Bob is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize

Gee. This would make too much sense: An express lane in the men's restroom for 2 beers or less. Ha. That said, men take a leak just like they shop: Get in. Do your business. Get out. No messing around.

I feel for women. Why? Take for example the ball park. Ever check out the line at each of the women's restrooms as compared to the men's? Sometimes the line is out the restroom door, way down and around a corner. That's long.

At the ballpark there's never any lines for the guys 'cause guys so what guys do best: Get in and get out.

Women? That's a whole other ball game when it comes to using the head. Having never checked out why it takes women so long to to do their duty at the ballpark and create long lines I have no clue as to the "why" of it.

Do they stop to chat? To compare notes? To do more than one thing . . . like do two things (that could explain a lot)? Then there's makeup to check and makeup to fix. Maybe all of those things combined add up to long lines to the women's restroom at the ball game.

When you think about it the concept of an restroom express lane for men could also work for women. They'd need a cop in the restroom to make certain the rules of the express, take a leak only pit stop, were followed.

NO TALKING!

NO FIXING YOUR 'DO AND YOUR MAKEUP!

NO DOING ANYTHING ELSE BUT TAKE LEAK!

I might win a Nobel Peace Prize for this idea 'cause there would be harmony and Zen . . . and no long lines in the ballpark women's restrooms. Express lane restrooms would be the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Ya think?

POST THIS AT WORK

Here's a sign to begin the workweek. Post this puppy in the employee lounge. Unfortunately, there's a lot of truth here.


Another hot Cowtown day is in store. Wifey and I worked in the yard Sunday in 108 degree temps like two little sweathogs. Once in a while I'd yell over to Wifey:

Me: Squeal like a pig!

Wifey: EEEEEE!

Last night HBO or Showtime (I forget which) began a new series called Hung. It's about a teacher with a better than average Johnson who is forced by economics (divorce and a home destroyed by fire) into the world's oldest profession. Wifey enjoyed the show. At one point the size of this guys dick was the point of conversation by actors in the series.

I start to walk out to the kitchen to get a glass of water and in passing:

Me: Sorry that I don't have a big dick.

Wifey: That's okay.

Me: What?! That's okay?!!! I was just kidding. You've always said I was your John Holmes. Mr. Monster. Doctor Salami......

Wifey: That's okay.

Shit. All these years and that is her assessment of Bob's greatest assess? The family jewels?! Better start looking to pickup and apply some enhancing agents so this marriage can be saved. Otherwise I can see it now:

Phone rings. It's one of the kids:

Kid: Is mom home?

Me: Nope. She left town with Mr. Weenie and isn't coming back.

Kid: I always knew that was coming. Dad, you really do have a small dick.

A Touch of Bob

Son Max called the other day. Wifey just had to get a picture of Bob in his home office talking on the phone. I'm slouching. Yeah, I know. But I'm happy because Max had called from Seoul.

The hat? I don't usually wear it especially in public. It's one of those that screams out in big bold letters that you're a veteran.

Yup, I served. But I don't need to advertise it. Don't want to be thanked. Don't want to be recognized. Don't want to march in parades that honor veterans.

There are many of us who quietly served and don't make a big deal out of it. We did what was asked of us, served our time and came home. 'Nuff said.

Anyway, back to Max. He'll be with us the first week in August. There will be sailing. There will be 99 bottles of beer on the wall. There will be steaks on the grill. We'll spend some time up north in the RV. Maybe we'll go to Reno. Who knows?

We've not seen Max for nearly two years and it will be wonderful to have him with us albeit for a short period of time. Damn, I've missed that kid.

It's going to be another hot day in Cowtown. It hit 104 F (40 Celsius) yesterday. It was 75 F (24 Celsius) at 5:00 a.m. this morning which means two things: It never cooled off last night. There's huge head start on another hot day. Weatherman says Cowtown will hit 108 F (24 Celsius) today. Ouch!

Definitely too hot to be sailing. Definitely too hot to be outside for any period of time. Definitely going to wear extra roll on deodorant today. Definitely going to drink some beer and definitely grill a couple of burgers. It's definitely going to be a great day.

Note: If you use the word "definitely" too many times people will start calling you Rainman.

Definitely.

Oldie . . . . still a goody. Conway sounds much like Elvis.

Cheeseburger in a can

Here's something new for those who backpack or want to have a ready made burger at work. It's made in Germany and it takes 3.95 Euros to buy one. It's a cheeseburger in a can.

Available at trekneat.com

Trek and Eat describes this product as being:

"Nothing could be easier to prepare: Just heat the can in a water bath, open the lid, and enjoy your delicious cheeseburger! Never before has it been easier to prepare a burger in the wilderness within such a short time.

The cheeseburger, which is marketed under the Trek‘n Eat label, guarantees unrestricted enjoyment in the mountains and in other extreme environments. People in the wilderness who rely on the experience of an expedition food specialist such as Trek‘n Eat in preparing their meals have more of life: more enjoyment, less weight to carry, and more time for doing other things.

The canned burger has a shelf life of twelve months without requiring refrigeration."

Then there's this from a consumer who actually tried the cheeseburger in a can:

"UPDATE: Yes, I actually did eat one. It was the foulest, nastiest thing I have ever had to suffer through. Think rubber meat patty that tastes like chemicals and grit. Stacked up against four other cold, fast food burgers, I'd take the McDonald's version any day. At least it just tastes like cold onions instead of something you'd lick off a bathroom floor. Yeah, it was that bad."

How's that for a product endorsement? Yuck! Seems like you'd really have to be hard up for a burger to eat one of these.

My Kind of Woman

Wifey: Super Shopper Extraordinaire

Wife could spend half her life piddling around shopping. Me? Get in, get it, get out. No screwing around. Our shopping styles are so different that I can't stand to go shopping with Wifey. It's so time consuming. Drives me nuts.

During our trip north last week our little burg of a town had sidewalk sales, street food, cowboy shootouts, and a live band playing religious music (complete with groupies waving their arms, swaying with the music).

The town closed a couple of streets to make room for all of the activities.

So here's Wifey shopping for books and flashcards for the grandchild. Box after box after box as put forth by a hospice organization raising money. So I walk around. And around. And around while waiting for Wifey to finish shopping.

To kill time I stand in front of the bandstand to listen to religious themed music and join in with the arm wavers. It was cool to get a little of the flavor of the moment. During my arm waving and looking to the sky one woman shouted, "Praise the Lord!" which I followed by shouting, "And pass the ammunition!" That didn't go over in the least bit.

I like towns with character. Buildings constructed of stones and brick are my cup of tea. They've got heart and plenty of soul. I've always wanted to buy an older building circa turn of the 20th century, renovate it and create an open loft for living on the second floor.

Take the Elks Lodge just down from where Wifey was shopping. Definitely that empty canvas for what I'd love to create.

With the time I spent waiting I could have rehabbed the whole building.

Screaming Game of Tennis Anyone?

Maria, 14 years old plays Venus Williams. Interesting.

Up a lazy River

Last weekend we drove along the Klamath and stopped for breakfast at an RV park. We knew the park had a restaurant which made this destination a good one.

We sat outside. Drank tea. Had lunch instead of breakfast. A chili burger for Bob and a regular burger for Wifey.

It was surprising to learn there were but 27 RV spaces. Most were right on the river. Also surprising was the price for a night's stay: $65. That's over the top when it comes to RV camping. But as they say you get what you pay for. The setting is priceless and worth the price of at least one night's stay. Here's their link:

http://www.klamathranchresort.com/index.htm


Wifey likes pictures and just had to have one of her sitting on the rail. She's always been photogenic. There's rarely a bad Wifey picture.
















On the other hand I've never liked having my picture taken as shown here by my expression. So there it is . . . yet another illustration of the on-going decay of Bob.















Opposite to these photos sat the dogs in the truck. Windows open. Enjoying the fresh air pausing occasionally to bark at the stray bird or two that sat on the fence.

We'll no doubt spend time here. How often do you get the occasion to enjoy such beauty out the back door of your RV?

Gotta get rolling. Dogs go to the groomer this morning. Zeen, being the big ball of fluff she is, needs clipping badly.

Around and around and around, through my mind


Steve Winwood, Split Decision. There wasn't a decent Youtube version

Split Decision

Sometimes I think he knows too much

His confidence never needs a crutch

One man is a real one, the other wants to hide

One man has his mind made up, the other can’t decide

By the time there’s nothing left to choose

One man puts the fire out, the other lights the fuse

Sometimes I think I know too much

’bout what goes on in the real world and such

Half of me is certain, the other isn’t sure

One half has the symptom, the other has the cure

By the time there’s nothing left to choose

One half has the answer, the other looks for clues

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

Split decision

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

Sometimes I think we’ve come too far

If we’re lost and if not where we are

Half of us is easy, the other half is hard

Even though we do our best, we end up being scarred

By the time there’s nothin’ left to choose

One man puts the fire out, the other lights the fuse

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

Split decision

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

A very fine line

Sometimes I think I know too much

When confidence never needs a crutch

One man is a real one, the other wants to hide

One man has his mind made u while the other can’t decide

By the time there’s nothing left to choose

One of us sees red, while the other sings the blues

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

Split decision

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

A very fine line

WIFEY TAKES THE HELM


We care for Gracie every day after school during the school year and all day during the summer. This week her three year old step sister is included in the mix. There's Bible school and both are attending. Following their studies the girls are picked up at noon and are with us until 3 or 4 and sometimes later.

This obligation plays hell with during the week sailing.

It was a 100 degree Cowtown Tuesday. The girls left by 4. Staying home was not an option. Sailing at the lake was. It's a 10 minute drive from the house to where the boat is moored. Wifey and I were on the lake by 4:30.

Even though very warm, boating on the lake took away that aspect of the day. It was just great.

While the first mate took the helm, I trimmed the sails and made minor adjustments in the rigging.




A close look at the depth gauge (lower right) shows we're at 127 feet.



















Watching the sails and the windvain on top of the mast and then making adjustments to the tact makes for good sailing.

She's a large boat and very heavy: 6,000 pounds or 3 tons of dead weight. Unlike most other water craft, you don't push or lead this boat around. It either is sailing or it's motoring.

But once the wind kicks up she is light on her toes. Sparkle Plenty can and will sail the pants off any other sailboat on the lake.

We motored back into the berth and had everything secured by nearly 8 that evening. Smiling. Happy. It was a nice conclusion to a wonderful summer day.

NCIS, if you're into that sort of entertainment....

50 Cent if you're not......

Wizard of Oz

Gracie's ballet school performed the Wizard of Oz this past Saturday.

Here's Grace, minus ballet shoes (the kids were asked to take them off), following the performance. In Cowtown it is perfectly acceptable to be a boot clad ballerina.

Gracie is all smiles and rightfully so.




















Grace on the right, hands on knees.
















Grace, palms out, ready to get something symbolic. A high five maybe?

Being just six, Grace performed in the youngest of the ballet troupe.















Grace, third from left, checking out what everyone else is doing.

HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?

I often use the phrase, "How much is enough?" when it comes to posing the question on excess.

For example how much is enough when is comes to taking guff from someone before you either blow your cork or walk away?

Overeating as most Americans do so well. How much is enough when it comes to caloric intake?

Or I ask myself, "How much is enough?" when I stand in front of the 800 plus CD collection in my home office? I really should start downloading music instead of buying CD's.

Accumulating "things" in your life . . . how much is enough? Like this guy who's living vry large and is shows. He was "camped" across from us this weekend.

Check it out.

Very long, very large, well equipped motor home that was easily 50' long. It had every bell, every whistle, every doo-dad available. Easily 250k sitting there. How much is enough when it comes to RV camping?


Harley Davidson motorcyle tucked away and covered on the rear of the motor home.

The topper was not the truck being towed behind the motorhome. That's typical. Over the top were the toys in the bed of the truck.

A quad with a convertible top.

Attached to the back of the quad were two bicycles.



How much is enough when it comes to getting around? Once they arrive at their camping destination: There's the Harley. Then there's the quad. And if all else gets boring the bicycles.

Apparently when someone has a lot of money to spend they probably have to find creative ways to spend it. They probably are not planning on "taking it with them". But really, how much is enough?

There are a few things in life that there's never enough of. Take sex for example. Is there ever enough? Money? Nope, never enough of that.

How about charity? Is there ever enough to go around to those who need it? Never.

Giving of yourself to those who love you?

Beer? There's always 99 bottles of beer on the wall . . . and if one of those bottles happened to fall?

Then there's children....your time and attention to children in your life? Never too much of that. Children are our future and we can hardly over invest there. How much is enough? Often there's never enough to go around in meeting the needs of the children of the world.

The list on the other side of "how much is enough" could be endless. So it comes down to this post on this subject. .. and I'm asking myself. How much is enough?

Stick a fork this post, please!

Wifey and I are headed out for some morning sailing. We'll be on the lake by 7:00 a.m. just in time to meet winds of 8 to 15 mph to fill the sails.

Sailing? There's never enough.

ARRR!

Arr - Bee Father's Day!

Last week a box arrives. It has to be from Max, our son who's living in Seoul. An e-mail from him confirms that indeed the box was from him. It's for Father's Day. He says what's in the box is to wear while sailing. Max adds that all the ladies will like it.

Father's Day comes. The box is opened. Whoo hooo, an over the top gift for Father's Day. Max knows his father well.

I get dressed. Grab the vulture (another gift a year ago from Max) and begin swash buckling.

Arrrr. Walk the plank or I'll run thee through!

Mom's rolling over her in grave. I just heard the thump. She's saying,

"Bob . . . you too, Maxwell....when are you two ever going to grow up?!"

Of course the standard answer would be, "Never, ever! Ain't gonna happen!"

You just know Bob will be wearing this on the water. Wheel in one hand, saber in the other.

See what you're missing by living so very far away?

Thanks, Max. Nobody does it better than you when it comes to things like this!

Spousal Abuse Theme Song

DRIVER'S EDUCATION QUIZ

You're driving along a narrow road with a no passing sign posted.

You come upon a bicycle rider. Do you:

a. Follow this slow-moving bicycle rider for two miles or,

b. Do you break the law and pass?

Which is the correct choice?

Answer: A. Why take unnecessary risks and get a ticket!

Wifey and I are headed north for the weekend. Bob's hoping for slow moving scenery like this.

Mt. Shasta Lavender Farms

Here's their web page:

http://www.mtshastalavenderfarms.com

Their front page is a knockout.

Tiptoe through the lavender

Last weekend was the seasonal opening at one of several lavender farms.

There were quite a few who had turned out to harvest their own lavender at $3 per 100 stems. If you're into that sort of thing that's a bargain.

Long rows of plants had been planted. The surrounding beauty coupled with the vibrant purple of the lavender made for wonderful pictures.

Gail, the owner of the farm, had built a reception center just up the hill from the field of lavender. In the center complimentary glasses of lavender-aid were passed to the visitors. Lavender lotions, pictures/paintings of the farm, bouquets of lavender and postcards were displayed for sale.

It's taken a fair amount of capital to plant the plants, maintain them and build the visitor center. I wondered how much could one reap from the sales of lavender to makeup for all that's been put out to start this business. Like any farming venture, it had to be a labor of love and with little concern on what the monetary return would bring.

Wifey picked what she thought were 100 stems. Once at the check out counter the clerk said what Wifey had picked was far short of the 100 stems. The amount was worth a buck.

We bought a water color print of the farm, paid the buck for the bunch of stems, drove down the hill and into the valley.

What was picked, the price of the water color print, the drive up and back, the ambiance of the setting: Priceless. It was indeed one of those memorable days in the country.

Wifey's Bad Monday

We've all had them. We're still gonna have them. Bad days. Sometimes Mondays seem to be the worst day of the week. Monday is the get it going day after two or three days off.

Wifey had a bad Monday morning. She's up at five to make the first class at the gym. I fake snooze not wanting to rise and shine quite that early. Right before Wifey leaves to go work out:

Wifey: Just leave the mess in the kitchen. There's coffee all over the counter and the floor. I started crying. Know what? I didn't put the basket in the coffee maker and this is what happens! Just leave it and I'll clean it up when I get home.

The rest of Monday for Wifey and I went so-so. Usual stuff. Usual shit that goes wrong still goes wrong no matter what you do to keep it from happening.

After you've been married for as long as we have there's a little something that rings a bell and shouts in your ear, "Time to hubby up!"

That's when I decided to buy several bunches of sunflowers at the market. And here they are.

So today I vacuum the house while Wifey's at the gym. I never do that. Never

Wifey comes home and says:

Wifey: Your vacuuming the house turns me on?

Me: What?!

Wifey: I don't know why but it does.

Me: Oh, that's just great. It takes one hose to get to use another? I should write that book.

Who Would You Pick?

Yesterday's San Francisco Chronicle carried an article . . . one of human interest, that posed the question: Given the choice, who would you bring back from the dead to be part of a group for a concert to remember?

Wow. Tough choice. Jimi Hendrix? Janis Joplin? Frank? The other Frank . . . as in Zappa? Bach? Jim Morrison? Kirt Cobain on vocals backed by Beethoven? Elvis? Nina Simone. Jackie Wilson? Roy Orbison? Jesus? Now there's a thought.

They may be all dead but they still rock!

Frank Sinatra could sing. He could act. Frank hung with the mob. They don't make 'em like Frank any more and like anyone else mentioned here. We only manufacture douche bags these days in comparison.

What Do You in the Bath?

A blog that I follow that's authored by an Aussie, Chica, asked this question this week: What do you do in the bath? I found one answer to that question on You Tube.

Room to Bloom

Last Saturday Wifey and I took a long drive into rural northern California. One stop happened in Montague, a quaint little town that had seen better days but nonetheless still remained. A first glance at the town spoke volumes that it still had a heart and soul.

A farmers market with a dozen booths outlined the town square offering everything rural, soup to nuts.

People of all sizes came in and out of cafe across from the farmers market.

The flowers here were growing by the main street post office. To the left of the flowers sat a man and his dog, both offering comments to passersby.

An older building had Opera House on the front of it. My first glance, which is not always reliable told me that it read OPRAH HOUSE. At the time I thought, "Hell, that chick is everywhere!".

We stopped at the Farmers Market to shop and ask for directions. Wifey bought a lavender fragrance. We got the directions to the lavender farm and headed in that direction.

I liked Montague a lot. Lots of space, room to breathe. No traffic lights and a couple of stop signs. Friendly people. Slow pace. It felt that who ever chose to live in this little burg had lots and lots of room to bloom.

It would be nice to be planted in a place like this.

One of the 7.4 million

Did you know there are 133 million blogs?

They're all tracked by a company called Technorati who furnished the following:

Out of the 133 mil only 7.4 mil were updated in the past 120 days. That translates to 95 percent of the blogs being essentially abandoned, left to lie fallow on the Web, where they become public remnants of a dream . .. . or at least an ambition . . . an ambition unfulfilled.

The company thinks, judging from conversations from retired bloggers that many of the "orphans" were cast aside by people who had assumed that once they started blogging, the world would beat a path to their digital door.

That explains a lot for I've lost a lot of blogger friends who gave up for probably that reason.

They say that many people start blogs with lofty aspirations:

To build an audience and leave their day job.

To land a book deal.

Or, to simply share their genius with the world.

For Bob it would be none of the above. Don't need a day job. Never had a lot of visitors which doesn't seem to be important to me. I could care less about a book deal unless I could write something like Green Eggs and Ham. Sharing ones genius with the world is hardly important.

A thousand twenty five posts later this blog remains. Why?, I ask myself....Why?

I am therefore I blog.

Happy Monday.

JUST BACK FROM RV CAMPING

We're just home from a weekend of RV camping. You may or may not recall that our fifth wheel trailer is parked in a campground 90 minutes north.

I took a picture of a rig parked close to us. Look closely and you'll see an HD dish and a communications dish on its roof. The latter is freaking huge. Knowing what these things run this guy has an easy 8k tied up in both dishes. What you don't see is a third satellite dish just behind the tree. It's one of those dome deals. Geeze, who says you can't take it with you?

The owner of this rig and I talked briefly the other day.

Him: You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?

Me: Maybe. I get around.

Him: I think I remember. You been in movies?

Me: Yeah, I had a minor role in Pirates of the Caribbean.

Him: Yeah, that's where I remember you. Dude, If I remember correctly you were awesome!

Me: Well, it was a minor role. I only had one word in the script.

Him: Cool. One word is something. What'd you say?

Me: Arrrrr!

Him: That's it? That's all you said?

Me: Arrrrrr!!!

The area where the trailer is parked must be the place where clouds are made. Everyday it's not uncommon to see the most wonderful cloud formations ever. Big. Puffy. White. Gray. Black.

Makes for awesome sunrises and sunsets.

Arrrrrr!