When Bob gets his Tarzan on Wifey runs for cover

Me Bob.

You Wifey.

Bob

Wifey

Bob

Wifey

Yesterday at the lake: 111 degrees!

It was a cooker yesterday. You could have fried an egg anywhere outside. It was that hot. If there is good news it is the relative humidity which in the summer out our way it's always close to single digits.

Even at that when it gets over 105 or so everyone hunkers down inside. Recently I read that walking around on very hot days the body sweats between 28 to 32 ounces of fluid an hour. That seems like an awful lot to me. But it also serves to justify drinking a lot of liquids.

I'll take another Bud, please. Gotta stay hydrated, don't ya know...

Grace has found a place on the sailboat that is hers. It's the bow hatch that is accessible through the v-berth.

She's learned that it's easier to look out of the hatch by putting her feet on the teak rails than it is to stand on her tippy toes.

Necessity is still the mother of invention.

Ya think?

Song all about Cowtown

Some guy wrote a song about Cowtown. Get a barf bag before watching and don't forget, SING ALONG, Y'ALL!

MOOOOOOOOOO!

106 Degrees

They're predicting triple digit temps in Cowtown and on the lake for the next couple of weeks. High temps translates into little or no wind and much too hot to be on the lake in a sailboat. Or on any other boat unless you're in the water.

Here's our baby moored at the marina. She's the boat right by the woman and man on the dock. If you click on the picture you'll see that the guy is checking out our boat. She's one of the largest, cleanest, most well equipped sailboat on the lake and worth the time to check out.

I check on her every couple of days or so. See that the lines are tight and secure. Clean off the bird poop off of the poop deck (now you know what it's called that . . . perfect place for birds to poop and they do). Go below. If it's not too hot read or crank up the boat's stereo system. Talk to other sailors who have come to check on their boats. There's always something to do, see or talk with.

The boat is moored in 38 feet of water. She draws, according to her specs, 3 1/2 feet but I suspect it's closer to a little over 4 and probably 5. Surprisingly, the lake in certain areas is but 8 feet deep . .. and that's in the middle of the lake! In other areas it is as deep as 100 feet or more.

I figure that if it gets too shallow the boat will come to a screeching halt and I'll have to figure out how to free her from whatever she's gone aground on. No big deal. Pop another beer. Stand at the helm, scan the horizon like I know what I'm doing and act like I go aground all the time.

It's a man thing. Kind of like getting lost in the big city and knowing that you don't need no fucking road map and no need to ask anyone for directions in order to find your way. I love it when that happens.

Nothing like boiling testosterone to bring Bob man bliss. Grrrrrrr.....

It's early. Time to shower. Shave. Eat a heaping bowl of oatmeal like a good boy. And then head out to the lake.

It's gonna be another great day in Cowtown.

I got nothin'

I sit here thinking. . . what to write? What to write?

Nothing. I got nothin'. It's just one of those days where brain farts and writer's block have taken over Bob's mind.

There's nothing on my mind.......Except this. Grace loves to read parts of the newspaper especially the comics. She's doing just that in this photo.

And this: Wifey and Grace are at the local library. The firefighter who saved the little bear cub during last summer's blaze is there speaking about "Smokey".

I'm going back to being mindless now.

ME, ME, ME , MEEEEEE!

Meet Gracie's voice teacher, Jimmy. Most everyone in Cowtown knows Jimmy. Either their kids have had voice lessons from him, or they've listened to Jimmy play and sing at a local piano bar or they had Jimmy lead them in less than sober karaoke at one of our pubs. Jimmy gets around.

Grace is learning how to yodel, sing the scale, read music, adjust the volume of her voice (low to high) and can already belt out a Disney song or two.

In preparing her for the next weekly lesson (on Tuesdays) Wifey helps Grace practice singing every day of the week. Sometimes she practices in the garage, or in her bedroom, outside on the patio, while riding in the car or in the family room.

No one else in the family seems interested enough to see that Grace practices her singing let alone pay for the lessons. We do both of these because it's in our grandparent job description. Besides, taking singing lessons is something Grace asked to do. Someone had to take this on.

Like doing anything else at this age, who knows where her voice lessons will take Gracie if she continues on this path. Jimmy has high hopes for Grace as he feels she is talented. That aside we just want a well rounded kid who knows a little about everything.

Knowing a little about everything will allow for choices when she's older.

39 One More Time

I love being 39. It happened again yesterday. Being 39 means being ageless. You don't get older. You just get better. Why screw around with perfection?

Grace with with us on my 39th which is unusual for a Sunday. She always spends weekends with her mom or with her dad. But something came up and Gracie landed with us at about five yesterday.

We had dinner out. It was a nice place, fairly new with lots of positive critic reviews.

There's always something for our girl to learn when we have dinner out. She's six years old and still learning the fine art of dining with manners and graciousness. This time out Gracie learned that you don't wipe your bread on the plate of butter but using a butter knife instead puts you apart from some of the other Cowtown diners .

The birthday boy had meatloaf. Wifey dined on halibut. Grace chose sirloin tips.

Our server sensed it was Bob's birthday and asked how old I was. Eighty-five I replied. Don't feel a day over 39 though.

Once home there was Baskin and Robbins ice cream cake.


I wanted Grace to kill the cake for me. Take the knife I said, and put that cake out of its misery. Grrrrrr.

Gracie put on her gameface and tried her best to kill the cake.


















At this point I thought she really was going to do it. She seemed ready. Grrrrr, she said, knife in hand. Grrr.





















Then we started laughing. It was time to eat the 39th birthday cake. Another year has bitten the dust. I can hardly wait until my next 39th birthday.

Even if you didn't think much about MJ, here's a tribute worth watching . . . moonwalk videos from all over the world in creating what's is being called the Eternal Moonwalk.

Entertaining. At times funny. Weird.

You too can contribute as recording of the Eternal Moonwalk video is ongoing.

Check it out.

I love a parade

Last weekend. Fourth of July in Yreka. Locals held their annual parade.

It didn't take long for the parade. 15 minutes max.

There were five types of entries.

One: Renovated military vehicles as you see here. Didn't really appreciate a patriot pointing a 50 caliber machine gun in my direction. First Golden Rule of firearms is to never point one at anybody regardless of what they can or can't do. . . unless you intend to use it. And maybe that was what was on this old fart's mind....





One float: This is the local McDonald's "float". Need I say more?











#3 The locals who race each weekend at the Yreka speedway had a half dozen cars in the parade. Kids and adults hung out of every window.

At one point two of the cars lined up alongside of each other and raced close to full speed down the parade route, kids hanging out of each open window. Had one lost control and headed toward spectators . . . .or if one of the kids in the cars fell out?

#4 Every fire truck in town was in the parade. Sirens. Lights. The whole 9 yards.

#5 Semi Trucks: Ending the parade was this beauty. It's horn was much like that of a train locomotive. Loud. Very loud.

Start to finish within 15 minutes the parade was over. I was hoping Peggy Lee was in the last vehicle, microphone in hand and singing her hit song, "Is That All There Is?" It would have been a most appropriate ending to the parade.

Wifey and walked back to the car smiling knowing that the parade albeit short, hokey and missing a lot of what parades are all about (like marching bands, kids pulling wagons, mounted color guards . .. .) was our kind of fourth of July fun. Small town, all American, apple pie.

There's a loose nut on the lake!

There's a four speaker music system on the boat. Two in the cabin. Two in the cockpit. Lots of juice to run each of them. Quality sound.

On the lake - - - Yesterday plugged the Ipod into the system. Gimme Shelter comes on. I crank up the system. Wifey puts a scarf on her head and sings "oooh, ooooh.." and I put on my best Mick Jagger . . . prancing, dancing, skipping (not an easy thing) bow to stern.

Gracie stares in disbelief. Others passing us by on the lake most likely think, "There's a couple of escapees from the nut house dancing on a sailboat."

For a brief moment I'm Mick Jagger sailing the high seas and I could give a damn what others think.

Now if I could just figure out how to get this straight jacket off. . . .

Capt Gracie

It was a morning that promised good sailing. Cool. Slight breeze turning in a brisk wind. A kid who could not wait to skipper the boat.

We packed our lunch, filled the cooler with drinks and headed for the lake. Less than an hour later we were on the water.

Grace just had to wear the captain's hat.







I sat in one of the "cat bird" seats to coach Grace as she steered the boat.

























Wifey did a little coaching, too.













While the ladies had their lunch in the cabin I took the helm and looked for windier conditions on the lake.

While I scanned the horizon the words of Capt Ahab came to mind: "Aye, my hearties all. It was Moby-Dick that dismantled me, that reaped off my leg like a mower a blade of grass and left me with this dead stump I stand on. For forever and a day I shall chase that white whale."

Arrrrr.

This is not a bad picture of Bob. I'm looking very stoic. Very studly. Perfect material to send in to be considered for next month's AARP centerfold.

The old ladies reading next month's AARP magazine will most certainly ooohhhh and awe. Hope they put the staples in the right place.

The Other Wifey

An acquaintance and I had this conversation the other day:

Him: You write a lot about your Wifey, don't you.

Me: I wouldn't say that I write a lot about her but yes, I do write about her.

Him: She's not the only Wifey. There's another one.

Me: Ya think? I really didn't think I had the only Wifey.

Him: Yup. And she has her own web site plumb fulled of nekked pictures. You should post pictures of your Wifey and make some money.

Me: Well, that really wouldn't be like my Wifey to post nekked pictures of herself on the Internet. She's a private person. That's not her thing.

So I Googled Wifey. Perez Hilton of all people has a Wifey. Yuck. There are other Wifey's on the net. One has a blog entitled Ask Wifey. Ashton Kutcher mentions his Wifey on Twitter.

Wikipedia has this to say about Wifey:

"Wifey's World is a notable pornographic website, founded in 1998 and maintained by an American couple.^[1]

The couple are high school sweethearts who were born circa 1965^[2] and married circa 1986.^[3]

The business started when "Hubby" posted some polaroids of "Wifey" on the Usenet newsgroups in 1997^[1] with her eyes hidden.^[4] Surprised by the favorable response, the couple continued to post steadily more explicit images. By fall of 1997, they were doing "brisk" mail-order business of their home videos. In the fall of 1998, they launched the website."

Posted here are several photos of the other Wifey from Wifey World (that's a hellofa name isn't it - sounds like the name of an adult amusement park).

Hmm . . . not bad for a 44 year old website porno star. Wifey's boobs are yet another example of "How much is enough?"

This last picture taken in Wifey's kitchen? Nice roast, eh? Just the way I like 'em.

And another thing!

Taken off the docks where the boat is moored. Early morning fishing for this bird of a feather.













It's so peaceful this time of day. Birds doing bird sounds. Fish jumping out of the water. The halyards on the sailboats beating against their masts in time with the puffs of wind.














Here's our boat, Sparkle Plenty. We've since moved her across the dock to where you see the Forverhouseboats.com patio boat moored.

Getting out of this mooring was a hassle. The new location is a straight shot out onto the lake. It is much easier for single handed sailing.

AND ANOTHER THING!

So another thing about Michael Jackson. Didn't you think the mourning of the Jackson family was probably a couple of parts remorse?

Think about it. Common knowledge had it that MJ was heavy into prescription drugs. It's also common knowledge that MJ rarely had contact with his brothers and his mom. You just have to think there was regret mixed in with the other feelings . . . that the family should have had more contact with MJ . . . and just maybe he'd still be alive today. Just maybe.

Given the knowledge that MJ was drugged out on prescription drugs most families would have done an intervention to put a halt to the addiction. You and I would have done that for a family member. But then, the Jackson's are not most families, are they . .. .

Had the Jackson family intervened the gloved on would still be alive, kicking, moon walking and getting ready for bunch of concerts in London.

Ya think?!

Don't forget to close the gate . . .

Here's a home located in Yreka. It's older. It's well cared for. It's obvious that the owners think outside the box.

In keeping dogs, bad guys, people who go door-to-door preaching the gospel and vacuum cleaner salesmen away from their door there's a gate that is securely latched.

The gate makes the statement, I double dog dare you to go around me and knock on the door. If you do, there's trouble coming your way.

Or is there a force field around the house in lieu of a fence? Walk through the force field and you're fried. Kentucky fried.

I'll be glad when this deal over Michael Jackson is over. The media has gone gaa-gaa over the series of events before and after his death. This who deal comes under the heading of HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?! Enough! Uncle. I give up. Stop it!!!

What's especially nauseating is having to put up with Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson who seem to be the darlings of the media. Why is that those two clowns come out of the woodwork on each and every event that involves black people?

ENOUGH ALREADY!

Boom shaka-laka-laka Boom shaka-laka-laka

Hot fun in the summer time . . . song #1.

Song #2 . . . something you'll not likely to hear a lot of these days.

Song #3. . . . Boom shaka-laka-laka Boom shaka-laka-laka!!!!!!

Hot fun in the summertime

Gracie had her friend Maya over last week for a little fun in the 108 degree sun.

Here you see the two young ladies holding a freshly picked Kumquat from one of our fruit trees. Zeenie is looking to put her ball in the wadding pool once it was filled. It's her favorite sport to fish the ball out of the pool.








The girls had snacks on the backyard patio. They talked. And talked. And talked. They had a lot of catching up to do.












And then they ate. And ate. And ate. There's not an ounce of fat on either of them.....Maya and Grace definitely burn off whatever they eat as well they should being but six years old and growing like little weeds.










I marveled at the two. So active. So full of life. Happy.

Isn't that what life is all about?

How much is enough?

I know, I know. It wasn't long ago that I ranted a bit about excess but here I am again.

Once again "How much is enough" takes place in the RV park where excess seems to be rampant. Check out the pole attached to this motor home with a flag atop it. Wasn't is Freud who said that anything longer than it is wide is a phallic symbol?

Here's the father of all symbols, phallic or otherwise.

Dang, I just thought of an opportunity I missed here.

Me: Dude, hellofa penis you got there. Must have taken a lot of Viagra to hoist that puppy.....Dude, you know you only got one ball up there? Aren't ya supposed to have two?

Motor home Dude looking up from his walker: Huh?

Dumbfounded people always response like this to dumbfounding questions.

No wonder visitors from other countries look at America and all of its excessive habits and ask, "How much is enough?"

Camping tonight....camping tonight...camping in the old camp ground...

We're RV camping. Arrived yesterday expecting cooler temps than Cowtown but found sweltering close to 100 degree heat. Could have stayed home and done the same. Fired up the a/c in the RV and chilled out between outside walks and trips to the grocery store.

Guy with monster motor home walked over on our arrival for a little chit and chat:

Him: You hunt?

Me: Why do you ask?

Him: Your hat. It's camouflage.

Me: Oh. Yeah, I hunt.

Him: What for?

Me: Pigs.

Him: Oh, yeah, I hunt for pigs, too. Where do you hunt?

Me: The lounge in the Red Lion Inn, Holiday Inn has a great piano bar, Hooters. . . pretty much anywhere there are pigs to hunt.

Him: Huh?

I just love rocking the world of old rich farts who think they know everything.

Venturing forth on the fourth

It's a little after 6. Wifey's getting ready. We're headed for the lake for early morning sailing.

We'll sail, return home before noon and pack-up to head north for the weekend. There's RV camping waiting for us.

Tomorrow is Independence Day. Write down these reminders for tomorrow and every other day of the week:

Cherish your freedom.

Fiercely protect it.