Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Dreamweaver II

Bill Cosby tried to kill me.

My opinion of him has always been very high; so, I don't know why I would have a weird dream with Bill Cosby starring as the maniacal lift truck driver. Someone, anyone, please tell me.

I was inside Jacobs Field. I walked down a narrow hallway, headed to buy four tickets for when our friends, DT and Lee, come up for a visit, when I encountered a lift truck, which was stopped, carrying a large cardboard box. Bill Cosby sat in the seat in front of the propane tank that powered the vehicle. I decided to detour around Mr. Cosby into a low hallway where I had to stoop down and duck walk. That is when he drove forward and jammed the forks holding the big box into the low hallway and lowered the load. This was no accident -- he was intent on one purpose, and one purpose only. I went down, crouching in the corner. He wasn't very good at maneuvering the lift truck. The forks jammed into the wall, just above my head; otherwise, bastard would have killed me.

Someone helped me get out, and Bill Cosby sat there on the Clark model lift truck, gray-and-orange-colored (the lift truck was gray and orange; Cosby was milk chocolate brown, blue work pants, white shirt with a patch that was embroidered in red with "Cos"), and he was smiling that Bill Cosby smile without teeth showing, just as happy as can be.

That's when I woke up.

I don't like Bill Cosby.

By the way, we spent the weekend in Terre Haute for Mark's graduation ceremony on Saturday. We barbecued chicken, among other items on the menu, for the party on Sunday. More on that later. This post was going to be about the ceremony, but that damn Bill Cosby ...

Haiku News

Cindy Christensen,
Snake charmer extraordinaire,
Munched on a python.

Surf porn on the job.
It's okay, they don't like you
Jacking off at work.

Perfect sandcastles,
Said scientists who researched;
Shit for brains, I say.

The New Coca Cola C2

We watched American Idol last night and tonight. What piqued my curiosity was a Coke commercial for Coca-Cola C2, half the calories and half the carbs of regular Coke, but the same great taste. I saw somewhere that Pepsi was doing the same thing -- half the sugar, half the carbs.

I've been doing the Diet Dr. Pepper thing lately when I get soda pop, which hasn't been very often lately, abandoning all together what my sister-in-law claims is industrial solvent, Diet Mountain Dew. I've been making iced tea ... and mochas.

But I'm returning to my diet pop roots, to the original concoction that caused cancer in lab rats, to the diet soda without "diet" in its name ...

TAB.

When asked by those who had heard rumors of TAB's terrible aftertaste, I replied that there was no aftertaste, TAB tastes like you imagine hot aluminum tastes.

And a few years later, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to work in a small plant where we polished 4' x 8' sheets of stainless steel for elevator interiors and doors on experimental polishing machines. One day, Otis wanted a load of aluminum sheets for some elevators. We ran them through the polisher with finer and finer grades of sanding belts, heating up the sheets and the vapors emitted in the polishing process. The hot aluminum tasted just like ... you got it ...

TAB.
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Question: Why would anyone be running a Yahoo! search for "alien worm fucking?"

The Buck Stops Here

George W. Bush : "I've come here tonight to report to all Americans, and to the Iraqi people, on the strategy our nation is pursuing in Iraq, and the specific steps we're taking to achieve our goals."

Here are some of the 909 dead Bush has used as steps:

Sgt. Michael D. Acklin II : Spc. Genaro Acosta : Pfc. Steven Acosta : Capt. James F. Adamouski : Pvt. Algernon Adams : 1st Lt. Michael R. Adams : Pfc. Michael S. Adams : Lt. Thomas Mullen Adams : Spc. Jamaal R. Addison : Capt. Tristan N. Aitken : Cpl. Stephen John Allbutt : Spc. Ronald D. Allen Jr. : Sgt. Glenn R. Allison : Sapper Luke Allsopp : Cpl. Daniel R. Amaya : Pfc. John D. Amos II : Lance Cpl. Brian E. Anderson : Petty Officer 2nd Class Michael C. Anderson : Spc. Michael Andrade : Pvt. Ruslan Androschuk : Lance Cpl. Levi T. Angell : Spc. Edward J. Anguiano : Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Todd Arnold : Spc. Richard Arriaga : Staff Sgt. Jimmy J. Arroyave : Spc. Robert R. Arsiaga : Sgt. Evan Asa Ashcraft : Cpl. Russell Aston : Maj. Jay Aubin : Capt. Matthew J. August : Lance Cpl. Aaron C. Austin : Lance Cpl. Andrew Julian Aviles :: Pfc. Eric A. Ayon : Sgt. 1st Class Henry A. Bacon : Sgt. Andrew Joseph Baddick : Staff Sgt. Daniel A. Bader : Staff Sgt. Nathan J. Bailey : Spc. Ryan T. Baker : Sgt. Sherwood R. Baker : Pfc. Chad E. Bales : Maj. Stephen Ballard : Spc. Solomon C. Bangayan : Lt. Col. Dominic R. Baragona : Spc. Jonathan P. Barnes : Command Sgt. Maj. Edward C. Barnhill : Lance Cpl. Aric J. Barr : Sgt. Michael Paul Barrera : Maj. Carlos Barro Ollero : Spc. Todd M. Bates : Gunnery Sgt. Ronald E. Baum : Capt. Ryan Beaupre : Spc. James L. Beckstrand : Fusilier Russell Beeston : Sgt. Gregory A. Belanger : Sgt. Aubrey D. Bell : Pfc. Wilfred D. Bellard : Staff Sgt. Joseph P. Bellavia : Sgt. 1st Class William M. Bennett : Spc. Robert T. Benson : Sgt. Jose Antonio Bernal Gomez : Spc. Joel L. Bertoldie : Staff Sgt. Stephen A. Bertolino Sr. : Cpl. Mark A. Bibby : Sgt. Benjamin W. Biskie : Sgt. Michael E. Bitz : Sgt. Jarrod W. Black : Lance Cpl. Thomas A. Blair : Chief Warrant Officer Michael T. Blaise : Capt. Ernesto M. Blanco : Command Sgt. Maj. James D. Blankenbecler : Spc. Joseph M. Blickenstaff : Sgt. Trevor A. Blumberg : Gunnery Sgt. Jeffrey E. Bohr Jr. : Sgt. 1st Class Craig A. Boling : Petty Officer 3rd Class Doyle W. Bollinger Jr. : Sgt. 1st Class Kelly Bolor : Capt. Oleksii Bondarenko : Staff Sgt. Stevon A. Booker : Chief Warrant Officer Clarence E. Boone : Pfc. Rachel K. Bosveld : Spc. Mathew G. Boule : Staff Sgt. Hesley Box Jr. : Pvt. Noah L. Boye : Spc. Edward W. Brabazon : Cpl. Travis J. Bradach-Nall : Staff Sgt. Kenneth R. Bradley : Staff Sgt. Stacey C. Brandon : Spc. Artimus D. Brassfield : Pfc. Joel K. Brattain : Pfc. Jeffrey F. Braun : Staff Sgt. Steven H. Bridges : Lance Cpl. Shaun Andrew Brierley : Spc. Kyle A. Brinlee : Staff Sgt. Cory W. Brooks : Sgt. Thomas F. Broomhead : Tech. Sgt. Bruce E. Brown : Cpl. Henry L. Brown : Pfc. John E. Brown : Spc. Larry K. Brown : Spc. Lunsford B. Brown II : Pfc. Nathan P. Brown : Spc. Philip D. Brown : Pfc. Timmy R. Brown Jr. : Cpl. Andrew D. Brownfield : Petty Officer 3rd Class Nathan B. Bruckenthal : Lance Cpl. Cedric E. Bruns : Marshal Massimiliano Bruno : 2nd Lt. Todd J. Bryant : Sgt. Ernest G. Bucklew : Spc. Roy Russell Buckley : Pfc. Paul J. Bueche : Lt. Col. Charles H. Buehring : Lance Cpl. Brian Rory Buesing : Sgt. George Edward Buggs : Staff Sgt. Christopher Bunda : Staff Sgt. Richard A. Burdick : Lance Cpl. Jeffrey C. Burgess : Pfc. Tamario D. Burkett : Sgt. Travis L. Burkhardt : Pfc. Jesse R. Buryj : Pvt. Matthew D. Bush : Pfc. Charles E. Bush Jr. : Pfc. Damian S. Bushart : Sgt. Jacob L. Butler : Capt. Joshua T. Byers : Cpl. Juan C. Cabral Banuelos : Sgt. Charles T. Caldwell : Spc. Nathaniel A. Caldwell : Staff Sgt. Joseph Camara : Spc. Michael C. Campbell : Sgt. Ryan M. Campbell : Spc. Marvin A. Camposiles : Spc. Isaac Campoy : Spc. Ervin Caradine Jr. : Spc. Adolfo C. Carballo : Pfc. Michael M. Carey : Cpl. Richard P. Carl : Pfc. Ryan G. Carlock : Pfc. Benjamin R. Carman : Staff Sgt. Edward W. Carmen : Spc. Jocelyn L. Carrasquillo : Cpl. Alessandro Carrisi : Pfc. Jose Casanova : Spc. Ahmed A. Cason : Lance Cpl. James A. Casper : Capt. Paul J. Cassidy :Staff Sgt. Roland L. Castro : Sgt. Sean K. Cataudella : Adjutant Giovanni Cavallaro : Staff Sgt. James W. Cawley : Colour Sgt. John Cecil : Spc. Doron Chan ...

And the list goes on and on and on. I wanted to list them all, but it's tough looking at faces and ages and thinking about the families devastated by the whims of one man, not elected by the people.

Driving Lessons

It being Saturday afternoon and the usual day for our driver education refresher class, please draw your chairs close -- Philip, sit up here in front where I can watch you! -- and pay attention. There will be a quiz at the end of the week.

Before we get started, though, I have an announcement. One of you spilled a vanilla milkshake or something in the back seat of the Ford Focus. The Focus will be out of commission for cleaning; so, we won't be driving today. Kathy, no more McD's during class.

Here's refresher lesson number one: Say you're driving a big fucking truck, loaded with tons of drywall, west on Chester Road, which has one lane in each direction and you encounter a broken-down semi and pick-up truck parked partly off the road headed west. A white VW Beetle with a black "The Who" sticker on the rear bumper (which you can't see yet) with a bald guy driving is in the eastbound lane. You will have to go into the eastbound lane to pass the parked trucks. You are in a hurry. If you are male, you believe you have a big dick; if you are female, you are in the process of divorce because your husband cheated on you (with another man).

It is improper to attempt to drive over the oncoming white VW Beetle. Technically, the Beetle has the right-of-way. But dontchyaknow, you have the big fucking truck and any normal individual would yield to you. But you must be prepared that the bald guy driving may be having a bad day or may simply be a real mother-fucker and refuse to yield. Believe me, you do not want to mess with someone like this. Under only this circumstance, stop and pull over to the right as close as you can to the parked vehicles and perhaps this white VW Beetle will go past you -- or maybe he'll want you to back up, and you should because nobody can be that crazy and not kick the livin' shit out of you.

This is lesson number two: You are driving your evil, black Hummer and have just spent $100 to fill up the tank and your Visa is now maxed out. You are merging onto the highway. There is a white VW Beetle with a black "The Who" sticker on the back bumper and a lot of traffic in the high-speed lane preventing the Beetle from moving over and allowing you to merge. You are in a hurry and need to get onto the highway because the bridge abutment is fast approaching, cutting off your assured clear distance ahead. The bald guy driving the white VW Beetle looks at you and gives you the finger, which naturally causes you to become angry and want to merge immediately onto the highway.

You are maniacally driving the evil, black Hummer and any normal individual would yield to you. But you must be prepared that the bald guy is having a bad day and is a real fucking asshole and refuses to yield to you, inviting you to crash into him. You do not want to mess with someone like this under any circumstance, so slow down and let him pass.

That is all. Class dismissed. Remember -- quiz later in the week.

Stickers Revisited

I wrote this at the bowling alley last night because of something I saw on the way there. You've seen them, too, the white oval stickers on cars, some vans, and more SUVs than you can shake a stick at. Back in the day, the oval white stickers with letters on them were rare. A guy in a golf league brought his Jag over from England with his other belongings in a big container on a ship. He had an ENG on a sticker.

Now, they are ubiquitous and not a clever imitation like they once were. Stupid. Some guy was trying to sell them with WHO on them at The Who concert in Chicago two summers ago.

There’s the one with HH and a red-and-white-striped lighthouse where the "I" should be – it’s quite common in these parts – a lot of people go down to Hilton Head. When we were there on a time-share-condo pitch by Marriott, in which the sales agent said that "our" kind of people went to Hilton Head, not like the "riff-raff" in Myrtle Beach, the light house was newly painted beige and rust. Strict color code, you know – keeps the riff-raff out. We won’t go back there; might try Myrtle Beach, though, with the other riff-raff.

I saw a sticker with OBX on it – Outer Banks down there in North Carolina, if it’s still there after hurricane season. I’ve seen KI several times – I think that’s Kiawah Island. We went there before children when nobody ever heard of the place and we walked everywhere, then we went back when the kids were small and we needed a car to get around. Now, they got stickers with KI on them.

PIB. No, not the soft drink, Mr. Pib. It stands for Put-in-Bay, near where a decisive battle on Lake Erie was fought against the British Navy in the War of 1812, except that few people go to Put-in-Bay to see the 300-foot tall Perry Monument. Most go to get hammered on the weekends in the summer at the bars on the island.

I saw a couple more of the oval white stickers in the last couple days, one with "M" on it and one with GVV on it. Those stump me.

I think that MB might stand for Myrtle Beach, but the guy getting out didn’t look like riff-raff who might go there. He looked more like "our" kind of person, the one who goes to Hilton Head Island. I didn’t notice. Maybe his other car is a Mercedes Benz.

I saw OU, which stands for Ohio University – I know because that’s what it said in small print, and MU, which was affixed to a bumper on a car with a bunch of Mount Union College stickers.

And then there was the definitive oval white sticker that, I think, says it all: DMB.

Spider!

There is a fucking spider in the white VW Beetle with the black "The Who" sticker on the back bumper! It's not one of those inconsequentially small little tiny spiders, but one the size of the spiders in the movie, Arachnophobia.

I was driving to pick up Stacey. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw some movement at the periphery of my vision, movement of something on my right leg, my thigh, just above the knee. I wasn't sure if I really saw anything, but then there was the movement again; so, I glanced down and did one of those whoa-slapping-brushing-hitting-shaking, whatthefuck-goddamn-sonuvabitch-motherfuckingshit things that I do when there's a huge fucking deadly spider from the eighth dimension on my leg.

I'm getting shivers up and down my spine thinking about it and that creepy crawling thing is going on like all over my body.

And I almost hit the car in front of me. And I don't know if it's dead ... No, that's not true ... I know it's not dead because there is no smashed spider body anywhere. It's still in the car. And I told Stacey when she got in the car. And I didn’t see the thing rear its ugly, multi-eyed head on the drive home. I’m going out to find it and capture or kill it, the former if it is passive, the latter if it attacks. Tae kwon do lessons did not teach me to kill with my bare hands for no reason … I knew the lessons would come in handy.

If you do not hear from me for a few days … well, we won’t think about that.

The Who's Tommy -- Part 2

Stacey, over there on the left, is hitting on all 8 cylinders with these heavy blog topics. Since this side of the blog might be about golf, I thought I would oblige the golfers in the crowd on this, my bowling night.

There is a huge controversy brewing in the world of golf involving the world's number one golfer. No, everything is cool about Tiger Woods. The controversy concerns another number one golfer, David Morse, who won this year's world championship held in Melbourne, Australia. He didn't just win the tournament. He lapped the field and won by 24 strokes.

David Morse, golf wizard, is now the only two-time Blind Golfers' Association world champion. The English Blind Golf Association has started an investigation about the claim that Mr. Morse can see. And if he can see, he really sucks as a golfer.

I can see it now, a new rock opera by Pete Townshend, with a miracle cure and everything.

IMHO

the gay marriage "thing" is a big news item again lately. and jax wrote about a possible suicide in our area where rumors are flying at the high school that the boy was questioning his sexuality and worried that "god wouldn't love him." now, i do NOT know anything at all about this boy at the high school, but it just got me thinking about this whole thing again. i'm gonna lay it all out for you. my thoughts. MY beliefs.

#1. homosexuality has always been. always will be. hear me again. there will ALWAYS be a certain percentage of the human race that are homosexual. always.

#2. homosexuality DOES NOT EQUAL pedophilia. there are heterosexual pedophiles, homosexual pedophiles, priest pedophiles, teacher pedophiles, and garbage collector pedophiles. the adjective has NOTHING whatsoever to do with the noun. non-predator homosexuals (just like non-predator heterosexuals) want other homosexuals. tell me you haven't heard a hetero guy say something "admiring" about a lesbian. most people shrug it off. no big deal. but if a homosexual says the same thing about a hetero, boy oh boy, does the crap fly. this is not predatory behavior, people. get over it. nobody's trying to recruit straight people over to the other side.

#3. this is the big one for me. if you accept that there will be a certain number of human beings who will be homosexual (#1) and that homosexuals are not predatory by nature (#2) [if you don't accept these premises, you're pretty much hopeless. and brain dead. in my humble opinion.] given these FACTS -- oh yes they are FACTS - how can we say to a human being: if you realize that you are homosexual, understand that you will never have the right to love and commit to another homosexual person in the same way that WE can. WE are normal. YOU are a horrible mistake. YOU must live unloved and unfulfilled as a human being. live in OUR world. in OUR WORLD, only heterosexuals may marry. that's OUR sacred right. i don't know about you - but *i* believe that there's room for all kinds of people.

so YOU have a choice. two alternatives.

ONE: you do not accept facts. therefore - you are ignorant.

TWO: if you accept the facts, but believe that marriage is only for heterosexuals, you're just a mean, close-minded bastard. allowing homosexuals to marry doesn't demean you or your marriage. your position against gay marriage demeans you.

and this: don't tell me what your bible/priest/dogma/religion tells you. you need to accept the FACT that we are not a christian, jewish, muslim, wiccan, satanist - whatever you are - nation. that is what separation of church and state means.

imho.

edit: i see that the comments are getting into religion.

so don't talk to me about RELIGION. talk to me about the law. and the values of a compassionate, accepting, LOVING culture that we pretend to be. gah.

Road Warrior

The J-dogg and I went on the road to appear at another drug abuse conference today. The boy was so good with the audience of about 100 -- he ought to do public speaking for a living.

On the way home, we stopped to pick up Stacey. We were running very late and the J-dogg abandoned ship when we reached Starbucks and caught a ride from a friend to the spaghetti dinner to celebrate the successful fund-raiser for the church that hosts the AA weekend retreats every other month.

So, Stacey and I are driving home. The gas gauge on the white VW Beetle with the black "The Who" sticker on the back bumper beeps. I had been pretty good about keeping gas in the car, despite the rising cost of the precious fuel. I immediately headed for the BP station with the abusive blonde attendant. Well, not really "immediately" -- it wasn't like "BE-E-E-EP" and Pavlov's dog-like, I started to salivate and head for certain torture at the hands of that bitch behind the counter with the microphone. It was more like "BE-E-E-EP" and a voice in my ear said, "Turn left up here and go to the gas station." That was Stacey talking, so I immediately headed for the BP station with the abusive blonde attendant.

In the movie, The Road Warrior, starring Mel Gibson as the title character, the savior of a small group of people looking for peace and a better life, there's Pappagallo, a blond guy guarding the petrol -- I know I digress here, but the blonde at BP reminded me of Pappagallo -- and I just have to plug one of my all-time favorite movies.

What happened as I reached the gas station? The price of gas had actually gone down to $1.90 a gallon. The oil companies have us right where they want us now -- we are supposed to rejoice at the price decrease and be ecstatic that we are paying "only" $1.90 a gallon. That's the plan.

The record $5.4 billion in profits for ExxonMobil and the all-time quarterly high for BP Oil of $4.72 billion in the first quarter of 2004 apparently were not enough for those companies. Shell's first quarter net income was only $4.4 billion, a decrease in profits, but that "decrease" was due to accounting magic.

Flight School

My friend, Dave, is now a commercial pilot, having taken the 5 1/2 hour oral test (none of his pilot buddies clued him in about how the examiner might take all day testing him) and is a flight instructor at one of the small airports. There has been more than a little discussion about me being one of his students and getting my pilot's license. He's taking me up on Friday, weather permitting, for the first time.

Now, Stacey, who is afraid of heights, is not too keen on this venture; so, please don't make any comments about me running out of gas.

I will kick your ass if you do.

O.K., Ri-i-i-ght

Chico Salmon, a player on the Cleveland Indians long before the turn of the century, complained that he couldn't play until he got his toe nails clipped. They grew upwards and made his feet hurt ... or so he said.

Sammy Sosa didn't play yesterday because he severely injured his back sneezing.

Oh, to be a well-conditioned millionaire athlete ...

ATM Hygiene

I ran into the grocery store to get money from the ATM. Standing at the machine was a short guy with shiny royal blue shorts that ended just below his knees on a pair of skinny spider legs. The white sweat shirt was cut off at his armpits. His head was rectangular topped by a flat top haircut, accentuating the rectagularity of his head that seemed to merged into his shoulders.

I gave him a wide berth, not wanting to interrupt his business with the machine, but I was still hit with the scent that took me back to the high school locker room, teenage/man sweat and aerosol Right Guard deodorant.

He was done looting the machine of a couple of 20's. I stepped up, put my card in the slot, grabbed a deposit slip from the little shelf area next to the machine, wrapped the slip around my finger and pushed the buttons to get some money.

Fucking paranoid, I tell ya.

Things Haven't Been Going Well

Is the economy supposed to be improving? How can Bush claim the economy is improving? The only way we might consider that the economy improved in this part of the country is to count LeBron James' salary and endorsement deals in the business forecasts. The media made a big deal about a local steel mill turning out one slab of steel, symbolically opening a steel mill that had been closed for three years. I love it. Where once thousands were employed, we're to rejoice over the hiring of 150. That is not enough new workers to support the re-opening of Hooters in the Flats or the re-hiring of laid-off local police officers and firefighters.

In the meantime, the girl at the BP station that I visit was out at the sign changing the price last night, jacking it up to $2.06 a gallon. Okay, two-oh-five and nine-tenths.

What concerns me more than the price of gasoline, which causes cartage rates to increase, causing the cost of most stuff we buy to increase, is the price of milk. I hear nobody complaining that the price of milk has gone up about 50 cents a gallon in the last month or so. Perhaps the price increase is due to increased fuel costs or maybe it is because of the Medicare drug benefit causing an increase in the price of antibiotics fed to cattle. Whatever the reason, it is an alarming development, which will cause an inevitable further price increase in everything from Starbucks' mochas to Kraft caramels to white Russians.

Bush has even proven wrong the old adage that war fosters economic growth. His head ought to be on the block (I think I just violated the Patriot Act, folks. So much for the First Amendment.).

Floss Once a Day

When I went to the dentist the other day, the hygienist recommended, as always, that I floss every day for maximum gum health. I had a client come in a number of years ago with an invention, a flossing gadget. I sent him over to a patent lawyer I knew, who found that there was already a similar gadget floating around the patent system. The gadget allowed flossing with one hand with automatic advance of the floss.

This morning, I saw a woman flossing while driving. And she did not have a gadget allowing her to use one hand. She had both hands on the floss, mouth open, car moving.

She's lucky her phone wasn't ringing.

DREAMWEAVER

my mom died 6 years ago. last night i dreamed that we (bill and i and the boys) were in florida visiting with her. we'd been there for a week and had to leave for the long drive home next morning. i was talking to my mom about leaving, she was crying that we hadn't had enough time together. i said that since we drove down in two cars that maybe the boys could leave the next morning, and i'd stay another week. this didn't seem to comfort her. she asked if i knew anyone named "heather kemp." i said no and asked who she was. mom said, "she's my daughter."

i didn't really freak out at this in my dream, but i was surprised. somebody else might freak out at this, but, oh no, not me. you see, there's a history here.

my bio parents (mom and bio-dad) wound up being married for about 17 years. they were together for maybe 10 of those. then mom met the "step-dad person." i don't know why it took so long for them to get divorced; but when mom got pregnant with s-d's child, she was still married to b-d. so the birth certificate listed b-d as the father. for some reason, mom brought the baby boy home from the hospital (i was 8), but within 10 days, she and s-d gave him up for adoption. [now i'm wondering exactly how s-d could have signed away any rights, as he was not on the birth certificate. another mystery.] this was just a little confusing and weird (and sad) for me and my sisters. heh. anyway, 5 years later, after they were able to marry, they had another baby boy, J, and kept him.

mom died a year later, without having been reunited with first son. sisters and i met him at mom's funeral. freaky. sorry i keep saying that word - freaky. YOU find a better adjective. i dare ya.

back to the dream. so i'm all like "another daughter?" hmmm. and so i go to the garage where all of a sudden (you know how dreams are), one of my big sisters is there. i ask her if she knows "heather kemp." she says, "sure, she's nichole's mom!" wtf? "she's 58 years old."

the alarm goes off. bill wants to know why i'm in such a bad mood already. duh! here's the list:

note: i do NOT make this stuff up. i swear to god, this whole thing is a true story!

Bowling? What?

I had lunch today with the J-Dogg at Danny Boy's Pizza, and he reminded me that I consented to being on a bowling team. I have gone bowling only a few times since high school. He told me that they don't set up the bumpers in the gutters; so, I am going to be in some serious trouble. And don't talk to me about practicing and getting a wrist support and getting special bowling balls for different lane conditions. Do people actually get bowling lessons?

We start Thursday. I'll watch The Big Lebowski before I go on Thursday to get psyched up.

SELF PORTRAIT

so ... do i look how you picture me?

Rubber Chickens, Dentists & Fig Newtons

I haven't had much to write about lately. So, you get a choice -- in BULLETED format:

I have this tooth way in the back that cracked in half. Do I really need this tooth way in the back on the right side? My answer is "N-O, and out you go." But I think the dentist has a different idea about dental health than I do. To her, "treatment program" means some kind of lengthy experiment on my mouth which will cause great pain and discomfort over the course of many months and is very similar to the wallet-ectomy my family physician does on a regular basis.

Then there is the wisdom tooth way in the back on the lower left side. I know it needs to come out, but the gum grew back over it. It was supposed to come out a long time ago, before the turn of the century, but the oral surgeon was reluctant to take it out. He mentioned something about the fact that it was laying on a nerve and taking it out would almost certainly cause some damage and maybe loss of feeling of everything below the level of my jaw -- well, not that bad; but almost that bad. So, we he decided that it should not come out until absolutely necessary. Why take a risk now?

Disappointing at the party, however, was that nobody noticed my rubber chicken perched in the tree in the corner of the living room.

Of course, I know that Nabisco probably reduced the size of these things with little media coverage and kept the price the same so Nabisco makes a bigger profit on a per item basis. But whatever happened to that American SUPER-SIZE philosophy? Am I supposed to be encouraged by the concern of Nabisco about my health. Did the size reduction occur when Nabisco jumped on the fat-free health craze and brought out fat-reduced, tasteless Fig-like Newtons? I thought that fruit was good for us. Why not charge a little more and super-size Fig Newtons!

TO DO LIST AND MOTHER'S DAY

TO DO LIST

ok. i'll get to those later. right now i want to talk about mother's day. it doesn't really mean all that much to me as a holiday. i feel appreciated most of the time when i'm with all my guys. i don't want them to feel that it's necessary to get me anything - not even a card - on mother's day. if they do, fine. it's very nice. but it's really not necessary. it's impossible to try to fully express how much your mother means to you on one day. i always felt guilty that it didn't come out the way i wanted it to on mother's days with my mom. i don't want the boys to worry about that. it's just silly to me. i know how much my guys love me.

i admit, however, to using mother's day as an excuse to tell bill, "oh. look! the 5-gallon, green glass octagonal beverage dispenser i've ALWAYS wanted. you could get that for me from the boys, if you really want. heh.

now. having said all that: yesterday's mother's day was wonderful. really, really nice. my boys called me in the morning with mother's day wishes before everybody arrived. we met dana earlier that morning at starbucks. it was a beautiful day, weather-wise. and a perfect opportunity to get together with some of bill's cousins and two of his aunts. karen brought a rose for each of the moms. jax arrived home from his 12-step weekend before everybody left. that was nice. bill and i made a french-toast casserole and our huge casada cake, and everybody brought a dish to share. bill made lattes and mochas. we decided we'd try to take a short thanksgiving weekend trip to italy with some of the cousins (we'd seen a special internet 4-day trip advertisement).

bill and i took a short nap after everybody departed. while we were sleeping, jax emptied the dishwasher and took all the garbage bags from the garage to the curb for pick-up (without being asked!). when we got up, we went to have coffee with my sister at starbucks. ordered fried rice and dumplings on the way home. when we picked it up, we (literally) almost ran into another of bill's cousins in the parking lot. he wasn't at the brunch as he was on a plane coming home from the bahamas. he'd picked up pizzas for his family and invited us to come over to his place to eat our own dinner there. home for the end of the sopranos and a shower. to bed. phew. wonderful day. wonderful. and then when jax came in from his late night out (a meeting and then out with friends after), he came into our room, bent down, and gave me a kiss good night.

perfect.

On Moving Refrigerators

So, I lied. Again. I did take time off. I really did. The grass looks good, especially with a plethora of little yellow flowers growing there. The pool area, where the strawberry plants are blooming, is ready for the pool guys to come and open it up. And the bedroom is a lot better than it used to be. The professional organizer came in and took over. Just finished moments ago. Now, I have a short story for you:

The graying, bearded father and his teenaged son worked in the pool area, cutting back the tall grasses and bushes and raking leaves in preparation for the opening of the pool and the Mother's Day celebration the father planned with some relatives, much to the consternation of his wife of nearly 30 years. The day was warm and sunny, something not atypical for the part of the country in which they lived.

As they toiled, the father scooping the leaves and branches into the deep Sears plastic wheel barrow and his son standing by and telling him to make sure he tamped down the leaves, waiting to take the load to the compost heap at the edge of the ravine that cut across the property, two police cars sped by at high speed, sirens whoop, whoop, whooping and blue lights flashing.

"Wow, they were moving," said the son. "There goes a third one," he added as the police car screamed by at high speed. "Something is going on."

"Yep," the father replied, dead-lifting some more wet leaves and brush into the wheel barrow. An ambulance raced past a few seconds later, siren blaring. "Heart attack or something, I'd say."

"Tamp it down with the rake, and we might be able to get this whole pile," the son instructed, then was distracted by the red and gold pumper truck that rumbled by seconds after the ambulance, siren giving out a short screech as a warning. "Accident, maybe?" the son asked.

The father, his bald noggin pinkening in the mid-day springtime sun, nodded, adding another pile of brush on top of the tamped-down brown and green plant matter, agreed, "Could be."

The father straightened and watched the red, white, and gold Fire Department Heavy Duty Equipment Truck ululating past, wiping his brow with the back of his light tan leather glove.

"Heavy equipment truck?" the son questioned. "Gotta be a dumbass who tried to get a refrigerator out of the basement all by himself and ruptured the freon line," the son opined, beaming broadly at his father.

Thank god readership turns over and only a couple of our dear readers have any knowledge about the refrigerator incident and those involved.

SURE HE LOOKS CUTE...

i don't think i'm wrong about this. i really think bill decided 34 years ago that i was the perfect candidate for his life dream of driving someone absolutely nuts. i've been thinking about this for a while, and it seems to be the most credible explanation for his behavior. matt thinks his dad is just "too busy thinking about other things to be bothered with the minutiae of daily life with which the hoi polloi are consumed.

earlier this week, after he had told me that we would be having brunch on mother's day at his cousin's house, i asked him to call said cousin to find out what we could bring. i thought that would be my biggest job this weekend. "ohhhh." says he on the phone to cousin linda. "what, ohhhh," i say. "the brunch is at our house," says he. ohhhhh. now, i DO love having company. that's not the problem. the problems are (in a bulleted list, of course):

ok. so that's the end of THAT part of the story. here's another. about 4:30 a.m. this morning, beagle "scout" started shaking her head and frantically itching her right ear. we got up - she sleeps on our bed, and we couldn't sleep anyway - and put some sweet oil drops in her ear. i knew she had ear mites and we'd have to get the treatment for it today. bill sent jax to the pet store early this afternoon. after jax returned home, this is the e-mail exchange bill and i had:

bill: ear stuff in left ear.
stace: why in the left? we put the oil in her RIGHT this "morning!"
bill: the other left.

thanks to this really cool site for the code on this entry.

DOESN'T HE UNDERSTAND HOW FRAGILE I AM? you see, i think he DOES. it's all part of his plan.

Golf

I played golf Saturday in a 2-man scramble with a college friend, Buck. Yes, he is a country boy. Shoots groundhogs and such.

Golf is not meant to be played when it is cold and drizzling unless the course is in Scotland. I was not in Scotland.

It was the first time I picked up a club since last year. I didn't practice. We came in second place.

So, I think I'll take time off from blogging to practice golf and other things in life. If anyone wants to my mind my half of the store, you're more than welcome to do so.

YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

i don't wanna make this the menopause journal, but ...

i think the regular (i say regular, cuz "normal" and "stacey" just don't sound right together) stacey was around most of the last 10 days (don't you fucking dare say i wasn't mostly myself for most of that time. at times, i think i was even pretty nice. like when i bought jax that car.

but... but. i think i'm heading slowly downhill. i'm going to really work on making the turnaround quicker. last time, i think bottom lasted for about two weeks. bad. baaaaaad. evil, unhappy stacey. very unhappy stacey.

i'm thinking that what i've read in some places is what's going to happen for me. they say this bad stuff only lasts a couple of months. i'm not going to entertain any other possibilities. see how positive and upbeat i'm being? i'm a positive, upbeat kind of gal, right? RIGHT?!

the nuclear flashes haven't been coming at me so frequently most recently. so that's good, right? RIGHT?! the anxiety attacks, however, and i hate to even mention this, being the positive, upbeat gal i am, the anxiety attacks - not better. they are more frequent. but i'm not going to complain. nope. not me. THIS IS NOT COMPLAINING. IT'S MERELY A CHRONICLE OF ONE WOMAN'S JOURNEY INTO THE NEXT PHASE OF HER LIFE. got it? no complaining. at least while i'm still in control. because i think that sometime in the next 24 hours, i won't be in control anymore. it will be that other stacey. the stacey that hates everything and everybody - but mostly herself and wants only to lay in bed and cry. not the real stacey. don't blame me.

we're picking up j's new (to him) car later. it's a shiny red mitsubishi something thousand. something like that. really, i don't think we're totally indulgent parents. it's just that jax really, really needs a decent car. he goes to at least 6 a.a. meetings a week and drives other people everyday to those meetings. and since bill and i decided to share a car, jax's car does come in handy once in a while when we really do need to use two cars. so, bill's happy, too, that we bought the mitsubishi something something thousand. even if it does look like a big red penis. wait. did i say that out loud?

bill and jax are speaking at a conference on thursday on substance abuse at the local community college. it's for educators and health professionals. bill's speaking as a parent -- and about the otc drugs. jax is part of the roundtable panel discussion. the guy who called to extend the invitation invited bill AND me for the parents part, but i think bill was afraid that the half-day conference was nowhere near the time i'd use, so he accepted for him and jax only. i'm really excited for both of them. this is tremendously important - to both of them. to all of us. and i hope he kicks some round-peg educators' asses.

Penis Enlargement Philosophy 101

We have gotten some comments from individuals who work for one of the better known penis enlargement companies. They apparently enjoy our blog in this little part of the www. I am sure that blog-surfing is frowned upon by their company -- something about decreased productivity, which is a bunch of hogwash as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, I have deleted their comments, just so their bosses don't get wind of their transgressions. I would hate to see any of them get jacked around or worse, get fired, for making these insightful, philosophically-significant comments.

[I could do this as a bulleted list, but I have decided that from now on I will leave that sort of thing to the lady over here to the left.]

And now, I present to you the philosophers of Sexmuch Quality Penis Enlargement Co.:

He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare; and he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. -- Melissa Delaney DelValle

Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods. -- Melissa Woronoff

A little foolishness, enough to enjoy life and a little wisdom to avoid the errors, that will do. -- Todd Rheinfrank, who apparently plagiarized from Amy Morneweck (Amy's comment came in at 9:31; Todd's at 9:32).

For every action there is an equal and opposite government program. -- Tom Welch (the comedian of the group; his humor comes up short most of the time)

He who wishes to secure the good of others has already secured his own. -- Raegen Rasnic

Man is the missing link between apes and human beings. -- Brandon Enriquez

Just as a solid rock is not shaken by the storm, even so the wise are not affected by praise or blame. -- Oscar Romero

Some nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men. -- Carolyn Hall

With love comes strange currencies. -- Jane Latman

There is no benefit in the gifts of a bad man. -- Norman Cohen (who left a bogus website address which had something to do with online casinos -- his e-mail address gave him away, though -- be more careful next time, Norman)

If you would be unloved and forgotten, be reasonable. -- Elena Cook

you know, all the lawyers i know "in real life" are really nice as well. i only hate ones on tee vee. weird. -- jenB (Hey! She said something nice about lawyers. I had to include her comment as significant, it being the only nice thing about lawyers ever written.)

Seekers of truth invariably turn to lies. -- Abigail Banker (Okay, I'll grant you that jenB is a "seeker of truth.")

Cultivated people foster what is good in others, not what is bad. Petty people do the opposite. -- Whelan Sidney

The world is a beautiful book for those who can read it. -- John Congdon

Keep the good work. -- Alan Cheslow

My father never raised his hand to any one of his children, except in self-defense. -- Steve Miller

I originally inserted a lyric here by the real Steve Miller, but then I figured that would get me sued by the RIAA.