You're Vibin' Me

You've been there, felt this....some people give off terrible vibes.  Negative.  Angry, chip on their shoulder stuff just comes out of their every pore and passes over to you.  Some call it bad Karma.  I call it Vibing me. Note to self:  Steer clear of those who regularly vibe me.  I'll be much happier.

There's one or two people around me who always put outebad, bad vibes.  Horrible.  They're such unhappy people who make to make certain that everyone else around them is unhappy, too.  Their goal is that if they're miserable by golly everyone around them is going to be miserable, too.  And they do.  Makes me want to take out my favorite handgun and put them out of their misery.  Here!  Take this....and that!

The new approach to these miserable sons of bitches or bitches::  You're vibing me and I'm outta here.  I don't think it will be understood what that means. It's likely the sentiment will be this:  Bob's lost one of his wing nuts again and who cares.  The important piece is that I've not stuck around to absorb their bad vibes.  No more vibing me.

A new t-shirt with a message will be ordered to read like this:  Are You Vibing Me? OR, You Will Not Vibe Me.  OR, Vibe Free Zone.

Peace to you and peace on anyone who tries to vibe old Bob.

Mental Massage

Jury of Your Peers

"Just when I thought I wuz out they pulled me back in!"  The other day it crossed my mind that it was time for another jury summons.  Should have never crossed my mind as come last Friday a jury summons addressed to Bob arrived in the mail.  There was one for Wifey, too.

The summons says to call the County Clerk's Office on Monday evening after 5 to find if I am  needed.  Everyone is assigned a group number.   Me?  I'm in group three and certain to be called to report Tuesday.  Wifey got lucky and is in group twenty-five.  Twenty-five or more jury groups means there's a big trial coming up or a whole bunch of them waiting in line to be heard.

I never get picked to sit on a jury.  I'm interviewed by the judge, prosecuting and defending attorneys.  Then one of them objects to my sitting on the jury and the judge excuses me.  You know the drill.  Is it my breath?  What I wear?  How I comb the hair on my head?  Or is it the shoes on my feet?

Never sitting on a jury is all about what Bob does for a living.   The jury pickers (you know who I mean) realize and rightfully so, that leaders lead.  Leaders persuade.  Leaders manipulate.  Leaders dig their feet in until everyone agrees with his or her point of view.  I'd do just that. 

And another thing.  An accused has the right to a jury of their peers.  Dope dealers.  Wife beaters.  Child molesters.  Robbers.  Etc.   I'm one of their peers?  Not lately.

Come Tuesday I'll do my civic duty which means sitting for a large part of the day to be ushered into a court room and then spend what's left in the day listening the judge and attorneys interview the pool of jurors.  Having a last name beginning with W means Bob will be sucking hind tit in the jury pool.  I'll be close to dead last to be interviewed. 

Better buy a tube of hemorrhoid ointment.  It's going to be a long time sitting on my ass come next week.

Even A Caveman

Whether cooked at home or in a restaurant everyone likes a good taco.  Saturday Wifey and I had lunch at a local Mexican place that everyone thinks is just wonderful:  Casa Ramos.  I ordered a one taco combo plate.  It comes to the table and I wonder how a place that is supposedly so great and so authentically Mexican  serve a taco that's wrapped in a tortilla that's made in a factory somewhere in southern California.  You know the type - they serve them at Taco Bell.  Already cupped and ready to take on a taco filling, thin, little taste and easily broken.

So I summon the waitress and complained about a taco that I paid close to 9 bucks for that I could have gotten for a lot less at Taco Bell.  She listens.  Nods.  And leaves.  She didn't understand most of what I was saying.  Definitely one of those non English speaking Mexicans who (a) never bothered to learn the English language in her many years in America OR, (b) recently landed here illegally.  Whatever the case she should have never been allowed to wait tables until she had somewhat mastered English - the language that 95% of those living in Cowtown speak fluently.   

On the way out I complain to the hostess.

Me:  If I wanted a taco in a shell like that I could have gotten one at Taco Bell for a lot less.

This comment goes over like a lead balloon.  The chick goes on defense.  Bob, being a great quarterback, goes on the offense.  Hike that taco, bitch!

She:  No one complains about our tacos.

Me:  Well, they should.  Any down to earth Mexican restaurant worth a damn prepares their own tortillas for tacos and not take them out of a box.

She:  They prepare them here.  I've seen them.

Me:  I doubt that.  I know pre made - pre formed tacos when I see them.

She's lying.  Big time.  I can't believe that I'm being bullshitted by an employee of this place.  Talk about piss poor customer service.  What ever happened to "The customer is always right"?  I should have called for the manager but didn't want to make more of a stink that I had already made.  Wifey doesn't like it when I call a spade a spade in public.

So, for those of you in Cowtown who still want to eat at Casa Ramos, bitch like a MOFOS! next time you dine there that their Gringo tacos suck. As for me, not ever going back there.  If I want Gringo style Mexican there's Taco Bell at less than half the price.

Last night I'm in the mood for real tacos.  Homemade.  Shredded beef.  I buy a rolled beef roast that's large enough for a couple of meals.  It was on sale for just under two bucks a pound.  I pay just under five bucks.

Cooking a roast that comes out shredded is so easy even an caveman could do it.

Crockpot.  Put the roast in.  Pour a pint container of salsa over the roast.  Cook for 6-8 hours on low.  The aroma will drive you nuts.  When it's done take it out, shred that beef, stuff your tortilla and enjoy with lettuce, cilantro, chopped onions, sliced tomatoes and salsa.  Can't miss.

What's in your crockpot tonight?  :)

What were you doing at age 16?

Abby cast off January 23rd. What courage.

Before and After

This is the lake before last week's load of rain.  Check the downward tilt of the ramp from shore to dock.  Steep.

This is the ramp today.   There's a slight upward incline all due to a lake over capacity.  What a difference 15 plus inches of rain makes.

Water, Water, Everywhere

From last Sunday at midnight until 9:00 a.m. Saturday (today) fifteen inches of rain has fallen on the lake.  Fifteen.  To accommodate the amount of water that's fallen and to keep the lake from going over its boundaries, a Glory Hole was constructed adjacent to the lake's dam. 

Rarely do lake levels rise to a point where water spills into the Glory Hole.  Last time was seven years ago.  It's happening now.  The lake is around 110% of capacity.  Not a bad thing but not a good thing either. 

Located near our marina is an observation deck.  As you can see it's decks are awash.

Why is it that in California there's either not enough rain or too much rain?  Any rain that falls now runs off.  The ground is like a sponge full of water.  Squish!

The rain let up enough yesterday for me to open the cabin hatch and check for leaks.  I found some water in the queen bed area that had seeped in from a small opening in the stern.  The opening is covered by a rubber boot.  It's where the rudder connects to the wheel steering mechanism.  I stuffed a small towel where the wind and waves pushed water into the boat's interior.  This would take care of the problem.

I'll check the boat again today.  Nice to have an excuse to drive out to the lake.  It's an enjoyable ride.  The scenery is to die for.  The clean air is to live for.  Most definitely.

Always a Surprise

 Grace used Wifey's cell phone to call me yesterday.  They were on their way home from Grace's weekly voice lesson.


Grace:  Papa, do you think you could come to school sometime and have lunch with me?


Me:  Sure, anytime Grace.  You let me know when and I'll be there.


Grace:  And would you stay after lunch, read a story to my class and tell them a little bit about yourself?


Me:  You bet.  And Grace, I have a little surprise for you.  Tomorrow I want Grammy to take you to the theater downtown (it's used primarily for performing arts) and go to the ticket office.  There's a surprise waiting for you.  


In the background I hear Grace hooting to her grandmother. She's excited.  We hang up, Wifey comes home.


Me:  What did Grace think of the surprise?  


Wifey:  She said, 'Papa always has surprises for me."


Oh, geeze, mark up a kid who I've spoiled royally.  Life is full of surprises but they're not usually pleasant ones.  Well, she's seven years old and life should be full of kick ass, fun filled surprises.  Grace will learn soon enough about the other surprises in life as she gets older.


I'd write here what the surprise is but Wifey does read What About Bob? and that would ruin the fun for her when she takes Grace to the box office.  


I later learn from Wifey that there's a motive behind Grace's request for me to visit her classroom.  Apparently most of her classmates don't believe that at one time I was the grand poo-bah of Grace's school district.  They were too young to remember that Bob was their skipper and always at the helm.


So, I'll bring my stuff to show that indeed I was there and talk about the before Bob was in charge, during and after.  My visit to Grace's classroom will be fun especially fielding the off the wall questions seven year old kids ask special guests.  


It's Friday.  It's been a long week what with the weather we've had.  Today looks like a day without rain and I'll enjoy that.  The ground is soaked and needs a break, too.


TGIF not only stands for Thank Goodness its Friday but also for an important rule when putting on socks or shoes:  Toes Go In First.


Enjoy the day.


 

So, What's It Gonna Be?

Life overwhelms me now and again.  It comes on strong and tries to push me down.  I hate that.  Other times life rolls off my back like fog coming in over the Golden Gate.   It's a beautiful feeling.  I often ask myself the question whether life is happening to me or am I happening to my life?  What's it gonna be, Bob?

The answer is plain.  The answer is simple.  The answer is always in front of me.  Be your life, Bob.  Don't let life be you.  You'd think that at my age I'd have this stuff down pat.  Well, Pat, whoever you are, it's not down and life still is never simple.  Life should be simple - - - more than we allow it to be simple.

Take yesterday.  On the lake making adjustments to the boat.  Coming home and making a pot of chili.  Stoking a roaring fire in the Hearthstone wood stove.  After dinner driving to the lake for the third time but not for the purpose of checking in on Sparkle Plenty.  It was a drive to the lake with the dog and Wifey knowing well it'd be pitch black out there.

But there was fresh air.  The sounds of boats rubbing together.  The cling-clang coming from the rigging of several sailboats whose owners don't know how to properly secure it (but I still love the sound).  A stiff night breeze that pushed the dock up and down then a couple of times sideways.  A flashlight led the way down the dock and back up again in the pitch black night. 

I thought, is this life happening to me?  Or am I the happening thing that makes life go around and around and around?

When we arrived home Wifey said, "Thanks for taking me out to the lake tonight.  I needed that".  Maybe I made this part of life happen for her and probably for me - an experience that might not have ever happened had I not made the suggestion to take the ride out to the lake.  I don't know, do you?

You make that call as I'm done waxing philosophical here.  That's much too heavy of a load for Bob to continue that line of thinking.  Simple is as simple does, right Bob?

The chili last night was a new concoction from the Food Network.  It was good.  Bitching good.   I'll make it again.  Check it out and let Pat's Chili happen to you!

Pat's Famous Beef and Pork Chili

Recipe courtesy The Neelys

Prep Time:

15 min

Inactive Prep Time:

--

Cook Time:

1 hr 45 min

Level:

Easy

Serves:

4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

• 6 slices thick-cut applewood smoked bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
• 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 2 medium onions, finely chopped
• 1 red bell pepper, chopped
• 1 yellow bell pepper, chopped
• 3 tablespoons chili powder
• 1 tablespoon ground cumin
• 1 tablespoon chipotle chili powder
• 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• 1 tablespoon smoked paprika
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1 pound 85 percent lean ground beef
• 1 pound ground pork
• 1 cup beer (recommended: Budweiser)
• 1 (15-ounce) can black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 (15-ounce) can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 (24-ounce) can crushed tomatoes
• 1 (24-ounce) can diced tomatoes, with juice
• Lime wedges, for garnish
• Sour cream, for garnish
• Shredded Cheddar, for garnish
• Sliced scallions, for garnish

Directions

In large heavy-bottomed Dutch oven, cook the bacon over medium heat until lightly crisp, stirring occasionally. Once the bacon is browned, add the garlic, onions, bell peppers, chili powder, cumin, chipotle chili powder, oregano, and smoked paprika and season with salt and pepper, to taste. Cook until the vegetables are tender and seasonings are aromatic. Add the beef and break it up with a wooden spoon. Once beef is broken up and beginning to brown, add the pork. Break up with wooden spoon like the beef, and brown, until no longer pink, roughly 4 minutes. Stir in the beer and beans. Toss together, then add the crushed and diced tomatoes. Turn the heat down to low and simmer for 1 1/2 hours. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper, if necessary. Transfer the chili to serving bowls and garnish with lime wedges, sour cream, shredded cheese, and sliced scallions.

How High's the Water, Mama?

Or so the song went.  The answer was:  eight feel high and rising.  That could fairly well describe the raining cats and dogs weather we've experienced since Sunday.   Winds are gusting at 40 mph at the lake with predictions they'll top 60 mph sometime this afternoon.

I checked on Sparkle Plenty earlier this morning.  The docks were rocking.  They were rolling.  And Bob was going with the flow.  It was blowing big time.  Rain was flying sideways.  It was difficult to stand up straight.  I helped Bob secure one boat.  As I knelt down to secure the boat the dock moved every which say making it hard to tie a decent knot.  Think E ride.

It has so very violent in terms of wind and wave action that the sailboat across from SP snapped both of its starboard (that's the right side for you landlubbers) mooring lines.  The up and down motion coupled with too much slack placed too much stress on the lines and they gave up the fight.

Our boat has similar lines but secured in such a way so as not to allow a lot of movement.  They're 3/8 inch in diameter which is normally sufficient to hold a boat the size of SP or 4,500 pounds tensile strength for each line from boat to dock.

The failure of the lines holding the boat across the way freaked me out even though it was not properly moored.  So I went out and bought 1/2 inch dock lines with a tensile strength of 8,500 pounds.  I'll be damned if I was going to sit and do nothing and the lines consequently failed.  I'll  exchange the mooring lines with the half inchers once the wind has died a bit.   Fingers crossed what's there hold up through the remainder of the storm.

So, the rain that's falling.  You're read about our California storm or seen it on television.   Get this.  Since midnight Sunday until noon today (Wednesday) a total of 12.5 inches of wet stuff has fallen on the lake.  What was a lake down 11 feet last week is now a lake ready to break its banks.  Parks Service can't dump water fast enough to keep that from happening.  And rain continues to fall, at this moment, at the rate of an inch an hour.  I think I can see cats and dogs falling from the sky!

How high's the water, Mama?

Hello, Noah?  I heard you were building something called an Ark.  Any chance I can sign on?

Last night's steak dinner with Marina Bob was good.  Nothing unusual except no pictures were taken per his wish.  But I have to say he was proud as punch to be able to eat a 20 ounce T-bone with no problem whatsoever.  Bob was grinning, new teeth and all, from ear to ear most of the evening.  

Marina Bob is just 40 years old.  It's nice to see that on this next phase of his life's journey that he's on the right track.  I think he's going to make it.

It's On

Dinner with Marina Bob is on.  We'll dine Tuesday in celebration of his newly installed teeth.  According to Bob, the teeth are feeling most comfortable and able to tackle a steak dinner.

For those of you just tuning in, Marina Bob is in charge of the docks where our sailboat, Sparkle Plenty is berthed.  Marina Bob lost most of his teeth following many years of Meth addiction.  He's been without chompers for many years, too.

When Marina Bob told me that he was finally going to have teeth it was definitely cause for celebration.  I'm also very proud of Marina Bob for no longer being a practicing addict and that he's pledged never to return to that lifestyle.  And that's what this post is all about.

Cattlemen's Restaurant advertises a Tuesday special.  There are also specials on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday.  Thursday would be the last choice.  Actually, eating on that day would be a deal breaker.  There would be no going to Cattlemen's on a day called Kids Eat For Free.  Forget putting up with a bunch of kids.  Noisy.  Bad manners.  Running up and down the dining room.  You know what happens.

http://www.beststeakinthewest.com/

Tuesday's special is a 20 ounce T-Bone steak for 20 bucks.  This special comes with all you can eat salad, sourdough bread, ranch beans and choice of baked or mashed potato or rice.  That should pretty much do Marina Bob's craving for a steak dinner.  That's too much steak for me.  It will be more like an eight ounce New York cut steak.  Back in the day it was go big when it came to eating steak.  When you get older you gain a bit more sense when it comes to the consumption of red meat.

Marina Bob and I will suck up a few beers in the bar.  Scarf up on some bar munchies and then hit the dining room.  We'll do after dinner drinks in the bar.  I'll have a wheelbarrow in the bed of the truck in case one of us needs transportation out of the restaurant.

I think you could call this a hell of a celebration for Bob's new teeth.

Here's hoping that Marina Bob isn't camera shy so that I can snap a few to post here. 

Show those teeth, Bob.  Click!

A BIRD IN THE HAND

Over the fence and in a tree located in the green belt sits a hawk.  It's on a mission knowing that Bob has issues with rodents and needs help. 

Damn, that's a magnificent looking bird. 

It comes.  It goes.  The hawk always seems to be around.  There's now need to watch the smallest of our dogs, Zoe, when she ventures outside.  Weighing less than five pounds Zoe would make a treasure of a morsel for the hawk.  Might be a little tough to haul Zoe out of the backyard but from what I read it can be done and actually it has been done to other pups living in our area.

I think the hawk will do well to help us control the rodents who come and go in the garage all while living just over the fence.

After a week of continuous baiting in the garage and continuous munching from the rodents, yesterday was the first day that it seemed that there had been no activity on the bait stations.  Like a whole bunch of bait had been eaten.  I was beginning to think that we had a strain of mice resistant to the bait.  I did find evidence of bait that had been taken into the engine compartment and eaten.  Hmmmm.

Now we have a family of moles living in the front and back lawns.  More rodents to contend with.  Is this my destiny?  Having been unsuccessful in the past in riding our lawn of these critters (I'd uncover one of their underground paths, plant a smoke bomb in it - available at any hardware store - cover it back up and think I've killed my prey - - - - but that never happened) - - - - it's best to call our friend Roger who makes a business of trapping moles and gophers.  He's an expert and does his job well without using smoke bombs (but oh how I loved using them).

Roger is always busy trapping these rodents.  If he's not trapping them for the golf course Roger is trapping them in and around Cowtown.  Roger estimates he's killed thousands and I believe it. 

Way back in the day WWII fighter aircraft would display a symbol for each enemy aircraft it shot down.  More than once I suggested to Roger that he paint a gopher or mole on the side of his truck for every critter he knocked off.  Roger scoffed at the idea  knowing well that had he painted a rodent on his truck for every kill that it would be covered in critters.  I make that suggestion each time Roger comes to trap rodents in the lawn.  And Roger still scoffs at my suggestion.  If you knew Roger you'd understand that he's like that.  He's a scoffer.

Grace loves to watch Roger set his traps and delights in seeing what prize is lifted from a hole in the ground on his return.  I ask Roger to leave the dead critter and tell him that Grace loves eating grilled rodent on rice for dinner.  Grace, on hearing this request of mine for the umpteenth time makes a face then screams and runs in the house. 

Like Roger, Grace scoffs at a lot of my ideas.  But if I didn't make off the wall suggestions I wouldn't be Bob, would I?

Like the sailor said, "Ain't that a hole in the boat?"

Back in the day music - - - and when they made Dean Martin they broke the mold.

Blaze Saddle - CAMPFIRE SCENE

French Luau?

Last week I'm working in the front yard.  The neighbor across the street strolls over and wants to talk.

Him:  Going to Hawaii Sunday.

Me:  Oh really?  Which island?

Him:  Maui.

Me:  We've been there several times.  Love the place.  You've got to eat at Kimo's and do a luau.  Don't do the Hawaiian luau but look for a place that puts on a French luau.  A French luau is so fun and so different.

Him:  French luau?

Me:  Yup.  French.

Him:  What's the difference between a French luau and a Hawaiian luau?

Me;  Hawaiian luau you eat the pig and sleep with the women.

Him:  So?

Me:  Get it?

Him:  Get what?  What's the difference?  So if you go Hawaiian you eat the pig and sleep with the women.

I'm thinking that this guy is soooooo dense.  So I spell it out for him.

Me:  Okay, Hawaiian luau you eat the pig and sleep with the women.  French luau you eat the women and sleep with the pig.   Get it?

Him:  I should have known, Bob.  Just watch the house for us and call if anything looks strange.  See you in a week.

So much for sharing a little off color humor with the neighbors.

NOTE TO SELF:  Stop sharing juvenile humor with over the hill neighbors.

What a Predicament

Yesterday I drove out of the fog of Cowtown up to the lake where it was sunny and a cozy 60.  Washed the boat.  Lost the camera lens cap overboard (damn it!).  Watched the ducks swim around the boats.  Nice outing. 

The lake is low all due to the Parks Service draining it.  They say it happens every year.  A guy I spoke with last week whose boat is berthed at the Brandy Creek marina on the other side of the lake said that half the boats there could not get out. 

I thought that was interesting.  When berthed, Sparkle Plenty has 35 feet of water under her.  More than enough to get in, get out and not have a problem.

Last year the wooden docks at both marinas were replaced by the Parks Service.  They're nifty.  They're new.  You don't get splinters.  Our marina has single berths.  The marina across the lake accommodates two boats per a very wide berth.  That's why we chose to park Sparkle Plenty in its present location at the Oak Bottom marina. 

Two boats in a berth often makes for strange bedfellows.  For example:  In October there was a wild and woolly storm that hit the lake.  Buckets of rain.  Winds well over 50mph.  It was heavy weather.  Boats on our side of the lake did well.  None of them sunk (but it was a close call for a couple whose bilge pumps failed).  But across the lake several boats came untethered and in turn damaged the boats next to them.  Not good.

The docks at both marinas are held in place by cables that are anchored into concrete that's located on the shore.  That's the rub.  What I saw yesterday at the Brandy Creek marina were the anchoring cables very close to the surface.  It was easy to see that a sailboat with a draft of four to five feet could no way pass over the cables without wedging its keel around one of the cables. 

This is not a problem at our marina located at Oak Bottom.  But it's a major problem for boats on the shore side of the Brandy Creek's marina.  There's no moving any craft there until the water rises at least 5 feet.  I'm told that there's no way that's going to happen before April.

I'd be more than a little irked with the Parks Service for allowing a dock design that would prohibit sailing at low lake levels.  I'd also be irked in paying the monthly dock rent for boat that can only be "parked" and not used.

The photos posted here tell the tale.  Top photo shows how really low the lake is at the Brandy Creek marina.  There's barely enough room for the boats to back out of their slip without going ashore or being grounded.  I walked the length of the dock (there's more boats moored in back of where the top photo was taken) and there's no way any of the 30 plus boats can get out onto the lake all due to the shallow depth of the anchoring cables.

The cable shown in photo #2 is like the several other cables that string from the docks to the shore.  All are at the same shallow depth given the current level of the lake.  They're no problem to navigate around them even when the lake is even 5 feet greater in depth than it is now.

If Sparkle Plenty was locked into her berth as about 30 boats are now I'd be crying BLOODY MURDER!  Not right.  Raising the level of the lake is no big deal, is it?  On second thought, we're dealing with the Parks Service.  Probably would take an act of Congress to increase the lake level by just a few feet. 

Ahh, bureaucracy......

Need I Say More?

Their - - They're - - - There

Two - - Too - -- To

Breath - - - Breathe

Basically

Whatever

Cutting edge

Interface

Wazzup!

Dude!

Keep me posted.

Actually

Absolutely

Exactly

Yes, we can (translated:  No, we can't!)

Don't even go there.

Like white on rice.

Getting anything on like "Getting my drink on".

Get over it

I'm so over it.

Okay

Ya think?

Cougar

Tweet

Sexting

Awesome

Wardrobe malfunction

Nipple slip

No problem.

Good to go.

Over the top.

I could care less.

It's, like, you know . . .

Think outside the box.

Seriously

I dunno.

I just threw up in my mouth.

LOL (and all the variations)

WTF!

BFF

OMG!

All things overused or not used correctly.  Sorry.  It's the teacher in me.

Puppy Visitation 

Grace and Wifey often take a little time to visit a breeder who specializes in Pomeranian's.  It was time yesterday for one of their  visits.

At a tender age of 8 months we started Grace's training on how to properly care for and manage small dogs.  At age 7 years Grace does well with most any dog all due to consistent guidance of what to do and how to do it right.

Our oldest Pom, Zoe, is having issues.  When the issues began we thought it a good idea to retire her from her role as a pet therapy animal.  It was time.   In dog years Zoe has led a long life.  Regrettably, Zoe will most likely pass sometime this year.

We're thinking another dog will be brought into the house sometime thereafter.  It's a good thing to have more than one dog. 

I knew that Grace would have her eye on one of the pups she saw yesterday.  She always has a favorite.

Me:  Did you see any of the pups that you really liked?

Grace:  There was one.  She was soooo sweet and cuddly.

Me:  Hmmm.  Think we should buy her?

Grace:  Oh yes.  She'd be a great dog to have.

Me - to Wifey:  So what are they asking for Pomeranian puppies these days?

Grace pipes up:  1,200.

Me:  1,200 - like in 1,200 dollars?

Grace:  1,200 dollars.

Me:  Think you can get the price down a bit?

Grace:  You bet!

It was surprising that our granddaughter had paid close attention to the financial end of buying a dog and that she remembered how much they were.   No doubt she knew what my first question would be.  

Even though there's a pup that seems right we're not quite ready to buy another dog.  The introduction of one would no doubt further stress out little Zoe.  Don't want want that as Zoe is already stressed to the max and on medication to calm her down. In her old age we're doing our very best in making certain she's comfortable.

There will always be a pup out there with our name on her.  The time just has to be right.

I have a confession to make

Bob needs to fess up.  Time to clear the slate and confess.  Now don't get me wrong.  This is not one of those confessions that require 10 Hail Marys and 100 Our Fathers in order to be atoned.  Nope.  Not one of those.

Normally What About Bob? boasts a picture or more with every post.  Have you noticed there have been few?  Yup.  Nary a new photo.  Were you thinking, "What's up with that, Bob?"  Okay, so you weren't thinking.

For those who are regular to this blog and also regular in other ways (ain't a good dump just grand?), you'll remember that the old PC died a few months ago.  "BUY A MAC!" everyone screamed.  Along with their screaming were claims that Macs are easier to manage, less prone to viruses, etc. etc.  etc.   I had used a Mac for many years so I thought it was no big deal to return to that platform.   So I brought a Mac.  Big one.  Major screen.  All the bells.  Lots of whistles.

From the get-go I hated the Mac platform.  Hated it.  Without too many boring details on my Hate/Hate relationship with the new Mac here let's just say two things:

#1  Can't teach an old dog new tricks.  Woof!

#2  Windows visa vie PC is a superior operating system.  Been there.  Done both.  I know this.

So I gave Wifey the big Mac.  Okay, okay....slow down.  Not that Big Mac.  The computer Mac.

I've been using Wifey's little Mini Mac for more than a month now that has little memory, can't post photos to the blog for whatever reasons, is a bitch to download stuff and is slower than a good dump outside in January.

It's been difficult to wait for the new year and the PC deals that come after Christmas.  I'm thinking Bob will have his new PC by the end of January if not before.  Just the thought of that puts a smile on my face. 

Grin!

I Once Did This - To The Letter

Now This

Fast Forward 55 Seconds

To cut to the SNL skit fast forward to 55 seconds. Mild humor for a New Year.