Jim and Tom Have A Surprise

We know Tom (on the left) and Jim very well.  Jim is one of the co-owner's of the restaurant and had kids in Bob's school district.  Tom we've known for years and like Jim, had children in Bob's school district.  Both knew it was Wifey's birthday and together they cooked up a surprise.

At the end of the dinner they brought not a cake flaming with candles with a plate of vegetables with one candle on top of the egg plant.  How different!  How surprising!!  How very funny it was!!  You can see that Grace is not sure how Wifey is taking this special gift from our two friends.

Of course Wifey had to blow the candle out.  

Cake and Presents

After dinner it was time to head home for a come cake and present opening.

Rose at Baskin and Robbins made a special cake for Wifey well knowing her love for our Poms. 

Wifey enjoyed her special day.  I'm thinking it was one of those birthdays that will always be remembered.  It just was of those days.

AMERICA'S CUP 33

Here's a link to live coverage and up-to-date information on America's Cup competition sailing in Spain.   Sailing generally begins in the wee hours of the morning ---1 or 2 a.m. PST and can continue as long as 7 or 8 a.m. PST.  Check it out.  It's awesome!

http://valenciasailing.blogspot.com/

If there is live coverage wait for a moment for it to load.  It will appear in the black box at the top of the page labeled Extreme Ribs.....

Winner, Winner: Birthday Dinner

Wifey's birthday.  Dinner at Nello's Place - a Cowtown restaurant that's favored by the carriage crowd.  We'll have drinks in the bar.  Wifey always asks for a white wine.  Me?  Always Blue Saphire up, shaken, not stirred.  1 olive.  1 onion.

Once seated in the booth I have reserved the waiter will bring French bread along with an antipasto plate (I know the drill).   It's somewhat like the one in the photo.  A favorite.  Then salad.  Sometimes I'll ask for their tomato and anchovy salad.  It's better than an Eskimo Pie on the Fourth of July. 

It's always a tough decision to choose what to eat at Nello's.  It's all good.  Some things are better than o those which we prepare at home.  Some are not.  Take pasta.  My killer sauce is hard to beat and much better than what can be had in any eatery.   We'll pass on ordering pasta and choose something else.  Like veal.  Or seafood.  Maybe chicken.  Here's a portion of the menu:

Famous Specialties
Steak Diane

Pepper Steak

Bistecca Capriccio

Dungeness Crab Cake

Veal, Scampi, Scallops

Rack of Lamb (for 2)

Dungeness Crab Legs

Salto In Bocca (Romana)

Veal
Veal Piccata - Butter, Lemon, Capers

Veal Scalloppine Marsala (Mushroom)

Veal Zingara - Prosciutto, Mushroom, Peas

Veal Dore Francese - Butter, Lemon, Mushrooms

Stuffed Veal Rollitini (House Specialty)

Veal Cutlet Cordon Bleu (Prosciutto & Cheese)

Veal Cutlet - Parmigiana or Milanese

Veal L Bell Pepper, Mushroom, Tomatoes

Combination Veal Picatta & Scampi


Seafood
Scampi della Casa (House Specialty)

Scampi Fra Diavolo, Pasta & Tomatoes

Scampi Tempura (Beer Batter)

Steamed Clams Posillipo (House Specialty)

Australian Lobster Tail

Filet of Red Snapper Piccata

Filet of Petrale Sole

Calamari Steak Dore

Calamari - Fried or Saut0 (T & T)

Scallops Dore - Butter, Lemon, Mushrooms

Scallops Tempura (Beer Batter)

Seafood Platter - Scampi, Scallops, Sole

Lobster, Scampi & Clams, Linguini for 2 (House Specialty)

Filet of Halibut, Italian Style

Seafood Fettuccine (White or Red)

Surf L Turf (Lobster L NY Steak)

Scampi & Steak

Cioppino (Fish Stew)

Chicken
Breast of Chicken Parmigiana

Breast of Chicken Allegro - Butter, Lemon, Capers

Breast of Chicken Rossini (House Specialty)

Breast of Chicken Modenese

Chicken Cacciatora House Specialty)

Chicken Sauté Sec Mushroom

Eggplant Parmigiana


Is this making you hungry?

There's not a lot of light in this place which makes it hard to read the menu.  It's a good thing to take a flashlight.  A lot of people do.  I've got a headlamp that I'll pass around the table.  You know the kind.  Mountain climbers and backpackers use them.  It's a good idea to know what you want to order before heading to the restaurant.  Saves hauling out the flashlight or looking stupid with a headlamp wrapped around your head. 

What would you order for a Winner Winner Birthday Dinner?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO WIFEY!

You're the Best Definition of Good Intention

"The Dynamo Of Volition"

I've got the dynamo of volition
With po-pole position
Automatic transmission with lo-ow emissions
I'm a brand new addition to the old edition
With the love unconditional.

I'm a drama abolitionist
Damn no opposition to my proposition
Half of a man, half magician
Half a politician holding the mic
Like ammunition
And my vision is as simple as light.

Ain't no reason we should be in a fight
No demolition
Get to vote, get to say what you like
Procreation
Compositions already written by themselves
Heck is for the people not believin' in gosh

Good Job
Get 'em up way high
Gimme gimme that high five
Good time
Get 'em way down low
Gimme gimme that low dough
Good God
Bring 'em back again
Gimme gimme that high ten
You're the best definition of good intentions.

I do not answer the call if
I do not know who is calling
I guess the whole point of it all is
That we never know really

I'm tryin' to keep with the Joneses
While waiting for guns and the roses
To finish what we all suppose is
That shit's so silly

Oh, fist like pumping and wrist lock
Twisting up a rizla
Kid Icarus on the transistor
Nintendo been givin' me the blister
I bend over take it in the kisser

My best friends are hittin' on my sister.
Try to tell them that they still wish-a
Cause she already got herself a mister
And besides that's gross to want to dis her
Didn't I say, Didn't I say

Good Job
Get 'em up way high
Gimme gimme that high five
Good time
Get 'em way down low
Gimme gimme that low dough
Good God
Bring 'em back again
Gimme gimme that high ten
You're the best definition of good versus evil

I do not keep up with statistics
I do not sleep without a mistress
I do not eat unless it's fixed with
Some kind of sweet like a licorice
My home is deep inside the mystics
I'm known to keep diggin on existence
I'm holdin' in the heat like a fishstick
My phone it beeps because I missed it.

I do not answer the call if
I do not know who is calling
I'm making no sense of it all
Say, can I get a witness?

I'm only a boy in a story
Just a hallucinatory
Trippin' on nothing there is
Living in the wilderness

With a tiger spot on my back
Living life of a cat
I just wanna relax here
And write another rap tune
Driving off on your blind man's bike
You can say just what you like
Or nothing can stop you

Good Job
Get 'em up way high
Gimme gimme that high five
Good Time
Get 'em way down low
Gimme gimme that low dough
Good God
Bring 'em back again
Gimme gimme that high ten
You're the best definition of good versus evil

Good Job
Get 'em up way high
Gimme gimme that high five
Good Time
Get 'em way down low
Gimme gimme that low dough
Good God
Bring 'em back again
Gimme gimme that high ten
You're the best definition of good intention
You're the best definition of good intention
You're the best definition of good intention

You're the best around
And nothing's ever gonna take you down [x3]

You're the best around.

Thoughtful Bob

Mom would always comment that son Bob was thoughtful.  Even at an early age I was fairly adept at remembering birth dates and shopping for presents on my own.  Mom?  She always received jewelry that had price tags that a kid under the age of ten could afford.

Tomorrow is Wifey's birthday.  She enjoys celebrating her special day all week and this week is no exception.  The celebration began with Thoughtful Bob gathering purple tulips, this bunch of lovely's, and a bouquet of Iris ---all found at the local supermarket. 

Gifts have been purchased and "wrapped".  I hate wrapping.  Next to a root canal, wrapping gifts is right up there with things I hate.  So I buy gift bags to put the gifts in and lots of colored tissue to stuff them with.  No ribbons.  No bows.   No scotch tape to fool around with.  Kind of like eating at In and Out Burger.  Get in.  Get out.  All wrapped up ready for the birthday party.

There are three gift bags in all.  Each with something Thoughtful Bob bought as he remembered something that Wifey said maybe six months ago.  It goes like this, "It sure would be nice if I had....", or "If anyone wants to get me a birthday gift it sure would be nice if they bought . . . . "   You get the picture.  Having a pretty good memory comes in handy.  I remember all those things come birthday time or Christmas.  It beats wondering up and down the aisle of Macy's thinking, What shall I get, what shall I get?  What does she want? 

I'd like to shop the adult toy market for Wifey but that kind of gift won't fly with her.  When asked about what her adult toy preference would be Wifey replies, "We're not coming on that shit, Bob."  Like my mother, Wifey loves jewels for her birthday and not toys.  And so that conversation ends.  Ain't no thang, people.  Bob can improvise.  And does.  :)

I remember one particular drill sergeant during basic training who used to yell, "We're not coming on that shit, soldier!" when anyone screwed up.  How I remember during one drill the squadron marching one way and there's Bob marching in the opposite direction.  That earned me a, "We're not coming on that shit, Bob!" and fifty pushups in a ditch alongside the road.  On that day I did this twice . . . squadron going one way, Bob going the other.  It's likely that Wifey learned, "We're not coming on that shit! from me.  It comes out now and then when I'm more than a little pissed off. 

 It's funny what comes to mind and when or how it comes to mind.   Guess that was one of those unforgettable moments. 

Bob to Sarah Palin.....Bob to Sarah Palin:  About your thinking you'd make a good candidate in 2012......WE'RE NOT COMING ON THAT SHIT!

Sing-a-long With Uncle Sam

Rain, Snow, Wind, Brrrrrr!

The lake yesterday looked like this.  At an elevation of 1,326 snow doesn't usually fall.  At higher elevations snow falls and it sticks.  Take the tiptop of Shasta Bally here. You'll have to click on the photo to get a closer look.   6,175 feet. Snow, enough of it to last until Spring.

There was a wind blowing across the dock as I walked down it to check on Sparkle Plenty.  As I walked the dock I saw that the Old Salt of the Marina, Michael, had taken his boat from its home on a buoy and tied her to a slip just down from SP.  The mast of his boat had been taken down and it rested on the stern and the bow pulpit.  No easy task dropping the mast. 

Mike was busy on board replacing the electrical wire to the lights on the mast.  The wires run on the inside of the mast making it necessary to drop it to make repairs.  The mast lights on SP are not working and I suspect that the deck plug connecting the inner mast wiring to the electrical panel inside the boat is the cause.  A sunny day, a new plug and receptical along with a dose of patience should be enough to remedy the problem. 

Mike likes to talk.  Talk.  Talk.  Marina Bob likes to talk, talk and more talk.  I don't know how they get anything done with all of their talk.  Then there's the new guy who just bought half interest in an older but beautiful 30' sailboat just down the dock.  Just call me Den, he says.  What the hell is a Den?  Den Mother?  Den there, done that?  Anyway, yet another guy who likes to talk.  And talk.  And talk.

Me? When at the lake I go for the peace, the quiet and the sounds of nature.  You can't beat fresh air and sunshine all the while cleaning, fixing and tinkering with SP.  Bob is a man of few words but when he speaks . . . you'd better listen.  Or at least so the story goes.  Wonder who made that one up?

Scarf and Barf?

Taco Bell's new commercial is tempting. It's their five dollar box of food. Every time it's shown on TV I have to recite the Lord's Prayer. Not the whole thing just certain parts as amended by Bob. Goes like this: Lead us not into fast food temptation but deliver us from the evil of too many calories, high amounts of saturated fat, and spoonfuls of sodium. Amen.  Not to be sacreligious but it works.

Hold on, you say? No, you hold on, I say. Did you check the nutritional analysis on this box of goodies? There's two types of box specials from Taco Bell that can be ordered. One seems to be a litte more cheesy which makes for more of everything.   Pick your poison.

So, get this:  Depending on which meal that's selected the calories for one or the other run from 1,270 to 1,380.  By the book a guy my age, height, weight should consume no more than 2,100 calories a day just to maintain the current weight.  Heck, I could eat one of these babies and still have 830 or 720 calories left for dinner . . . if I didn't have breakfast and didn't drink a couple of beers later in the day and didn't have a glass of wine or two with dinner.   

But the really big deal would be the amount of sodium in fast food.  Having blood pressure that's right on the fence - that measures  at end of good and just into slightly high, watching sodium is a good thing.  That's Bob's order of the day everyday. 

A lot of people don't know much about sodium and what it does.  High blood pressure.  And helps to harden those arteries.  Yup.  How much is enough?  The experts claim that depending on your overall health 1,500 to 2,400 milligrams of sodium is plenty. 

Compare those numbers to the amount of sodium in one of these Taco Bell meals:  2,830 to 3000 milligrams of sodium.  Yikes!!!   Whooo hoo!  Man, that rings the bell and puts anyone eating that over the top.  And we wonder why everyone is dropping dead of heart disease. 

Taco Bell is not the Lone Ranger in serving up high amounts of this and lots of that.  All the fast food outlets do it.  Anything prepared and for sale in your neighborhood grocery store is loaded with high amounts of sodium.  Next time you're shopping check the label on that can of tomatoes, chicken broth, frozen burrito . . . anything and most everything that's prepared.  They're all loaded with high amounts of sodium.

I love fast food and I think I have a game plan to keep eating it:  Scarf it.  Then barf it.  No harm, no foul.  Right?  Yeah, Yeah, I know, that would creating a whole other health problem.  Just doing it once in a while can't hurt, can it?

If I were to open a fast food chain that's what I'd name it:  Scarf and Barf.  With every meal there would be a barf bag along with it.  On a first date Scarf and Barf would be the perfect place to eat.  Why not get down to the nitty gritty right off the bat?  Find out what that date is really all about.  Eat then puke your guts out.  Following that the dinner conversation would go like this, "Honey, you've got a little snot and some cheeseburger on the end of your nose."    How romantic and certainly a story to tell once married for 30 or 40 years.  Makes for great Thanksgiving table conversation.  The kids will love it. 

Remember:  The family that scarfs together barfs together.

One Smart Puppy

ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?!

Better than NFL action. I'm talking contact!!

In Case You're Wondering:

Q: What kind of beer does Chewbacca drink?

 A: Old Milwookie

What's the Big Deal?

Back in the day I bought a 1947 Ford that was just like this.  It was my first car.  Dad said I couldn't have a car of my own and like every other interaction that we had, I didn't agree with his point of view.  So I went out and bought one anyway.  In his younger days . . . the wet behind the ears period of his life,  Bob would never take no for an answer.  Years later some things never change.

Couldn't drive the car home so had an arrangement with the owner of a gas station just down the hill from the house to keep it there.  I'd drive it after school, on weekends and even drove it to places like San Francisco (an hour from where we lived).  There was one roadtrip in the car with three friends to a Mexican border town.

This thing about Toyota's gas peddle getting stuck.  What's the big deal, anyway?  Back in the day that always happened to every car I owned and with every friend who had a car.  It just happened.  A stuck gas peddle or linkage to the carburator was just one of those things you had to deal with.  When it got stuck and the car started to go a lot faster than you wanted there were a couple of things to do:

#1  Open the doors and drag your feet to stop the car (not always the best or safest thing to do).

#2  Hang on and enjoy the ride.

#3  Turn off the ignition.

#4  Brake like hell and hope the throttle linkage stops getting hung up on whatever it was that was making it stick.

When this happened I'd pull over, pop the hood, adjust the throttle linkage or fuss with the brake pedal and everything was okay . . . at least for a couple of miles.

Back in the day there was no such things as recalls.  Everyone understood that when something went wrong it was just the way it was.  So you cussed at your car:  Damn Chevy.  Stinking Ford.  While that made you feel better it didn't change anything about how it operated.  You just learned to take care of it.  No big deal.  No bitching and moaning.  Just do it. 

Back in the day you had to think of those things that could go wrong with the car you owned.  Being prepared was important.   You had to know a little something about auto mechanics.  Not a lot.  Just a little. Today, car owners rarely check their tires, oil level, radiator water and so on.  Get in the car, drive down the road, get on the freeway only to discover you left home with a flat tire.  Thump, thump, thump.  Should have checked the tires before you drove out of the driveway.  Ya think?

So when I hear car owners today pissing and moaning about things going wrong with their cars it's laughable.  People must love to bitch and moan.  Dudes, get over it.  Everything mechanical is bound to fail now and then.  Think we live in a perfect world?  Shut up, fix it yourself and drive on.  Okay?

Grace's Question

"As soon as a person asks the question, "How do I live my life the best way?", then all other questions are answered.

Leo Tolstoy

Will We Always Be Poor?

That was the question posed by Gracie to her grandmother while on the way to voice lessons yesterday.  I cringed on hearing the question Gracie wanted answers to.  You see, in growing up mom and step-dad would always cry poor mouth.   We're poor! they'd cry.   Never enough money.  I wore hand-me-down clothes.  While in Alaska (one of step dad's get rich schemes thinking that money grew on trees there) there was a steady diet of salmon . . . cheap, easy commodity to come by . . . salmon burgers, salmon meatloaf....grrrr, to this day I cannot eat salmon.  And all the while there was money for beer and cigarettes.  Need I say more?

I got pissed off and at the age of eight I began selling newspapers on the streets of Anchorage just so I would have my own money.  Once back in the states I continued making my own money through paper routes.  What was earned I used to buy my own clothes so as not to wear my cousins hand-me-downs.  How I hated wearing someone else's clothes.  Once old enough and at age 14 I sorted returnable bottles at the neighborhood supermarket and later was promoted to boxboy, then checker, then at age 17, night manager of the market.  All in the name of escaping the WE'RE POOR! sense of living life.  It was never going to happen to me.

I promised myself at eight years of age that I'd never live like "them" and never ever not have enough money to do what I wanted in this life.  That happened.  Now I have a grandchild in the same predictament.  Parents who make a fair amount of money but can't manage it.  It could be said that they piss it away. 

Grace will never be poor.  Never.  We've seen to that.  If she uses the college education that we're providing for her Grace will be better than gainfully employed and making hand over fist dollars.  I am confident that we've given her the good sense, the spiritual background, the logic, the kindness, the look over your shoulder street savy and a knowledged of business/how to handle your money, that she'll do well in her life.

But for a seven year old kid it's hard to understand why her immediate family (mom, step dad, step sister and her two half brothers - - - yes, this is the new definition of nuclear family) is "poor".

Poor is not having a roof over your head.  Poor can be thought of as the homeless people here and there - - - Africa, Haiti.  Going without anything to eat for days at a time is poor.   Poor is being a member of the working poor - - - that's a whole other concept - - -  but poor is not being able to manage your money when there's enough.   Thinking you're poor when you are not is being stupid about what counts in life .   . . . and not looking ahead.

I could go on.  You get the point.  I think you did anyway.  Sometimes I leave things out or not complete a thought here.   Bob's buttons were pushed.  How I hated the "We're poor!" comments by my parents which has never ever been uttered in my household.  Never.

Okay, on to something else.    The picture posted here.  Our oldest dog Zoe (prounouced Zooey or Zooie - long O).  Zoe is wearing the harness she wears when riding in the car or truck.  It's attached to a seat belt for her safety.   Zoe is showing signs of aging.  Like she is going on 13, maybe fourteen.  There are good days.  There are bad.  On the bad days she goes around the house talking to herself.  Yes, talking to herself.  Making all sorts of sounds, Zoe creates a real disturance in the house.  For a four and a half pound dog she can really raise a ruckus.

At first we thought Zoe had been hurt.  She has a couple of disks in the spine that have slipped.  So we treated that.  Didn't work.  Zoe still made lots of sounds - - - growling, yelping, barking.  After months of trying this and doing that, we've concluded with the help of her vet that in old age she has periods of agitation.  Zoe's on medication to adjust her moods which does help most of the time.  Still, Zoe has days that she's all jacked up and there's nothing that can stop it.  She;s in fine health for her age.  It's just that her mind is going south.

Others would have put Zoe down.  She's a member of our family and there's no putting our girl down.  Wifey supports this and for that I am happy for Bob is aging, too.  It's nice to know that I won't be put down when the mind goes south and I start wondering around aimlessly all the while muttering, yelping, barking and growling. 

Woof!

Have to Think Ahead

A friend living in Portland Oregon suggested that I haul the boat his way and take him sailing around the San Juan Islands in Washington state.  That would likely be worth a couple days worth of sailing in exchange for a lot of hassle and work to take Sparkle Plenty out of where she is now, tow her a bunch of miles north, put her in the water, sail, take her out again, drive home, put her back in the water here.

It takes a lot of water to float this boat.  There's a tongue extension that connects to the trailer that allows for the deep launch needed to float her off of the trailer.  Even with the 10 foot tongue extension it is still necessary to put the rear wheels of the truck completely under water to get this baby floating. 

Then there's unrigging her once on the trailer,  rigging her once in Washington state,  unrigging SP for the trip home and then rigging her before launching her back into her home waters.  The rigging and unrigging part takes a lot of time, a lot of muscle and a lot of patience.  It takes a lot of thinking ahead to move the boat from once place to another.  And you just don't do it for a couple of days.  To make it worth the time and effort it's best to think at least 3-4 weeks.

I could have bought an easier boat to launch and retrieve but didn't want that kind of craft.   SP can handle most any condition on an inland lake and not get into trouble.  That's what I wanted.  That's what I bought.

I begged off the invitation to sail the San Juans in exchange for an invitation to him to come sail SP on our lake.  We'll see what happens.
 

Batting a Thousand

In baseball if you hit the ball every time and get on base you're batting a thousand.  Really great hitters hit the ball and get on base every 3 times, maybe 4 if they're like super baseball dude.

It was jury duty this week.  Got selected to sit on the jury.  Answered questions.  Then I was excused from sitting on the jury by the defending attorney. 

So, three times selected to sit and be interviewed.  Three times excused by defending attorneys from serving on a jury.

I'm batting a thousand.  Perfect score.  In the Babe Ruth league of jurists, I'm the man! 

It's just as well.  The guy on trial, a scraggy critter, sliced and diced a female in the course of ripping her home off.  I could do without all the gory details that are soon to be presented to the jurors.   The sliced and diced female survived (thank goodness).  Dollars to donuts this guy is going to spend more than a little bit of time in the "pen". 

Why did the defending attorney let me off?  Hard to tell exactly why but it seemed that both attorneys were looking for jurors who were less than opinionated and more churchmouse in nature.   I wanted to serve on this jury, I did.  I gave my very best answers to questions asked by the judge and both attorneys.  It wasn't like Bob was telling stories to get out of this obligation.  Anyway, I think it wasn't so much what I said but how I said it. 

I had to laugh at one of the questions the Asst D.A. asked each prospective juror:  Do you have any hobbies?  What the hell does that matter in a criminal trial?  Every guy, swear to God, said this:  Hunting and fishing.   Those were the hobbies of Tom, Dick and Harry residing in Cowtown.  The ladies all said this:  Gardening.  And a couple of other things like having babies and giving their husbands sex on the beach.  Ladies do that in Cowtown.   Like I listened to well over 40 interviews and these were the standard answers.

I would have liked to have replied when asked about my hobby with the response:  Masterbation.  I'm a real jack-off....    Yeah!  That would have gotten Bob the fast track off the jury, especially if I had added, masterbation in public places.  Ha. Ha.  Haaaaa!  If you ever want off a jury use that one.

But old Bob used a straight up answer to the question of hobbies - -- sailing.  Duh.  Who would have ever guessed that sailing would head up my list of hobbies. 

I'm home and jury free for at least the next 12 months.  Betcha come next jury summons I'll come out of it still batting a thousand.   I just gotta be me.

2010 Grammy Tribute to Les Paul

Jeff Beck and Imelda May performed this song at last night's Grammy's. It is amazing how this rendition of Les Paul/Mary Ford's How High the Moon is nearly identical to what was committed to vinyl way back in 1952. Awesome performance.

You do know what vinyl is, don't you?

And honestly Lady Gaga - - - simply because watching her is like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.

Reading Between The Lines

Gracie, Wifey, Hanna (Grace's step-sister) and Zeenie curled up Saturday to read a couple of books.  Zeen is certified as a Read Dog in the Read Program and needed the practice.  The girls had spent Friday night and all of Saturday morning at the house.  It was the perfect opportunity to get in a little reading practice.

As members of the Read Program Wifey and Zeenie visit schools and the local public library and listen to children read.  They do this once or twice each week.  The children just love cuddling up next to Zeenie and reading outloud to her.

Being a pup makes it hard to maintain attention to anything for even a short period of time.  Zeenie is copping a big time yawn and probably thinking how great it would be if only she could go outside and chase birds or play with her red ball.

With a little prompting our girl is brought back to staying on task and is shown here with her nose in a good book and reading between the lines.  Smart dog for a lot of life is not taking things face value but being able to do just that - -- reading between the lines.  She's only two years old but already adapt at this skill.

If only I had learned how to read between the lines early in life.  Could have saved a lot of money and a lot of grief.

Ya think?

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.