TMI TUESDAY ACCORDING TO BOB

1. Are you a member of the mile high club?

I'll never join a club who would have me as a member.


2. What is the most public place you have ever had sex?

Alone or with someone else? Is this a trick question?


3. What is your most embarrassing family moment?

Mom farting at the Thanksgiving dinner table.


4. What kind of birth control do you use?

I only use cruise control if you get what I mean.


5. Have you ever had sex in the snow? Rain?

Well yeah . . . with a roof over my head. What a stupid question.


Bonus (as in optional):Describe your flirting technique: innuendo, telling a dirty joke, talking about sex life, or physical contact?

Simple: Do you or don't you? That's my flirting method. At this age why not cut to the chase.


Maybe I should quit answering these questions on Tuesday or make up some of my own......

DUMBING DOWN

You've taken time like the rest of us to read the disclaimers, the directions, the don't do this and the don't do that contained in the directions of tools, appliances, frozen food, etc. etc. etc.

I'm baking a pie tonight. Mrs. Smith's pumpkin like I didn't get enough pie over the holidays.

Direction #4 Remove baked pie carefully from oven on cookie sheet with oven mits.

Okay, I'm fine with that.

Next sentence: Never handle by the edge of the pan.

Duh! Do we really have to be told stuff like this or it is for the meth heads who are so into the Ozone layer that they don't know which end is up and not to handle a heavy pie pan by the edges.

You mean Kerrrr plop?!

And in reading the directions there should be this: If you can read this thank a teacher.

This picture? Taken from the living room into the dining room. One white tree soon to be covered with other things besides lights.

It was 16 degrees outside as I drove out the drive-way for work. Feels like winter. Feels like Christmas is coming on. . . .

Dear Santa: I've almost been a very good boy this year. Please do not leave another piece of coal in my stocking like you did last year. Your friend, Old Bob

Water on the Brain

Thanks to Blessed for the reminder of a song that's near, dear and pertinent this evening. WATER! Damn it!! Cool, clean water DAMN IT!

FEELS LIKE LIVING IN MEXICO

My conversation with the landlord two weeks after moving in:

Me: The water tastes like shit.

Him: Yeah, it tastes terrible but there's nothing wrong with it. We have it tested.

Me: My mom used to say "If it tastes like shit then it is shit. " The water tastes like shit. And you know what? I smell better before I shower than after showering - and that's saying something.

Him: It's okay to drink. We have it tested. You smell okay to me.

Me: Back off. You're getting in my personal space.

Bottled water has become my friend. Drink it. Brush my teeth with it. Cook with it. Wash the veggies with it. Steam cook with it. Why make life miserable all because of terrible water.

This afternoon I arrive back in Cow Puncher Valley fresh from the holidays with the wife in Cow Town. There's a note on the door of my temporary digs:





NOTICE

We have been notified by Basic Laboratories who test our water system once a month that bacteria was found in the last water test.

You should not drink the water or cook with it. Skin contact is not a problem but use good sense when using the water.

We are in the process of finding a way to solve this problem.

If you have questions call me at . . . . . .

Let me see now . . . I knew something was wrong with the water and didn't drink it (Yet another example, Mom - you were right once again!). So now they're saying that skin contact is not a problem but to use good sense when using the tap water. What the hell does using good sense when using tap water mean?

When did you ever have to use good sense when using tap water? My last time was in Mexico. Am I living in Mexico and didn't know it? Uno mas cervesa por favor!

Be it ever so humble there's no place like home............

SATURDAY: NAKED NIGHT OR PIZZA NIGHT?

If it's gonna be Naked Night you gotta have the funk! Gotta have the funk! Dance to it.

WHAT WAS I THINKING? WHERE WAS THE CAMERA?!

Yesterday one of my very best friends and one of my very, very best former students traveled 3 plus hours to visit us. And then they drove three plus hours home. What great friends to do that.

Where was the camera? What was I thinking - or not thinking when there could have been pictures. I would have loved to have pictures. Well, there has to be a next time . . . right Carol and Russell?

It was Carol Ann and her son Russell who visited Cow Town yesterday. Carol taught next door to me for more than a few years. Then an assignment as a school administrator took me elsewhere. Carol and I have remained friends over the years.

Yesterday there were loads of stories about the good old days.

There were burgers and steak at Logan's Road House.

We walked the Sundial Bridge.

We laughed. There were tears when the name of a recently deceased friend came up. Lots of memories. Lots of history that we'll always share together. Damn, it was a great time yesterday. I didn't realize how much I had missed Carol and Russell.

Now Carol and I both live a distance from where we once taught. We've both moved on. The memories will never move on for those were definitely the best of times.

Yesterday Russell made friends with Zoe. She sat on his lap. Loved his pets. Then when Russell put him on the floor Zoe nipped at Jilli so as to keep her away from her new found friend.

Zoe is never like that. There has to be something about Russell she liked.

Russell is single. Very eligible. Makes good money well into six figures. Owns his own home. Good looking. Athletic. Great sense of humor. Highly intelligent (got that from his time in my classroom :). . .

In the world of fishing for a life mate, Russell would be one of the very best catches.

Russell has not found the right lady. Never been married. Russell is very, very picky.

I told Russell that he should borrow Zoe for trolling for the right woman.

It would be like trolling for fish: Zoe would be the bait. She would be perfect.

It would go like this. I'd lend Zoe to Russell. He would take Zoe to a park or to a festival where lots of people had gathered.

Russell would sit on a bench with Zoe on his lap. He'd have to look forlorn or lost. a few tears would help, too. What woman could resist bait like this?

When the Fox of the Year came up and sat down with Russell there had to be a story. It could go like this:

"My friends left for the week and I don't know how to feed or care for their dog. She won't eat anything. She seems sooooo unhappy. Could you come home with me and show me how to care for this poor little dog?"

Zing! Hook, line and sinker. A stone fox would take that bait.

A match made in heaven? No, a match courtesy of Zoe. Hmmm . . . this could be my next business venture - - - love matches by Zoe!

If ever you see some good looking stud with a Pom sitting on a bench . . .

MAJOR LEAGUE EATING - M.L.E.

The Thanksgiving football games were both blowouts and not worth watching. Time for channel surfing.

Dog show. No thanks.

All about American Air Lines. Pass.

Spike channel - Major League Eating.

YES! On Thanksgiving Day I discovered that there's a new competitive sport called Major League Eating.

So yesterday were the semi-finals. One group of ontestants had to eat a whole bunch of cranberry sauce. Like 6 pounds.

The second group each had a 20 pound turkey to eat.

This old fart came in fourth and goes to the final eating competition.
This chick won the Eat the Six Pounds of Cranberry sauce. She like ate all six pounds in 8 minutes. She weighs 105 pounds.

Wanna bet that she'll never eat another cranberry in her life?
This dude won the turkey eating event. He ate 9 pounds of turkey in 8 minutes.

I don't know when the finals are. You'll have to Google MLE or go to the Spike network on the Internet to find out.

If you go there remember . . . this contest is not for those of you with weak stomachs. It really does gross and barf you out to watch it.

One more thing - you are what you eat and how much you eat.

HOW TO TELL WHEN YOUR TURKEY IS "DONE"

We've all cooked a turkey.

Unless you use a meat thermometer there's no telling when the bird is done cooking.

Sometimes it's well done.

Sometimes it's medium rare.

Here's the fool proof way - an organic approach to cooking a turkey that's cooked just right:

Clean the turkey, rinse and dry it.

Stuff herbs of your choice under the skin.

Heat oven to 375 degrees.

Stuff the turkey with unpopped popcorn.

Put the turkey in the oven.

When the rear end blows out of the turkey you know it's cooked to perfection.

And that's a fact, Jack!

Happy Thanksgiving!

TMI TUESDAY - MORE DOPE THINGS ABOUT BOB

1. What's the sexiest gesture a woman can make?

"Honey? I just cut up all of my credit cards!"


2. What are 3 inevitable things about you?

#1 What you see is what you get.
#2 Generous to a fault.
#3 Thinks too much. Very critical of everything and everyone. Very.


3. What do you want . . . . now?

Boundless, unbridled joy if only for a moment.

Second choice: Walk the beach butt naked on a desert island.


4. What asset do you have besides the physical and the material?

The ability to solve problems through creative solutions.


5. Describe a sexy mind.

Male or female? I've never been able to figure out what females think and since I could care less about describing a male's sexy mind I'll pass on this question.


Bonus (as in optional):What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?

Good health. A new President in 2008 (thank gawd!). That the grandchild has a wonderful kindergarten teacher - the best. That both of the dogs remain in good health (they're getting older and I worry). After 7 surgeries and 24 months since the 7th it's safe to conclude that the wife finally beat cancer.

And that I wake up every morning laughing. Well, almost every morning. Okay, once in a blue moon.

Now, wasn't this freaking boring?

I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!

Suspicions confirmed.

There are members of the so called weaker sex who don't play fair.

Do I need to elaborate?

Power to the boobies!

SYMPHONY NIGHT IN COW TOWN

Yes it was . . . it was symphony night in Cow Town. People turned out in suits, tails and then the yokels in jeans and a t-shirt. Makes you wanna shout, "HEY! This ain't no rodeo! Dress for the occasion.!!"

Mahler's Symphony no. 2 in C. Slow start. Rousing ending.

We have great seats for the season. Center balcony. Front row. Not a seat finer in the house.

Almost to the day there it was symphony night a year ago in Cow Town. The wife and Max attended. I stayed home, drank beer and watched NASCAR. Being predictable is part of being Bob. Are you surprised?

Last year one of Cow Town's finest persisted in talking to his date during the symphony. Son Max, who unlike his father is long on tact turned around, put his finger to his lips and said,

"Respect the music." Cool.

This idiot took the clue and shut-up.

Then in February the wife and daughter Dawn attended the symphony together.

Same idiot. Same chatter.

Dawn turns around and puts her fingers to her lips. End of chatter.


Last night. Same idiot. Persistent cough. There are two persistent coughs that night: One downstairs and the other in the balcony sitting behind us.

Does this guy think up things to piss people off?

After a lot of hack, hack, hack I turn around, put my fingers to my lips.

If dirty looks could kill I'm dead. But you'd think people would have a clue that coughing through a wonderful piece of music was not appropriate. This is Cow Town and folks, this is not the real world by any stretch of the imagination.

On our way out I returned the dirty look with a comment, "Coughing in this setting is not appropriate." The return looks from this couple were as if I was the idiot. By Cow Town standards maybe I am.

Next symphony is in February. I'll hope for the best and believe this clown will mind his manners.

It's back to the Valley late this morning or early afternoon.

GETTING A JUMP ON LIFE

Kindergarten isn't even half over and Grace has already plowed through two boy friends. Here she is with number three.

Like her grandmother, Grace knows how to hang on to her "man".

Gads, kids today are taking a run at life at an early age. It has to be the all of the growth hormones fed to the chickens that we eat which in turn creates fully developed children at an early age.

These pictures were taken Thursday at the school's annual Thanksgiving feast. Parents are invited. There was lots to eat. The school feast is always a real la-dee-da affair.
And then there's the girl friend thing. Here's Grace with her best friend Sammy.

During lunch they chit chat more than they eat and usually leave most of their food untouched. That's what girl friends do.

Blondes of a feather flock together.
Then there's the mother side of being female. Grace has become a member of the manners police. She will be the first to tell you if you're eating like a pig which would be just like your mother.

That's exactly what Grace is doing in this picture. Pity the poor kid on the other side of the table.

This is one of those pictures worth a thousand words.
Whatever Grace is today or tomorrow, for the good, for the bad and for the ugly, she'll always be Papa's girl.

Always.

Who can resist a kid like this?

HALF NAKED THURSDAY - HAPPY HNT!

It's HNT again. Time flies when you're busy.

I've never posted anything on HNT.

Who wants to see an old fart half naked anyway?

But today I thought you'd like to check out my nuts.

They're delicious.

Sometimes you feel like some nuts.

Sometimes you don't.

Happy HNT!

I LIVE WHERE METH HEADS USED TO ROAM

Meth eaters.

Wife cheaters.

Dog beaters.

I rent a home where meth heads used to roam.

See this house. On the door - an eviction notice.

There are five duplex units on a 5 acre spread of land. One and a half have been rehabbed. The remaining three and a half look like this.

It's nice to sleep with a warm cannon under my pillow. No telling when someone knocks on the door. No telling when someone kicks down the door.

All in the name of meth.

Happiness is a warm gun.

If there's no woman handy there's nothing like cuddling a 9mm semi auto loaded with hollow points.

Are you hearing me Meth heads?
What happens to people who live this way?

I know that they lose their teeth.

They look older than they really are.

They're not usually employed.
This is the happy side of the five unit complex. It's my half.

This is not my Cow Town Home. This is my temporary home away from home while I work in Cow Puncher Valley.

At Thanksgiving I'll be thankful.

For not having someone kick my door down.

For not having to shoot first and ask questions later.

For a wonderful "retreat" when the work day is done - thanks to the wife's decorating touches.

That the missing teeth I have are not attributable to meth - and that I look older than I really am not because of drug abuse but because life takes a toll on those who take life on the hard way.

Nonetheless, I am thankful for what life has served me up - - - even though I've chosen a difficult path to travel.

This from an old turkey a week away from Thanksgiving.

TMI TUESDAY - Gads, why am I doing this?

1. Have you ever met a fellow blogger in person? Nope.


2. Did you ever play an innocent game of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours"? How old where you?

I tried this on my first visit to a female physician. I was old enough to know better. It was the only way I could deal with her asking me to turn my head and cough. Then there was the rubber glove thing and KY jelly. And there wasn't even any foreplay!


3. When did you get your first not so innocent kiss?

When the wife said, "We're getting married or else." and then she gave me her best shot kiss. Unforgettable. Not so innocent.


4. Have you ever awoke with someone who's name you did not remember?

Does a bear shit in the woods?


5. Have you ever let someone else wash you while you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself?

Yes, it happened last week in the car wash. I hate washing the truck. I am perfectly capable of washing it. It feels sooooo good when someone else washes my truck.


Bonus (as in optional): What makes a great first date for you?

Knowing that I don't have to have a first date. I love being married to the wife. Every night or day with her is like a first date. And that's the truth!

FAMILY NIGHT!

Sunday night was family night at Bob's. Our Cow Town family gathered 'round the chuck wagon table for some finger licking grunts.

Yummmm eeee!

Chicken stew. Enchilada pie. Salad. Dessert.


Daughter Dawn and Hosebund Keith.

Son Scott and Old Bob never made it into any of the pictures taken last evening. Guess we would have done broke the camera.


Always Ready For A Picture Grace.

She learned to pose at age one and has never stopped posing.


And Zoe? Always ready and always hopeful for a dropped morsel of food.


This from Dave Lieberman at Food TV .com. It's what was for dinner last night.

HEARTY CHICKEN STEW

"This is the most delicious and vibrant take on chicken soup, the get well classic, that I could come up with. Lots of hearty pieces of chicken meat, a sweet broth with lots of bright veggies. I add a touch of heat with hot sauce at the end to get a little sweat going to get all those evil sick bugs out. Make it ahead of time and just heat it up at my friend's house.

4 small onions, quartered
6 cloves garlic, peeled
1 pound carrots, peeled and cut into -2inch chunks
2 pounds chicken thighs, skin removed
Handful thyme sprigs
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 pounds red bliss potatoes, washed and quartered
2 handfuls green beans, trimmed
Hot pepper sauce, to taste
In a large pot, combine onions, garlic, carrots, chicken and thyme. Season with salt and pepper. Add cold water to cover. Bring to boil then reduce heat to a simmer. Skim and discard any scum that may come to the top.

Simmer until the meat of the chicken falls off the bone with almost no pressure from a fork, about 1 to 1 1/2 hours. Remove the chicken pieces to a plate. Use 2 forks to separate the meat from the bone. Add the meat back to pot. Add the potatoes, cook until fork tender, about 20 minutes. Add green beans, cook until crisp-tender, about 3 to 4 minutes. Remove from heat, add hot sauce, salt and pepper to taste."

Make sure you taste as you cook. We found that this dish needed some extra spices which were added.

It's back to Cow Puncher Valley today. A keyboard and mouse that I bought may help me to more frequently post to this blog while there. Don't you just hate working on the keyboard of a laptop? The words just don't flow.

From one Veteran to all the others out there - thanks for serving our country and keeping America The Home of the Brave and the Land of the Free.

IF YOU COOK THIS THEY WILL COME

My grandmother's cranberry relish. Fit for a king. Fit for your Thanksgiving dinner table.

Cook this.

And they will come.

GRANDMA'S CRANBERRY RELISH SALAD

Both my mother and grandmother would grind each ingredient in a meat grinder which they had set to grind on coarse. We use a food processor.

1 apple with skin and cored

1 or 2 oranges with skin

1 package fresh cranberries

1 cup of miniature marshmallows

1/2 to 1 cup of sugar (or 1/2 a cup or more to taste)

3/4 cup of walnuts

Place everything in the food processor except the sugar. Process and then mix in the sugar. Best made the day of the dinner.

GRACE IS FIVE!

Grace's fifth birthday was earlier in the week. The party was yesterday at the local gymnastics "palace".

Kids played.

Parents gossiped.

The wife, Grace's mom and Auntie Dawn hovered to make certain all went well.

I stayed home, drank beer and watched NASCAR. Why screw up a perfect day with a bunch of wild kids high on sugar?
It won't be long where Grace won't have any front teeth to show off. Those pearly baby teeth are not long for this world.

Grace is the youngest student in her kindergarten class. She may be the runt of the litter but Grace can run and keep up with the best of her friends.


One of these kids is zonked out from sugar and probably thinking, "Where am I? What am I doing with all of these snotty nosed kids? Three pieces of cake made me feel funny."


The joy and appreciation of a day like this had to be all about:

Friends.

Celebration.

Good times.

Great memories.

When you're five years old it doesn't get any better than this.

Let's Get In The Christmas Spirit!

I know it's November and that I may be barking up the wrong tree . . . but Christmas really is around the corner.

IF IT'S SATURDAY IT'S TIME FOR PIZZA

If you're following What About Bob you know that Saturday night means pizza for dinner. Always.

Mom started the tradition of Saturday pizza. A box of Contadina pizza mix. Throw on some veggies and some other stuff.

Bake it. Eat it. Saturday night was complete.

Next morning while I wrapped 100 Sunday newspapers for my route I ate left over pizza. And when I thought that I could get away with it I'd toss down one of dad's beers.

When you're 11 years old cold beer and cold pizza was definitely the perfect way to start the day.

I'm tired of making dough from scratch. I now buy a frozen pizza crust. No fuss. No muss.

Wham, bam, pizza mam!

No pizza is complete without tomatoes, pepperoni, onions, bell pepper, mushrooms, olives, cheese and anchovies.

Anchovies will kill off stomach worms, head lice and cure ED. Twang!

Putting anchovies on pizza will stop any one else from eating your pizza.
If this ain't a picture of beauty I don't know what is. Poetry in motion. Pizza perfect.

It's Saturday night. Better think about pizza.

Now where did I put that last can of anchovies . . .

I WANT THAT NAME!

Real deal.

I got a call today from someone whose name is Dee Funk.

It was time to step over the line. There was fun to be had with someone with a name like that. Like no one ever did that before.

It was Friday. What the hell. I was stupid on the phone with Ms. Dee Funk. But whatta great name.

Hello. I'm from Consumer Reports and my name is Dee Funk.

Hello. I'm with the the Democrats to Elect Douche Bag for President (also known as Hillary) campaign and my name is Dee Funk.

I want that name.

I fired two people today. Through both processes that I sat through the saying, "You are what you eat". kept running through my brain. If I stopped eating bagels would I be a kinder, gentler boss man?

Or if I ate more red meat. If it is true you are what you eat I'd not wanna be a cow headed for slaughter.

Moo.

I love my dog. It's Jilli. Next to Candace and Grace, Jilli is the love of my life. Loving a dog that much? How stupid is that. Unless you've loved a dog there's no appreciation for such a statement.


I sleep with my tongue hanging out. I learned that from Jilli. It's a Zen thing.

Try it. You'll sleep a lot better.
Well hell. It's Friday. I want to sleep throught the night. A little Blue Saphire. A little red meat. Garlic bread.

If I am what I eat, bring it on.