What did I miss?

I will not bore you with what’s and why for’s of the importance of a Colonoscopy or the good work of University Gastroenterology. If your curiosity is peeked there’s always, Google. I’ll even leave out the part about how the colon must be completely cleansed and empty. -Or how the Nulytely bowel cleansing solution eventually causes your bum to rain. I’ll spare you all that and begin with 7:15am yesterday.

A gentleman of the medical cab company rang. He sounded very gruff. He couldn’t find the house. (Oops, I left out the part about how you have to be accompanied to and from a Colonoscopy. Things being as they are, the insurance company provides transportation for such lonely souls as moi.) Moving right along… The salty seaman on the other end of the line told me he would be there in 15 minutes after I repeated the address to him for the third time.

And there he was at 7:30am sharp. I could not believe it. The car reeked of cigarette smoke. It smelled as if he had been locked in the thing for a month or more chain smoking 3 or 4 packs a day. He was even holding a lit smoke. WTF! Isn’t this a medical transport vehicle? With smoke entering my recently cleansed and emptied bowels I immediately felt sick and faint. The driver looked in the rearview mirror, pointed the cigarette towards me and asked, “Does this bother you?” I told him that it did and he flicked it out the window while exhaling a new batch of smoke into the car. Ten minutes later and I was at University Gastroenterology.

Paper work, a very pleasant nurse, a backless gown (as opposed to a back-Les gown which is something entirely different) and I was off to the procedure room. I’m sure it’s called something else but, that will have to do for now. I met the neato keen doctor who almost insisted my age is 10-12 years younger than I actually am. Why doctor, that would make me a teenager… Am I blushing doctor? Give me a minute.

What I recall next was that the nurse injected two different meds. I then woke up about an hour later in the recovery area. A different nurse woke me and told me to get dressed. She was kind of hurried. I looked up at the blood pressure monitor to learn that my BP was back to normal, 106/66 rather than the 138/83 I came in with. “Is it done,” I asked? I had apparently slept through everything. Sorry, I too had hoped for a play by play entry for you my gentle reader. I however, slept through the whole thing! It was kind of like that time when those aliens… Oh, you would never believe me anyway.

BTW: A single tiny polyp was found. Not bad for six feet of abused colon?

It's not you, it's me

I need a vacation! As my mother addressed me last night I secretly thought... "This old gal has completely gone around the bend," as it were. She had just called me by my late father's name. It then occurred to me that I am the third. Sad Face Emoticon.

...last you 'til Jesus.

So, I had my final visit at the dental factory this morning. As I waited in the chair I could clearly overhear the conversation from the room directly across the hall. (Do not ask me why the doors were open) Across the way an elderly woman of at least 85 years appeared confused. She was accompanied by her son, a very tall guy who was loosing his patience. The old gal had apparently been a stroke victim and was on a great deal of medication the son told the dental assistant. "She sometimes thinks she has pain in her mouth." "I do have pain," the woman shouted. The assistant tried to explain that she had a full set of dentures and therefore could not possibly have a horrible toothache as she explained. The old woman demanded that Xrays be taken. To appease her the son and the assistant agreed. A short time later as I still waited I could hear the conversation heating up. While my back was to them I imagine that the Xrays were presented to the old woman as it was explained that she had no teeth and therefore could not have the pain she described. She even had great bone loss so, there was no where for the pain to originate. The old gal was angry now. Don't tell her... she knows whether or not she is/was in pain.

The assistant decided to get the dentist. The doctor carefully explained what had already been presented. The dentist asked how old her dentures were. "Eight years," was the reply. "Well, why don't we make you a new pair?" The doctor suggested that maybe the dentures were not fitting properly. The old woman finally agreed and was told she would be fitted for new dentures. The problem now was getting her to understand that; 1, she had to wait a month for them to be finished and 2, that these new dentures would solve her phantom pain. "Momma, they will be good. They will last you forty years. They will last you until you see Jesus again," the son told her. There was an awkward silence and then the old woman paraphrased her son, "last me 'til Jesus?" The Jesus time-space-continuum was something she could understand. The woman now apologized and attributed her orneriness to her stroke. The son completely tapped emotionally at this point excused himself to go out and have a cigarette while the dental impressions were made.

My over-active branding brain thought, "what a great branding opportunity." When the dentist finally came in to attend to me, I suggested a branding experience based on the concept of "dentures being so well made that they would, last you 'til Jesus." While the doctor found this very humorous and reminded me to repeat it here, she did not believe that most of her customers would buy it, pun intended.

Loud Mouths

For sometime I have been keeping mental notes about cell phone users. I mean cell phone users in public places. There are several types, you know? They are all entirely too loud. Most do not realize what a personal call is. They do not realize that "personal call" means between them and the other person(s) on the line. What they have to talk about while at times entertaining is really none of my business. Feel free to add to my list in the comment area. Also note that the quotes here are actual things that I have over heard. Here goes:

1. The Popular Guy - This guy is not necessarily popular but he wants you to think that he is. He smiles a lot while talking and visually scans the area to see who is actually listening. His conversations get funnier the "better" his captive audience. He is the type that might suggest that he was wanted for the new "Boys Gone While" video but he turned them down because he did not want to embarrass the other dudes. I actually heard one such popular guy say, " yeah, I did them both... the sister was kind of nasty."

2. The Gossip - This guy or gal will talk about anyone and everyone at anytime and loudly. I actually heard one young woman say, "oh, I heard he got out on Wednesday. She went to pick him up in dem ugly-ass Payless shoes..."

3. The Braggart - The Braggart is not to be confused with the Popular Guy although they can often be one in the same. The Braggart usually brags about a lot of stuff that no one believes or cares about. This usually involves women with something in their eye who he believed was winking at him. -can also involve alcohol. "dude, I musta had 25, no 33 shots last night and I wasn't hung over this morning."

4. Speaker Phone Gal - The speaker-phone is on and the other person is as loud as f**k! They do not know they are on speak phone or that an entire bus load of annoyed people can hear them. "He was 'bout to go to sleep and I told that bastard I didn't have anough."

5. Oblivious Bad Criminal - These two quotes can explain them. "dude, you know where I can get an 1/8 of 'cookies'" or " I almost got it... I'll give it to you. I need to get that gun tonight."

6. Booty Call Pavers - This is usually a young guy who awkwardly tries to set up a booty call for later on. "Thanks for comin' to visit me the other night. I have so much fun with you. I get off work at nine tonight..."

7. The Mumblers and the Grunters - You can't really tell what the heck they are talking about. As I said, they mumble and grunt. It is oh so annoying like when the radio is too low or your country uncle visits and talks about the old days.

8. Middle Aged Guy - This guy is still amazed by the technology. He keeps removing the phone from his ear and staring at it in amazement. He still can't believe there's no wire. He usually says good-bye at least three times followed up with, "she hung up."

-know any others?

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

From time to time I have been accused of being a little less liberal than a modern society demands. As I see things everything is connected. People can not begin to teach manners and parent when youngins are pre-teens. You don't need a degree from that big school on the hill to figure this out. Who they are and will be are formed much earlier. This is all a preface to my amazement of the five H1N1 infested buggers (10-12 year olds) I encountered in the local library branch this past weekend.

Speaking of the flu, they all had it or some other upper respiratory ailment that caused them to cough, hack and wheeze as if someone was sitting on their respective chests. There were new signs posted about the library pleading with young and old alike to help stem the spread of germs. I counted at least a dozen signs that even demonstrated how to actually cover your nose and or cough in to the crook of your elbow. As well, the library now supplies hand sanitizer and tissues for public use. Nevertheless, as I searched the card catalog online this group of loud kids had gathered at the computer next to me. I assumed their motivation was to monitor who could cough on me the most. One young fellow who stood over his seated friend was standing so close to me that I adjusted myself several times to avoid his hack stream. And then... Then he coughed so violently with his mouth uncovered that I could feel droplets from his mouth on my left cheek and all over my big bald head. Geezus! After taking my pocket hanky and shamming myself down, I looked up at the kids who looked confused. The particular boy did not seem to know or care what he had done. I suggested that they; 1. use their inside voices and 2. cover their mouths when they coughed. This was mighty effective... not!

They began a conversation among themselves as if I weren't there. They first queried, "...who I thought I was talking to?" They then perceptively pointed out that I wasn't any body's father and as well lacked some sort of right(s) to correct behavior. I said nothing more to them. The librarian who had witnessed all this came over and told them that only two people were allowed at each computer at a time. She repeated this three times before anyone moved away and then only one person left. Once I put away thoughts of actually hunting them down should I become sick, I was rather annoyed.

Surely, this isn't the first time I've seen it but, I am often amazed that people don't teach basic manners and self-respect to their issue. Would these things also hamper "freedom" and "self-esteem" or some thing? How can we possibly expect children to blossom into mature responsible contributing adults when at 10 years of age they believe that they have the "right" to snot all over some old bald guy's head? How are we shocked when they do much worst when the corrective words of some one at least 30 years their senior are considered "fightin" words? -When they see no difference between themselves and their elders... when they do not believe they need to respect either?

I thank you for your honesty but...

Around a quarter to eight this morning I was walking about a half block from my doctor's office when a woman stopped me. She had been walking in the opposite direction. She was wearing an ankle length purple hooded parka as if it was the dead of winter and style had been conceded to warmth. Our conversation follows:

Woman: Sir, can I ask you a question? Um gonna be really honest with you. Um a alcoholic and um 'bout to drop right here. Kin you give me some money to get a beer?

Me: HUH?

(She waved her hand dismissively and I continued on to my appointment)

What emergency?

Yesterday morning as I drank a glass of Banana, Strawberry, Orange juice I felt something funny in my mouth. I carefully swallowed the juice and spat the object into my hand. Gosh golly, it was the composite cap from my front tooth. Shit! I raced to the bathroom in disbelief but it was so... It was a clean break though, I could fit the cap back on and it would sit there without falling out. What to do? What to do? It was only six in the morning mind you. Well as much as I wanted to do something there was nothing I could do. I have to admit that one of my "solutions" was Crazy Glue. Had I followed up on this I might give new meaning to the term Crazy Glue. I foresaw putting too much glue on the cap and using my tongue to keep it in place until it hardened and then having my tongue welded to the tooth also. Well, I thought better of that. God does of course take care of fools and children.

I went and sat on the bed with a hand mirror staring at the tooth as if my sheer will could bond it back into place. It did not work. That's not my super hero power anyway. I decided to just go about my day. I first went to the computer and checked out a few of those chain sites. My actual dentist who replaced the composite a year ago I believe left town for higher pursuits shortly there after. So, around ten after ruling out Aspen Dental and the others I decide to go to the emergency section of the dental factory I have gone to before. To my surprise I had a very different idea of what constituted an emergency. I have had this problem through out life but it was still a bit of a shock. "Is there bleeding?" No. "Is there great sensitivity?" No. "Is there any sensitivity at all?" No. "So, your only problem is that your cap came off and you don't like how it looks" Yes, but you cheapen things. The very loud woman shouted over the moans in the waiting area to tell me that I needed to go upstairs to my regular dentist's office.

And that I did, I went upstairs. I told the fluffy fellow at the desk my problem. "I'm sorry for that Sir but, you need to make a regular appointment." I asked him if he meant a regular appointment as in a couple months from now. Yup! I took the cap out and showed him while telling him that that was unacceptable and I needed to see some one today. I did not mind waiting. I realized that I was a walk-in where walk-ins are not welcome but, I needed to see someone today! He seemed very uncomfortable. Nothing like an angry black guy to get people all jittery. He then went in the back and when he returned he told me that no one could see me because they we all at lunch and would not return for at least an hour. "I'll wait," I told him and without waiting for a response I sat down.

I waited for an hour and a half. I have to admit I was mildly entertained by the other patients. This would be with the exception of the guy next to me trying to hack up a lung. At one point he made it known that he was a doctor. Well, then he should have known to get a friggin' mask or something. After I continually adjusted myself enough where by back was to him, he made a teeth sucking sound and got up and moved off to the corner where he should have been to begin with. As well, the woman with her boy/girl 14 year old twins was also entertaining. I won't tell you why because she was too scary. She had apparently just been released from prison and was still "bonding" with the youngsters.

Moving right along it was now more than two hours into my wait. I then heard the check-in guy and the woman next to him talking about me as if I was not there. He told her how I had lost a cap and I expected to be seen by the doctor. (Did you pick up on the point that it was now more than two hours I was waiting?) He asked the woman if he should even tell the doctor I was there. At this point I stared directly at them and the woman looked over at me. Noticing my expression she told the check-in guy, "I think we better." Ten minutes later the doctor appeared. Oddly it was my original doctor who I had thought had gone away. I waved and she asked how I was doing. The two at the desk told her why I was there and she looked over at me and then told them to check me into the computer. I could tell that I was the only person who really wanted this to happen. -Not like I haven't been in that situation before. The doctor took me back and asked what the problem was and I told her. She said, "we can take care of that but I have four patients ahead of you." Fine.

About a half hour later I was taken to the back and a half hour after that I was better than new.

The moral to the story: your emergency very often is not anyone else's emergency but, it still does not mean it can't be treated like one.

Evolved ?

A friend is in town so we went out for drinks, dinner and drinks last night. Fine, fine, fine and the funny part was... We met up with others later. As I stood sipping a Stoli and tonic at the bar of some place called Pastabilities, (too cute of a name but great food!) a gentleman walked up who knew a member of our party. He was in his forties and kind of 60's fried with a heavy pilled striped ski hat. He was very friendly and actually entertaining after I relaxed a bit. The funny part was he at one point lifted his glass towards me and said, "he is very handsome." I looked over my shoulder but there was no one there who fit the bill. He said it again and I did the same never occurring to me that he meant me. He tried a third time. This time he pointed at moi. "Oh, you meant me," I said. I went on to say I thought he originally meant some one else. "No, I meant you. But hey, it's alright. It's not like I want to f**k you or anything. I'm just sayin' you're handsome," he told me. I politely thanked him and the conversation moved awkwardly onward.

Now, wasn't he evolved.

Makin' Bacon

Bacon, the new sugar... discuss.

Last evening I tried a new recipe for Pasta E Fagioli (Pasta Fazool, to use the vernacular). It turned out especially well. I believe it might have had something to do with the bacon*. The recipe called for cooking two chopped strips of bacon. The bacon was so thick and lean and smelled so comforting that I added an extra strip. Of course that extra strip could have only been a positive thing. I decided then and there that bacon IS the new sugar. Much like sugar, bacon makes just about everything better. It's a breakfast standby, proposes to your club sandwich at lunch and the dinner possibilities are endless.

Come on sing along with me:

A spoon full of [Bacon] helps the medicine go down.
The medicine go down.
The medicine go down.
Just a spoon full of [bacon] makes the medicine go down, in the most delightful way.

Not buying it? Well try this: think of your favorite meal(s). Wouldn't it/they be better with bacon or more bacon? Not turkey bacon mind you, the real stuff from Mr. Ziffle's farm. We are carnivores aren't we? We haven't convinced ourselves that we have evolved into only plant eating creatures have we? Well, some of us and I do love you all but... Even dogs love the stuff, if I am to believe the commercials.

Okay, okay, bacon isn't exactly heart smart but, neither is a job that you hate, interacting with teenagers or traffic for that matter. Someone once told me that, "not even a good job loves you back." The Pasta Fazool with bacon did so love me back.

(Voice over)
*Bacon should only be enjoyed in moderation.

Out with the bad air...

As I crossed the street from my dermatologist's office it started to rain, again. But that's not the story here. The story hovers around what I saw to my left waiting for the traffic light to change. It was an older dark blue SUV. Maybe a Ford, I think. I immediately noticed scrawled on the passenger's side of the vehicle more than foot high letters which read, "YOU A SHIT BITCH."

Having what many might consider an over-active imagination, I was perplexed as to where the words had come from. No, I don't mean defecation or female dogs but, rather where the anger originated. I imagine the "writer" was very angry as evidenced by the size of the letters and how deeply they were scratched into the vehicle. I could plainly see the vehicle's raw metal. As well, the last word almost seemed an after thought in that while sizable, it was a few fonts smaller than the others. Maybe the writer added the last word for emphasis. -or perhaps he or she really wasn't that pissed. I then looked at the driver, a woman in her mid-thirties who flashed me a, "don't go there," look and swiftly turned a head.

My curiosity planted me squarely on one of the soap boxes in my head. The one with the sign, "why are people so angry?" Really, when I was younger than today one simply removed him or herself from negative situations. You just got away from people who pissed you off before you could hate them. 'Anyone worthy of hate isn't worthy of hating,' I used to say. I still believe this. It seems that today most people don't even believe this a little bit. Any negative feeling must be acted upon. And the accompanying expression of anger must be several times the perceived offense if there was an actual one. An example might be people who routinely call the work places of people they have a beef with in order to cause them problems or perhaps get them fired. This is the result of a perceived or actual Personal situation. Another example of the punishment not suiting the crime might be the guy in the news who shot his two "buddies" because he told them not to smoke his last cigarette before he left the room. They did the deed and... It seems that we are at a point where one can not just not like you or your actions, you must be destroyed. How did we get here? When did we devolve into believing that it was better to destroy the "shit bitches" of the world exponentially rather than just getting away from them to a more positive existence?

'til it's get paid time.

It seems that everyone these days are poised and ready to "get paid." This morning I witnessed a skateboard/vehicle "accident." I am not a skateboarder but, rather an old guy who notices stuff so, excuse my lack of appropriate lingo. The traffic light had just turned red as a woman in a late model SUV came to a stop. Bringing up the rear was a skateboarder. I imagine that he was a university student from his look and the area where we were. He came to a stop near the SUV's right bumper. As many skateboarders do, this particular young man tapped the edge of his board with his right foot in an attempt to catch the board. He missed the catch and the edge of the board grazed the rear door of the SUV. This left a mark that could probably be rubbed out with compound.

Now, here's the get paid part. The woman drove her SUV to the other side of the intersection, parked and got out; over sized earrings dangling and dollar signs in her eyes. "You hit my car," blah, blah, blah, was followed by the kid pleading for sanity. No harm had been done he thought and verbalized. How could that matter? The woman demanded his name and address and his parents names and address. A passerbyer (is that a word?)who had stopped supplied the paper. Before anyone knew it, the fire rescue and police were there. As the officer got out of his car the fireman walked over to the policeman. His head shaking and smiling the fireman recounted the incident for the officer. NO one was hurt they reported. The only injury was the thoughtless damage to the woman's SUV. The woman wanted a report and one was supplied... I had seen enough and moved on.

My initial thought was that this was about money. There was no real damage to the woman's car. Yes, she probably was proud of it and yes the kid should have been more careful but, what about the cost to city services incurred by calling police and fire to the scene of a five dollar vehicle accident? An who is going to pay what ever fictitious sum she will undoubted demand from the kid via his parents? I guess I already answered that.

It just seemed that as a culture we are poised to get paid. Not everything is someones fault. As well can't we excuse anything? And is money our only compensation for life's ups and downs. I don't think that people realize that the money for all of this frivolousness comes from some place. In addition, it makes it harder for people with legitimate claims to be compensated. The insurance company raises the rates of honest people to cover these law suits and innocent kids become a bit more jaded.

I can not tell you how many people gave me a cockeyed look when they learned that I did not sue the city when I had my accident. For those of you not in the know, I slipped on a patch of black ice which resulted in surgery, a permanent plate and eight screws and loads of physical therapy for my shattered ankle. At the time it just did not occur to me. It was the end of winter and there was ice. Fault and blame? I suppose had I known that it would have taken a year and a half to walk a block I might have made it some one's fault and got paid. This does not make me a better person, just a more realistic one in that I know the money had to come from somewhere and as well cities never forget. Maybe more of us should think twice before trying to get paid.

The kid was also late for class.

Dude, Where's my Hummer?

I wish I had a picture for you but, it all happened so fast. A small tow truck was barrelling down Genesee Street towards downtown this morning. The tow truck was hauling a black late model Hummer H3. The Hummer actually looked bigger than the truck that was towing it. I also noticed several traffic tickets under the Hummer's left wiper and a few sticking out of the driver's door. Behind the Hummer ran a college guy about 6", brawny and three-quarters naked. He wore only flip flops and short plaid boxers. He was running like there was no tomorrow. It did not take much to figure that that was his vehicle being towed.

I usually do my best to avoid actually enjoying someone elses pain but, this was too funny to watch. If I had run like that when I was on the track team back in the day it may not have been suggested that I find another sport. No matter... From the tickets I imagine the vehicle was parked illegally somewhere probably on campus for some time. So, the guy hadn't paid his tickets and was now going to do what? Did he intend to make the tow truck driver give him his vehicle back? Did he realize that he now had no car and would have to walk or run back to where he lived? It was only 56 degrees and breezy. I guess the only thing on his mind was that he needed to stop what was happening. Heartless bastard that I am I sat thinking of titles for the scene. How about, Baby You Can't Drive My Car, or When Bad Things Happen to Rich People, or Tickets... shoulda, woulda, coulda, or Damn, I was going to sleep until ten or my personal favorite, Dude, Where's My Hummer?

Too much information

In my boredom the other night I found myself watching, "Style by Jury." The show takes the most unfortunate and saddest creatures and turns them into things of beauty within a half hours time span. They give them; new veneers for their teeth, Lasik vision care, clothes, hair, make up and they even go beyond most shows and try to address why the individual had all but given up. I couldn't even tell you what this particular shows theme was in that I was only half watching (reading the September issue of Forbes Life at the same time).

My attention was peaked when I heard the shows host comment about the woman's excessive sweating. The next scene was a medical doctor injecting Botox into the woman's arm pit. Huh? They really didn't explain how this was supposed to help very well. My trusty Google helped with that. Apparently, the Botox paralyzes the sweat glans. 84 out of 104 BOTOX® treated patients (81%) achieved a greater than 50% reduction in sweating—compared to only 44 out of 108 treated without BOTOX® (41%). (http://botoxseveresweating.com, Jan. 09) Well, I thought, at the most inopportune times I have been known to sweat like a whore in church. Maybe this is for me?

Then I thought back to a doctor's visit where the subject of perspiration was brought up by moi. The doctor told me that it was a good thing in that my system released toxins that might otherwise lead to illness or decease, even cancer. "Why, I don't want any of that," I thought. She added that the perspiration had to go some place. She asked if I would rather have the backs of my pants wet or clammy palms like that Eric guy or almost shooting from my head like excited Baptist deacons. I'll pass... I think that I'm just fine with my sweaty pits. Geez, you did read the title?

So, after researching the procedure it is apparent to me that it is pure madness. What if my doctor's a goof? Trust me, I have know a few. Botox is poison. Is it not possible that a mistake could be made and I would no longer be able to engage in a fan wave at athletic events? The site sited above also states, "BOTOX® may cause serious side effects that can be life threatening." Besides, the price range is $300.00 - $500.00 and it lasts six months. That kind of adds up doesn't? Isn't anti-perspirant, laundry detergent and social embarrassment cheaper and less risky?

Kind Thoughts... for sale

I was in the bookstore the other day. I glanced about the self-help aisle. I should acknowledge that I have never had much respect for this genre. I do realize that some are helped by the kind words and deep thought of others but, mostly I think that the truck just makes the author a bit of money. After I returned home I sat down and tried to come up with chapters or topics for my own money making deep thought book. I started by thinking in terms of what I have learned or has been in the forefront of my thoughts in the past week.

1. Wheat Germ works far better than I thought, especially in meat loaf. (ah no, it's not a metaphor)
2. It's true... everything that you need to know someone else has already learned.
3. Before you know it, it will be Fall again.
4. Little things make me happy, a lot of them.
5. A 42L blazer fits better than a 44R so, why pretend?
6. Fresh Apple pie cures most ills
7. Not everything is your fault or your problem.
8. Skinny jeans should have a size ceiling
9. You can't make other people happy. You don't have to be a pain in there bums either but, you can't make them happy.
10. You can make the best choices for yourself. Other people think that they can but, they are wrong.
11. Things happen when they are supposed to happen and not before!
12. Consuming a small piece of homemade chocolate cake is always better than "diet" anything.
13. Janis Ian was right, people do want to drag you down in to the hole where they are coming from.
14. Never expect any one person to be everything to you. That leads to obsession and other creepy things.

Anywho, that is where I got... And much like most of those other books it is all stuff that if you had the time or desire to process you would or may already know. The difference here will be that the royalties will go to me since it will most likely be self-published and sold from the back of an early 90's Ford Taurus station wagon at a flee market/fair near you. Excuse me I must go and bellow my demon laugh while wringing my hands.

A cup half full

This may come as a surprise to my gentle readers but, I am an eternal optimist. I do so believe that the sun will come up tomorrow, that the cup is half full and that that is a light at the end of the tunnel rather than an on-coming train. I could come up with other trite sayings but, I've had to recently lay off workers at my metaphor factor, Meta-Les.

I whine more than I should but this does not mean that over all I don't see the bright side of things. As you may have already noticed I am greatly affected by the sun. The less there is the more I whine. I however end each day the same. I count my blessings. And you know what? I always end up far ahead. I count them great and small although they all seem great. Most of us just look for the big stuff; love, money etc. I would have you know that it is all big stuff. Being able to walk, enjoy the sunshine, have a roast come out perfectly, be able to serve another, they are all blessings. The key to seeing your blessings is that you must learn to see the positive in all things. I do realize that this is easier on some days rather than on others. The way to do this is to as much as you can ignore the bad. By that I mean that which you can do nothing about. So, ignore what you can do nothing about and capitalize on the pluses and you will find so much more positive about you. We often miss blessings because we concentrate on what we don't have or things not being the way we want them to be.

Things not being the way we want them to be... I have learned that many times that the way we would like things to be are not actually best for us. As well, there are always lessons in the way things are but, that's a topic for another time. In my few years on this planet I have learned that the most incredible things have happened when I have concentrated on the positive.

I remember a time in graduate school when my stipend check was very late, very late. The Registrar's office had filled my checks under Iii. My name is of course Lester Bryant III. One might believe that they should have know that no one has the last name Iii but, it took three and a half months to straighten things out. The more I persisted the more the problem seemed to be less of a priority for them. I lost 34 pounds during this period. I made it through by being an optimist deep down. On one particular day during this period I got a notice from the landlord to pay-up or else. I had no idea what to do. As I stared out the window I noticed how bright and sunny it was. I decided on instinct to go for a walk and enjoy the sunshine. It at least was free. I was weak and it did take some effort to get down the three fights of stairs, but I did. I walked two blocks and crossed the street. When I entered the middle of the intersection I noticed what seemed to be money. I looked about and this was Saturday, a day when from five directions there would be busy traffic and people walking. There was no traffic and no people as far as I could see. I thought this odd and thought it even odder that rolled tightly in the middle of the street were four one hundred dollar bills. I picked up the money and looked in every direction... not a soul. It was as if it was there for me or rather my landlord. Perhaps the moral of the story was that we should always look up even when we're looking down. I certainly counted the walk and the money among my blessing that day! I have about a hundred stories like that one where there was a great blessing just waiting for me. I guess what I am saying is that blessings are every where and often we miss them by concentrating on the negative, how things are not. Blessings, look for them and count them all often.

Speaking of optimism, today is primary day... go vote!

Fight Club (2009)

If you never saw the movie, "Fight Club" skip this one.
Standing on the bus yesterday afternoon was a tall kid of maybe 16 or 17 years of age. He was athletic, wirery and appeared very confident. He had a scar on his face. The scar was much like a thin backwards Nike swoosh which extended from about the middle of his left ear, over his high cheek bone to his nose. Oddly, the scar seemed all him, totally natural as if it had always been there. It wasn't raised but, rather appeared almost as if it were drawn on although, I think not.

As more people boarded the bus the kid could no longer lean against the railing near the driver. He now stood in the middle of the aisle with his back to me. I only then noticed his teal blue shirt which looked new. It was short-sleeved with epaulets. Across the back (I think this is called the yoke) between his shoulders a white piece of cottony fabric was stitched onto the shirt. That piece of fabric had the two inch words, "FIGHT CLUB" embroidered with navy thread.

You probably have already figured out where I'm going here. FIGHT CLUB? Why isn't the first rule of Fight Club that you don't talk about Fight Club? Boy is that kid in trouble. If there's some sort of certain hell to pay for speaking of Fight Club, what punishment will this lad incur for advertising for Fight Club? In addition, advertising in teal blue can't help his case either. Who am I to judge but, maybe confidence and the scar was all he needed to signify his membership in Fight Club? It's a different day however, I still believe that Mr.'s Pitt and Norton would not approve of any of this. Geez, the kid probably even Twitters about Fight Club.

Weed

For some odd reason I spent the weekend gardening. The idea popped in to my obsessive big head on Friday. It was great exercise waling a pick ax and other tools. The side of the house which is on a hill has eroded terribly. It needs topsoil and mulch. I also discovered that gardening can be very peaceful and cleansing. The Hostas under the great blue spruce are growing awkwardly. The ones on the right side are fine and on the other they are dwarfed. I imagine because of the size of the tree this has happened. The tree must be at least 70 years old and 30-40 feet tall althought, I am not great at judging height. The Hostas... Hostas tend to grow almost anywhere and to great sizes. Maybe the tree roots are taking all the water and nourishment. Also, the side where they are considerably smaller the ground begins its slope downward. Any ideas let me know.

Anyway, there is a great deal more to be done. My injury has prevented me from dealing with the area that slopes down and finally borders the next property. The old gal next door died more than a year ago and the house remains empty. The adjoining hedges look like crap. Weed trees have grown up among them. I'm not really sure who owns the house now but, I do know it is empty and no one is really tending to the property. Some one comes on occasion and trims the lawn but, the beautifully cared for property has not been tended to since she died. Relatives of hers came immediately after her death and dug up many plantings and took them away but...

As I worked it kind of gave me pause. Nature in it's natural state (at least about where we live) is seen as ugly and must be replaced with manicured greens and perfect gardens... How nature fights with us to return to it's natural state but, we fight back with rakes, hoes, weed killers, and our backs because we know better?

What a world, what a world...

At least a couple three times a week a gentleman of about sixty is at my bus stop as I walk up. He uses one of those three pronged canes for balance and is very friendly. Like many his age he has learned enough about life to know that a sunny disposition takes you farther. As well, he offers a bit too much sage advice for so early in the morning. This is my problem and not his of course. It's just early. This morning's advice was about patience. I should have been listening more intently but... Any way on the whole he is a very pleasant fellow and it is always nice to run in to him.

As we stood waiting more than a few cars zoomed by on their way to their day. It was only after a while that I noticed that people in the cars were giggling, laughing and even pointing in our direction. Some appeared as if they were viewing a creature from another planet or something. It took me a while to figure out what was going on. I looked at the gentleman and myself for clues. Was one or both of our flies down? Had a bird pooped on my bald head? What was it? An then it hit me. The gentleman is no more than four feet tall. I was suddenly filled with embarrassment and anger. What moronic jackasses people can be. How is a person's height cause for ridicule, curiosity or pointing and laughter? I felt really bad. The gentleman noticed and said, "it's alright, it does not bother me anymore." Then I felt worse when I started to think that he must go through this all day every day. He smiled and added that his brother was 6' 6". "What he must go through," he added.

September

Wow, where did the summer go. August flew by and was too hot for me. Too hot to blog as you may have noticed. Today, is my perfect kind of weather, 75 and sunny. I am further convinced that I must find a place on this planet where it is 75 and sunny year around. If not here then on my home planet.

Anywho, be back later now that it's cooler. -Off to do errands. Have a fantastic Labor day weekend!

RIP Sen. Edward M. Kennedy

President Obama's words noting the passing of Sen. Kennedy:

Michelle and I were heartbroken to learn this morning of the death of our dear friend, Senator Ted Kennedy.

For nearly five decades, virtually every major piece of legislation to advance the civil rights, health and economic well-being of the American people bore his name and resulted from his efforts.

His ideas and ideals are stamped on scores of laws and reflected in millions of lives -- in seniors who know new dignity; in families that know new opportunity; in children who know education's promise; and in all who can pursue their dream in an America that is more equal and more just, including me.

In the United States Senate, I can think of no one who engendered greater respect or affection from members of both sides of the aisle. His seriousness of purpose was perpetually matched by humility, warmth and good cheer. He battled passionately on the Senate floor for the causes that he held dear, and yet still maintained warm friendships across party lines. And that's one reason he became not only one of the greatest senators of our time, but one of the most accomplished Americans ever to serve our democracy.

I personally valued his wise counsel in the Senate, where, regardless of the swirl of events, he always had time for a new colleague. I cherished his confidence and momentous support in my race for the Presidency. And even as he waged a valiant struggle with a mortal illness, I've benefited as President from his encouragement and wisdom.

His fight gave us the opportunity we were denied when his brothers John and Robert were taken from us: the blessing of time to say thank you and goodbye. The outpouring of love, gratitude and fond memories to which we've all borne witness is a testament to the way this singular figure in American history touched so many lives.

For America, he was a defender of a dream. For his family, he was a guardian. Our hearts and prayers go out to them today -- to his wonderful wife, Vicki, his children Ted Jr., Patrick and Kara, his grandchildren and his extended family.

Today, our country mourns. We say goodbye to a friend and a true leader who challenged us all to live out our noblest values. And we give thanks for his memory, which inspires us still.

Sincerely,

President Barack Obama

Michael Prick

Up until I watched 60 minutes last evening I was on Michael Vick's side. (Click here for CBS link) After all second chances are the American way. He did his time now, let him rebuild his life or words to that affect I left on a CNN blog. The interview with Jim Brown was incredibly bad. One, Vick does not appear to be the sharpest knife in the drawer which did not help things. Two, he has many handlers now and he obviously was told to play the contrite, I'm sorry and I found God while in prison cards. Instead, it came out that once he was in prison he realized there were great consequences to his actions, consequences that he almost found unbearable. It almost seemed that he was sorry that he went to prison more than anything else. I really did not get the feeling that he really, truly realizes the magnitude of what he willfully created, controlled and participated in. I just didn't believe that he even truly understood why he is a bad man. None of it came from the heart. He just seemed to badly parrot what he had been told to say. Not that what he had been told to say was bad. It was just that the delivery was not convincing. I did not believe him and as I said up until that point I had given him the benefit of the doubt. This was even after he had served his sentence. People come from different places, they get led astray blah, blah, blah, I excused. The man has served his time, indeed but, unfortunately I do not believe that he actually gets any of it. What to do, what to do? Perhaps as a condition of his or any one's release there should be that the convicted can articulate in his own words why he was punished.

I am embarrassed to have supported the jerk in any way.

Perseverance

Believe it or not I used to be an incredible whiner. I am about 100x better than I used to be. Now, don't confuse my life observations with actual whining. Whining is all inclusive of bitching and moaning with no real objective other than to perhaps be catered to or coddled like an infant. I've gotten better at seeing life in context by just looking around me. Submitted for your consideration...

Each and every morning since I have been amble I have taken the bus downtown at 7:45am. Up until about six months ago I used to see these two wonderful old gals on their way to the gym. They both were at least 80 years old and carried what looked to be very heavy gym bags. Four blocks from where I wait for the bus is an assisted living center which has a gym that I am assuming is open to the elderly public. I assume this in that the two woman always came from the opposite direction. Anyway, it was always nice to see them. They were up lifting. They always had broad smiles and very warm greetings. Then about six months ago I stopped seeing them. I wondered where they had gotten off to but, to avoid thinking the worst I just tucked them away in my mind somewhere.

Well, this morning I saw one of the women. I haven't used names here in that we have never properly introduced ourselves. As I waited for the bus in boredom I looked up and there was one of the women smiling as if greeting an old dear friend. "How are you this morning," she asked? I told her that I was, "just fine," and asked the same. I added that I had not seen her in a while. She then shared with me why we had not seen each other. She told me that her doctor discovered a large tumor on her right kidney in February. They had to remove the entire kidney she said. She also added that it had taken a lot out of her and that she had lost a great deal of weight. She told me that her doctor wanted her to gain a few pounds in that she was down several pounds. Even through eight child births she had never weighed more than 125 pounds she told me. This is why she was back into her gym routine. She had started back a couple weeks ago later in the day and had decided to return to her regular morning hours. What? You had a kidney removed six months ago, you are 80-85 years old, you walk a quarter of a mile to the gym with that adorable smile on your face! God Bless Her!

What do I have to whine about... nothing!

A Friday Pop Quiz

1) A man gave me his business card on Thursday. When I looked down at the card noticed…
a) He was an exotic dancer
b) The card was handwritten in very poor penmanship
c) The card was a hologram
d) He was a long lost relative

2) The same man…
a) Was selling office products
b) Was selling dinner coupon booklets
c) Wanted financial backing for a Rap group
d) Got a bit angry when I tried to let him down easy

3) I found a lost VISA card and…
a) Returned it to the issuing bank’s branch
b) Got a much needed massage unwittingly compliments of the cardholder
c) Dropped the card in the nearest mailbox
d) Left it on the ground

4) The woman I gave the card to at the Bank…
a) Thanked me and gave me a pen and pencil set
b) Chastised me for disturbing her
c) Offered me “free” checking
d) Directed me to the next window… please

5) On Tuesday I went to Physical Therapy and discovered…
a) I forgot my sneakers
b) That this was not the final visit
c) That I have five more sessions of torture
d) True Love

6) The answer to #5 above made me very pout-y
a) True
b) False

7) The woman on the bus had a Rose tattoo that looked like…
a) A very large plate of baked Ziti
b) A rose, silly
c) I couldn’t quite tell
d) A wound

8) This town has more babies and kids than you can shake a stick at
a) True
b) False

9) Question #8 is both politically incorrect and in very poor taste
a) False
b) Lighten the heck up

10) Have a good weekend
a) True
b) False

Answers:
1) B, 2) C & D, 3) A, 4) B, 5) B & C, 6) A, 7) A, 8) A, 9) B, 10) A

What's in a name?

It's sunny and very warm this morning. The perfect summer's day you might imagine. I just made my way back from one of those office supply stores. Since when did two legal pads cost six bucks? I guess I don't pay enough attention to such things. Moving right along...

As a joke I set up a group on FaceBook called My Name is Lester Bryant too. As I say it was just a joke in that I noticed about a dozen other people there with the same name from about the planet. I was interested in who might respond and how. There are actually around 250 Lester Bryant's in this country alone. I sent out invites to those with the same same to join the group. I got a response back from a gent in London with the same name who seemed pretty cool. The weirdly funny message came from a guy in the south with the same name as mine who wrote simply, "do i know u?" Wouldn't you remember if you knew someone with the same name as yours? I responded with, "of course not, sorry to have bothered you."

Mr. Les goes to the Dermatologist...

As I was walking into the Physical Therapy building, I got a telephone call from the new dermatologist's office. They wanted to know if I wouldn't mind coming in earlier in the day. My original appointment was at 3:00pm and they wanted to move it up to 11:00am. Fine with me, I told the very pleasant sounding voice on the other end of the line. The dermatologist's office was only four blocks away. After a particularly sorry effort on my part at PT I headed to the dermatologist.

I had a bit of a problem finding the place though. For the first time ever my MapQuest print out confused me. To make a long story short, I had trouble because the back side of the building faces the street and not the front side/entrance. Leave it to this town to build a fairly new huge building and neglect to consider that it might be easier to find if the front of it faced the street. Once inside a security desk post adolescent directed me to the second floor.

I introduced myself to the desk person at the doctor's office and for a couple moments thought that he was hard of hearing or something. He glanced up for only a split second after I announced myself and began to type. I awkwardly stood their wondering if I should put my rusty basic sign language skills to work. I checked out his ears for devices and saw none. Just as I was about to speak he said, "you're all set." "All set," for what? I asked should I take a seat in the waiting area and he said, "I'll let them know you are here," as if it were a great chore.

I turned about and glanced the large area for a seat. The room was pretty full. How about... next to grandma in the back? Her expression and glance suggested I should think better. How about next to the 20 something Italian, Hip Hop lad with the crooked baseball cap and sleeve tattoos? Nope, both he and his mom gave me that kids at the cool table tenth grade stare. It's never been easy being a geek. Moving right along, how about next to granny with dementia in the wheelchair? Her caregiver had turned three chairs into a bed and was napping. "Good help," I thought. Next to sleeping beauty caregiver in scrubs was a good looking guy and his two daughters of about 7 and 9 I imagine. Next to the youngest daughter was an end seat so I took that. The young family all smiled broadly and I did the same. I was facing the barely verbal check-in dude who glared disapprovingly so, I looked away. I then noticed the unfortunate man pacing. He was huge! I'd say roughly 6'4" with a great gut that must have extended a full two feet from his body. His facial expression and the pacing back and forth (about a foot from me) all said that every one in the room should probably thank their lucky stars that this guy was heavily medicated. He would continue to pace for the next 45 minutes until his name was called. Boy did he make me uncomfortable. I tried my best to ignore him for fear that I might do that thing where words in my head come out of my mouth unfiltered. I've learned the hard way that when you say something like, "sit the f**K down you crazy bastard," their are no takezeebackzees. After they called his name I looked behind me curious as to who had brought him. The room was almost empty except for mean grandma and the young family so, I guess he must have come alone. Unsettling.

Just to back track a bit, I was distracted from the man's pacing by poor granny in the wheelchair who asked little Ia and Sarah's their names a dozen times or more. Her caregiver was still resting, resting even when the old gal lifted her tee shirt to her nose to blow into it exposing her bra. Sorry granny you did earn your beads but, instead I will look quickly away. -A pillar of salt and all that. I unfortunately made eye contact with the dad of the little girls who was bright pink and grinning. He had also seen what caused my temporary blindness. He took this as his cue to switch seats with little Ia and introduce himself. I don't remember his name at this writing. He did tell me that he had just come from Iraq, his homeland. He was very friendly and had what appeared to be introductory questions. Did I love George Bush; Did I love New York; Did I know of Detroit and Did I love Iraq? -Like I love all this country's presidents; most definitely!, yes, and huh? He went on to tell me in his very limited English that war torn Iraq looked just like the city of Detroit. I was only there a couple times in the eighties and never to Iraq, so I smiled as if I got the joke. He said it again and seemed even more entertained. He wants to move to London he told me. He asked if I had daughters and I told him, no. He pointed at one of his and said, "you can have this one but, I warn you... she is crazy." Ia who was resting her head on his lap looked up as if her name had been called and then slowly put it down again. I joking told him that in that case I would prefer the other daughter. He said, "no, I like that one." I guess you had to be there...

Speaking of name calling, mine was... I made a point of looking over at the sign that somehow guaranteed less than a twenty minute wait and then back at the nurse. I had been an hour wait. She apologized. BTW: I know this all sounds a bit free-clinicesque but, it's actually some levels above that. I have to run so, I will fast forward here. The new dermatologist was brilliant, absolutely brilliant! Apparently, the old dermatologist horribly misdiagnosed me two years ago which is why her prescription only made the rash look better and did not actually make it go away. I was all but called a whiner for pointing this out on occasion. Anywho, in two weeks it will be all gone forever, I am told. The insurance covered the cost of the prescription's cost which would have been $276.00 for a 30g tube of healing. Can you say health care reform? Well, you will have to say it another time because I am out of here.

Public Market

I went to the public market downtown yesterday for the first time. If you like blueberries the size of peas and over ripe strawberries from California you're in luck. A couple stands offered one mind you, one red pepper for a dollar. White potatoes the size of salt potatoes, who knew? If they said they were all organic then it might all make sense. I walked around three times which took only a couple minutes. I ended up getting four peaches, a zuchinni, and scallions. I am still a little perplexed. Most of the stands offered the same produce choices and I imagine they were from the same source. The vendors looked nothing like farmers. I don't get it? I am used to farmers markets being a great alternative to grocery store produce. It should be fresher, larger and not miniatures of what you are accustomed to. Some one told me that this was because I went around noon and not early in the morning. I don't buy it (I think that's a pun). They were selling all day weren't they? Why would they only bring stuff worth buying before noon. I'm still confused. I guess my conclusion is that it just sucked but, the kinder side of me wants to come up with another rationale. I can't. I know... maybe it was a bad day because not a lot is really in season at this time. Yeah, that's it.

In other news...

The nearest neighbors (I have no idea who lives there. NO one has actually seen them before) have allowed their two Pekingese dogs to wander about. The house I live in is on a triple lot and when I pass by they follow me to the door. The neighbor's property isn't fenced. The poor creatures seem so much in need of care and friendship/companionship. I imagine if they were properly cared for they wouldn't be following me, meanie that I am home. Yesterday I notice only one dog as I passed by. He started towards me and stood still looking very afraid and sad. Where was the other dog I wondered? Just then out of the front door (they leave their front door open when the dogs are let out) came a very mean Pit Bull. It charged at me. I swung my bag at him and he backed away and tried it again and again. He did this until I got into the house. He stood outside the door and barked for a while. Where's the other Pekingese? I really don't want to think about it.

Stress and Last Rights

What did we do before stress was invented? How did we relax and regroup? When did life get so insurmountable? I regard myself as a pretty resourceful fellow but... The past several days I have been annoyed at everything and stressed way the f*** out!. Things great and small have bothered me. I think that in many ways I have allowed myself to get away from those things that calmed me. I am a hobbie person. I refinish furniture, cook, antique hunt, paint a little, blah, blah, blah, even make those seed bead necklaces and sew if necessary. After my accident I believe I let myself slide into the abyss. No matter, that was then and this is now. I must make immediate changes, I know that and will.

Moving right along... Sunday, I found a sizable four-way metal cross pendant in a thrift store. It is a finely detailed 4 Way religious medal pendant featuring Miraculous Medal, Scapular Medal, St. Christopher medal and St. Joseph Medal bearing the child Jesus. The reverse side features the wording "I am a Catholic, Please call a Priest". Now, why did I think that this was funny? How can emergency last rights be funny? Anywho, it was sterling silver and 99 cents, how could I resist. No, it's not an omen, silly but, you never know.

BTW: I just found a few online for $35.00. I guess that was a find.

Off to PT

The Guiding Light

I just read a great story about how the soap opera, The Guiding Light is being cancelled after 72 years of broadcast. The story appeared in online news source, Philanthropy today (a service of The Chronicle of Philanthropy). From the article it appears that TGL is donating it’s wardrobe to a New York City charity devoted to offering low income women free interview clothing. What a thoughtful and useful idea! Good on TGL.

Also, I must admit that I was once an avid Guiding Light fan. Under the heading, where were you when? On the day that President Kennedy was shot my mother was multi-tasking (ironing and watching TGL as I sat nearby) when the show was interrupted to announce the horrible news. I guess that TGL had a good run but, it’s always sad to see an old friend go.

Lolita

I love old movies. They seem to have a lot more to do with stimulating my imagination than many of present day. Last evening I turned the boob-tube on for the weather and happened instead at the very beginning of the movie "Lolita." (1962) "Lolita," was directed by Stanley Kubrick. It was of course adapted from the novel of the same name by Vladimir Nabokov. Nabokov also wrote the screen play. This is also a sign of the times in that not a lot of novel writers are even allowed to write their own screen plays theses days.

Moving along, what a fantastic movie! Somehow I have never seen it although I read the book many years ago. James Mason is terrific. He has such a unique style that he almost seems as if he is over-acting. His voice is a bit loud and pointed. He is however incredibly enjoyable. I don't want to spoil it for you in case you want to see it (try the library) but, it was hard to tell who was more unbalanced here, Mason's character or Lolita herself. IMDb describes the movie as, "A middle-aged college professor becomes infatuated with a 14-year-old nymphet." This is an understatement. See for yourself.

Thumbs up

A friend called me last night and whined that he cut his thumb at work. I asked, "how did you do that? Was there a razor blade up your bum?"

An utter hush fell over the jungle...

It was at that point that I realized that all too often I make myself laugh and no one else. It's still worth it! :D

Read On!

Simpson vs Gore

Yesterday, instead of purchasing my usual Chunky Blue Cheese dressing brand produced by that old actor fellow, I opted for one on special at half the price. At home I removed the cap and noticed for only a second that the hole atop the bottle was very small for what was inside.

The Al Gore part of my brain that can read, write and do complex math was thinking, "how the hell is chunky blue cheese supposed to make it's way out of a quarter inch hole? Stop, no good can come of it!" The Homer Simpson part of my brain won by thinking, "must get blue cheese goodness out!" I nevertheless pounded the end of the bottle. And then it happened in a split second. The plastic cover on the bottle top shot forward. There was now blue cheese dressing; up my nose, across my forehead, on the top of my head, all over every thing on the table, on the chair, on the floor and on the sink mat across the room...

The Simpson part of my brain stood in wonder and disbelief. The Gore part of my brain self-righteously stared. They eventually joined forces and over the next hour cleaned it all up.

The moral to the story might be that Al Gore is much brighter but a bit more smug than Homer Simpson?

What are they teaching in schools?

This just in under the heading of: Sad But True.

On the bus just now, in the seat in front of me sat a girl of about 12 or 14 and I imagine her little sister of maybe eight years. I should point out that the bus company here has affixed a gold oval sticker to the window opposite the first seat on each bus. The sticker reads some thing like; ... In memory of Rosa Parks, and gives her earthly beginning and end dates. Anywho, the younger girl points to the sticker and asks her sister, what's that for? The older sister explains while the younger and the mother who was seated nearest to them listens. "That's for Rosa Parks... back in the day she sat in this seat and they wanted her to move to the back and she wouldn't, she proudly offered." The mother smiled as if she was very proud of the girl.

I first wondered if the mother thought it best to explain later. I then thought that maybe she thought that her daughter was correct. Did I mention that we are roughly 1,100 miles from where Rosa Parks sat in defiance so long ago.

For the actually story click here.

More Random Happenings

One: Good help is hard to find...

As almost never happens I found myself with one pair of clean socks in the drawer. As well, three loads of laundry had accumulated in the past week. How, I wondered? Probably because it has been very hot and rainy and I ended up changing at least a couple times a day. I took a load down and put it in the machine. I can usually hear when the machine stops from my room so, I flipped through a couple catalogues while I waited. I waited and waited and waited. A few times I went to the basement door to listen and heard the machine filling with water. I assumed that this was during the rinse cycle. Because nothing gets past me, the fourth time I realized that it had been over an hour and a half since I loaded the thing. I went downstairs to investigate and found that for some reason the machine was stuck on the initial water-fill stage. It had of course over-filled and made it's way to the floor and the near by sump pump hole thingy which was making the most monstrous sounds. I flipped with the dial some and found that the machine would drain at the end of the cycle marking. It drained, and I was pissed. Pissed mostly because the washer repairman had come just a few days earlier and said that their was nothing wrong with the machine. As I recalled, he was summoned because the machine would not drain properly. After the machine drained I added soap and let it fill but, manually stopped the water level. I scrubbed and rubbed the socks in my new role as human agitator much like the washer women of old. I drained the machine and filled and rinsed the clothing again manually. The whole miserable while I was thinking about how overly-dependent we have become on technology and convenience. Rightly so! Now, if I could just find some one who can actually diagnose when and how the convenience is broken and repair it accordingly.

Two: Your Grandma wears combat boots...

The title here was used as a mocking insult by children a generation or two ago. Yesterday, on the bus I saw an elderly woman of about 80 years wearing a bright floral summer dress. She was also wearing big black jump boots. Yes, military issue jump boots, tall ones. I stared and wondered. She smiled at me and then tapped her right foot to a song that only she could hear.

Three: Minnie Pearl Revisited

Yesterday, there was a man on the bus all clad in new clothing. He wore a nice new pair of chinos and a short sleeved buttoned up sport shirt. I could tell that it was a new outfit because the shirt had store merchandise tags hanging from the sleeves. As well, when he got up to leave his back pocket also had store tags. Was he starting a new trend or just where I'm headed? :D

April Fresh

There are times when I am an apparent danger to myself. Especially when I dress in the dark... All day I had a persistent itch on my chest. When it annoyed me I casually scratched. The itch was mildly annoying. I never stopped to wonder why or to go to the men's room and check things out. When I got home I discovered what the problem was. I took off my shirt and tee shirt in the bathroom. As my tee shirt finally made it's way over my head and my eyes were free, there it was. There was a dryer sheet stuck to my chest. It was evenly spread as if I had actually placed it there. I of course removed the sheet only to discover a nice pink fine rash. I stared at myself in the mirror. Yes, a nice rectangular rash. I then stared blankly into my own eyes in the mirror. Neither of us had anything to say. I finished undressing and redressed. I gathered up my clothing from the day. This is when I discovered I had worn the same patterned socks although one was black and the other was navy. And this was only Tuesday.

This Just In...

I must first acknowledge that I am a news junkie. I love reading the news from several sources online as well as CNN on television. What I don't particularly care for is the "creation" of news. What I mean here is that if a story isn't meaty enough the media beats it until blood appears and then proceeds as if they didn't create the story. For instance, yesterday I saw the headlines, "Jackson death a mystery," and "Jacksons waste no time assuming control." In Michael Jackson's death foul play was immediately ruled out and the original coroner's reports are seldom altered it was reported. As for his grieving parents, MJ was single, who exactly should assume control of his affairs and children (at least initially)? I could babble here but instead I will be a bit more direct by saying that; 1. this stuff is not really news-worthy and 2. it is voyeuristic and uninteresting. Now, if the post mortem chemical tests return indicating a change in the original death findings, that's news! If a secret spouse surfaces with a current will a la Madam X. that's news. But, a days old play by play of grief, speculation and jocking for a book deals is not news. Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays et all were public figures who have earned that great peaceful rest and I deserve better news.

P.S.: -enough of that horny cheating Senator story too.

Nickel and dimed

Bank of America will receive $20bn (£13.4bn) in fresh US government aid and $118bn worth of guarantees against bad asset... That was a BBC headline regarding the US government's bailout of Bank of America. Keep this in mind.

This morning I checked my checking balance by phone. There seemed to be a small discrepancy with the balance in my head and the computer generated one. I then went online to the B of A site and discovered the reason for the difference. My monthly maintenance fee for the checking account is now $8.95 instead of $5.95 as it was last month. Three bucks is three bucks but, I'm annoyed nevertheless. Between the checking and savings accounts I pay $15.00 a month. In all fairness I should note that if I transfer $25.00 from checking to savings in any one month that month's checking maintenance fee is waived. I did not do that last month.

My first thought was, what is a monthly maintenance fee? I imagined tiny little navy uniformed dudes with push brooms sweeping the B of A website. I also imagined they were underpaid for their efforts. Before you tell me the obvious, I do know that the way around these fees is to simply put more money into the account and use it more. (Donations accepted, our operators are waiting). Once again, the man is trying to keep me down. Seriously, this is crap. The least amount of money you have the more fees you must pay to keep the accounts. SO, the very little guy pays fees so, the very rich guy does not- No, I'm not new. I do realize that it is simply how capitalism works and trust me I am a great supported of capitalism but, geez give me a break. Fifteen bucks to maintain two accounts that I use about a dozen times a month? I checked with other banks and the system is the same and ever changing. B of A waives all fees if you open an account on line. How's that for a day late and a dollar short?

BTW, a couple months ago when I needed a bailout they charged me $35.00. In the words of Hattie McDaniel, it just T'ain't fittin!

I'll call if I find work...

Blast our litigious society! Some one once told me that I should never write about people who have sense enough to sue me. I am just about bubbling over with three fantastic stories that I can not share in this venue for fear of some kind of a wicked response. Anyway, lovely weather we're having.

Speaking of the weather, I have an interview tomorrow. The weather dude says that it will be 85 degrees by then. Let's see, a navy blue suit, starched shirt and tie, an interview and sunny late summer temperatures. I should be fine, right? I can see it now, Hello, 911? we were interviewing this candidate and he melted before our very eyes. I kid. I have well prepared as much as I can prepare for a job interview. I always prefer to not overdue it in the prep area. I believe I end up sounding just like I over prepared rather than the quintessential trained profession you have grown to love. I even ran through this list of 100 interview question I found on Monster. Where do you want to be in five years? Or my favorite, sell me this pencil. BTW, you would be amazed at what groovy background info you can get for free from the Census Bureau and other gov't agencies. What did I do before Google? I'll tell you. I spent the entire day in the government documents section of the library which which resulted in about 30% of what I actually needed. Ah, the good old days.

Moving right along... Another funtabulous physical therapy session this morning. The PT had me balancing on one foot while bouncing a rubber ball against the mirror wall. My personal best was 45 sections. Sometimes I think that these aren't actually exercises at all but rather amusements for the PT. I finished the session with this award step thingy that I won't even attempt to describe. The result was that I pointed out to the PT that I wasn't actually that coordinated before the accident. :D

Attitude is everything.

So, yesterday morning was #2 of 16 of what I hope will be the final physical therapy sessions for my right ankle. It went very well. Jim (not his real name) the PT and I work well together. We tried some new exercises which seemed to help. I wasn't overly tired or whining later in the evening which is very new.

Physical therapy is at a hospital here and the clinic also acts as the gym for employees and I imagine former employees. There is this friendly elderly gent who I have seen there many times before. One of the assistant physical therapists acts as his personal trainer of sorts. He is extremely energetic and into things. Good for him I have always thought. Well, yesterday he was working on the leg press machine and that's where we parted friends. Granted I have the ankle problem and all but, the guy presses more than twice the weight that I do (300+ lbs.). What's up with that, I asked Jim? Jim giggled and leaned over and whispered that the old fellow was 85 years old. No, get out! I suddenly felt very sad and motivated at the same time.

To round matters out I usually finish the session with an applied ice pack. On the next bed Jim was working with a new patient who was 11 and whined like no body's business. According to her, her pain level was apparently a ten out of ten. Jim told her that she should be crying then. For the next fifteen minutes Jim tried all the tricks to get the little girl to believe that she was not nearly as bad off as she thought. Is that me I wondered? Am I usually closer to the wimpy 11 year old girl than the studly 85 year old guy? When Jim came over I lowered my voice and whispered, am I that whiny? He smiled and said no. He's very kind that Jim.

The Sky is Falling

Sunday morning I awoke at 7:55am. I can not recall when I have slept so late. Why, half the day was over. I was super tired for some reason. My eyes were heavy as if they had recently been glued shut. I immediately recalled my dream of which I was most likely in the midst.

In the dream I was apparently working in an office building. I had just stepped off of the elevator. The second that I was off of the elevator the thing fell. The entire elevator; floor, walls and all collapsed in on itself and plunged three stories below to the basement. Whoa, I missed that one I thought! I had better warn people. The odd thing was that none of the other office workers either noticed or seemed to care. I spent the day warning people about the hole where the elevator once stood. Most ignored me, some went over to look down unaffected and some even hopped over the hole to get to where they were going. I was amazed that no one saw the great hole of a problem that I Thought was obvious. They just went about their day as usual. A couple were even annoyed that I had bothered and interrupted them with my warnings. In vain I continued to warn people.

A bit Chicken Little-esque don't you think?

Step lightly

In yesterday's mail I found a catalog. This wasn't just any catalog. It probably was the most environmentally unfriendly catalog I have ever seen. I almost thought it was a joke. I have probably already said too much for our litigious society. I will therefore submit five clippings. I am sure that you can draw your own conclusions. My favorite is the dog poop destroyer. I wonder what you do in the mean time as you wait for decomposition?

This has got to be a bit difficult to apply.

Don't forget to tell your kiddies that this isn't real...

I know a first grader who will make you one for a five spot...

What next, Depends for your pouch?

I think that the Pigeons and Squirrels might define the word "harm" differently...

What, no dinner?

Why me, I ask you? A couple in their late thirties to early forties boarded the bus. It was shortly after 3:00p.m. yesterday afternoon. They appeared to be drunk, stoned, hopped up on goofballs or any combination of the three. I can't even guess which- The woman who was petite wore a flowery frock well beyond her years. Her companion held his head down and was relatively nondescript. The woman sat next to me to the right and the guy directly in front of her. I should say that she actually sat on the right side of my right thigh and slid down into position. As I tried to break free she finally noticed, excused herself and moved to the right only slightly. She was still sitting on my blazer. I struggled again but, she did not notice and I did not really want to make an issue.

As we waited for the bus to get going her head bobbed back and forth much like my little Jeter doll. She seemed to be fighting sleep desperately. After about 15 minutes of this she lost. She was out like the proverbial light. I stared out the window to my left until I felt her hand fonding my big bald head. Before I could speak or react, her right hand had found it's way to my chest and was caressing it as she pressed her face into my shoulder. Unfortunately, I don't always read all of my emails but, were we dating? I'm not sure where it came from but, I then opened my mouth and out came, WHAT THE F**K LADY? She did not wake. I wasn't sure what to do so, I struggled to push her away. -No use, she was still out. I then lifted my right arm while pushing her aside. This gesture was firmer than planned and she flopped to her right. The kid in the aisle seat across from her caught her and put her upright. She woke during this procedure with her hand now on my right shoulder. Before I could speak she said, "I don't want you no how. This my man." She said this while massaging the neck of the guy she boarded with in front of her. "This my man," she repeated. The guy grunted something unintelligible but did not turn around. In fact he never turned around during the whole ordeal.

The entire bus was in laughter. Letterman should get such laughs. I was absolutely mortified. I stared out the window at the one hour dry cleaning sign. I wondered if I could drop myself off for a good steam cleaning.

The stuff I read...

So, I was perusing this town's excuse for a newspaper on Sunday. There were a couple interesting stories. The first that I wanted to share was about a woman with cancer who was summoned to jury duty. She apparently sent medical documentation as well as had her doctor call the juror's office to get a deferment. The bureaucratic madness that followed was classic. The woman was told that the office couldn't accept her doctor's word and needed her to release her medical records. She hesitated and of course got into trouble. The long and the short of it was that after an inquiry the head of the juror's office said that he had already given the woman a deferment and it was her fault that she did not know this because she should have called to ask. He stated that his office does not have the manpower to get in touch with people to tell them the disposition of their cases. Gosh, golly do you think he really had already given her a deferment?

The second story of interest involved interracial relationships. Silly me, I expected something new in this story after reading the headline. The story pictured a couple of about 80 years (Japanese/Caucasian), one in their thirties (Cambodian/African American) and one in college (African American/Caucasian). This had to be the saddest crap I have ever read. They asked each couple all of two questions each. The answers were; blah, blah, blah it was hard then but, it's better now... And the second answer was; blah, blah,blah, our families did not like it then but they are okay now... The very disturbing issue for me is that after reading the first two sentences I new the article would be stupid which might explain why I put it away and came back to it 6 hours later. I however did not know how stupid.

It was clear to me that the article was not about interracial relationships at all after reading further. It was merely an avenue to present an unusual family photo for a judgemental town to do what it does best, judge. The photo I am referring to was of the black woman and her Cambodian husband's family. Apparently, they are Muslim, the wife has lesbian mothers (one white, one black), the husband's sister is married to a middle eastern Muslim and there are a couple three children in the mix. I believe that this was exploitation in that only the one couple in the photo was interviewed. So, I asked, what was the significance here? The other couples only had photos of themselves and not their entire united nations clan.

I thought it was a beautiful thing! People who married people they love and extended and created a wonderful family. On second thought maybe this is news.

Peace

At 1:33am and 3:54am this morning I was startled awake from a sound sleep. The first time there was some one near the house revving a car's engine. The second awakening was caused by someone outside some where apparently coughing his brains out followed by the slamming of a car door.

The very curious part about all this was that each time I awoke, I awoke from a dream, the same dream and at the same point in that dream. The setting of the dream was a great concert hall. I sat in the center mezzanine. Yeah, I do so know what that is... Anyway, there I sat all alone in a white tuxedo with a cloud like feeling about the room. And there, there on the stage stood the great tenor, Luciano Pavarotti. He was singing for me and only me. In that beyond Ave Maria you're lost me, I couldn't tell you what he was singing. I do know that it was hard to tell which of us was enjoying himself more.

I'm sure some one will read a bit into all this given the clouds and the point that Mr. Pavarotti has been dead for nearly two years. They might even suggest what numbers to play. I prefer to think of it all as just a little peace in a week that got away from me.

What price beauty? ...$11.69

I had a few minutes this morning before an appointment so, I decided to stop a block up at the drug store and buy shaving blades. Cheap bastard that I am I usually buy the things when they are on sale or I have a coupon or two. I am almost never out of them mostly because they are so expensive and I hate hate using the cheap ones. My favorite is that five blade Fusion thingy. It leaves my face and head as smooth as when I was just a baby sans the soft spot.

I used to complain when the Mach3 cost a buck a blade and now they are three bucks each. My fav Fusions are almost four (usually $28.99 for 8). I am convinced that in that comfort strip at the top is a chemical that has addicted me. I say this because when I use say a Bic I bleed like a stuck pig for more than an hour. It's like a Monty Python outtake. Soooo, I must buy either the Mach3, the Quattro, or the Fusion refill cartridges.

Now, here's the funny part. I had no coupons and the dull butter knife feeling of earlier this morning was intolerable therefore, I had to buy something. The only ones on special were the Quattro Titanium refill cartridges at $11.69 (for four). They were also buy one get one free. I guess I couldn't beat that. Well, then I tried to remove two from the display hook. They would not release. There was a guy looking next to me who alerted me to the fact that only store personnel could remove them (with a special key). He went to find someone who worked there. A nice woman appeared with the "key." The other guy made his choice and then she asked what I needed. I told her, she removed them and I extended my hand for them. Now, here's the kicker, she said, "oh no, I have to take them to the register myself." Uh? she went on to tell me that customers are only allowed to touch the razors after they have paid for them. I asked her where was her armed guard? She turned to me with shoulders broader than my own and said, "do I look like I need one?" I was too afraid to respond.

As I walked down the street I clutched the bag certain that I would be mugged.

Monday

A rough weekend but, I'm still plowing along and trying to smile. Off to the doctor's this morning for a dreaded prostate exam. That should be a good time at that...

C.P.D. October 24, 1984 -January 28, 2009

C- :
Like anyone who I have truly claimed as friend you had a great heart, on the surface and underneath it all! I only learned of your passing yesterday morning and not four months ago as I should have. My young friend you must know that even though you had gone I was still searching for you. Like too many before you, you have taken a part of me with you. I weep.
Love, your friend,
L-

I'm so hot

I swear that I am a nut-job magnet.

It rained all night Wednesday night/Thursday morning. As well, it was also predicted to rain all day. It was pouring when I was leaving so, I unzipped the lining from my trusty trench coat and put it on.

Around 1:30 in the afternoon as I waited for a bus it wasn't raining but still cloudy and threatening. It had also gotten a bit humid but, I had not become uncomfortable enough to carry the coat. It was at this point that a rather heavy young woman with jet black dyed hair walked up and stood at the stop. I had never seen her before in my life. Her tight black tee shirt had large white letters which read simply, ROCKER. Our conversation follows:

• Rocker: Hello, Sir.
• Me: Hi
• Rocker: How are you doing today, Sir?
• Me: Just fine and yourself? (I was thinking, "how nice she called me Sir and asked about my day...")
• Rocker: I'm just fine Sir but, I was wondering... Aren't you sweating your f--kin' ass off in that coat?
• Me: I'm alright, thanks for asking.

It was at this point that her cell phone rang and she cursed the caller like a drunken sailor over $20.00 she was apparently owed. I was warm now and wanted to take my coat off but did not want to give her credit for the decision. I was starting to sweat so slowly I removed my coat. While still yelling into her phone she winked at me as to offer her approval (see earlier blog; A Nod and a wink).

Random food and shopping thoughts.

After an absolutely beautiful weekend weather wise today is very very gloomy. It started raining last night and is expected to continue through to tonight. Sorry, old guys talk about the weather. I am so ready for summer.

I woke up late and rushed and made it out on time. It's ten o'clock and I still feel as if I just woke up. I had a Milkyway for breakfast. I have got to do better with that. Just thinking aloud.

Speaking of food, we were talking about food weren't we? I have been far more conscience of what I put into my mouth lately. I am also a bit peeved with my two local supermarkets, Wegmans and Pricechopper. Both are great stores but both have taken to charging 2 or 3 times (as per unit prices) for smaller items. For instance, a small anything may cost as much as three times as for a large. So, what happens is that being the cheap poor guy that I am, I end up buying large everything. This often results in eating more of something than I want and or throwing half away. Like Saturday night: I made a medium pizza with pepperoni, yeah from scratch ya schmo. I had two slices Saturday and two on Sunday and the rest will probably end up in the garbage. I had a salad last night but, before that I tossed a half head of bib lettuce and some squishy tomatoes and cucumbers as well as what my best guess were once mushrooms. There is homemade apple sauce I made on Saturday which will also go bye bye soon. I hate throwing food out and while I have no problem with leftovers I do not want to eat the same thing for three or four days in a row. Blah, blah, blah. I certainly understand the economics of the market offering single serving sizes at three times the cost but... I guess I should just shut up or eat more or find someone to eat with each night. Oh, I think I will just shut up.

While we're on random thoughts... When did washers and dryers become the size of refrigerator's? And can I take a sauna on the dryer steam setting?

Speaking of my stroll through Sears. They were selling several digital cameras as is without paper work for $39.99. Some were even 12 mega-pixels. The cameras were not in their original packaging but rather zip-lock type plastic baggies. I looked through the pile a bit perplexed. The salesman did not offer assistance but, rather stood off to the right ready to pounce should I decide to steal the worthless crap. I finally asked for assistance. I asked the obvious; where's the paper work, how do you learn to use the things etc.? All I know is they don't have any papers, he mumbled. It was as if his wife had forced him to sell the things in the family garage sale and he really loved them. Now, lets get this straight, there are no instructions, no idea why they are in baggies or what might be wrong with them and you want $39.99 for them, no returns. Why, that's a great deal ...if I were actually as dumb as I looked.

I tried on a v-neck summer sweater at JCPenny. The saleswoman told me that it was definitely the color for me. It was raspberry. I'm not sure what that means?

I was in my favorite thrift store yesterday and happened across a tie (still with it's original certificate of authenticity) from the Vatican store for 50 cents. How cool is that? It's navy with a bit of gold. The certificate states that the proceeds from the tie sale went to the Vatican Library. (...don't get me started on that) Now, don't judge. It could be worse. I could be obsessed with pork rinds or crack.

I brought a bottle of lotion at the drug store yesterday that is unscented but, smells like cucumbers. I like cucumbers but, I've got enough problems.

This concludes my random food and shopping thoughts. Now, how am I going to spend the next ten minutes?