The boy reports he was sitting on the patio last night smoking his cancer sticks and minding his business. He looked up and there stood a large red fox staring at him, about 10 feet away. The boy jumped and the fox did too, both thinking "What is he doing here?".
You might not think this so very strange, the 'burbs are populated by wildlife -- coyotes, coons, opossums, deer, chipmunks, and such. The neighbors reported a fox a few times last fall. What is unusual is that my backyard is surrounded by a 6' tall privacy fence. The boy said he wondered how the beast got in, only to get his question answered. He watched the fox turn and with a quick burst of speed the fox jumped the fence easily.
Now the boy is worried about letting his little corgi out in the night.
Here is a rerun from 2012. memories of summer days can help hide my disgust over this early spring spate of winter? Besides, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic:
Saturday morning musings
He woke with a sneeze, quickly followed by two more. He blew his nose on the soggy, snotty handkerchief from under his pillow. His eyes were stuck shut with snot and gunk. Joe managed to pry open the right one as he stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. Warm water unstuck the left as well as a few eye lashes.
He padded to the kitchen. His pajama top was snapped crooked. "Good morning sunshine" his Mom happily intoned. She was sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. He got a bowl and the box of Quisp cereal from the cabinet. His Mom poured the milk. He could hear the washing machine running. He scratched his thick dark hair. He sniffed. His Mom handed him a Kleenex, without saying a word.
After breakfast he brushed his teeth and pulled on cutoff jeans, the legs fringed. He remembered he forgot to take off his pajama shorts first and had to start over. He searched through the drawer looking for his favorite red tank top. Joe would wear it every day if he could. He settled on a blue one. Snot was running down his nose.
"Mom, can I go over to the park?" Yes to the park, no to the dime for the concession stand. He knew it was a long shot first thing in the morning. The spring on the wooden screen door stretched and the door banged closed as he went into the garage.
As he mounted his red stingray bike he heard his Mother yell at him from the laundry room "Joe, put on shoes if you are riding your bike". He pretended he did not hear.
He jumped the bike over the curb and tried to pull a "wheelie" as he pedaled faster. The sissy bar was too far back on the banana seat to help. No one was out playing as he rode the three blocks to the park. The park was likewise empty. He looked back across the wide open grass toward the railroad tracks and the drainage ditch. He rode towards the culvert that went under the tracks.
Dismounting, he crushed a few crawdad holes and poked a stick in another. None came crawling out. He squished his bare feet into the mud and soggy grass at the edge of the shallow water. No fish were to be seen. There never were. He rinsed his feet in the thin stream. As always, he peered up into the murky depths of the large sycamore near the ditch. Billy McKenzie said he caught a bat there. Joe had seen the bat, wrapped in netting. Having a bat would be cool. None was to be spied. The boy absentmindedly pulled up the tail of his shirt and blew his nose. Only then did it occur to him he had a handkerchief in his back pocket. He used it to smear the snot on his shirt.
The boy picked up a thin stick and swished it through the air like a whip. He mounted his red bike and pedaled around the neighborhood, whipping imaginary horses. Mostly he liked the sound it made whistling through the air.. Bored, he threw the stick into old man Vice's yard because he knew the old man would freak out about it. The old man yelled at any kid who came close to his grass. Old man Vice mowed every day and was a fanatic about his yard.
Joe noticed some empty Coke bottles tossed out from a car, near the stop sign. He skidded to a stop and studied them. Three bottles, that was nine cents in returnable deposit at the supermarket.. He tried wedging one of the bottles into the bike frame without success. He could not think of a way to carry three empty bottles on his bike. He left them beside the street and peddled on.
As he neared the Redmond house he instinctively stood up and pumped the pedals as fast as possible. As he zoomed past, their collie-dalmatian mix came tearing around the corner barking furiously at the bike rider. Joe was past before the dog got a good run at him. The dog stopped, panting. The mutt gave a last bark, acknowledging today's winner.
SnowTeam ScareTeam is on RedAlert as a big snow storm bears down on the environs. As of now we may or may not get 2-5 inches of snow. Yesterday they were predicting as much as 8". By the time the storm arrives -- it is already late -- we may be down to a dusting. We also might get the hammering they expect. Who knows? In any case, I have bread, milk, and eggs. We are set.
I had a 2018 Camaro for my rental car yesterday. It was a pleasure to drive. It handled well and drove great in the city and on the highway. Gas milage was good. The car was remarkably comfortable and roomy inside. It sat low, so mounting and dismounting was not like jumping into the Wife's Escape. It had more than just a little bit of get-up-and-go.
Here I am, up at 4:30 in the aye em yet again. You don't care about that.
The GOPe just went on yet another spending spree. I guess we're living in the Bush years again. It seems every time the Stupid Party gets in charge they try to outspend the Democrats. It is working, if that was your strategy. We might as well vote for the Democrats in the mid-terms, at least they are honest about their intention to spend my money and your money and our great-grandkid's money. I suspect you don't care about that either. I'm tired of ranting about it.
Let's discuss even less interesting stuff. I forgot to point out that yesterday marked 13 years of blogging here at Fat in Indiana. I wrote my first mediocre post on March 22, 2005 and 5982 posts later we have this mediocre one. Some things do not change. That comes out to an average of...I don't know, probably pretty close to one a day. I'm not a math whiz. More to the point, it doesn't matter. I write the drivel. You read the drivel. We have our roles to play.
It seems I have an attitude problem today. Sorry 'bout that.
Seriously, thank you to all of you for stopping by. You have no idea what it means to me.
One of my big customers has a new buyer, so I’m off to introduce myself to him this afternoon. Ho hum, but I am looking forward to getting out of the office. When I took this gig I had no idea I would be driving a desk 99% of the time. I miss the road.
I don’t miss being gone from my family, but I do miss the highways, the small towns, the old favorite restaurants in my frequent stopping places. I miss going into a new town and finding the best place to get a burger. I even miss the crappy hotel breakfasts. That last sentence was a lie. I miss picking up snippets of local radio, only to have them fade in a half hour as I drive away from the tower. I miss the audiobooks and podcasts over Bluetooth to the radio. I miss listening to ball games as I motor through the Midwest and southeast.
I’m a liar, or at least someone is. I reported the start of spring yesterday. I woke up to light seeping in through the closed blinds this morning. At first I thought I might have overslept. Alas, the brightness was light reflecting from snow covering the ground. Beautiful thick layers of snow blankets trees, shrubs, streets, grass — everywhere. It would be a perfect Christmas postcard. Too bad it is March. A couple of inches of ugly nasty snow. There is probably even snow on that sentence fragment. What the heck, Mother Nature? It is supposed to keep snowing until mid-morning and then it will warm into the 40s this afternoon. I have nowhere to go this morning, the granddaughter is not coming today, so I think I will skip the shoveling of the drive and walks and let Ma Nature melt it off. She caused the mess, she can clean it up.
I should have kept one of the posts I combined yesterday and canned it for today. Here we are on a Monday morning and I should be cramming instead of blogging. I have just a few hours to learn all I can about shaft couplers. I’m off to do some homework.
I pre-wrote a Sunday post Saturday. It will go up in a bit, at a completely arbitrary time I pre-entered. That is unless I stop it and post this instead. Or I might can this one. Confused? Me too (and not in the hashtag* way).
I woke up around 3 AM and catnapped until 5:00 or so when I got up. I’ve been surfing the web since then, drinking coffee and listening to music quietly. I am enjoying the Amazon Prime 60s rock station this morning. There is a little too much Hendrix for my taste, but he goes away with a simple “Alexa, skip”.
Here is a heresy for you: I think Jimmy Hendrix is remarkably overrated. There, I said it. I will admit his version of All Along The Watchtower is far superior to Robert Allen Zimmerman’s. You know — Bob Dylan. Who, by the way, is another overrated icon from the sixties. Yep, I just wrote that. I expect the Rock and Roll god will strike me down with a bolt of lightning shot from the tip of that ugly-assed pyramid in Cleveland. I don’t hate either musician. I have select tunes from both on my iPhone. They are nowhere near the top of my list of loathed artists such as Steve Miller. I will turn off The Joker as soon as the first notes sear my eardrums.
It is OK if you want to be wrong and disagree with me. I have eclectic taste in music. What I like probably isn’t your cup of tea. My wife and son both really hate The Doors.
Here is a tune I can dig:
From the original 60’s lineup of Fleetwood Mac, long before Lindsey and Stevie turned them into a pop powerhouse.
I like both iterations of the band: the blues driven, and the rock pop version.
Just to update you on the status of things, I took the canned Sunday post and merged it with the fresh one to give you a semi-fresh version. Think of it as the equivalent of making homemade salsa with canned ‘maters.
I think I have wasted enough of both of our time (times?)** on this Sunday. Have a great day.
* when did “#” quit being called a pound sign or more accurately, the octothorp?
** I don’t think either is correct — the sentence is just awkward but you probably get the general meaning and I would rather waste time writing a pointless post script that rewriting the sentence. I’m stubborn like that.
I’m trying hard not to curse these days, but what the hell, baseball? This is perhaps the stupidest idea in sports. I do not understand this obsession with shaving minutes from the game of baseball. MLB could save that same two or four minutes by cutting a couple of commercial breaks*. If they want to shorten the game, get rid of the odious designated hitter rule. Pitchers strike out more often than position players and hitting specialists. Starting extra innings with a runner on second is an abomination.
Baseball’s charm has always been its idiosyncrasies. The defense possesses the ball. There is no time clock. There is no sudden death overtime. Why do we need to change it? How about, in the name of speed, we just make the game into home run derby. Every guy gets two pitches to hit the ball, fail and you are out. Use a pitching machine to guarantee strikes. We could blow through nine innings in about an hour.
We have all been stuck working late. There is nothing more disappointing than to have the boss show up and tell you you have to put in some extra hours. Too bad baseball. Extra inning games are memorable. Imagine the 2016 World Series with this idiotic “ start the extra innings with a runner on second” rule. Why not start the 10th and subsequent innings with bases loaded and two outs? The next hit wins. Poof extra inning games are over in a flash.
Spit. I did not possess the vocabulary to adequately express my disdain.
* extra innings mean more commercial breaks, thus more money, so why cut the length of games?
Yesterday looked great: bright sun in a cloudless sky, little wind. Temperatures creeped into the low 50s. I made some macaroni salad, microwaved a can of baked beans and threw some burgers on my decrepit grill for supper. I doubled down later in the evening by pulling out the freezer and made some homemade ice cream. Even if spring is slow to arrive I’m going to act like it is here.
There is snow in the forecast for next week. Sigh.
Good morn...wait, I just realized my coffee cup is empty...
Good Morning. It is yet another chilly start to the day here in flyover country. It is probably no less than we deserve as backward, despicable, hate-filled rubes. I did score a pizza for $3.14 for supper last night, so all is not beyond hope around here.
If you stopped by for meaningful commentary I’m am sorry to tell you that you are going to be a bit disappointed this morning.
I’m sure you have already read about it, but isn’t it ironic that Hillary blames her whole election loss to people who are always looking backwards and living in the past. Her comments were rehashing an election she lost two years ago.
Who is living in the past? Who refuses to look forward?
When is Clinton going away? She was measured and weighed by the American people and she was found wanting. Seriously, I think we would be better off if she spent more time studying the bottom of her Chardonnay glass and less time trashing the American people while overseas. Maybe Mrs. Clinton should look to her own words when reflecting on the last election — “What does it matter now?”.
Oh, we won't give in, we'll keep living in the past
Oh, we won't give in, let's go living in the past
Oh no, no, we won't give in, let's go living in the past
I have to be honest, I don’t really have my panties all in a wad because Florida decided to insist you have to be 21 to buy a gun. Mostly because it is Florida and I don’t live there. If the voters in Florida don’t like the new law they can simply elect different people to vote differently. It is really that simple.
I could be wrong on this position and maybe you will tell me why in the comments.
Contrary to popular misconception, the thing was not set up to be fifty (or 13) administrative districts carrying out the Big Government policies. It really was supposed to be the other way around; you know — a group of States united together. That was the plan. There was never any intention every State had to be the same. Too bad they do not teach civics in school anymore. If I could go back in time and suggest a change, it would be that Amendment Ten would have been listed as number One.
I woke up at 4:00 this morning. The wife must have been sleeping mouth agape: her CPAP sounded like a wind tunnel. I shouldn’t blame her though. I woke up because that is what I do. I read this morning that getting sleepy during the day may be an early sign of Alzheimer’s. It may also be a sign I’m only getting four or five hours of sleep at night and I need more. Take that science. What was I talking about?
I cooked up some smoked sausage in the grill pan and made a batch of homemade mac and cheese for supper last night. Since I was up early I thought a little of that leftover sausage would be good with a biscuit left from Sunday’s fried chicken dinner. Alas, it appears the boy ate the rest of the sausage sometime after I went to bed [insert sigh]. My loverly wife isn’t too fond of smoked sausage, so I only get it once or twice a year. I was kinda looking forward to the leftovers. Oh well, such circumstances are not major problems. Plus, I told him the leftovers were there. He also ate the rest of Sunday’s chicken. That boy has always liked his protein.
Here is my summary of the politics of the day. Republicans in the House say the evil Russkies probably tried to screw with the election but the Trumpster had nothing to do with it. The Democrats say that is because we didn’t find a way to force anyone to admit to it. I suspect both Hillary and the Trumpster looked for dirt on the other candidate no matter the source, whether that was the Commies or the Brits or anyone else. It is politics.
I suspect the Russians took delight in trying to screw with our election. Do you think we don’t do the same all over the world? Do you really think the good old white-hatted US of A would not do everything possible to help a candidate that ran against Putin? Some of you hand-wringing about mythical KGB agents working the polls are the very people saying the Government should help those poor souls protesting in Tehran a few months ago. The Obama actively campaigned in the last Israeli elections. Grow up.
I think there should be one day a year where every elected official receives a kick in the crotch from an NFL punter wearing steel-toed boots, just to remind them they are public servants. Maybe if occasional pain is involved some of the more asshole-types would forgo inflicting themselves on the public. Ah hell, forget that idea, too many of the bastards would enjoy it.
Back when I worked with real people in a real office today would be a real time-waster. Even though I have little interest in college basketball it would dominate conversation. The big office pool would be starting up. Everyone would be filling in brackets instead of entering orders, creating production plans, placing purchase orders, or reviewing engineering drawings. The morning coffee break would stretch past the allotted ten minutes and cross-cubicle kibitzing would increase. This is all before the first game is played.
It is no wonder I was surprised at my work output when I first moved into a solo office. I did more in four hours than I used to do in eight. Conversations with yourself tend to be short and to the point. There are no guys to meet down at the break room at 10:00. I confess I do miss vending machine coffee. There is no sarcasm there, I like vending machine coffee. Sometimes I miss the camaraderie of working in an office, of being part of the whole.
So get after those basketball brackets this morning. I feel for you. I threw my buck into the pot and I feel pretty confident I will recoup my investment when the tournament is done. After all, when you are the only guy in the office pool your chances of winning are pretty good.
Oft times I have utilized exaggeration and hyperbole for entertainment purposes.
Yes, reader, it is true.
Say it ain’t so, Joe.
Today it is not the case. Today, I am going to tell you about a miracle. I have ugly feet. My heels are narrow and have spurs that make breaking in new shoes painful. The arches are high, the toes very flat. I’m missing a couple of toenails. The skin is dry and heavily callused and often cracked, rough, and sometimes bleeding from dryness.
Many diabetics have dry skin. My heels are so rough I have occasionally torn holes into the heels of socks. No lie. I have tried a variety of creams and lotions with limited success. Today, my friends, I’m going to tell you about a cure that has provided dry skin relief in just a couple of days. I’m not healed, but my footsies are no longer ripping holes in the wife’s good sheets.
Tell us already
I switched doctors a year or so ago and this guy is competent and efficient. If your appointment is for 8:30, you are in the exam room by 8:33. I never have to play iPhone euchre in the waiting room. In the course of a foot exam he tells me that he could prescribe some expensive meds that would help with the rhino-like skin on my heels. He said they are expensive but that Crisco works just as well.
Did you just say Crisco?
That was my reaction too! Crisco? Yep, it seems vegetable shortening is close to your own natural oils. So far, it seems to work as well as the stuff from the drug store. BTW, I bought a different can of shortening to use for cooking. No one wants foot-flavored pie crust. I just slather some on before bed and pull on some socks.
Anyway, my feet are not healed, but they are softer and less cracked after just a couple of days.
I just can’t figure out why I keep craving fried chicken.
Like every other blogger, my readership has dropped significantly. Blogging is an old dinosaur, the cool kids are on instagram and Facebook and Twitter and whatever platform the kids have moved to in order to hide their quest for fame from their parents. I also take a significant share of responsibility. To paraphrase the movie line, if you write it they will come. One has to have interesting and compelling content. Still, my daily hits are down by about half over the past week or so. Is it me? Are you on spring break? Have I offended you?
I don’t expect an answer. If you aren’t reading this you won’t know I asked you a question. If you are reading, then it doesn’t apply. I don’t want you readers to tell me I boring, can’t spell, lack coherent arguments, and that my grammar is awful, my writing atrocious.
It is very likely you are as bored with my efforts as I am.
I could tell you about the light bulb that blew apart in my office ceiling fan this morning. I have to figure out how to get the carcass out of the socket later. I suspect that is not riveting content.
Oh well. I am coming up on my 197th blogversary later this month. I’ll likely keep at it until I am back where every hit was me checking to see if anyone read my crap, or I die from boredom. Either scenario could play out in the next months.
No, relax. Once more the title of the post has nothing to do with content. You should know that by now.
I went to the doctor this morning. He was happy. My blood sugars have continued to drop. My A1C is back below 7. I will yet again avoid insulin. Yay for me. Of course, I was left with the admonition to “do better”. While I was there I got an updated tetanus shot, the first since I was probably in my teens. I feel like I was punched in the shoulder. I also had blood drawn for various labs. My cholesterol has been good so I don’t expect any change there.
My drivers license is due for renewal this month. I don’t anticipate any issues with the vision test since my surgeries, but I’m going in early just to be safe.
I’m not sure what the cruise director has planned for our weekend social activities. I’m sure she will tell me when it is time to get in the car.
it is snowing. The ground is covered with a thin layer. The streets are just wet. Oh Spring, you are bi-polar indeed. The snow is supposed to taper off at any time. We will be left with wind, cold, and clouds. At least the neighbor’s Christmas lights will look festive in the snow.
I am staring at the danged cursor. It is mocking me with its steady pulse. When I started this post I had a list of stuff to write about in my head. I made the comment about the inconsequential snowfall and now the rest of my thoughts have melted away like March snowflakes on the potholed pavement. WTH brain?
Perhaps it will come back to me later. There is no rule limiting me to one post a day. You may think there should be, but so far I can spread my nonsense with impunity.
I called it yesterday. A 20 year old sues WalMart and Dick’s for discrimination because they denied him the right to buy a rifle. I can spot lawyer-bait a mile away. I predict a class action suit by the end of the week as the grab a buck bandwagon fills up.
So, WalMart has decided they won’t sell you a gun if you are under 21, despite your Constitutional right to have one and the fact you have met every legal requirement of your State. What is the difference between that situation and a person who refuses to bake your wedding cake? Is it not a different form of discrimination? Of course I think that if WalMart wants to have an age-limited gun policy that is their right. Similarly, I think if a bakery wants a no-gay wedding cake policy, that is acceptable too. Let the invisible hand deal with it, not the government’s iron fist.
One of the main secondary roads into the suburb where I live narrows down to two lanes and for a mile or so traverses a tree-lined area. One side is old and second growth forest. The other shows a bare glimpse of houses cut into the trees. I’m talking real estate that can only be purchased by people making six figure incomes and where the first number in those six figures isn’t a one.
Traffic in this area can be brutal and major expansion of the main arteries is in the works. That means the alternative routes have to be prepared for the upcoming increase in traffic. Bulldozers are out ripping up the trees to widen the road and install yet more traffic circles in an effort to reduce rush hour traffic. I know the road needs widening. It still makes me sick to see the trees torn out.
I also hate sitting through three cycles of the traffic light just to get through the intersection. Sigh.
The streak is intact. I still have never watched an Oscars broadcast. In no way do I feel like my life is incomplete because of it.
The past couple of weeks have been a hodgepodge, weather-wise, in these parts. Mostly it has been typical early spring, warm and cold, often on the same day. Thursday saw temperatures drop nearly 30 degrees during the day. Last week’s warm weather brought a couple of inches of rain and more fell Wednesday. Suddenly, the spring flowers; the tulips and daffodils, are poking some tentative green shoots from the flower beds. The brown grass is taking on a definite greenish tint. We are not in a full-blown spring, but it is just around the corner. Mother Nature works diligently to her calendar, heedless of the everyday feeble activities of man. I would not be surprised to see snow again in the coming weeks, nor temperatures pushing into the mid-seventies. It is the way things are around here.
I hope you didn’t come by looking for meaningful Saturday content. I fear you will click away sadly disappointed. I’m sure you will get over it.
WTH Trump? The economy is going great, so let’s slam on the brakes with a huge tariff on steel?
Couple that with a proposal to ignore the Constitution by taking away someone’s guns and letting the courts “sort it out later”, and you have the makings of a true autocrat. Maybe we should just round up folks we deem a threat because of race or religion and let the courts settle it later? Whoops we did that, that great man of the people FDR did it to Japanese Americans. How did that work out? Maybe those who think this is a good idea won’t mind if Trump daily rounds up the protesters outside of the White House, tosses them in jail, and waits until the “courts sort it out later”?
In other news, the White House Communications Director says she sometimes tells “white lies”. No, you are kidding me? A press agent spins the truth? I’m shocked and appalled. She was forced to resign. Trump better hope the next person in the job also has no qualms about fibbing. He won’t like the unvarnished truth being spread. No politician would. Remember Obama’s “blame it on the video” prevarication?
I see teens have moved on from eating Tide pods. Now they are seeing how long they can leave their arm on a hot stove burner. Yes, we should listen to this generation when it comes to our Constitutional rights; they are the future.
Young people are tired of being afraid of guns, tired of seeing their classmates shot. I can understand that. Sixty-four percent of road accidents in this country involve a cell phone. Maybe we should focus on that as a threat to society instead of one particular brand of rifle that is used less often in murders than common hand tools or knives?
Starting Sunday Hoosiers will be able to buy carry-out beer, wine, and liquor at grocery, convenience, and liquor stores on a Sunday for the first time in 202 years. You read that right, Sunday alcohol sales had been banned as long as Indiana has been a state. You can only get cold beer at a liquor store though. I’m not sure why we still regulate by temperature. One thing at a time.
I would have cared a lot more about this change a few decades ago. Since I drink about six beers a month now, it really won’t change my life.