ONE OF THOSE DAYS

It must be the 28th day. I'm feeling bloated. Cranky. Out of sorts.

Wifey's been out of town since Friday. Maybe that's it. Cabin fever maybe. Gotta work out of this mood. I hate being like this.

Looks as if we'll put the boat in the water Tuesday. OB was returned from service Friday. Still a few things to do before she's launched.

Gotta find out one thing. The vendor who leases the boat slips says that the Forest Service does not allow the use of port-a-pottys on the lake. They says it's worth a ticket if you're found to have an operational potty on board. Boaters are to use the floating outhouses. What is this? Am I supposed to pull down the sails and cruise over to a floating toilet when nature calls? Most boats won't do this. Pee in the can. Pee overboard. Pee in the water. Anything but stop what they're doing to use the floating toilet. Unless they have to do two things.

I'll check with the Forest Service tomorrow to find if the use no port-a-potty regulation exists. If what I'm told is correct this had to be government at it's ignorant best.

Larry King, Snoop Dogg at Roscoe's

This is what I'm talking about

FRIDAY CRAVINGS

I must be pregnant. All kinds of strange cravings have taken over my appetite. Like a chick who's knocked up and who has hormones all over the board, I just gotta have what I wanna have to eat.

Chicken and waffles has been on the "gotta/wanna/gonna" eat list for quite some time. If you think any one restaurant in Cow Town has that on their menu you don't know a thing about this place. With a population of 88% crackers soul food has no niche in this town.

Either I make chicken and waffles at home (no fun here - what a mess to clean up), or request an order of waffles and another order of chicken at a local eatery (will cost an arm and leg for certain), or use what's left of the frequent flier miles to wing it on down to Atlanta where soul food is king. Otherwise Bob's shit out of luck when it comes to satisfying this craving.

This week I added maple bars with bacon on top of them to Bob's gotta/wanna/gonna eat list. Doesn't that sound just so delicious? I'm asking a local baker to start placing bacon on top of his maple bars. If he takes my advice this guy is in for a large increase in business.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

WHERE IS MY HEAD?

A moment ago I went to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. Once there I took out a wine glass out of the cupboard and poured coffee into it.

If this is how the day is going to unfold this guy is headed back to bed.

Wifey: Get the camera. Let me take a picture of you holding a wine glass full of coffee. It will be perfect for your blog.

Me: All I want is a normal cup of coffee. No pictures. Just coffee.

Just where is my head this morning?

FEELS LIKE MONDAY

TASTES LIKE TUESDAY

Whenever there's a three day week it throws off the motherboard in my head. It usually feels that Bob is a day late and a buck short. Today is no exception.

Doesn't it feel like Monday to you?

In picking up the boat last week we passed by an old favorite boating lake. Sadly though, the lake has been affected by our three year drought.

They've closed boat ramps as you see here. Closed campgrounds. On a day when there's usually a few skiers, fishermen or sailors on the lake there were none to be seen.

California, all due to its growing financial crises at the local and state level and its lack of water is literally up a creek without a paddle. I was thinking that we could sell California to the highest bidder. Bill Gates might be interested. There probably would be no problem in getting an offer to buy from China.

If the latter happened it might be kind of neat. Each of us residing in California would have to speak another language. We probably would not be able to speak English in public. Moo Goo Gai Pan polished off with a fortune cookie would be served at all state functions. Motorized taxi cabs would be replaced with rickshaws. Only one TV program would be allowed to be seen: Kung Fu. We'd step into a burger joint and order that 1/2 pound cheeseburger special and a beer only to hear, "No burger, no beer, only Peepsee and won ton!"

Pepsi and a won ton? Now that would really be a Monday tasting like a Tuesday. Oh hell, let's sell California to China and get it over with. After all, anything you buy in this damn place has "made in China, land of no beer and burgers" written all over it.

Happy Monday (I think) . . . .

POST #1,000:

Make it a Good One!


I can believe this post marks number 1,000. It wasn't yesterday that I started writing here. In fact it was August 2006.

I went page 1,000 posts ago just to see what was there. One post was about our visit to Kansas to see Aunt Dolly and Uncle Bill. Sadly enough Bill passed away Tuesday at the age of 94. We should all be so lucky.

My first post on What About Bob was of me at the ocean with Zoe and Jilli. Like Uncle Bill, Jill, the best damn dog there ever was, has since passed on. As someone commented here following Jill's untimely death a few days before her 10th birthday, she's waiting patiently for me at the Rainbow Bridge.

In the first posts there were pages about my childhood, about an Air Force pal who still keeps in touch, a vacation to Hawaii, a trip across country . . . like a diary, most of the first posts as well as the ones that follow are a fairly accurate chronicle of the past three years.

Now we're on to yet another chapter . . . Seadog Bob, who pillages and haunts the high waves. Arrrr, my maties.....

We're still readying the boat. The outboard is in for service which is why she sits high and dry. The motor should be back sometime this week.

Here you can see the solar panel in place to maintain fully charged batteries.

The last pic is of the column holding the bow of the boat and the winch. This is what we came home with following an evening trip through the Sacramento Valley. It's primary farmland and guess what? Bugs, bug and all kinds of bugs all over the boat and the truck. Honestly, there were so many it looked like snow was falling. The windshield of the truck looked like this.

Wifey: Don't you think we should stop and clean the windshield. You can hardly see where you're driving.

Me: I can see where I driving. Besides, the road to Cowtown is mostly straight so why do I really have to see where I'm driving. If I keep the wheel straight we'll be okay. No need to stop and clean the windshield. Straight and steady as she goes, Matey!

And I break into singing, I"m Popeye the Sailor Man. . . .

Wifey with great sarcasm: You're absolutely brilliant, Bob. How doooo you do it?

Me: I married you, didn't I?

Wifey: Let's change the subject.

And that's how post #1,000 went . . . .

Grace Rides On Two Wheels!

In Case You Ever Wondered

DOWN BUT NOT OUT

Monday Grace comes home from school ready to go down for the count. We're thinking it must have been helluva weekend at her mom's house.

Grace has her snack and then hits the family room couch, dog in tow, for some rest. Wifey applies a cold cloth.

Grace is down for the next three hours. That's so unlike her.

Tuesday she stays home with her mom.

Wednesday we're off to buy a boat.

Yesterday . . . Thursday, Grace comes in after school still red eyed but grinning nonetheless. Whatever bug she had was still with her to some degree.

Even though still a bit under the weather, Gracie was still down but definitely not out. She just had to check out the inside of the sailboat. And she just had to bring all of her school books inside of it for homework reading practice.

Grace: Papa? I just love your boat.

Me: I'm glad that it meets your approval. And what if you didn't like it?

Grace . . . blank stare not knowing what else to say...

Me: Well, I guess if you didn't like the sailboat you would not be sailing with your Papa, would you?

Grace . . . blank stare . . . at times she just doesn't know how to take some of my comments.

It's Friday and a long weekend. Enjoy yourselves.

It was a long day Wednesday.

6:15 a.m. leave Cowtown.

11:00 a.m. Arrive boat yard.

5:15 p.m. Leave boat yard for Cowtown.

10:15 p.m. Arrive Cowtown.

This morning I feel like someone has kicked me down a set of stairs.

John, owner of Wind Toys, ran us through the mechanics of rigging the boat. Put it up. Took it down and readied it for the trip back home.

John and I are pictured here during one of the many stages of rigging. John in blue. Bob in purple?!

The dogs waited patiently under a nearby boat getting up only to bark at the occasional visitor.

Zeen, of course, had to have her ball. It was Zoe's birthday and she decided to lounge in bed all day.

There's still work to be done before she's launched. The outboard has to be checked and tuned.

The sails need a good scrubbing.

The topside of the boat should have a good coat of wax.

There's minor cleaning and touching up that we'll do.

It's a lot of work if a boat is to be kept in good condition. We've always made it a point to do just that.

Our new boat will be no exception.

THE DAY HAS COME

Up early and getting ready to drive 250 miles southwest to pick her up. It's been a long time coming.

Should be home late this evening, boat in tow. More pictures tomorrow.

It won't be long until Bob's at this helm and singing, Yo ho ho . . .

ZOE IS 84

Zoe will be 12 years old tomorrow. . . that would be in people years. Translated into dog years the old girl is going to hit 84.

Most say she doesn't look her age. They also say that Zoe doesn't look like a Pomeranian but a pure bred she is.

Born in Canada Zoe was sold off as a young pup to a breeder in California who had her flown from there to here. Once ready for breeding Zoe was flown back to Canada for a little romancing.

Her first litter yielded but one pup which was still born. On the next heat Zoe was again flown back to Canada for breeding . . . racking up more frequent flier miles. The second litter again yielded one pup which survived.

The breeder figured that this dog wasn't worth the flying back and forth for breeding. Couple that very expensive stud costs and Zoe was far from earning her keep in the puppy mill.

After hearing that a breeder wanted to give away Zoe Wifey traveled the distance to pick her up.

Once home it was easy to see that our new dog lacked in social skills. She was timid and often cowered. She fought for food. Could not walk on a leash. Knew not one command. Had no concept of how to play. In short, Zoe was a kennel dog who was neglected.


That has since changed. Zoe is a certified therapy dog who brings a little love and cuddling to those in assisted care facilities, cancer wards, children's burn centers, hospital ICU wards and what have you.

People ask, "What is she?" when they first see our Zoe. I reply, "She's a miniature Mongolian bear".

REALLY?! They exclaim.

I've nicknamed Zoe Pomzilla for when she's really pissed at Zinnia (or Zeenie) who's more than three times her size, she goes after her with a vengeance. Zoe has to be literally pried off poor gentle and indulgent Zeenie. Guess that behavior is left over from having to survive in the puppy mill. When you're a runt who is forced to suck hind tit acting like Pomzilla is an act of survival.

Like any aging being, Zoe visits the her doctor every six months or more for senior wellness checkups. She takes a little something for the tummy trouble that comes on every so often. Last week a respiratory problem placed her on a second medication. Zoe sleeps a lot which they say comes with her age. She's taken to only eating her morning and evening meal from Wifey's hand. All things considered, our girl Zoe remains active, playful and bitchy when it's necessary.

When you're 84 these things happen. Even at this age, Zoe does light up our life.

Happy birthday Zoe!

Thinkin' 'bout the times you drove in my car.
Thinkin' that I might have drove you too far.
And I'm thinkin' 'bout the love that you laid on my table.

I told you not to wander 'round in the dark.
I told you 'bout the swans, that they live in the park.
Then I told you 'bout our kid, now he's married to Mabel.

Yes, I told you that the light goes up and down.
Don't you notice how the wheel goes 'round?
And you better pick yourself up from the ground
Before they bring the curtain down,
Yes, before they bring the curtain down.

Talkin' 'bout a girl that looks quite like you.
She didn't have the time to wait in the queue.
She cried away her life since she fell off the cradle.

If you ever need a ride home here's how to get one . . . .

FRISBEE DOG

Zeenie's learning the fine art of catching a Frisbee. It's not easy you know....a round ball is one thing. Catching a flat object that's round is another. It's all about catching one of the edges of the Frisbee that we're working on.

Damn, that lawn is green!

Zeenie will play catch until the cows come home. We'll play catch and play catch then all of a sudden our girl stops and takes a nap. A few minutes later she's up and ready for more games of catch or chase. Whatta dog.

CAREFREE OR COULD CARE LESS?

Tuesday was the last entry here. Where have I been, I ask myself. Was it that I was carefree and couldn't be bothered with sitting in front of a screen?

Or as I approach 1,000 posts here that I've grown to care less about blogging?

Or was it that my office PC was in the shop and using the laptop was too cumbersome in the blogging process?

All of the above.

But Bob, being Bob, will continue to write here for reasons yet to be known. Bob says the best posts are yet to come. Believe that.

Photos here are of last week's sojourn north and along the Klamath River. Who couldn't resist stopping to capture this moment?



This is going to be a special week for on Wednesday Bob and Wifey take delivery of their Catalina 250. It's really going to happen. No more talk. Bob will soon be sailing the walk.

Bet you thought that I'd never buy that damn boat, didn't you?

Well, I thought so, too.....

HATE THE NAME/LOVE THE BOAT

By now this horrible name for a boat (far right below the rail) - - - Victory 2, has been removed per my instructions and awaits a new name. Just exactly what we'll christen her remains to be seen.

May 20th remains the pickup date. After parking in our drive we will continue to clean it up, replace the floor coverings and add a few other pieces of equipment.

She'll be berthed at Whiskeytown Lake. The link provided here is to a live cam view of a small portion of it. There's link on this page to current weather conditions on the lake. The latter drives me crazy. Yesterday temps on the lake were close to 80 with winds ranging from 8 to 16 mph. That's pretty decent sailing conditions and with no boat to sail . . . well, I go a little crazy.

http://www.whiskeytowncam.com/index.html

Tonight I've decided to sail . . . . . boat or no boat. Sailing this evening is defined as being a filled bathtub complete with a fleet of rubber duckies.

AHOY!

and when the bath water cools?

SHIVER MY TIMBERS!

ARRRR!

ONE OF THOSE DAYS

Friday was one of those days . . . a day to remember.

Grace has had training wheels on her bike for what has seemed forever. Yesterday it was high time to take the training wheels off and "girl up" without them.

I got behind Grace, hands on her shoulders while she tipped left and right on the bike as she tried to balance herself. We did this for about 30 minutes - -- me behind Grace to steady her while she pedaled up and down the drive. Then I said, "Your turn to do it by yourself."


It was tippy at first but then it didn't take long before Grace looked like she had always ridden a bike without training wheels. It didn't take long to catch when she:

Tried to run her poor defenseless Papa down all the while giggling hysterically when I'm forced into the shrubs for safety.

Attempting and nearly putting both feet on the handle bars - - "Look, no feet, Papa!"

Up and down the driveway for well over an hour without falling.

Miles and miles of smiles.

Grace is ready for a new bike . . . they say it's time for a 16 inch model. We'll buy one sometime next week.


Grace was so pleased with herself. After months of trying the goal of riding a bike with out training wheels had been met.

She was all smiles. And so were Wifey and Papa.

It was definitely a day to remember.