mindless rant

My sympathies go out to the local newscasters who could not keep the disappointment out of their voices as they announced a 17-year-old gunman who took several hostages in an Oroville high school band room at gunpoint did not kill anyone. No one was injured and the young man surrendered to police shortly after the inception of the incident.

I was appalled in truth, or maybe I am just addled and senile but I swear I could read the news anchors frustration on her face and in her tone as she stuttered the less than world shattering news to the local headlines. So close, but nonetheless a near miss. We interrupt this program to announce a seventeen year old walked into a classroom brandishing a gun and then announced he was going to kill himself shortly after his girlfriend dumped him.

The classroom emptied as kids fled the area with the exception of two young girls who talked the troubled assailant down and took his gun away leading him out to the awaiting police. The entire school was bussed to a local church for counseling. When asked why the two girls chose to stay with the troubled teen, they replied it had to do with a classroom project in communication their fifth grade teacher presented that inspired them.

May I have a chocolate milkshake

I don’t understand the significance of dreams, and in my world this dream from last night is so far removed from my ‘normal’ Sci fi channel, World of Warcraft induced mélange of disturbia, I thought I would post it for discussion, interpretation or just for the hell of it.

I am a teacher. That is to say in my dream not necessarily in real life although a I have been known to teach a thing or two…

A poor start to my story, let me try to stay on point before the dream fades away. The kitties are hungry and restless and watching me as I type so I will hurry this along as quickly as I am able.

In my dream I stood before a contemporary classroom of children. Their age and appearance gave me the impression that I was before a fifth grade class (and no I do not watch ‘ARE YOU SMARTER THAN A FIFTH GRADER’ because I fear the answer to that title) and we were discussing communication as a class subject.

I now vaguely recall my communications course in boot camp and I suppose maybe in some way that bit of personal history crept into my dream world last night or in some way influenced it as I spoke of individuality and how it effects interpretation, much in the same fashion as our non com instructor did in the military years ago.

Now we go back to my dream. As an example of how one person will interpret and relay a simple message I explained to the class in some detail how we would perform a classic experiment on communication and then I had the child in the first seat of the first row come up to my desk. I whispered to her “May I have a chocolate milkshake.” She went back to her seat and I could hear her as she turned to the boy seated behind her as she whispered, “ In May I had a chocolate milkshake.”

Again in my dream I was only able to hear a few children’s whispers as the message traveled up and down the aisles as the children in the first line of chairs spoke, but I heard such lines as “I may have had a chocolate milkshake.” And “Mary had a chocolate milk at break.”

But when the final child received his whisper, he walked up to me and I asked him to relay what he heard to the class and he said, “May I have a chocolate milkshake.”

That’s it. I woke up just then to another stirring morning mildly missing my dream world but looking forward to a new day. I wrote this down because it stayed with me longer than most dreams and in the back of my mind it still pesters me like a mending scab. I just keep picking at it. It seems like nonsense in one aspect, but it feels like it should have significance somehow.

For those who know me this dream is well out of the range of norm for me in that there were no monsters, sense of impending doom, quest to challenge, no real adventure at all. It seemed so normal it is quite disturbing.

I think I may have a milkshake for lunch today.

And On Wednesday He Ate Roast Beef

I inadvertently made roast beef hash today. It was an accident, a product of inattention and good fortune. I woke up this morning on the early side because I went to bed late last night. Now that may not speak of sense or sensibility but just take my word for the reasons to my early rise. Well that and Chaos decided to cannonball my bad leg and after peeling myself from the Microfilament tiles in the ceiling (I never knew that those ceiling tiles were porous enough for my fingers to dig into) I decided sleep was over rated and headed for the shower.

I don’t know why this post is important and suspect that there is little relevance or purpose or value to this story other than to put something on my blog today. So if you decide not to follow along I will fully understand. I decided that in honor of the early morning I would make a country breakfast with eggs, fried potatoes, even toast and juice, a cup of coffee…
You know the drill.

As I was scouring the kitchen for necessary equipment, materials and ingredients, I remembered why Chaos interrupted my peaceful sleep mostly because he was at my feet yelling, “Put down that knife! You don’t need a knife to make my breakfast! It’s a can! Just open it. Open, open, open!”

So I dutifully deterred from my task at hand to feed the kitties two hours early. After that little service was accomplished, I sat down with the coffee I made and watched the sun come up, forgetting about the major food project that had been begun and abandoned in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. After a bit though, the thought of food began to creep back into my mind as my coffee soaked tummy began to rumble. It was that moment I remembered the project in the kitchen and I dashed off to resume my preparations (dashed is a euphamism in my case meaning I wobbled slowly with hurried thoughts racing across my mind).

I decided at thet moment that frying raw potatoes is a much too time consuming a project, so instead I opted for par boiling them first (why that instead of baking them in the microwave, again I don’t always understand my motivations). I maxed out my optimum standing time peeling and paring and took a break at the computer. Nothing too deep; I played a mindless game or three of Freecell until I was ready to take to my feet again.

I noted that it would have been much more time efficient if I had actually put the flame on under the potatoes while I lounged, but corrected the oversight and continued to prep onions, some bell pepper and a nice clove of garlic. Things were orderly and following a decent if casual timeline when the phone rang.

“Hello Michael is that you?”

“Who did you call Ron?”

“Um, you.”

“Well guess what? This is me.”

“Why weren’t you at shuffleboard yesterday?”

“I was, but no one showed up, and I don’t have a key or the phone contact list, where were you Ron?”

“Oh, I was fishing, I wanted to invite you but it was last minute and real early I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You mean early like this morning?”

“Yah, I guess so.”

“So why did you call Ron?”

“Just wanted to know why you missed shuffleboard yesterday.”

“I didn’t, you did Ron.”

“Oh, that’s right. Are we getting old or what?”

“You are. I’ll see you tomorrow Ron.”

“Ok, bye Michael.”

I swear some of my friends would be better off if they didn’t have a brain at all.

I went back to the kitchen and turned the heat off the potatoes, then ran them under water to cool them some and set them in the fridge. I decided to dice up some left over roast to add to my potatoes since I didn’t have any bacon or sausage in the house. Sausage reminded me of Sue’s blog, so I took a break and went to the computer and ended up immersed in the deep end of the Internet for a couple of hours. When I came up for a breath, I remembered breakfast and returned to the kitchen to finish up.

By then I was preoccupied with a witty or insightful comment or two for the blogoshere and spent my time divided between the stove and the computer. Not paying attention I caramelized the onions (not entirely a bad thing in my opinion) and pulled the skillet off the stove and returned to my writing for a bit, then took a break and dashed ( can someone give me a better word? I'll pay in kindness...) back to the stove and added potatoes to the fire. By now the skillet was cold again so the potatoes absorbed too much of the buttery oil in the pan and was not frying, as it should. So I compounded the problem by adding the cold roast beef and the rest of my ingredients. It took forever to get a crusty crust on the potatoes, and what I ended up with was;

Bon Appetit! Roast Beef Hash.

And a very good roast beef hash at that. I know that hash is on my blacklist of edible foods I like but avoid because I have to have a list of foods to avoid or I would simply eat everything. It is the thing I do to feel mature since I still can’t keep a straight face whenever I see the mud flaps on a wholesaler’s big rig that says “Eat out more often!” So I make a list of foods that are not good for me. A small list, a very tiny miniscule list more like a notation than an actual list but Hash is there and I haven’t eaten hash in over a decade.

Then last month when I went down to Rocklin for my nephews B-day we went to breakfast and everyone but me ordered the corned beef hash. I drooled into my oatmeal, fruit cup and egg white omelet as I slouched in my chair and casually leaned over to sniff my niece’s plate. I abruptly stopped that after some of the looks I received from other patrons. I sniffed my brother’s plate instead.

I swear the roast beef hash on my plate is an accident. I did not consciously plan its preparation, it just happened. And I made a lot of it. Enough to have hash all week long, and I will because there is no one here to stop me.

Mmm… roast beef hash…

Mind over matter

So, as I spent some quality time with my foot elevated I put on the TV and started catching up on my recorded shows. I selected Mind Control since its queu was filled with five episodes and tuned in. The guy (I don't recall the name of the host) left his billfold on a busy sidewalk and no one disturbed it, I wasn't much impressed. Then he psyched out some kids in a bar and some exotic dancers in a gentlemans club. I wasn't very impressed in fact I nodded off a bit during the show, and not for the first time that I watched this particular program.

I woke to find the host in a bank with 21 employees whom he had apparently instructed to guess a number of gumballs in a jar. One member guessed dead on and when she opened the jar there was a scroll that described her pretty much accurately. He then had her total all the numbers guessed and divide it by 21. That total also equaled the number of gumballs in the jar. All the employees were impressed. He then said that he believed that just as there was a certain type who would accurately guess the number of gumballs, he believed there was also a certain type of person who would nod off while watching his show and they would probably be named Mike or Michael. Now I am sure that it was some form of media hype, maybe they are able to filter the program by viewer info, or maybe just random luck but this is one Michael who is damn impressed.

Anyone have any ideas how he does that stuff? The host claims no magic or supernatural abilities. He also claims no stooges or props are unvolved, yet I still feel like a stooge every time I watch the show. How does something come off so boring and yet facinating at the same time?

I had been hoping to watch the HEROES season premier. I fretted over missing it so I set one recorder to record new episodes with the standard five episode queu, and the other recorder to record all episodes with no queu restictions. The results? The second recorder has nineteen episodes recorded, none of them the season premier. The first recorder recorded new reruns filling the queu unril the season premier was pushed out and erased for all eternity. But I remain commercial free. I hope I can watch it on the internet tonight...

WoW Video revisited

I found my INTO THE WATER Video after misplacing it for a few months and saved it to DVD to avoid losing track of it on my computer again. So for nostalgia's sake I have posted it to the World of Warcraft page for those who want to see it. It is reduced from 1gig to 26mb so clarity and size are not optimum and i have never used blogger video before, so I have no idea how it will turn out for viewing.
click here > INTO THE WATER

Meanwhile I am dilligently knocking down my ToDo list today, so not wanting to break my streak I am off to Wallyworld; new burner inserts for my stove, kitty supplies, maybe a new bookcase, and a few other various items, oh yes note to self look for coleman heaters while out...

I am not prepared for Monday!

I got nothing.

Um, the dog ate my homework? After the torrents of sprinkles that deluged us locally Saturday, as expected, the nearest transformer blew and we were without power for 6 1/2 hours. Half a day w/o electronic devices can be quite unsettling to me. I know six hours does not make a half of a day, but add three hours for sleep, a two hour nap, and time to prepare meals and other personal neccesities, it easily adds up to more than twelve hours of time away from the digital world. After spending a good deal of time ranting and raving about the incompetant power company who just couldn't get around to winterizing their equipment in time for what may well be the twenty seventh year in a row, I went across the street and shared my opinions with my neighbor and we swapped horror stories about the electric companies from our past for awhile when I realized it was time to get back home and look for my power outage kit before dusk fell. I found one flashlight, the one with the tired batteries, not the one with a shake generator in the handle. My candles were used up to littlle wic stubs (when did I do that?).

I bought all new phones for the house this summer and realized that they all are cordless hand helds and none will work in a power outage. I remembered that I never got around to buying that coleman heater for emergencies like this, and thanks to the gentle touch my housekeeper wields with the vacuum cleaner, all my plug-in power failure lights are broken or missing.

I finaly remembered where I hid the box of matches from the cats (don't ask) and found I still have one gallon of water in the closet. I donated my extra blankets in a moment of summer housecleaning weakness, and gave my scanner to Ron 'cause he said he liked to listen to it when he stayed up to star gaze.

I guess the electric company isn't the only one to neglect due diligence on winterizing.

Sunday cleared up and my IP spent the day cycling on and off at random periods making internet access an unpleasant task so I looked for other projects. But mostly spent the day thinking about what to do rather than actually doing anything.

Today I am unorganized and unprepared. I am staring at a ToDo list, but I feel absolutely unmotivated to jump up and start implementing it, there is always tomorrow after all.

My treasure chest just missed Pirates Day

This wonderful chest is handcrafted with beautiful detail.
I purchased it from: http://woodchests.com/
I chose the lighthouse edition, but they have a variety of stykes to choose from.

Nutmeg feigns indifference

But really she is beside herself about the new chest.

Chest at foot of bed

Top view of chest

Partial chest from bedroom door

Partial chest from bathroom door

Chest at foot of bed

Chest at foot of bed with weight bearing load (Chaos).

GRUMPY BEAR- The rest of the story

Well I got impatient, dragging the Grumpy Bear ship logs out too long. So here is the rest of the story:
GRUMPY BEAR The rest of the story

Laundry Day Again!

Just behind the galley is a full walk-in modern Head facility. Complete with flushing privy, a sink with running water and electric outlets, cabinets for toiletries, cosmetics and linens and a stand up shower stall.

And just ouside a brand new polished chrome pumpout cap that is already frozen or rusted shut ( I wonder what I did wrong in the installation?).

Santa Barbara was a nice place to visit but it is time to be moving on.

GRUMPY BEAR Day 25 of 27

We interrupt Grumpy Bears Sea Log for this very important announcement

THE TAGGING GAME

I have had the honor of being tagged by Olivia.

Rules:

Players, you must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each
letter of your middle name. If you do not have a middle name, use the middle name
you would have liked to have. At the end of your blog post you need to choose one
person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Do not forget to leave them a
comment telling them they are tagged and to read your blog.

L oyal, trustwothy, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and irreverent.
Y earning for wisdom and begging for lessons that might one day make me a complete artist.
N erdy cause I get real excited about things.
N uerotic about the oddest things. When Stephan King was quoted as
saying he had the heart of a small boy, All I could think was "Does he keep it in a glass jar?"

I will tag

Em

Heather

Thelma, if you really exsist...

and Sue, you aren't getting off so easy. If you wanted to avoid using your middle name you could have made up a simple one
like:

Sexyiowawenchwhostalkscornbythebushel.

If you don't want to play along, thats ok too, you can just email me your middle name
because knowing your middle name will give me power over you? Or not, lol.


We will return to Grumpy Bears Sea Log tomorrow...

HURRY UP AND WASH!

Ok, this boat needs bigger closet space.

For the next installment of the

Grumpy Bear sea logs click below:

GRUMPY BEAR Day 20 of 25

STILL ALIVE IN SANTA BARBARA

Catalina was exotic in a sleepy village kind of way,

Santa Barbara was much smaller than I anticipated.

GRUMPY BEAR Day 16 of 21

GRUMPY BEAR at sea!

I am actually underway!

Sue here is another shot of the cabin's interior.

GRUMPY BEAR Day 15 of 20

If truth be told, I was a little green after eating a sandwich for lunch. It had been awhile since I'd been to sea and the little choppy waves were wearing me down a bit. But by days end I had my sealegs.

GRUMPY BEAR still dockside

Is this boat ever going anywhere?

You can tell how much you love

something by the amount of crap

you are willing to put up with.

I heard that somewhere

GRUMPY BEAR- Day 13 of 15

The Grumpy Bear Saga Continues

If you are concerned about the discrepensies in the chronology, I kept pushing back the time of arrival, so at first I planned on a three day cruise, but later realized it may be ten days eventually modifying my itenerary to include 30 days total





Grumpy Bear Day 10 of 15 really there's a voyage in there somewhere.





and Thelma if you are looking, yes the pictures with the story are of my boat. She is a 1986 30' SeaRay if I wanted to add dummy photos, I would pick a nicer boat like this one.







but I bought this one:
and she was half my age and
the answer to my dreams !

GRUMPY BEAR Day 5 of 10

If there is such a thing as predestiny, why is it so difficult to plan ahead?

When I first looked at the Grumpy Bear, I thought that I would pay for her, outfit her and immediately set out into the blue for the Sacramento River arriving near my brothers doorstep in time to house sit for him. Boy was I naive, unprepared and uninformed.

VOYAGE OF THE GRUMPY BEAR

A three day tour?

I am going to cheat a little and post my ships log from a voyage I undertook a few years ago.

Please feel free to follow along and laugh and my bungling Gilligan like escapades. I just had to go back and relive this fun and exciting misadventure after reading about

Heather's Grand Adventure off of the coast of Brazil. And looking at all the wonderful photos.

seasons change

Some may not be aware of my other myriad blog pages, I recently posted this years fall collection of poems:

THE FALL OF THE DYING LEAFAWOKY
I don't know why but I just go mimsy for Jabberwoky poems, this is one of mine-

Today it's Autumn

FALL

AUTUMN

My Ship has come in

OK, maybe not a ship, and I don't mean the kitchen is open either, but my very first printer galley has arrived and I must say I am pleased.

these are a few preview pics of the digital galley from xlibris.

A new bed means new stuff, right?

So I received the egyption cotton sheets for my new bed, the Ronco Terminator 5000, it lifts, it bends, it seperates, it vibrates and has a kitty approval of 4 paws and a tail.

I also bought a new Hunter green comforter to go with the chocolate sheets.



I thought to myself that this reminds me of my sleeping accomadations in the Navy. What I need is a sea chest to hold my new comforter when not in use (otherwise the cats may steal it when I'm not looking). The chest isn't real I just super imposed it into my bedroom photo to see if I liked it.

I did, so I went ahead and ordered the set. I am pretty excited, I can't wait until they arrive. As long as I was in a Nauti mood, I figured maybe I should go with a seafarers theme so I began exploreing the internet for some new "stuff" for the bedroom.

These are my new antique hand carved Light house storage chests.

I also found a nice brass anchor with USN for mounting on a wall.

And a J. Rackman Instruments plaque

This is a pretty cool ships wheel, made from wood and 30" across

There are actually two of these lamps for my nightstands as shown in my fantasy room, None of this stuff is ordered yet, except the carved chests.

I think the port and starboard candle lamps might set a calm sea mood in the bedroom.

More plaques for the wall. I am going to list these in my Christmas wish list for the family members who alway complain they never know what to get me.

Or for the ones who want to get me something I really can use. Now who can't use book ends, mates?

I ams till searching for the right curtains, I have not had much luck on the inet yet, and I grow weary of the unmanly granny rose pattern drapes that hang now. Keep in mind I am often a day sleeper so I like dark drapery as a rule. The cats don't seem to care one way or another.

Spam Pornados - a continuing rant

I am not pointing the wrinkled finger of blame or naming names Sue...
it's just someone inspired me to rant today and it has nothing to do with stir fried spam!

It's not that I am a prude, although I suspect recently I was maybe transformed into one by the old grump faery in my sleep, but I just feel personally violated when unwelcome crap is shoved in my face and into my online mailbox. Uh oh, I feel a rant coming on, lol.
It irks me that someone would sift through my personal stuff and come up with catch phrases and names to trick me into opening their advertisements.

Don't tell me I am the only one who falls for this stuff. After the first email I got from my sister in law Mari (just as an example) I received mail from a plethora of Mary's, Marryme's, Mariannes, Marty's, Mari's and one Jose (don't ask...) selling everything from real estate to relationships. Along with emails from my alleged BofA, Ebay, Searay, and Paypal accounts, (to mention a few) telling me alarming tales of account discrepancies and suggesting I log on right away to clear up any misfortunate misunderstandings by using their quick access link included in the email; "Just log in with your usual information sir, don't be afraid."

Then there is the desperate third world leader of Junagadh who writes his family is being held hostage and will die if I don't help out in a very small and humble way to pay off their ransom by allowing one hundred million Dokdos to be channeled through my bank account of which I will be handsomely rewarded. And let’s not forget the Minister of Finance who needs my bank account to transfer millions of U.S. currency before rebels topple his government. There’s the deposed Prince, who desperately begs my services to assist in obtaining his rightful inheritance by way of using my bank account to transfer the funds in my name, at grave risk to himself and with little choice available so that he must trust me to take possession of his fortune and return it to him for a sizable reward. Or the similar government official who has discovered that I am a distant relative of the late King of Abkahzia and wants me to declare my right to the inheritance that is in risk of being seized by the government if no one makes a claim for it immediately. I must have a great big target painted on my forehead or something.

Finally, I do not need breast implants, require penile reduction, discount drugs from Canada, care to subject myself to priapism stroke or kidney failure by some trendy recreational prescription drug, I don’t want to buy real estate in Honduras, change my insurance carrier, pay someone to tell me how to work online and make millions (I know that secret, get lots of people to pay me to tell them how to make millions), lose weight through your money back guaranteed miracle drug, join the pyramid sales scheme of the week, start an online franchise, become an ebay mogul, I am not going to look for my perfect mate through your website, I don’t want to see what the farmers daughter is doing in the barnyard, I know what my credit score is, I don’t want a loan, I am not interested in your lifetime supply of discounted ink cartridges, I don’t want a free sample of waterproof mascara, and I don’t care if Kate Hudsen works on her tan in the nude. Wait, who is Kate Hudsen? Never mind it doesn’t matter I am not interested in exposing myself to an even larger spam burst by visiting a spam site even if I might be remotely curious which I am not, ok I just googled Kate and I guess she made a movie with John Kusak. I didn’t know! But now I am less interested.

I am a man, a hunter-gatherer. I want to conquer my prey, search for it (not too hard) and make it my own. I don’t go to malls, bazaars, or flea markets to have stuff shoved in my face; I like to hunt the wilds of the internet track my prey find just the right treasure, then make my purchase. I don’t need advertisements to attract and annoy me like too many flies over a dead carcass. I just want commercials to go away.

The author of this blog is unable to continue with this installment as he is curled in a fetal position alone in a dark room muttering to himself “Make them go away!” Perhaps he can come out to play later…

Rememberance

We Remember

Sadly I was up most of the night staring at photos and reading past memorials to 9/11 and found myself with nothing new, clever, or inspiring to contribute to the myriad collection of prayers and thoughts and memorabelia. Instead I was infected by a remote sadness and reverence for those people and families involved. Time marches on and we learn to accept and deal with pain. I did reflect however on the resilience and perserverence of people who live in a sociey filled with freedoms. We are much stronger than we appear and although we live our lives independant of one another we can unite in a flash of an instant as one very powerful voice.

Well here I go again, Sue is in a questionaire mood again so these questions have been asked of me.


1. Tell me something you really like about yourself.
You picked a tough question for me; I am so not about me it is excruciatingly painful at times. I suppose saying there isn’t much I don’t like is a cop out so let’s focus on something a little more specific. I like the way I sing, I can listen to me for hours. I am not always thrilled with how my recorded voice comes out, but I have been known to sing for my own self absorbed pleasure from afternoon until early on in the wee hours of the morning, as much as 12 hours straight. Vanity? I don’t see it.

2. If life gave "do-overs" would you have many? Tell me one.
If I had a perspective of where my life would go and had an opportunity to change things I should leave well enough alone and enjoy all the good fortune ahead as well as the painful mistakes and events that shaped my life. One thing I might like to hold onto is the confidence of knowing how my life would reward me as it progressed, but then I would lose the unique surprise and wonder and most of the magic would disappear, so again the right thing would be to leave well enough alone and just hold on tight for the roller coaster ride. But… if the opportunity arose, knowing me I would likely try to do something to make the world better, like joining the Peace Corps or a Monastery or both.

3. What would you like to be remembered for after you're gone?
I want to be remembered for unleashing massive peace on the world one person at a time. Seriously I just want to be thought of as that “nice guy, kind of quiet, but real friendly”. I don’t want to be envied for what I had or made fun of as that oddball who had too many hobbies, too much time on his hands and never took anything serious. I would hope that I leave a small vacuum behind that someone younger and smarter will step up to and fill.

4. Knowing what you know now, what is one piece of wisdom you'd like to pass on to future generations?
Don’t ever get too busy to appreciate life and those around you. The reward isn’t about who finished first or finished with the most toys, the reward is based on the journey and how you get there.

5. Is your life a.) A harlequin romance b.) An atlas
c.) A mystery d.) Sci-fi or e.) other? Explain.
At the moment my life is a C, but it has been an A, a B, a D and an E. I am still transitioning into old coot mode adjusting to retired life and the many wondrous ever changing phases of decomposition and deterioration the body takes on in advance codger stages. But I have had romance, adventure, real life shoot-em ups, drama, comedy, I traveled a lot, settled and resettled, watched the Dick Tracy radio watches step right out of the comic strips and into real life, saw Hal 2000 rebel on extra wide screen theater and one day named my own pc Hal only to nervously reflect on the wisdom of tempting fate with such a legacy. I watched George Jetson trip over a vacuuming robot in a cartoon and I myself have tripped over a robot vacuum cleaner. I witnessed a man step onto the moon, seen snaps shots taken from mars, the cure for polio, small pox, and diphtheria, I’ve seen inflation, deflation, saturation, commercialization, smart bombs, smart bullets, dumb wars, street riots, street gangs and the deification of Rap music. So there has been lots of Sci fi turned into sci fact in my lifetime.

Purring, Pranks, and Pain

It is so funny that my number 1 (only?) blogger fan should comment about my kitties and new bed. Last night I woke up too screaming pain in my lower back and I managed to roll to my unsteady feet in the pitch-black room. OK, not as funny at the time, the pain was tremendous but I managed to use my granny walker for support and scour the house for my back pills. Even the pain wasn’t motivation enough to jog my muzzy mind so it required a slow and yes painful (I want to see how many times I can say pain in the same rant.) stroll until I came across my little white pills. They were right exactly where I left them. Guilty Conscience surged forth gushing all kinds of details about the pills location after I found them; when I took them, where I was when I set them down, even what I was thinking at the time I set them down rushed back to me for all the good it did me now that I had them in my sleepy hands. The pills are not instantaneous with the relief as advertised but close enough to feel the pain slowly subsiding as I set down the empty water glass.

I generally do not like to take these pills on the principle they don’t fix anything; they just mask the pain so I can continue to do stupid things to lengthen my recovery time. Quite honestly, of late I am just sick and tired of the pain so I have been munching down on these caplets all week. I even went to shuffleboard Tuesday and was miserable and yet I am actually considering going again today as I write this. I am hopeless.

As a nice warm fuzzy wrapped around my lower back I eased myself down the hall and into the bedroom then turned on the lamp next to my new bed so I could see to straighten the covers I likely tossed in my turtles dash from the room. What I saw was that the head of the bed was raised completely up as well as the foot in a victory “V” wedge. I felt a tingly sensation running through the floorboards as 'magic fingers massage' coursed gently up and down the length of the bed. Amidst it all, there was Chaos smack dab in the middle laying sprawled out on his back out- purring the bed.

For now the remote control has gone into the nightstand drawer, but I am not so confidant that will be enough. Nutmeg the Mcguyver kitty can break into anything. I may be destined to become a human pretzel at my kitty’s whim for their sole entertainment in yet one more demeaning and embarrassing manner.

Random Thoughts Over Labor Day Weekend

If bone were stone then my backbone would be made of granite. Coarse and porous, rough and brittle it would shred the nerves than ran down its path, transporting wave upon wave of pain and misery.

If bone were made of jelly, then my spine would be more flexible but less controlled; drifting around out of place and bending upon itself until nerve met nerve and then send great arcs of pulsing discomfort.

If bone were made of bone and well, likely it is; then mine is old and brittle. Cracked and yellowed scrimshaw weak and worn with age, it no longer repairs itself. Instead it grows barnacles like the hull of an ancient ship sharp and spiny it spurs my nerves and spears my flesh. And when my aching muscles swell from exhaustion and abuse they embrace my spine and wrap snug and tight until I am flat on my back near to unconscious from the pain.

I spent a lifetime learning the value of hard work, pressing myself farther and farther, and fighting the overpowering urges of my youth to pass through life in leisure and sloth. To live a pampered life as television and society often portrayed, showing the rewards of hard labor without the actual painful tedious often boring repetitive actions necessary to achieve success. The world appeared as the haves and the have-nots. To have was a gift and to have not was a sin.

Later in life I learned that the people who have are not always products of Gods great mercy. Quite often they were sons of carpetbaggers, grafters, shysters, corrupt exploiters of innocence and virtue, sham artists and liars of every degree. They are politicians for power and often oblivious to their own cruelty. “Child labor in third world countries? If not for my company giving them work those children would be starving and begging in the streets!” Of course they are still starving but much too busy to beg in the streets now.

I am a man of too much stuff. I have more toys than I can play with and still look longingly at every new contraption that comes along. I have eaten like a slovenly sow and have consumed far more than my share of natural resources in my short life and often bragged about it. Yes I beat the restaurant in New Mexico that claimed if you ate their whole steak dinner, the meal was free. My cousin and I both beat the house that day. I used to take pride in my ability to eat a whole pizza in one sitting with a pitcher or two of ice-cold beer. So it is only fair that now I am unable to enjoy many common delicacies readily available today. My meals today tend to be meager in comparison to a portion of my past and yet no less enjoyable. I remember little of what I ate in quantity, the junk the gourmet and the periodic home cooked meals all blur together as time passes, but the hard to come by meals scrapped from poverties recesses heated over a second hand hotplate from the dark and early days of my life, and the occasional splurge I allow myself these days are ingrained in my memory as feasts of value and sustenance that the McClowns and Taco Dogs and Casino Buffets of the world will never match.

Well that is about as random as they come. I bought a new bed this weekend and in the process of moving furniture around (I know I swore I was done with doing that) I put my back out again. I am back to the life of leisure and lounging. Lazy Boy has competition now, my bed raises and lowers and has magic fingers, just the thing for an old(ish) man.