IF THIS DON'T GET YOU DANCING THEN GET OUT THE CLUB

BUTT NEKKED DANCE NIGHT #4006. Bob is tiptoeing through the tulips tonight.

If you're not dancing your way through life . . .. get with it!

This is a great song to work out to. Check it out.

And do you wanna funk with me? :)

FILL 'EM UP FOR 121 BUCKS

This oil thing is starting to hit home. Every Sunday I fill the truck with diesel before heading back up to the Valley.

Yesterday the best diesel price that I could find in Cow Town was . . . drum roll, please:

$4.26 a gallon. $121 to fill the tank. That amount could probably feed a family of four for 5 to 7 days. Terrible!

I hope whoever is gouging everyone around the world is enjoying the so called fruits of their labors.

Those who make minimum wage or who live at or below the poverty level must be having a terrible time finding $$ for fuel. It's not uncommon to see some people putting 5 or 10 bucks worth of gas into their cars at a time.

No wonder the roads are less crowded. And I'm thinking that this summer there will be fewer vacationing Americans on the road, too. Back in the day you could buy 10 gallons of gas for 2 bucks. Today you can buy 2 gallons of gas for 10 bucks. How's that for economics?

Even I am thinking twice before driving anywhere.

Speaking of gas, here's Zinni doing what Zinni loves to do: Ball, ball and more ball. She's learned to put the ball into her water dish. Next comes pawing at the water to get the ball out of the dish. Water, water everywhere but not a drop in the dish when Zinni's done with her ball in the water dish trick.

Zinni, for being a pup, is full of spirit, love and mischief. But that's why we've come to love her.

Monday, Monday, everyone!

EASY SUNDAY MUSIC DRIVE HOME

Nearly time to pack up the truck and head back to the hill to the Valley. 81 miles - a little over an hour's drive if there's tail wind and no one in my way. I usually drive fast and sometime recklessly. But one thing, I never pass a car by going over the double yellow line. . . well, most of the time I don't.

Check this You Tube video out - After the Storm by Norman Brown - the zest of the song is about 3:38 into it - his final licks to the very end of the tune. Check it out. I'll be driving to the Valley listening to this one.

SUNDAY SUNDAY

Rarely do I post pictures of myself. I found this one as I browsed the computer library of pictures. This one taken by the wife in the Watson Gym (aptly named after yours truly) during a November photo shoot with a professional photographer.

Each November me, the wife and grand daughter Gracie have our pictures taken. What has now turned out to be a tradition began with the sentiment of having Gracie's pictures professionally taken once a year sometime during her birthday month.

The yearly photo shoot started out as all about Grace. It is now all about the three of us. So, every year for the past five years we've posed together for the camera. If nothing else the pictures present a wonderful chronicle of Gracie growing up and a dismal reminder that the wife and I are aging. That's life, folks. Can't stop the clock or the wrinkles.

If I had one thing to do I would not live it as a blonde (so sayeth the commercial for Clairol) but I would definitely use more sunscreen while swimming, gardening, boating , etc. There would be far fewer wrinkles and many less visits to the dermatologist.

The ladies of the house, Candace and Grace. This picture serves as a reminder to Bob to mind his P's and Q's during the week while working in the Valley.

At this stage of the game, Bob doesn't know anything else but to mind his P's and Q's.

But back in the day . . . .

That's a whole 'nother chapter that I dare not publish in What About Bob. . . .

You get my drift.

Happy Sunday.

DRIVING HOME MUSIC WITH A VIDEO MESSAGE

This one is for the wife. Get ready and don't let go!

This is my driving home music. . . And hold me tight and don't let go! Geeze, I got Isaac Hays on the brain.

Don't you just love this old tune? Makes me wanna to break out the white belt and white shoes and Disco the weekend away. . . .

HNT THURSDAY: NOT BOB'S BUTT

It's someone's butt. Does that count? It's half nekked, isn't it?

The snow has melted. The sun is shining. It's cold but at least it is not raining or snowing.

In case you haven't noticed, tomorrow is Friday. Yeah, Friday, how sweet it is. Going home time. Better get some going home music ready for that 90 minute drive back to Cow Town.

On my last post Ms SD commented and asked what the pencil test is. She's from Australia, several cultures away. It's understandable why Ms. SD has never heard about the pencil test.

Pencil test: The pencil goes under the breast of a female. It the pencil stays put it means one thing. If it doesn't stay put it means something else. Depends who you are in terms of what it means. As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Happy HNT.

DANCING WITH THE BUTT NAKEDS

Shit. It's snowing outside. Here's the view from the cab of the truck as I headed over Big Valley Mountain this afternoon a little after five.

Mother Nature? It's time for some warm weather!

Scientists? What's all this crap about global warming?! If the weather in the Valley is any indication, you're full of it! Turn in your white lab coat and take a hike!!!
This is like April 23rd. Snow in California? Who would have thunked it?

It snowed on September 30th, the day I took this job. And it's still snowing.
I've been thinking. You know the TV show, Dancing with the Stars. I've never watched it but what happens on the program is always in the news.

People must be tired of just seeing Dancing with the Stars. If I were a TV producer I'd do a Dancing with the Butt Nakeds.

We would give prizes. Heck, best dancer is a no brainer so there would be no prize for that.

The Butt Naked Dancing prizes would be for things like:

Chicks who pass the pencil test. And if you have to ask what that is you'd better have your IQ checked. You're not gifted.

The hot crossed buns prize. Do I have to spell that one out for you?

Then there would be the special prize for weird things that someone could do with their buns.

The swinging you know what prize. And if you ask what's swinging you're really not gifted.

On Dancing with the Butt Nakeds there would deduction of points for flatulence. No farting. Can't do that on TV. It's okay to dance butt naked on TV but any orifice that farts on camera is definitely out. And if you have to asked about orifices you're really, really not gifted.


Great ideas but I'm thinking, where do I come up with stuff like this? And at my age?!

Must be cabin fever or too much snow on the brain affliction.

And by the way, you do not have to be gifted to read What About Bob. You just have to understand what Stupid is as Stupid Does means.

BUTT NAKED DANCING

It's not even Saturday night . . . the usual time for What About Bob Dance Night. Tonight I just had to dance.

The window is open and the speakers placed on the window sill. It's raining. The moon has not yet risen. The neighbors are sleeping. It's time for Tuesday night butt naked outside dancing. I'm soaking wet. My feet are bloody with stickers but nonetheless I'm smiling. It's another Bob moment.

Picture that.

In case you're wondering, it's by Joyce Cooling.

WHERE IS YOUR STANDARD PLANTED?

I have four secretaries. Four. And I have four offices. Don't ask why. I just have four. It came with the territory.

Last month one of my four secretaries sent the following e-mail to me:

"You cannot choose your battlefield. God does that for you. But you can plant a standard where a standard never flew." - Nathalia Crane

This was included with her e-mail:, "Thanks for your standards; you may not think we notice but we do."

It's been one of those days. Last night I did the board's dirty work because no one had the stomach or the courage to do it. Today I performed damage control associated with the board's decision because no one wanted to take that on. That's why they pay me the big bucks. Bob is not short on balls and everyone knows that.

When I do things during this assignment that no one else wants to do I'd like to think that in a small way that I've planted my standard here.

My dog. Okay, our dog. The wife likes the "our" in things like this.

OUR Zinni, what a jewel. A Jilli (God rest her soul) she's not but there's huge potential for Zinni to be another one of those one in a life time dogs.

Zinni's a ball of fluff. She's one dog to cuddle with. Like her male owner, she hates cuddling. The wife will fix that.

You've seen dogs run about with their tail and butt down to the ground. Zinni does that in circles around me indefinitely.

Zinni's crazy for ball, ball and more ball.

And I'm crazy for throw the ball, throw the ball and throw the ball more. Damn, it's fun!

There's nothing like the unconditional love of a dog. Nothing.

FIRST LIGHT

This is the view I'm treated to every morning: First light of the day as it hits Mt. Shasta.

Staying home for three nights instead of the usual two has been a treat. It's back to the Valley this morning following a visit with the dentist managing my implants.

The process of embedding implants (two) should be finished in June with the mounting of porcelain crowns. The wallet is about 6k lighter for the process.

People write about sex on their blog. I'd be DOA if that subject ever hit What About Bob. The wife is most intolerant when it comes to talking out of school.

I'm satisfied that this blog is all about work, Gracie the grandchild, our kids, the two dogs, dancing to life's music, stupid Bob tricks and now implants.

Thanks for bearing with me.

HOLD THE PIZZA, PLEASE!

Saturday night is usually pizza night. Last night pizza and all of it's fat sounded like artery trouble.

Turkey at any time of the year is a good thing. At our house it's usually barbecued on the gas Weber.

Turn the middle burner off. Heat to 400 degrees. Place the turkey on V-shaped rack.

With an electronic probe cooking a turkey is a no brainer. 180 degrees it's done but take it out of the barbecue at about 170 degrees, tent it and wait for the temp to rise, then carve that baby.

So easy, even a caveman can do it.

Last night was the final symphony of the season. Last week being one of those weeks I was too tuckered out to go so the wife went alone. And looking at yet another board meeting this coming Monday night put a damper on my otherwise light Saturday night spirits.

This morning the wife raved and raved about the music. Guess I missed out on something special.

There are about 35 working days left on the gig in the Valley. I can hardly wait to get this done and over with.

There are better things in life to focus on other than problems that are not really mine.

I WANNA GET DOWN, DOWN ON THE GROUND!

Can you name this tune in 60 seconds? Betcha can't.

Altered states . . . we've all been there one way or another. There are stories.

One dark night, Marin county. The wife and I headed home after a night of dining, dancing, etc. (it's the "etc." that will kill you) in Nicassio.

Me at the wheel of our 280Z, 90 miles an hour and then some and an unexpected right turn in the road.

It becomes most apparent that two wheels of the Z are up and the remaining two wheels on the pavement. A slight adjustment to the wheel and to the throttle. All four wheels are back on the pavement.

The wife and I both look at each other, grin, and continue our way home.

And that's the way it was back in the day.

Sometimes I wonder how I ever survived.

ANOTHER COW TOWN SATURDAY

This was the picture that was to be posted Thursday but for some reason it never made the cut.

It's Saturday in Cow Town. In April the town has Kool April Nights whoop de la for vintage car owners.

Old cars are all over the place this weekend. Thing about owning an old car? It's still an old car subject to old car problems.

Lots of guys buy the car they never had as a kid. Lots of guys divorce their wives and marry the girl they never had when they were younger. As for me, keep the wife (they don't make 'em like that anymore) and buy the car that had not been invented when I was a kid.

One more thing about owning an old car? You look like all of the other old fart car owners. Ever check them out? They all look the same. All wear baseball caps, sport grey beards, have pot bellies that hang over their belts and are married to BBW's.

Then there's the Carrera owners: Good looking dudes. Slim, could run a marathon at a moments notice. Foxed out wife or girl friend on their arm.

I found the Carrera cabriolet. It's an '04 with 25,000 miles still under Porsche warranty. Now if we can just make the deal . . . I'm a cheap bastard who drives a hard bargain. Car dealers hate to see me coming. . ..

Wife (after reading this post): So you're going to get ready to run a Marathon?

Me: I'm ready to run a Marathon right now?

Wife: No way that you're ready for that!

Me: Sure, I'm ready to run a Marathon right now. I didn't say that I could finish it, did I?


BTW People: This is WHAT ABOUT BOB post 550. And they said it wouldn't last!

LIVING FOR THE WEEKEND


Isn't that a song, living for the weekend? Seems like it is.

This was taken out the back door of the Valley house. While I'm living for the weekend, life in the Valley even though lonely is mighty pretty. That's Mt. Shasta in the background.

In anticipation of heading home tomorrow afternoon it was necessary to top off the truck with diesel: $4.46 a gallon. Getting screwed without any foreplay is not my cup of tea.

Tonight there's a trustees meeting which I lead. There's a little controversy brewing or so it's been told. Trustee meetings can be like that.

Thick skin. A quick wit. Knowing that I'm the man. Not taking any shit from anyone. I keep those things in the back of my mind just in case. Most people have the good sense not to mess with Bob so the meeting should go well.

Board meetings last about four hours which always adds up to a long day - like 16 hours. If nothing else, I'll sleep like a baby tonight.

I can hardly wait to hit the sack.

APRIL IN PARIS IT'S NOT!

I woke up to this yesterday morning. It's April 15th and it's snowing in the Valley.

Just when I was ready to put the winter coat away this happens!

The truck was covered in both snow and ice.

Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Trees were covered in snow and ice.
It made for an interesting drive to work - all 16 miles.

Snow falling . . . the truck and I, we were truly dashing through the snow.
It would have been nice to curl up alongside a fire with a good book. Instead there was an office with a pile of work.

After nearly 10 months away from home the sojourn to the Valley will end some time in June. It's been an interesting assignment, one I'll never forget.

Snow in April will always be memorable.

I've Got the Blues

I've played this song before on What About Bob. . . don't ask why, I'm blue and this song seems to fit tonight. Parts of Raincoat ring true while others don't.

Do you get the idea that I just like the song. And I'm playing it again. Because I'm blue.

DUDE, WHAT YA BUILDING?

I arrived back in the Valley late Sunday afternoon to find that my neighbor was building something alongside his front door.

You see it pictured here.

You know where this is, the neighbor with 3 trucks and a horse trailer in his backyard - the one who uses the tailgate of one of those trucks as a barbecue stand. That guy.

Me: Hey Dude, what ya building?

Dude: Swimming pool.

Me: What?

Dude: Yeah, swimming pool. We like to have the family over on Sundays for pool parties.

Me: Is it going to be deep enough for swimming?

Dude: Gonna be deep enough.

Me: How do you figure that?

Dude: None of us can swim.

PORSCHE CARRERA HATS

When I drive my new Porsche 911 Carerra Cabriolet I want to look very cool.

I also need to protect myself from the sun. So I thought I'd wear a number of hats just to mix things up.

Here's hat #1. It has a siren and the red light on top flashes on and off. This will get every ones attention. They will know one cool dude is on the road.
Hat #2: Son Maxwell brought this hat from Korea. Unlike Hat #1, there's no chin strap to keep this one on. I'll have to rig something up. Korean chicks visiting the USA will look twice when they see Bob in the Carrera wearing this baby on his head.

Thanks, Max!
Hat #3: Hugh Hefner always wears a hat like this. And look what he gets?

Who else but an 83 year old stroke victim get chicks by wearing a captains hat?

You go, Hef!

VIVA VIAGRA!
When I'm driving the streets of San Francisco, I want everyone to know that the guy behind the wheel of the Carrera loves the 49ers.

I wonder if this hat will attract more guys than chicks . . . hmmmm, maybe I better rethink this one...

There will be more hats for me to wear. Stay tuned.

Now all I need is that damn car to go with my hats!

MUSIC TO PASS SLOW ASS DRIVERS

Do you have driving music . . . music that makes you want to drive a little faster? Music that forces you to drive a little faster? Music that compels you to pass those slow ass drivers in front of you?

Whatever the case, here's Change featuring Luther Vandross (yeah, that was back in the day)with their song Searching.

It's Saturday. If you're not dancing through the weekend (or life!) then get with it! Remember, life really is a dance, it's only a matter of the music you choose.

THINGS YOU'D NEVER EVEN THINK ABOUT

Yesterday there were two road stops for highway construction on the way home from the Valley.

Both were about 10 minutes each so I took the opportunity to roll down the window and take a few pictures.

Typical lazy ass American photographic method.

Here's Mt. Shasta out the passenger side of the truck. She's a beauty.
Then there's this. I've driven by this home with the RV parked alongside of it all winter.

It's just been recently that I've noticed that something is very wrong with the RV.

So get this: This winter there was a lot of snow and ice in this area.

Homeowner not thinking worse case winter scenario:

"We'll just park the RV here. It's safe. It's right next to the house. Nothing will happen to it."

Wrong! Ice accumulated on the metal roof of the house.

Ice thawed.

A hudge sheet of ice had to have slid down the roof and dropped smack dab onto the RV.

VIOLA!

Crushed motor home!

That had to be one of those "WTF!" moments.

File this under the "Things you'd never think about".
Too bad some people have to learn the hard way. . . .

BEAUTY

In Cow Town it's easy to miss the beauty of the world. Stopping to smell the roses is removed from the vocabulary of every day living.

In the Valley, it's different.

The smells.

The sights.

The pace has slowed.

I take time to notice the sheer beauty of life.

New born calves and lambs.

The song of birds I've never ever heard.

Sunrise. Sunset. They're never the same.

Like this shot taken outside of the local coffee in the morning stop for the good old boys, Chatty Kathy's. Killer sunrise.

Then on the way to the house this afternoon I was hoping to get this shot. It's an every day occurrence - deer grazing in this meadow . . . and yes, that's one deer that's squatted for the pause that refreshes. . .

How awesome does this get? Deer in a meadow and not roadkill alongside the highway? That's how awesome it gets.
Would I live here?

Does a deer shit in the meadow?

Well, here it is, a deer shitting in the meadow.
Today the highway dept was stopping cars to allow for a 2 mile stretch of shoulder repair. We stopped for 10 minutes. I shot from the truck over my left shoulder.

Mt. Shasta.

Smelling the flowers.

Counting my blessings.

Best hold 'em up traffic stop I ever did have.

It doesn't get any better than this.

HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?

I rent a duplex in the Valley. It's decent. It's been renovated. Only thing - my neighbors need renovating.

So here it is, pictures of my neighbors in the Valley. I'm thinking they subscribe to this: If it has four wheels, if it uses fossil fuel and the damned thing don't run - then park the M F'er cause you never know when you need a spare vehicle.

So here's neighbor #1. He has a green Chev truck for the weekends. The brown truck here is for work. The Suburban? Who knows - in 6 months this thing has not moved a lick. Nor has the white boat alongside of it . . . and then there's the travel travel . . . One guy - all these vehicles. How much is enough?

Then a guy and his wife move into the unit next to Guy number one.

He has three trucks that sit against the back fence and an Italian camper (red neck talk for horse trailer). He has a Ford truck that's driven to work everyday. His wife has some little piss ant of a car which she drives.

See the white Dodge next to the Italian camper? Yesterday this dude drove it to the front of the house, popped the tailgate and use it for something to put his table top barbecue on.

When the barbecue was done he put the truck back against the fence with the rest of the other four wheeled deals.

Am I missing something here?

MEET ZINNI!

As most of you know, our beloved Jilli passed away (an untimely death) three months ago. The loss has been nearly unbearable given how sudden and unpredictable that it was. Losing Jill was the ultimate sucker punch: Never saw it coming. Knocked both of us down and out.

I've been busy in the Valley. Very busy. The wife has had to endure an empty house that was suddenly quiet and without "spirit". Running throughout the house, always playing, always demanding, alwaying thinking she was human, Jill was one of our children. The wife said that life without our Jill was not the same and much too quiet.

I arrive home from the Valley on Friday afternoon to find this little waif of a puppy.

Huge surprise.

Me: Does she have a name?

Wife: No.

Me: It has to be Zinnia - like the flower. Zinnia is our little flower of a dog who will blossom into a well trained dog.

Wife: Zinnia it is.

Me: But for short, Zinni.

Zinni is not used to men in her life. She is definitely not sure what to make of me.

When we're alone Zinni cries.

But then, most women cry when they're alone with me. What's up with that?

Add one more crying female to the list.

Zinni is going to have to Pomeranian up!