of the best presents I ever got here, other than me. When Father’s Day rolled around the following June guess what I got for a present?  Yep, I got my very own Kindle Fire. Watching me futz around with the touchscreen was a great source of hilarity for her: hell it still is any time I am near a touchscreen.  The “I like to hold a real book in my hands” argument at this juncture holds water like a colander.  I’m hooked and mine goes everywhere with me too, though I admit I've surprised myself to say the least at how often I use it. This definitely is not a device for someone that likes coffee table books and since I use my coffee table as a place to put my feet on while I read for me it’s a perfect fit.  I like that it is backlit and there is no need to go fumbling for the bedside lamp after I fall asleep with it on my face: I just turn it off and set it aside in its nightly resting place. I think the book size and feel of it made it easy to adapt to, being a bit different than reading page after page on a computer screen, which I do not care for in the least. 

     The best part, well the two best parts, are it was gifted to me by my lady love and I can have a stack of books to read at my disposal at all times and they all fit in this one little space. Since I have no concern about finding a place to stack them, my list to be read is rather large at this point in time, though for all intents and purposes it remains a stack of  one. As I pen this missive I see by the clock on the wall, and the yawn’s floating across the keyboard it is fast approaching that feet on the coffee table time here in paradise so I am off to the couch with today’s choice tome. Good Night and Happy Reading.

Four Weeks in

 
                                                                           

     I must admit I feel a bit jaded four games into the NFL season with some of the changes on the field and the stuff happening off it. We have reached the quarter pole and there certainly have been some surprises from both teams and players at both ends of the spectrum since the kickoff.  The fumbled punts from the league office surrounding all the off the field shenanigans from Ray Rice, to Adrian Peterson, in addition to the Greg Hardy and Ray McDonald situations has been more in the news then the game on the field.  The first two situations are now about damage control and attempting to appease the masses and keep the bozos in Congress from sticking their noses in. Goodell has been as bad for the NFL as Stern was for the NBA by creating a product that becomes more difficult to sit and watch. The number of penalty flags decorating the field has gone beyond ridiculous, with the number of ticky tack fouls being called slowing the game and affecting the flow, though adding more review-able plays would allow for more beer and pizza commercials.  Per the usual corporate mindset, mahogany row always does what mahogany row wants to and the hell with everyone else who has bought at ticket: in other words like it or leave, this is what you get.

     The game on the field has definitely had some surprises, except for the Jets and the Raiders who have been and will remain clown cars with brief, very brief flashes of organization. The Cardinals and Bengals are the only teams undefeated at this point in the season which is rather unusual to have only 2 by this juncture.  The Cardinals appear to have developed a much tougher mindset the past couple of seasons and it will be interesting to see how well they can hold on to that. The Bengals have been here before and felt flat in the playoffs, only time will tell if this will be their year.

     The biggest surprise would have to be Dallas winning 3 of 4 and mowing down teams with their running game. DeMarco Murray has to be in the mix for MVP based on his early play. I didn’t expect Dallas to win more than 6 or 7 games given all the defensive issues that carried over from last year, plus losing a couple of defensive starters and their guys have stepped up and played well.  Another 3 up 1 down surprise would have to be the Texans, after only winning 2 games last year, though they may not be there if not for J.J. Watt and their defense.  Detroit winning 3 of 4 is a small surprise too, though they kind of should be since they have plenty of talent and it seems a new coach has helped get them moving together in the right direction.  Given the Lions history the past 60 years, great starts have often lead to epic implosions, however with the talent here these guys could definitely go a long way.

    From the other end of the spectrum the surprise team would have to be the Saints losing 3 of 4 and with that defense they are lucky to have won one game. A high school freshman football team could drop 30 points on these guys, they don’t tackle and there are way too many guys out of position.  Their supercharged offense has been nothing worth noting either, I see 8-8, 9-7 at best with this group. There are two of the ugliest teams at 2-2 based on preseason expectations; one has to be the Patriots with an offensive line that can’t keep the quarterback upright even when they are blocking 5 or 6 on 4 and a defense that can’t seem to stop anyone on third down. You can never count out a Belichek coached team; however it doesn't look like he has the horse this year to pull it off.  He is one of the best at making adjustments on the fly, so a candle of hope will remain burning impatiently in Foxboro, that Bill can right the ship.  The 49ers are the other team that seems to be fighting to get itself together after two 4^th quarter meltdowns. Rumblings have appeared on line that players are unhappy with the coach, though I don’t see him going anywhere anytime soon.

    The rest of the teams are about where expected, in a state of meh, with the expected bottom dwellers at the bottom and the middle kids being right where there supposed to be. The Falcons and the Colts should be fun to watch from what they have shown so far and both will probably have a few games that end with scores around 38 – 35.

    From a fantasy football perspective a lot of the expected studs have been duds, especially the running backs.  Adrian Peterson we know Is home watching day time TV, Jamaal Charles missed time, Eddie Lacy and LeSean McCoy can’t seem to get going and as mentioned before DeMarco Murray is running roughshod over people so far. So many teams are going with running back by committee that finding consistency from running backs has been so much a test of skill and more like a bit of luck. The top receivers have had their issues too; Calvin Johnson, Brandon Marshall and Demeryius Thomas have all been dealing with injuries and not in top form.  Steve Smith even at 100 years old makes Joe Flacco look like he can throw the ball and doesn’t look to be slowing down a bit.  Allen Hurns from the Jags pretty much has the “That Didn’t Help Anyone” award sewed up for the season after week one, I think that surprise performance will be tough to beat. I think Peyton Manning misses Knowshon Moreno more than he can admit; he’s still Peyton though not as Peytony. Brees and Brady have spent the first few weeks running for their lives and not shown us what we are accustomed to seeing from these two. I don’t want a witness from the congregation I want you to block someone dammit! Nick Foles obviously spent the off season learning how to throw interceptions, though with that offense he will be all right.  Aaron Rodgers finally looked like himself dismantling the Bears, though the Packers look a little unsteady. Meanwhile, Andrew Luck is steadily working his way to being poster child for the NFL. I almost forgot to mention to the top rookies QB's from the draft, Teddy Bridgewater and Blake Bortles, the early returns look like these guys can play and I hope their offensive lines can keep them from getting killed. Two of the defenses expected to be dominating, the Panthers and 49ers have not been, and the one expected to be tissue, the Cowboys, have exceeded expectations.  The Cardinals have played real well despite losing some starters from last year and are a mild surprise though Bruce Arians has got these guys playing together and playing tough.

     This season so far is shaping up to have a couple of 9-7 or 8-8 wildcard teams, as there is no team really dominating week in and week out and it wouldn't be a surprise to see a 9-7 in the Super Bowl.  The halfway point may be a better gauge as the inevitable injuries mount up and the teams that can adjust and have fill-ins step up will rise to the top.

     My jaded self has come to realize that football has been a fall tradition for me for so long it is hard to break away from it. I have the games on some Sundays as background noise while I futz around the house, waiting for the crowd roar to run to the TV. I sure I see more replays than real time plays some weeks. I started playing fantasy football 3 seasons ago after some prodding by my other half, and that has become more interesting than the games on the screen. Something wrong there I think. I’ll still watch with one eye at least, though I’ll be sure to keep a book to read handy and a pillow nearby for naps between play reviews.

    

                                                                            

     

The Oil of Change

     This popped up in my Facebook memories today and I realized how much fun it was to write. It also gave me a couple of giggles. I have another post for tomorrow ready to go and get this blog back in business. 

     After threatening to go get my oil changed the past 3 weekends I finally went to my usual shop on Saturday morning.  I was referred to my mechanics in the mid 90’s and I feel lucky to have been a customer since then. A good wrench is worth their weight in gold and some of the best I’ve ever known never worked in a shop, they were just shade tree mechanics that tinkered away their weekends. I learned how to repair cars the same way a lot of folks did, out of need, economic need. I bought an old Dodge van back in the 70’s that become the bane of my existence for a few years. It broke down so often I knew the tow truck drivers on a first name basis, thank God for AAA. I bought oil by the case, carried around a spare set of spark plugs and a box of spare parts I scavenged from the junkyard. It was such a craptastically fine example of 1970’s American car know how, that a friend offered to shoot it for me; I declined, though a few months later he did shoot his and got arrested.  The judge laughed when his charges were read in court and made my buddy promise to not do that again. For many years I spent a lot of weekend time under the hood of a car just to be mobile again on Monday. I sure don’t miss that stuff very much  though hanging with friends and swearing in harmony when things didn't quite work out as we planned made for some good times.

                                                                            

My Auto Shop teacher. The little puppy I had for a couple of weeks Four-Legged-Kids  is in the foreground. 

     I don’t work on cars anymore and haven’t done much other than simple stuff since I moved out here, even simple stuff like oil changes. I don’t have the space nor the inclination to store a collection of jugs or barrels full of used oil to take to the city a few times a year. Another part of that equation is apartments and HOAs have a tendency to absolutely freak out if they see the hood of a car up, so I've curtailed my activities if for no other reason than to avoid some stupid fine for being alive in public. That’s another rant for another day. I have come to take on my Dad’s attitude about car repair, he used say. ”those guys need to make a buck too”, though I think mainly he just didn't want to do it anymore and I have come to the same conclusion.  My mechanic laughed like hell when I told I didn't work on cars anymore unless the third number was a 7 and even then I think I would plead ignorance.  I am kind of enjoying my retirement from busted knuckles and knots on my big furry head.

                                                                             

   Pinto Explodabout, I had to change the plugs without fail every 3,000 miles or it wouldn't run worth a damn.

     My mechanic and I were talking about how the auto repair business has changed over the past 8-10  years and how there is less work to go around though it is more costly each time. He was telling me the last few years, mainly the last 4 or 5 that he does a lot of computer work, and has to take new classes every month just to stay current. Now he does a lot of hook the car to a machine, wait till it spits out a code and you have to decipher it, sometimes there are easy and other times they are as useful as most help files.  He said he doesn't get the same usual maintenance much for newer cars like brakes, belts, and plugs since the now make all of those in a form that can last 100,000 miles.  You just end up paying a lot more now when it goes kaput. We looked at what my maintenance guidelines were for my car. I’m about due to get my tranny filter changed, though I ‘m supposed to get another 50,000 miles out of my plugs and brakes. It boggles the mind after what I've been accustomed to for so many years. Now when I see an older car on the road that’s not a classic cool ride I wonder how that old thing is still running; then I grin because it’s either out of need or a labor of love.

                                                                           

                                                

    This '73 Chevy pickup managed to get us to Arizona and I drove it around for 5 more years with no A/C. I had this old girl for 10 years and it was definitely a labor of love keeping it on the road. Before I moved out here I bought a parts truck with a blown engine and swapped out the doors, the tail gate, and the leaf springs. The only original body parts left when I sold it was the cab, everything had been changed and if it hadn't been painted primer gray it would have looked like a patch work quilt. Now when I see another old Chevy truck on the road I wonder if this one is still out there too. The dinosaurs of the auto world always have some kind of appeal whether out of nostalgia or just the desire to have a sweet ride. The car I drive now is already a dinosaur, Chevy stopped making them a couple years ago, but most likely I'll just keep on driving it till becomes a cube, cuz dinosaurs are just cool like that.

Chromie and the Page Gnomes

If I didn't need another sign that Google+ is deader than Abraham Lincoln I still managed to find another one here. Well let's say maybe outdated. Might be time to move this collection of paper filled holes to another site. I tried to add some pictures to a post the other night and it kept failing, needless to say the air was blue in this office. There was this little ball on here that kept changing colors from red to yellow to green to blue and around again while I was trying to add my pictures. The message revealed when I hovered over it? It appears your have compatibility mode enabled. Not!, that's asking for trouble. A little more poking around brought me to a page that showed me the best browser for using this site. The little page gnomes made me aware that my browser is out of date and pointed out to me I should be using IE 9, 10 or Surprise! Chrome. I have IE 11. Facepalm. Lo and behold when I closed out and opened back up in Chrome I had no issues loading pics. I've tried Chrome here and there but was never a fan of it, the bare bones look for me was like buying a brand new Cadillac with manual window cranks. In the meantime I will keep on scribbling while I investigate another home for my musings, all the while with one eye peeled. watching and hoping the pages gnomes don't follow me.

Actually, There is Something On

    Writing for me is often a bit like pulling a loose string on a shirt or a pair of pants, I’m not always sure where my intentions will lead me, though hopefully not too far from where I intended to go initially. Sometimes I start with an idea, then I have to go around the coffee cup a few times before I remember there is a handle, such is the delight of falling through the hole in the paper.  Yesterday’s entry for your perusal began as the back story to that handle I never managed to find before it was time to roll up the sidewalks for the night. Instead, the back story became the story when my keyboard and I jumped in and kept on falling for a while.  While I was reading it over, hoping there were no typos or sentences with the structural integrity of grape jelly, I realized I had left out what I had started to write about in the first place.  Thus again I have managed to make a short story long.  I’ve been talking and ofttimes living backwards since I was 5 so it’s not an earth shattering surprise to have done it again. My brief sojourn back in time, to the hysterically inefficient mess that is over-the-air broadcasting did result in a payoff that my wife and myself still enjoy to this day. 

     My wife admits to being a horse crazy girl growing up and I have seen first-hand how that feeling still lurks beneath her quiet demeanor, ready to be unleashed at the first scent of horse sweat.  Myself I had never spent much time around horses due to the circles I ran in and I haven’t ridden one in many a year.  The past few years have been a lot of fun spending time at horse shows and riding barns being around these amazing animals with a few bruises and a slobbered up hoody being well worth the price of admission.

     Late one Sunday during the cable hiatus we flipped the TV on at my house and saw a small herd of horses flash across the screen. ”Wait, stop, horses, what was that?” my honey exclaimed as her eyes grew big and her face lit up when the channel went past.  Of course we clicked back and stopped to watch and see what this was all about. Little did we know that chance happening would still resonate three years later since we are still watching the show.  We had discovered a little Canadian family drama called Heartland that is now in its 8^th season.  We made a point of watching on Sunday nights when we were near a TV and were a bit bummed when it disappeared from the local late night Sunday fare.  We have a stack of DVDs we don’t watch now and adding to the collection didn't make sense for us after pricing them online so we held out hope it would come back around again. Lo and behold our hope was rewarded, we happened to see it was playing on the UP Network and fired up the DVR. The best part was they were running it from the pilot right on through season 7; love my DVR.  

     I could say I don’t know what has drawn me to this series, though the truth is there are too many reasons to list why I like it. I've never considered myself a family drama fan, though I did enjoy crazy family sitcoms through the years starting with All in the Family., and wholesome would definitely not describe Archie Bunker. Simply put it’s a good show with great scenery, good writing and acting, some really good characters, and oh yeah horses, lots of horses.  I hesitate to type the word wholesome though the word is inescapable to describe it since it is just plan good family entertainment. This little show has all the stuff families live through day to day, the laughter and tears, the bickering, teasing and making up, success, failure, heartfelt moments and occasional fisticuffs, but no swearing since the network bleeps out even the word, Damn! That usually elicits a giggle from the couch.  It is definitely not sappy and takes on issues that each of us has either gone through at one time or another or we know someone who has. The backdrop is a 600 acre horse ranch in the middle of Alberta, Canada and to describe the scenery as fabulous doesn't do it justice, though the amazing camera work makes up for it.  It is back to being our Sunday night wind down to get ready for the week ahead thing to do. Anyone out there with a horse crazy sweetheart would be wise to check it out with no caveats since you’ll enjoy getting hooked yourself.

There's Still Nothing On

     After living in this house a few years I reached a point when I had to make some changes. I was working nights so paying for 150 channels with nothing on didn’t make a lot of sense.  Mainly because I wasn’t home to watch anything I was interested in and I didn’t have a way to record it at the time.  So I kicked loose from cable TV for almost 2 years, it was too costly for what I was getting out of it, though I kept the internet. I would just watch the shows I wanted online when I got home at night, plus I could pause it when I wanted to so it worked real well for a while.  With football season approaching I had to do something and decided to break down and get one of those TV signal converters plus a set of rabbit ears to see what I could pull in for TV. I could get the local network channels that carried football except the NBC affiliate, which wasn’t a great loss though I was surprised I couldn’t ever get the local PBS station. Reception ranged between pretty good and meh most of the time, though all bets were off during dust storms. I somehow managed to pull in, at least from the antennae’s point of view, a “total” of 63 channels, of which I watched about 7 or 8 if I could get them to come in. The rest consisted of a rather eclectic mess that for some interesting channel surfing if nothing else. There were 7 or 8 that were basically nothing more than the flea races with sound,  it was toss up about what you heard sound wise, sometimes they were in English, some times in Spanish.  Another group of a dozen or so consisted of religious or evangelical channels in various and sundry forms. Any one that has known me any length of time knows I’m about as religious as a bucket of paint and only darken the doors of a church for weddings and funerals, so they were pretty much out of my wheelhouse.  The remaining 30 odd stations were all in Spanish, some religion based others just regular TV and since my high school Spanish is very rusty at best I didn’t last long watching those and trying translate on the fly. My main TV fare consisted of ancient reruns from the fairly early days of television.

 

                                                             

 

     I’ve rarely met anyone that doesn’t recall the TV shows of their youth with some degree of fondness, though I‘ll tell ya watching these shows now it’s easy to notice how low budget they really were.  From a kid’s point of view this was cool stuff and I wonder how adults from that era thought about what was filling the small screen.  Catching some of the old shows here and there is a reminder of simpler times and simpletons. Seriously who grew up during the 60’s & 70’s and didn’t see every episode of Gilligan’s Island and Leave It to Beaver about 4,000 times. Watching all that TV I don’t know how I managed to read all the books I did, so maybe I‘m a little odd, just maybe. I remember as a kid we had a box on top of the TV we called the rotor that was connected to a motor up on the antenna. You had to turn the dial to specific points marked on it to get certain channels to come in. We only were able to get about 5 since we didn’t live in an area close enough to any of the UHF stations; those were the channel numbers above 13.  Cable didn't make an appearance in my area until I was heading to high school. The world has definitely moved on.

   

                                   

                 

 

    Into this epic conglomeration sitting atop my TV set walked the woman that is now my wife.  The first time she was at my house and we decided to watch TV she had a look of utter surprise that I didn’t have cable.  I exposed her to the joy that is over the air TV, she wasn’t impressed.  The typical offering late at night after Craig Ferguson ended was usually an infomercial and there weren’t a lot of other choices. The most palatable enough to watch usually consisted of Highway Patrol and Sea Hunt, with an occasional Mr. Ed or Bat Masterson thrown in.  Mr. Ed got a pass of course, he’s a horse and horses are cool, plus he is still funny after all these years.  The others left her wondering why I watched this stuff. I pointed out to her that these shows were from the late 50’s & early 60’s, essentially the stuff I grew up watching, when everything was in black & white and television as an industry wasn’t much more than a teenager.  Sophistication in TV land then wasn’t as important as just putting something on that folks may watch and sponsors could manage to try and sell stuff. I always liked it when Alfred Hitchcock groused and sighed about having to go to a commercial., just like we do now. We would watch and giggle over the impossible stuff that occurred in episode after episode. and the obvious low production sets. The PSAs at the end of Highway Patrol were always special,

“ Remember to give blood at the blood bank not on the freeway” and “ Leave the clowns at the circus don’t be one on the highway”  we’re our favorites.

                                                                          

                                                           

     As our relationship progressed we spent many a Sunday and Monday watching football at her place. She had cable and her TV wasn’t a refuge from the Clinton era.  When we made the decision to share living space she insisted that the rabbit ears go, which required very little arm twisting and not long after she parked her desk and her clothes in the third bedroom, the dish went up on the end of the trailer. NFL Sunday ticket is great way to OD on football in the fall, though we now have 200 channels and there’s still nothing on; thank the universe for the DVR.  We do still catch Mr. Ed from time to time.  After all, a horse is horse of course, of course.