Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

THE SPEED OF LIFE

after running around all day, i got ready to make my anna banana cake and discovered THREE errors i made in the typing of the recipe on the kitchen blog. fixed them. forgive me.

news re the jackal: he "graduated" from the program at his half-way house, and then advised us that he was gonna settle down there (at least for a while) in south florida. oooooooo-kayyyyyy. took me about 2 weeks to let it sink in and then i walked into our guest room last wednesday and my heart actually leapt at the thought that it would continue to be my lovely, clean guest room. and that my kid was really growing up! he is doing really fabulous, and is such a joy to talk to. he likes the store where he works (cough: shift manager girl friend). he's looking to pick up a small motorcycle -- i've actually calmed down about my baby on a mototcycle, too! he lives in an apartment with 2 roomates. so this is what it's like having an empty nest. as crazy as i am about my boys, i'm kinda digging this. i guess maybe i'm growing up, too.

Education of Little Billy

While I was walking the dogs yesterday afternoon, a guy pulled up to the curb in some kind of expensive, shiny black car with a black leather interior. He got out and went into the store in the next building. The $103,000 car -- he left it running, windows open, sunroof retracted. You would think that a $103,000 car would have an automatic transmission. Not so. I didn't drive it. I could see that it was a manual shift. I kept walking the dogs. When I returned with the dogs 20 minutes or so later, the driverless, expensive, shiny black, $103,000 car was still rumbling there at the curb, waiting for someone to unleash the power under the hood.

When I took the dogs out like way early yesterday morning, just after dawn, I saw that the monkey door mat -- it looked like this --

was gone from in front of our door. Some asshole took it between 12:30 a.m. and 5:45 a.m.

I need to get another door mat, preferably, a $103,000 door mat, which nobody will even try to steal.

TREASURE CHEST

i spent a large portion of my day yesterday with my sister's grand daughter, the delightful natalie. natalie is entering 8th grade in the fall -- i had a ball. she came over to spend the day helping me with an organizing project. one of the projects was what i used to call my "memory box." after 34 years, this has become a lot of stuff. photographs, greeting cards, notes, letters, newspaper clippings, etc., etc.

when the kids were little (i remember clearly that the boys were 8 and 4 when this was written), i would have the boys write a letter of apology to the other (jax could apologize verbally) at times when their behavior toward each other warranted the "punishment". i remember that matty had said something about jax wetting the bed the previous night in response to a insult thrown down by the jackal. all hell erupted, and letters were demanded by mom. here's matt's letter to jax:

Dear Jackson,

I am really sorry for embarrasing you in front of Nana and Papa. It's just that you embarrased me (in my mind or not) also, so I felt you should suffer equilly. I deeply regret reveiling this habit to them, and I apoligize. To the contrary, though, I thought it was totally out of line for you to call me a bastard. In lue of this, though, I am truly Sorry.

Sincerely,
your brother

FATHER'S DAY

i don't have any father, biological or otherwise, that i care to contact and wish a happy father's day. but i celebrate father's day, too. they say you can't choose your family; but in a way, you can. you can choose your mate. you can choose the father / mother of your children. today i celebrate my choice. i chose the father of my children well.

this is a picture of bill finishing up the crib he made for our babies to sleep in. this was a good thing. the other side of the coin -- you have to take the good with the, well, unusual -- is that the finish wasn't dry when i brought our first home from the hospital. heh.

as you faithful readers know, bill's kind of, well, different. he's taught our boys many things. some of them not so good. most of all, he's taught them how to be good men. not in the traditional sense. in the most important sense. here are some of the lessons he's taught our boys.

you CAN reach cleve by going the OTHER way around the lake -- not the easy should-have-been-a-4-hour-drive-home-from-toronto way, but in the 12-hour-hey-we're-bound-to-reach-cleveland way.

there is only one way to eat ice cream properly. and that's straight from the container

fire works and rocket lego cars are science, dude

sometimes not telling mom is the best thing for her

men can kiss their dads, grandfathers, and even brothers in public

how to say "I love you" and mean it

how to stand by those you love when things get rough

the who, clapton, hendrix, robert johnson, etc., etc.

how to question authority

when NOT to question authority

how to tie a windsor knot

how to iron a shirt

how to write a proper paragraph

how to pound a nail

how to make a bed with hospital corners

how not to sweat the small stuff -- she does it enough for all of us

real men DO AND CAN cry

how to recognize the big dipper and venus

how to see a science lesson everywhere

when it's safe to wear your boxers outside

how to jump a car, change a tire, drive a stick shift

how to throw down the occasional or frequent bird

when not to throw down the bird

speed limits are suggestions

sometimes police require that you follow their suggestions

License Plates

Today, I drove on the Ohio Turnpike, avoiding the road kill and rubber, past a couple of nuclear power stations, listening to the Boss on the iPod plugged into the AUX jack of the white Toyota Yaris with the peace symbol and "The Who" stickers on the back bumper. The Boss -- that would be Bruce Springsteen, not THE Boss.

The State of Ohio has about 83 different kinds of license plates for cars. In addition to the regular, ordinary, don't-pay-extra plates, there are plates for colleges, sports teams, wildlife sanctuaries, Mothers Against Drunk Driving, and drunk drivers, among other types, in addition to the omni-present, mostly non-sensical vanity plates.

After driving an hour and after seeing about 30 cars with Illinois plates, I noticed a pattern. I probably should have noticed sooner, but, well, some people have to get hit over the head with things before they notice something. The Illinois plates had a group of three numbers and then a space and a grouping of four numbers.

Phone numbers.

The Illinois license plates had phone numbers on them. So, I figured what the hell. 312 is an area code for Chicago, I thought; so, I dialed the number of the license plate on the grey Chrysler Town & Country van with a fish symbol on the back, putting the 3-1-2 in front of the seven-digit number. The phone rang, and I wondered what the heck I was going to say. I had to introduce myself and tell the person why I was calling and ask if he or she had a grey Chrysler Town & Country van with a fish symbol on the back. And of course, whoever answered would ask if I was serious ... or crazy. And I'd have to figure out what to say. I know three or four people in Chicago ... maybe, by some freakish twist of fate, I'd be talking to one of them.

No answer.

Of course. Didn't I feel like an idiot. Nobody could answer the phone because they were on a road trip, travelling the Ohio Turnpike.

Bombing Iraq

As I was watching "The Sopranos" last night, something that was said by one of the characters made me wonder. No, it's not about the onion rings that Tony claimed were the best in Jersey. The onion rings looked like the pre-made, frozen, dump-'em-in-the-fryer Ore-Ida onion rings and not fresh-cut, hand-dipped onion rings, which might be expected to be the best in Jersey.

The scene was the secure wing of the hospital, in which, Uncle Junior is a patient; and he is visted by Tony's sister, Janice, who tells Uncle Junior about her husband, "Bobby's dead." Uncle Junior says, "Ambassador Hotel."

I stood outside the junior high school doors, waiting for them to open, on the last day of school, when a friend told me that Bobby Kennedy had been shot and was probably not going to make it. A lot of commenators more schooled than I am peg the end of innocence and a significant change in the course of American history to the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I cannot disagree with that assessment; but the death of Bobby Kennedy stilled the winds of change in this country in 1968, doldrums that still affect the events of today.

I was wondering, brought to mind by babbling Uncle Junior's "Ambassador Hotel" answer, what ever happened to "Shock and Awe"?

Is bombing still going on? What has been the result of over four years of bombing? Is phosphorus being used? Magnesium? Napalm?

Is it being reported somewhere by someone? Or is this another instance of the "free press" in this country being suppressd? We've been told that privacy concerns outweigh the freedom of the press when it comes to publishing photos of coffins and body bags. That's a lie.

But what kind of concerns are there for the privacy of Iraqi citizens and the Iraqi countryside getting blown to smithereens by rockets launched by helicopter gunships and other aircraft? I can't believe that bombing has been halted -- McCain wouldn't have made that sick joke if it had stopped.

How many tons of bombs are being dropped on Iraq today?

Bad Television Night

I grabbed the clicker and changed the channel to "The Sopranos" final show. I'm sure that other bloggers will give you all the obligatory "I'm giving away the ending here" caution; but I'm not going to do that because there was no fucking ending. "Use your imagination," we will be told. Fuck that -- it's not a fucking book; it's a TV show. We're not supposed to think -- or use our imaginations. That was the lamest thing I ever saw.

Then I turned to the Cavaliers game. The Cavs were losing about 716 to 12. So, I turned back to HBO. The new show, "John from Cincinnati," was debuting. But fuck that shit -- why the hell should I watch that fucking show after the suck-ass Sopranos last show. Plus the Indians lost to the Cincinnati Reds -- what's with that -- fuck Cincinnati.

I'm not watching anything on HBO anymore. At least, they could have killed off Paulie. I've been waiting for 10 years for someone to put a bullet through his eye, but it didn't happen. I thought there was a fairly good chance that Paulie was fucking going to buy it; and if I would've known that he wasn't, I would've gone there and done it myself.

I grabbed the clicker and changed the channel. I did pick the winner of the best actor Tony Award, except that I changed that because it reminded of Tony and his fucked-up Soprano family.

I'm going with "Futurama."

Penalty Strokes

This starts off as a golf story -- you think it's a golf story. It's not a golf story. Hang in there. Really.

On my drive to the golf course early this morning, there was an ESPN golf program on the radio -- I didn't plan it that way because a guy talking about golf on the radio is just plain stupid, except, yeah, I was listening. Think of me what you will, but the guy, Steve Harris, was talking about the upcoming United States Open Golf Championship to be played at Oakmont Country Club just northeast of Pittsburgh. The Pennsylvania Turnpike actually cuts the course in half with a bridge over the turnpike connecting the two parts.

He was droning on about the rough. For non-golfers or those golfers who don't see much of it, the fairways are areas of very short grass between the teeing area, where a hole starts, and the green, which is the really, really, really short grass where the golf hole is located. A golfer would like to hit the ball onto the fairway, from where it is easier to hit the ball than from the rough. The rough is located on both sides of the fairway and are areas of grass not cut as short as the fairways.

At the U.S. Open, the first cut of rough, about seven yards wide, is up to four inches long, and the second cut of rough, farther away from the fairway, will be trimmed to about six inches deep. It'll be very easy for golfers to lose their balls there. It'll take extra strokes to get up and into the hole from there.

So, Mr. Harris pointed out to his listener this morning, "I promise you the second cut of rough will be penile."

33 YEARS

yes, it IS 33 years. when you get to be of a certain age, math gets hard.

33 years ago, bill and i were married. 1974. you can check my math if you want. it was june 8, 1974. we got married outside at a public park on lake erie in a ring of flowers. i wore a flower in my hair and a flowered hand-made dress. my sisters, my wedding attendants, wore hats and their own flowered dresses. i told them, "here's what i'm wearing -- wear whatever you want." my dog was there, having had a haircut by my six-year-old brother that morning. a friend of mine played guitar. i was pretty low maintenance when i was 19. bill wore a velveteen jacket, a bow tie, and linen pants. he had hair and a beautiful smile. i was crazy about him.

now i'm going on 53 (?????) and somewhat less low maintenance. we've had highs and lows through the years, and there's no one i'd rather have at my side through it all. we have two fabulous sons and a darling daughter in law. we've wept together and separately more times than i can count; but (thank you, god!) mostly we've laughed and enjoyed each other's company and love.

bill's going on 54 (?????), has very little hair and a beautiful smile. he still surprises me. he lets me know everyday that i am loved.

and i'm still crazy about him.

Let's Eat Chinese Food

Some Ferrari Chocolate was recalled yesterday. The chocolate was made in China.

More Ol' Roy dog food has been recalled. The tainted ingredients come from China.

Lucky Eight Brand Dried Lily Bulb has been recalled. I don't know why someone would eat dried lily bulb. It's an acquired taste without a doubt. It comes from China.

Toothpaste carrying names such as Cooldent Fluoride, Cooldent Spearmint, Cooldent ICE, Dr. Cool, Everfresh Toothpaste, Superdent Toothpaste, Clean Rite Toothpaste, Oralmax Extreme, Oral Bright Fresh Spearmint Flavor, Bright Max Peppermint Flavor, ShiR Fresh Mint Fluoride Paste, DentaPro, DentaKleen, and DentaKleen Junior, which are dumped at low-cost, bargain retain outlets, may contain antifreeze. They come from China.

King Chief brand Dried Lily Flowers have been recalled. I don't know why someone would eat dried lily flowers. It's an acquired taste without a doubt. Like the bulbs, the flowers come from China.

They say that monkfish are not poisonous, if prepared properly -- probably with dried lily bulbs. But cases of puffer fish, contaminated with the deadly toxin of the fish, have been labeled monkfish and have been recalled. The boxes are stenciled with "PRODUCT OF CHINA."

And that's why the conspiracy theorists believe that China, besides financing the war effort in Iraq and buying up all the land in the U.S., is slowly killing us with its "food" products.

Unbelievable

It is so cool that the Cavaliers are in the NBA Finals, but it seems that not everyone thinks the same way I do. I was on the U.S. News & World Report website and saw an advertisement. Here it is:

That's the weird magician David Blaine, who probably takes credit for LeBron's 48-point game in Game 5 and Boobie Gibson's shooting the lights out in Game 6 against the Pistons, in the middle.

And on the left is Tim Duncan, the star center for the San Antonio Spurs, who will play the Cavaliers.

And on the right is -- Chauncey Billups, the Detroit Piston's cry-baby, soon-to-be-free-agent guard, who probably wishes he were on the Cavaliers.

Very nice. Hey, ABC! Hey, NBA! Who's in the Finals?

But It's Organic

My cousin called and wanted to meet for coffee. I offered to get her one of the unfrozen food items in the display case at Starbucks along with her coffee. She didn't want a coffee -- she brought her own water -- and she passed on my dessert offer.

She is on an organic diet. I didn't get any farther than that, refusing to ask her about the diet, although I did compliment her on her lost 10 pounds.

Today, I was in Big Lots. I bought her a congratulatory gift, a surprise organic present.

On Gas Stations

I stopped to get gas this evening. There was a little sign that was attached by some plastic contraption to the gas hose. The sign announced:

A little better -- than what?

THEY SAY WRITE EVERYDAY SO I'M JUST WRITING ABOUT BORING AND NOT FUNNY STUFF AND I KNOW I DON'T HAVE THE PARAGRAPHS THE WAY THEY SHOULD BE SO IT'S EVEN HARDER TO READ BUT I'M POSTING (WRITING) ANYWAY SO I CAN GET TO THE PLACE WHERE I CAN WRITE FUNNY, NOT BORING (AND PARAGRAPHICALLY CORRECT. I KNOW "PARAGRAPHICALLY CORRECT" IS NOT RIGHT, TOO, BUT I'M LEAVING IT CUZ I LIKE IT) STUFF SOMEDAY, SO READ THIS IF YOU WANT, BUT DON'T BLAME ME BECAUSE I WARNED YOU AND THIS TITLE MIGHT JUST BE THE BEST, MOST INTERESTING PART OF THIS POST BLAH BLAH YACKITY SCHMACKITY

as i told you before (and i'll repeat it here because maybe you weren't paying attention, huh?), life is particularly sweet right now. things are so sweet right now that as i write this, i'm getting nervous that i'll jinx us. spit. spit. (that's me trying to ward off a malocchio).

jackson is doing great! he will be back home right around the beginning of july. he'll be transferring to a starbucks up here then and staying with us until he gets on his feet enough to afford his own place -- he's planning on january. i'm so excited to see him, to be with the old jackson, to watch him growing. he is so awesome! he's got music plans, and i'm happy that he's in a place that i think will allow him to throw himself into this for the first time as a sober young man. he's trying to post some on his site (you can find the link under "family" up at the top). he'll be able to do this with more frequency once he gets home.

matt and mel -- as always -- are terrific. this summer will be crazy busy for matt. mel is the best at dealing with his crazy schedule (there are many days that he doesn't come home at all, catching a few winks at his desk). i can't think of anything more to say that i haven't said before about these two beautiful young people. sigh.

as i told you before, mark and sarah are getting married in september. so we'll all be together (a rare occasion) then. yay for the wedding! yay for us all being together!

bill and i are having a great time right now. i mean a GREAT time!

we love, love, LOVE living downtown. GO CAVS! one of them lives in our building, and bill is happy to share with him his admiration.

our loft is EXACTLY the way we wanted it. bill's practice is better than ever. he's loving his work again due to several factors. the loft is his office. the majority of the construction that we had done last year was to install the desks and storage for the office -- it has worked out very, very nicely.

he's cut a lot out of his practice -- the unproductive, unprofitable, time-eating stuff.

our day begins in stages. bill rarely needs an alarm clock to get up. the dogs wake him when they need their morning walk. he takes them out, allowing me to sleep and, i suspect, allowing him the time to read the paper in peace. once my feet hit the floor, it seems i've developed the bad habit of talking, talking, talking until i fall asleep for the night. i seriously have no clue when this started. have i ALWAYS been like this? i have no idea. i have to work on this, but i'm happy that he's found a way to escape. i get up when i get up. we work 15 steps from our bedroom.

i handle all his billing. this might not sound big, but it has released him from the thing he has hated MOST about his practice. he hated it so much that he was absolutely terrible at it. unbeLIEEVEably terrible. and that's the pollyanna way to put it. the truth is that he just never kept his time recorded in one place. the first of the month would roll around, and then he'd have to put together what he had done the previous month by looking through e-mails, correspondence, phone log, and file notes, thus missing whole big portions of what he did. his clients were billed for MUCH less time than he really put into their work. he'd miss phone calls, research, and lots of other stuff. then he'd have to type it all out. this process would take a minimum of 7 days, often taking 20 days or more. time wasted. the boys became used to hearing me say "did you get your bills out?" and bill's response, "they'll be out by tomorrow". so when we were anticipating the closing of my office for the entire year before it closed, we crunched some numbers and decided that the time and money he'd gain would more than offset the loss of my salary and benefits. i finally understood that although he is a GREAT LAWYER, he's NOT a good office administrator. and i AM. i created him some time-recording sheets that he keeps by his side at the computer. the first month, it took a little prompting; but as he saw me entering the time in the spreadsheets i created and saw how this previously "lost" time added up so quickly, he became more and more conscientious about making his entries on the sheets. on the first of the month, it takes me no more than 15 minutes to convert these sheets to pdf's (the printed/pdf'd versions look like an invoice due to my superior "programming" skills) and e-mail them to our clients. this absolutely tickles bill. and me. i'm earning my "salary."

so we work at our own pace. bill is most productive when he works at his own pace. when he feels like it. it's not unusual for him to work in bed on his tablet pc while i'm sleeping. again -- unusual quiet time -- so he puts in his time when and if he feels like it. takes time off when and if ... leaves us the time to do what we want, golfing, shopping, hanging out with those friends who can, whatever. we are having FUN. i feel like this time is the result of learning from past experiences / mistakes and the implementation of better "systems." i place "systems" in quotations because i'm referring to the personal, too, reminder: 32nd anniversary is one week from today.

and he spends one day a week working on special projects for his biggest client on site. so he has a WHOLE DAY away from my yammering.

it just dawned on me that when matt used to say "blah, blah, blah...yackity, schmackity" to me that he was referring to my motormouth. duh.