Not My Idea of Body Art

    

     I managed to pick myself up a case recently, and it wasn't the kind you bring home for a backyard barbecue. I surmised I pretty much had bronchitis so I carted myself off to urgent care. Forget about trying to get in to see my regular doc at the beginning of ick season, he was booked solid. I went to the same urgent care I have used before since they are usually pretty efficient.

     When I arrived I was the only one in the waiting room, which only proves my point; if you are going to get sick do it early in the morning, the lines are shorter. I sat and filled out the normal paperwork crapola and sat down to wait.  I began to wonder if everyone there was updating their Facebook page and why I was still waiting to go in; there was no one there but me.  After about 15 or 20 minutes the triage technician lady came out and called my name. We ran through all the usual vitals stuff and she told me to wait for the doc. I kicked back with my Kindle to wait for the docs appearance, which didn't take very long.

     The doc did the usual poking and prodding, peering in orifices and listening to my chest, then told me she wanted a chest x-ray.  A few minutes later back in comes the same technician and says, ‘I’m the x-ray tech too, follow me.”  Off I thus troggled to the x-ray room. I elicited a giggle when I explained she needed to turn the slide on end because I have long lungs. She remarked she wished more people would remember that. I didn't realize it was that common and I thought it was kind of weird when an x-ray tech pointed that out to me many years ago, so I've made a point to remember.

    After that it was back to wait for results and see the doc again. She gave me a few  scripts and told she wanted to give a shot of some kind of antibiotic to get my healing kick-started.  Guess who was handed the job of antibiotic archer? Yep, it was the same triage, x-ray tech. I told her she needed to get paid more; she agreed.  She put a band-aid on my hip over the injection spot, handed me some papers and sent me on my way.

      The fun began later, depending on your point of view. I‘m not a big fan of band-aids; they either keep trying to fall off or collect every stray bit of fuzz I  get near when I am wearing one. I decided this one needed to go; it wasn't covering anything that big. Bad idea I had there. I had a bit of trouble trying to get it started to pull it off since it was in a rather odd spot, though I finally managed to pull it loose – along with a few pieces of skin.  

     A gander at the mirror confirmed my suspicions; I had a nice connect the dots in the shape of a band-aid on my ass.  In between giggles and ouchs I received an assist from my better half in finding a bigger one to cover my new body art.

     This one is staying on till it falls off or it snows here- whichever comes first.

Throwback Pitcher

     

     I rarely will sit and watch baseball on the tube anymore, though I have been to a few D-Backs games at “whatever the hell they call it now” Field in Phoenix. It really is much more enjoyable in the stands than on TV because you realize there is more going on than what the camera can show you at any given moment. My baseball on TV watching is pretty much confined to catching some of the World Series. There are two memorable examples for me of catching just the World Series at seasons end; now I have a third. The first was when our local Diamondbacks beat the Yankees on a bloop single in game 7 back in 2001; it was great to finally have a championship for an Arizona team. The other was an even bigger deal for this New England mutt. I could have sworn there was something in my eye watching the Red Sox finish a sweep of the Cardinals back in 2004; I couldn't help wishing some of the die-hard Red Sox fans I knew could have been there to witness what I did that night. Many of them have passed on, including my dad, so the end of the game was thoroughly surreal and bit overwhelming. Now if the Cubs could just get there and do the same, it would probably stop global warming.

     Along comes this past Wednesday night, and I managed to catch the last few innings of Game 7 of the World Series, which was the first bit of baseball I watched all season. I’d had kind of half an ear tuned to the series, so I knew the teams were taking turns kicking the crap out of each other.

     I was surprised to see a one run game in the 6^th inning, so I decided what the heck watch the last few innings and see which team self-destructs.  What I saw was a pitching display that will be written about for years to come, especially with the current way pitchers are handled.  As I watched I was amazed at how he gave those guys nothing to hit, and could still turn it loose when he needed. The network flashed a graphic across the screen showing what the Giants Madison Baumgardner was doing hadn't been done in over a 100 years; a few weeks ago I wrote a piece about something similar :

http://theholeinthepaper.blogspot.com/2014/09/where-are-all-guys-with-rubber-arms.html

   

     Being a failed Little League pitcher myself, that lead the league my last year in plunking kids in the head, I am prone to admire a pitcher that has command of a game the way Baumgardner did the other night.  Being witness to a demonstration like that for a part time baseball fan was definitely a happy accident.  My hope is some real baseball fans got to partake as well. 

Mixed Nuts

     This past week has been more about writing words on actual paper instead of in the air, which is how I think of typing on the keyboard.  Don’t ask me to explain it, that just popped out of mind and refused to go back in. Most of my posts I type out before I post them, rarely do I hand write them first, usually I can sit at the keyboard and just go. There are times though when the keyboard isn't quite real enough for me, it doesn't seem to engage enough of my senses to make the words flow; some thoughts just tell me they need to be written by hand. Most of the handwritten stuff I've put down over the years hasn't seen the light of day. If you asked me to give you a reason why I would probably say I simply wasn't ready to share it, which accounts for the recent silence from this chair.

     Lately I've taken to reading things written by other writers, other than their books. I've found a lot of interesting thoughts and observations about the craft along with a glimpse in to their own writing life. The paths each of us has taken to reach the point of putting ourselves out there on paper are as varied and unique as the individuals themselves. I've found it interesting to see how other writers view their writing, what it’s meant for them and the struggle with trying to find their niche. Apparently in today’s world a lot of writers feel pushed to have a niche. I guess if you’re a retailer trying to sell books it makes sense to be able to categorize the times you have to sell.  For a writer I can thoroughly understand how that niche can feel too confining, almost like someone else is trying to force you into a box.

     Boxes are for keeping shoes in, or little keepsakes like granddad’s broken watch and that penny you left on the railroad tracks when you were 12. I imagine most folks don’t like being pigeon-holed, I know I sure don’t. I guess that’s why I've done so many different things over the course of my life, though it sure has put me in some strange places. I know others don’t seem to mind those definitions since it gives them a sense of structure or some boundaries to work in. I have no issues with boundaries, they are so necessary in so many situations and without them what we may see now as chaos, would be even more so. 

     I tried to sit and think what my niche is, I really spent some time and mulled over the idea, and being resistant to creating a box for myself I will just keep chewing on that one. I looked over the things I've posted here and it’s rather a big can of mixed nuts, a magic can with the type of nuts changing each time I open it. I never worry about spilling any, there is always more where those came from.For the present I suppose I’ll just let the world and all its wonder furnish me with nuts to keep that magic can full. 

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.