National Go Topless Day!

I missed another National Topless Day protest.  Damn.  I do it every time.  It was Sunday.  Where was I?  Crap.  Better put this one on the calendar for next year.

Only the best protests have people speaking aided by a microphone.

And only the best protests have people carrying signs...just as long as the signs are held up and not covering any part of the person carrying it.

There were all types of boobs at the protest:  Ski jump boobs.  Raisin on the string boobs.  Here's looking at ya boobs.  Looking at the feet boobs.  Looking sideways boobs.  Melon boobs (watermelon, cantalope, casaba).  Mounds Bar boobs.  Bump in the road boobs.  Torpedo boobs.   Holy Molie! boobs.  How much is enough? boobs.

A good protest has to have at least one set of twins.  These two are about as close to identical as you can get.  Ya think?

This person just had to wear nipple covers.  Check it out.  Interesting way to cover up.  Why bother?  Do nipple covers make going topless legal?  Maybe this gal is in the Navy and nipple covers are the only way to get back on her ship.

Here's a photo of one with and one without nipple covers. 

Okay, they're just a bunch of boobs.  I get it.  Boobs.  No big deal.

Not.

The Spider and the Fly

Released in 1965 by the Rolling Stones on their Out of Our Heads album (and they really were) and the B-side to (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction.  An oldie/but goodie that's rarely heard.

The Spider and the Fly

Sittin' thinkin' sinkin' drinkin'
Wondering what I'd do when I'm through tonight

Smoking moping, maybe just hopin'
Some little girl will pass on by

Don't wanna be alone but I love my girl at home
I remember what she said

She said, "My, my, my don't tell lies, keep fidelity in your head
My, my, my, don't tell lies. When you're done you show go to be.

Don't say hi, like a spider to a fly
Jump right ahead and you're dead"
Sit up, fed up, low down go round
Down to the bar at the place I'm at

Sitting, drinking, superficially thinking
About the rinsed-out blonde on my left

Then I said, "hi" like a spider to a fly
Remembering what my little girl said
She was common, flirty, she looked about thirty
I would have run away but I was on my own

She told me later she's a machine operator
She said she liked the way I held the microphone

And I said my, my, my like the spider to the fly
Jump right ahead in my web

Boobs Gone Wild

I found this photo this morning on the Fox News webpage.  It's Aubrey O’Day with one boob gone wild.  How does that happen?  Men have testicles that go wild (one up, one down. . . ya gotta be a guy to understand. . . in the fashion world it's called "dressing" on one side or the other - - -men are asked by their tailor, "What side do you dress on?").

I guess boobs can dress on one side or the other.  In this case Aubrey better call her plastic surgeon for a consulation.  She's got one boob gone wild!

Tripping Out

With school starting and everyone back at work it's time to start thinking of a little traveling.  In anticipation of doing some trailer traveling repairs were made last week to the trailer and new tires installed.  You could say we're good to go.

We're both looking forward to getting away.  There's a beachside RV park in Oregon we'll camp at and a week or two will be spent at a small lake which is just down the hill from Crater Lake.  There won't be many people camping or on the road.  That's my cup of tea.

There were thoughts of traveling into Canada but it gets expensive when it comes to filling the truck's tank with diesel.  Think about it:  A tank of diesel runs $150.  While pulling a 12,000 pound trailer the truck gets +/- 200 miles a fill-up.  If we go 600 miles north and back that amounts to $900. Staying closer to home is a good thing.

Ya think?

School Days-School Days

The first day of school was Tuesday, August 16th.  Whatever happened to school starting the day after Labor Day?  Geeze.  It's hot.  It's summer.  Kids should be out having fun not reading, writing and arthmetic. 

Here's Grace with two of her partners in fourth grade crime.  Gracie's the shrimp in her class.  Definitely small compared to her peers as well she should be:  She's the youngest kid in this grade.  Most are are year older. Give her time.  Grace inherited Wifey's long legs and no doubt her height, too.  She'll be at least 5'9", all in due time.

What Grace lacks in height she makes up in brains and personality.  If you met her you'd know what I mean. 

Size doesn't always matter.

On Your Marks?

I snapped this today at the marina across the lake from where Sparkle Plenty is moored.  Most of the sailboats on the lake moor here as the access to where the wind blows is just outside of it.  Kind of looks like they're lined up for a race.  Maybe backwards? 

I visit this marina now and then to check out other boats like mine.  There's always a difference in how each boat is rigged and in the hardware used to secure the rigging or in how the sails are managed.  I picked up a couple of ideas this morning.

What's not right about this marina as compared to where SP is lies in the slips:  Two boats to a slip.  SP and the others on our marina do not share one. 

In foul weather if the other boat sharing the slip breaks loose, there's a strong chance your will be damaged.  Second, in a single boat slip it can be tied so that neither side rubs or knocks against the dock.  Can't do that in a double berth.  One side is always going to rub.

And that's what I saw today.  The side of a boat identical to SP had been scarred from hitting the dock.  Even with cushioning material to protect it, the boat still came up with gouges and scratches.

Now you know why I don't join the rest of the sailors on that side of the lake.

There's another reason.  At our marina there's a store just up the ramp.  Ice.  Drinks.  Ice cream.  Candy.  Chips.  Crackers.  Clothing.   Etc.  SP's marina is more secure, too.  Security is ever present compared to hit and miss across the lake.

It's been 100 nearly every day this month and much too hot to sail morning, noon or night.  Definitely looking forward to cooler weather and strong breezes.  Plan is to sail until the end of November and then pull SP out of the lake for winter repairs, upgrades and wax.

It's a good thing.

Lady of the Lake

Ye gads.  Ten days since the last post.  WTF happened to me?  I guess that's why this place is called, What About Bob?  What about him. .. ahhh, absent again.

This struck my eye a week or more ago.  Unusual.  Art.  Love it.

So, meet the not-so-Little Mermaid that has been having a right old knees-up in the German city of Hamburg.  Oliver Voss's floating sculpture is designed to look like a woman bathing in the picturesque Alster Lake.

The three-piece work of art, which is 13ft high and 98ft long, was turning heads forten days - with many visitors boarding rowing boats to get a closer look.

Voss, head of the advertising academy Miami Ad School, said he wanted the aquatic sculpture, called The Bather, to be 'a topic of conversation in Germany.  But his creation has also caused controversy, with district mayor Markus Schreiber telling de Bild newspaper that it was 'sullying the beloved lake'.
The enormous sculpture, made from steel and styrofoam, does not resemble a traditional mermaid.

Instead of a woman with a fishtail, Voss's lady of the lake has legs bent at the knee and protruding from the water.

Don't you just love this?  Wow. 

One Track Mind

It was close to 100 yesterday and I knew better than to even think about sailing.  No wind equals sitting on a boat that's not moving and sweating.  But I knew better.   Having tracked weather patterns over the past three days I found that around 4 in the afternoon there had always enough wind to power Sparkle Plenty.

At around 4 Wifey and one of her friends met me at the boat and off we went.

Yes indeed, once out on the water there was a breeze that filled the sails. The sail at 4 prediction was right on.

A man on a sailboard cruised alongside the boat several times.  We used to own and sail one.  Fun.  But owning a sailboat and a sailboard just didn't work out.  It was tough to make time to use one or the other.  The sailboat won out and the board was sold.

We sailed until about 7 then called it a day. 

Just another Sunday sailing for a guy with a one track mind.

WHAT ABOUT BOB:  FOUNDED 2006

This is post number 1,640.  That's a bunch.   It all started August 6th, 2006.  The rest, as they say, has been all bullshit (or history, take your pick).

To commemorate this wonderful day in  American history I've found a dog who will sing the praises of this blog and its founder, Bob. That's me.

Here goes:

Easy Way Out

Kids today. . . .some, not all, look to take the easy way out in life.  Education, jobs, wealth, status . . . all things requiring focus and hard work to attain.  It's a bitch to get there.  Sacrifices.  Long hours.  Lots of studying whether in school or on the job.  Don't forget ya gotta brown nose to get somewhere, too. 

Today short-cuts seem to be the name of the game.  Entitlement part of that game.  Cheating yet another. 

I could write a book on the subject having witnessed every Tom, Dick and Harry scheme possible all in the name of not doing the work.  Period.  Not doing the work.  Even our girl Gracie has exhibited a bit of taking the easy way out in her studies.  The other day it was asking to read more books with a lot of pictures.  Damn, if she doesn't get that from her grandfather.  Learning her multiplication tables has been much the same. . . looking for an easy way and not mastering the tables through memorization.  Are they important to know by heart?  Dam right they are.  Ask any middle school math teacher and they'll tell you that students who fail at that level do not know their times tables.  Multiplication mastery is the foundation for the next steps in math, algebra, geometry and so on.

When kids fail or get older they wanna get lazy and look for alternatives. Taking on what seems a high paying job when living at home is logical.  No bills.  No rent.  Apart from out of pocket money for eating out, it's always free with mom and dad. 

In-N-Out advertise starting burger flipper wage as being ten bucks an hour.  That's two bucks over California minimum wage.  Forty hours of flipping grosses $400 a week.  Not bad for a kid living at home.  Lease a BMW and lots left over.  Be livin' high on flipping burgers. 

Add a family that relies on those wages and that creek you just went up a couple of years ago. . . hello?!  You're now up a creek without a paddle and without an education that brings a living wage.

This summer we hired a "kid" for outside landscaping grunt work.  I would have busted my ass doing what he did and probably ended up in traction.    The kid is 26, married with one child.  Did some jail time.  Has more than his share of tats.  One of the best guys you ever want to meet . . . good heart, hard worker, smart. . . .. And a "kid" who woke up one day to realize he had taken the wrong fork in the road. 

So The Kid went back to college this past spring.  And says he won't quit until he has not only an AA degree but a BA or BS, too.  Unlike high school studies, The Kid says that college is fun and he's enjoying learning. 

Apart from the obvious the good news in this story is that The Kid woke up at age 26.  Some "kids" don't wake up until they're middle aged without a pot to piss in. 

Bottom line:  Everyone has an inner switch when it comes to actualizing the "be all you can be" in life.  How to turn the switch from off to on varies from person to person.  Some are born with an on switch while some of us . . . let's just say it takes an "ahhh ha!" experience to wake up and exclaim, "Now I get it!" 

And for those who don't, fuck it, they become strippers.  Somebody has to do that job, don't they?

Swimming Pool

At the last home a swimming pool was a must.  Twenty-five K later it had been excavated, plastered, decked, fenced in and filled with well over 20,000 gallons of Cowtown water.  Did we get 25k worth of fun out of the pool.  Nope.  Mostly, it just sat there, looked pretty and added big bucks to the electric and water bills.

Nine years after leaving that home for this one, the urge to dump more money into building a swimming pool is rearing its ugly head.  This time a 25K pool has translated into more like a 40 or 50 thousand dollar hole in the ground. 

I ask myself if I really want to spend that kind of dough on a pool.  There are alternatives.

A.  Above ground plastic pool.  Ugly.

B.  Redneck pool as seen in the photo.  Right up my alley.  Got the pickup truck.  There's a tarp of two laying around the house.  Cheap!   Neighbors will love me even more than they love me now.

C.  Continue to use the Elks Lodge pool.  They serve lunch:  Five buck burger and fries, 2 buck 16 ounce draft beer.  Freaking deal, people. And the pool is usually populated with only a handful of folks who look like they would never dream of peeing in the pool.

Apart from start-up costs, there's on-going expenses to maintain a pool in Cowtown.  Electricity:  About $130 a month more than what it is.  Chemicals:  Not sure what they would run but it ain't nothing but money, honey.  If the nest egg isn't used to pay for the pool then there will be monthly loan costs....likely to be around 3 or 4 hundred a month. 

All told, an installed pool will take about 500 bucks a month out of the household budget.  An obligation till death do us part.

Worth it?

Symphonic Orgasm

Doesn't get any more musically orgasmic:   Respighi's The Pines of the Appian Way - from the Pines of Rome (movement 4).  There's a story.  Rome.  It's legion.   Picture this:

"The sun is just coming up; the carts and wagons of the farmers are leaving the city and returning to the latifundia; tramping up the road and into the city come the lead cohorts of the legion; behind them, all the way from Rome to Capua, hang the 6000 survivors of Sparticus' slave army, slowly dieing on their crosses as the triumphant legion of Crassus enters the city and ascends the Capitoline. The Servile War is over! Ave Imperator!"

"Dead At 27" Club

Musicians only.

Robert Johnson, widely considered to be the most influential blues musician of all time, died in 1938 at the age of 27 in Greenwood, Miss. According to legend, his death was caused by drinking whiskey laced with strychnine.

Brian Jones (Rolling Stones), found dead in his East Sussex swimming pool in 1969 at age 27. The coroner's explanation was "death by misadventure."

Jimi Hendrix, died in 1970 at age 27 in London. The autopsy stated that Hendrix asphyxiated on his vomit after combining sleeping pills with wine.

Janis Joplin (Big Brother), died in Los Angeles in 1970 at age 27, only a few weeks after Jimi Hendrix. The official cause of death was a heroin overdose.

Jim Morrison (The Doors), died in 1971 at age 27 in Paris. No autopsy was performed, but many attribute his death to alcoholism and a possible heroin overdose.

Ron "Pigpen, McKernan (Grateful Dead) died in 1973 at age 27 in Corte Madera. The cause of death was gastrointestinal hemorrhage, likely caused by alcoholism.

Kurt Cobain (Nirvana), died in 1994 at age 27, in Seattle. The cause was ruled as suicide by shotgun.

Amy Winehouse, died in London on July 23, 2011, at age 27. Investigators have not yet determined the cause of her death.

At Least I'm Enjoying The Ride

I was going to make a list of all the wrongs in the world and put them here.  But you know as does anyone, things are pretty fucked up here, there and around the world.  Aside from that, each and everyone of us are poisoning Mother Earth.  One day Mother will ask herself, "How much is enough?" and that will be it.

We're all going to hell in a bucket.  At least some of us are.  At least I'm enjoying the ride. 

Stormy Summer Weather

On a July Sunday (yesterday) when temps on the lake are always triple in digits, we froze our butts off sailing.  It was definitely jacket and glove weather.
 

There was just enough wind to fill the sails and heel the boat slightly.  Even though there's a serious look here, the boat's sound system was cranked with yours truly jumping and jiving to the music.  Too bad yet another Kodak moment in Bob's life went unrecorded.

Yes, the sweatshirt is inside out.  I've always thought the inside looked better than the outside on each and every sweatshirt I've owned.

Wifey with jacket and gloves out of the wind immersed in the last chapter of a 1,300 page novel.  In between pages Wifey adjusted the jib.  She loves to multi-task.

Wifey snapped a few photos of Sparkle Plenty's interior.  In particular, changes made over the winter.  Carpet was replaced with teak flooring.

A crusty sink was replaced with a new shiny one.

Space once dedicated for holding a large Igloo cooler was made into basket storage.  A much better use of space.

Four hours of sailing yielded lots of smiling.  Isn't that what life is all about?

What I'm Not Tired Of

One thing (and there's a bunch more):  Cleaning the house.  But I need music.  I need the beat.  I need rhythm.  If I'm gonna get it on and get the job done, there's has to be music.

Here I go, cleaning the shitter, mop the floor, dance on the ceiling and other stuff.  Music to get it done!

I Get Tired Of It

Seems like every Friday's grocery shopping yields this question from the checker:

"Doing anything special this weekend?"

Always the same question.  Do they real care what I'm doing over the weekend?  Don't think so.  Idle conversation.

My usual response:  Oh, I'll mow the lawn, run errands, maybe sail the boat, have dinner out and take in a movie.  How's that sound to you, Joe Checker?

I'm going to start making shit up.  Here's the first making shit up answer they'll get come tomorrow:

"Ummmm, gonna do a little grilling on the Weber, put on my red Santa Claus costume and watch some porn."

Wifey's 5'9" Tall

With lyrics:



And now you know the rest of the story.........

Live version here, great guitar licks:

Just A Number

Tuesday was yet another birthday.  I don't celebrate.  Instead I celebrate the anniversary of being circumcised.  We usually party.  Lots of people.  Drinks.  And bake corndogs.  On the exact moment I was circumcised every is given a sharp knife and instructed to circumcise the corndog.  Then I countdown:  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, ONE, and then yell, slice that baby! 

That baby being me.  As I did way back then I start crying and screaming (albeit simulated well after the fact).

There just seems to be more relevance in celebrating (or would that be mourning?) being maimed than being born.  Barbaric. 

Doing a birthday is no big thing.  Everyone has one.  But how many celebrate being circumcised?  Now that's special.

This year I decided to change up.  No circumcision party.   Take a trip.  Have some fun.  Not circumsize corndogs.  Reno is close.  Cheap.  Gambling.  Food.  Drinks.  Why not.  So Wifey and I put the dogs out to a sitter, pack up and leave Cowtown.

We get there.  Check into Harrah's.   Walk the downtown of Reno.  It's like skid row now.  The Indian casinos have taken a toll on Reno.  Lots of what used to be bustling casinos are now shuttered.  Panhandling.  Drug deals going down.  Mentally disordered people shuffling from street to street.  Homeless.  Sad state of affairs. Not going to take a walk down Virginia Street after dark, that's for sure.

During our walk that has Wifey holding firmly onto her purse and me clutching onto my fanny wallet, she asks what I want for this year's Happy Circumcision celebration. 

Me:  You pierced and tattooed.

Her:  Bob, you love rejection so I just have to tell you, NOT IN YOUR DREAMS!

But she did pose for a photo by the sign you see here which to me means that she secretly wants a piercing on a private part and an I Love Bob tat on her left buttocks.

Sigh:  Ain't love grand?

After taking the picture Wifey says:  "Let's go up to our room and go to bed."  We do that and Wifey promptly opens a book and starts reading.

Me:  I just love foreplay.

Wifey:  Just think about it while I finish this book.

Sigh:  Ain't love grand?
 

I'm a year older.  You'll know my age by the 39 rings around the circumcision scar.  Not that you want to go counting them or anything.......  For the ladies out there, you probably don't know that for every year past the act of circumcision a ring is added around the penis.  

And if you don't believe this, just ask about rings around the penis (used to be ring around the posey) at the next dinner party you're at.  Could stimulate some interesting conversation. 

Ya think?

Living Rural

Less than 20 minutes from the house is this:  Shasta Lake with front row views of Mt. Shasta.

There's a price to pay or trade-offs for living rural.  It's nothing like living in the San Francisco Bay Area.  We miss the live music, the food, the festivals, the lectures . . .. but don't miss the traffic, the crowding, NIMBY thinking, high prices and poor air quality.

Living about as far north as possible in California presents many recreational opportunities just out our back door.  We moor our sailboat in a lake that's just 12 miles from the house.  Traffic?  What's that?!  Air quality . . . suck in fresh mountain air 24/7.  Housing?  Nice ones start at less than 200k . . . with some around 100.  It's safe.  You can walk around town at 2 in the morning and be safe (but still need to be mindful and look over your shoulder to check your 6).  Summers are hot.  It is not uncommon for temperatures to be 100 plus for 30-45 days in a row.  Winters are wet and once in a while it snows below 1,000 feet (we live at an elevation of 860 feet above sea level).

I could go on and on.  You get the idea. 

I miss the Bay Area but I could not go back to living there.  I've been spoiled.

6 week old golden retrievers playing and tackling

CEMENT MIXER by the Slim Gaillard Trio on 78 rpm CADET label

It's What Happens

Let this be a lesson: Years of sun without sunscreen. On the water, where I've spend a great deal of life from age five until today,  the powers of the sun are magnified.  Skin turns to leather.  You look years older than you really are.  I do a double take when looking at photos of an older Bob, the well weathered model. 

Had I to do over again?  Naw.  Everything would remain the same.  No time taken to apply sun screen.  Just go out and do it.  Bake that skin.  Fry that brain. 

You see me here at table having dinner with an acquaintance, his wife, my wife, the ghosts of our parents (they're always watching) and our two dogs.  I'm lecturing Kiri here.  Kiris is learning about the importance of the application of sun screen before embarking on a day in the yard.  She's just finished expressing her opinion (woof!) that she would rather roll in the mud than apply sun screen.  And she would. 

As for me, I'd rather be sailing and adding to my leathered appearance. . . .the badge of stupidity.

It's Totaled!

My May 24th blog outlined the purchase of a new 2011 Nissan Versa for our Alaska bound niece.

Last night the niece, driving too fast for conditions on the gravel surface of AlCan Highway, lost control of her car.  It's thought that the car is a total loss.

Twenty years old with not a lot of driving experience (less than 6 months behind the wheel).  The car started to slide on the loose gravel and she over corrected.  One common mistake that's often fatal.

The good news would be that the choice of a Nissan Versa was a good one as it kept our niece from being injured. 

The manager at the Cowtown Nissan dealership is from Alaska.  He remains friends with the general manager of a GM dealership in Fairbanks (where the car was towed).   How many guys in this business would make a call to Alaska to make certain there's someone trustworthy to take care of our niece, whether a rental or a replacement vehicle?

There's one guy in Cowtown who's done just that.

Jim Morrison 40 Years Later

Hard to believe that it's been 40 years since Jim Morrison took the backdoor out of life.  Twenty-four years young of an ingestation he thought was cocaine but what was really heroin.





Jim will be the forever poster boy for rock and roll weirdness at its finest.  Nobody will ever do strange like Jim Morrison.

How Much Is Enough?

It was time to organize the large selection of vinyl LP's that had been sitting in five boxes.  It just didn't seem right to ignore all of my old friends who have been with me through thick and thin, war and peace. 

Last week a large box arrived from Amazon.  Ahhhh, storage shelves for the albums.  Space for 500 LP's.  Filled the shelves with many LP's still needing a home. 

The compact disc collection numbers just under 900.  Five hundred plus LP's.  How much is enough?

I know.  Everyone is doing iTunes and storing music on the hard drive of their computer.  Most of the CD's have been placed on the hard drive.  Next comes the LP collection.

Funny thing.  Gracie and her sister were at the house last week.  I brought out an LP and asked if they knew what that was.  No clue.

I brought out the turntable.  Neither of our young ladies had ever seen such a machine and had no clue of it's function. 

Make your own assumptions or conclusions on this subject.  Simply put, crying shame.  Kids today can text up a storm and can program most any modern electric device.  But can they operate a phonograph or at least appreciate its place in history?

When it comes to raising our children and grandchildren, how much is enough when it comes to exposing them to a depth/breadth of information that is also accompanied with a thorough understanding of history?

STORMY WEATHER

It's rained all day.  June 28th.  Is this California or did this piece of real estate slide north into Washington state (where it rains all the time)?

I don't miss my man (WTF. .. when did I ever miss a man or had a "my man"?) but Stormy Weather, the music, has run through this little pea brain of mine today.

It promises to be 100 plus later in the week.  But today it's 60 something and raining.  Isn't anything the way that it used to be?

Out of Order

 It's happened again.  Damn PC of mine has been "jacked".  There's no getting onto the Internet.  There's no checking e-mail (password is screwed up and can't access from other computers).

Here I sit using Wifey's Mac waiting for Wednesday morning when a tech arrives to take care of the problem.

I can't understand why the McAfee virus program failed to do it's job.  Worthless.  Disappointing.  Waste of $$.

Until repairs are made and the virus killed I'm a guy without his nuts.  That's what it feels like.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Hey guys!  Perplexed on what to give that special lady in your life come next birthday or Christmas?

Here's the gift that keeps on giving and giving and giving. .. . .

Oh, in case you're wondering, this is taken from Saturday Night Live.  Justin Timberlake can be seen here:

Damn!  What Happened To Me?

It's been over a week since my last blog entry.  What happened?  Having fun.  Sailing (on the lake by 6 or 6:30 a.m.).  Working.  A little of that.  Lots of that.  Time flew and next thing I knew .. .. it's a week later and then some.  Frankly, I have no clue as to why I was so busy that there wasn't a moment to spend on the blog.

For one thing we did have out of town company for a few days.    

There was work to do on one of the properties. 

Wifey bought some beer and chicken wings. I had to concentrate on consuming both.  No small task, mind you.

Friends were over for dinner one night.  Steaks.  Drinks. 

Where does the time go?

Today involved more early morning (6:30 a.m.) lake sailing.  A friend wanting his first sailing experience went along for the ride.  He ended up driving the boat.  I think he loved every minute. 

Check out the video taken today. . . and never mind the narration provided by you know who.  So what if I repeat myself.  If that's what getting older means I could care less as long as I don't involuntarily fart in public (but still fart on cue) or become incontinent (which means living on just one continent, doesn't it?). 

Enjoy the show.  Popcorn anyone?



 

Got No Smell Like That One

If you follow What About Bob? you've seen photos of the truck.  Here's one where it's hooked up to the 12,000 pound fifth wheel we own.  Three tip-out slides make it a heavy mother to haul.  But with the Cummings diesel it has the truck can haul that damn thing up any mountain without breaking a sweat with pedal to spare.

Wifey is taking the truck to Oregon this weekend.  It's her aunt's 85th birthday and for some reason wants to drive the truck and leave her BMW at home with me. 

So I had the truck washed this morning just for Wifey at one them fancy places where you can add on service 'till ya hit 25 bucks.  Like tire dressing.  Under the truck wash.  On top of the truck wash, too.  Wax.  Window wash inside.  And stinky fragrance.

Washer Dude:  What smell you want sprayed in your truck.

Me:  How many kinds you got?

Washer Dude:  We got 'em all.

Me:  Okay, I want weed smell. 

Washer Dude:  Huh?  Weed smell?

Me:  Yeah, weed smell.  You know, dope, marijuana.  I want my truck to smell like that.

Washer Dude:  Don't got that in a bottle but tell ya what, when we're done pull her around back and we'll do a joint inside of your truck.  We'll toke it up and weed it up real good.

Needless to say, I passed on partying with Washer Dude and optioned for some vanilla scent.  If nothing else Washer Dude will have yet another story to share with his "buds" after work tonight.

So, next photo here of a rubber vulture sitting on the truck which is parked in the driveway of the house.  A couple of times a month I put the vulture on the truck just to see how many cars stop to gawk at it.  And stop they do.  They look and look and look just waiting for the vulture to move.

Sometimes it gets down to this:  What else do I have to do?

Okay, I could go to the car wash and ask for weed fragrance.

Each definitely comes under the heading of ALL ABOUT BOB...............

A Steak For What?

Wifey:  Dinner tonight.  I have a meeting and won't be home for dinner.  Can I pick you something up?

Me:  I'm thinking steak.  I'm in the mood for steak.....simply because you're asking (said much in the tune to the song..... I'm in the mood for love, simply because you're near me).

Wifey:  Well, there's a price.  You want steak.  Then it's flesh for fantasy.  My price.  Fair enough? 

Me:  That's the girl I married.  I want the steak and you get the fantasy.  Just wait.

Wifey:  Just don't be sleeping when I get home, Mr. Flesh for Fantasy.



I'm thinking that next cruise of out the marina this is what will be playing on the boat's sound system.  Full blast.  I should take some video.  Ya think?

Just Another Day

It never ceases to amaze me how piddly ass shit consumes the better part of a day.  Take this one:

6:30 a.m. Home Depot buying fence boards and replacement heating/air conditioning vents for the rental.

7:00 a.m.  Fill the truck with diesel.  Wifey and the kids are using this this weekend for a trip to Oregon to visit an an aunt celebrating her 85th birthday.  Diesel has come down a bit and I fill the tank with 26 gallons (in a 36 gallon tank) worth $108.  The wife is likely to use 26 gallons at least in getting there and another 26 coming home.  While I fill the tank I wonder how folks do it with large motorhomes or trailers. . . .. the old saying that half the fun is getting there surely can no longer be the case. . . not at $4.26 a gallon for diesel.  Hells bells, where's the fun in that?

7:45 a.m.  At the rental finishing odds and ends.  I check the gardening area and think that I should replace the wooden borders.
 
8:30 a.m. Arrive at the marina to check the nuts on newly installed mooring cleats.  Lock nuts are not working.  The constant force exerted on the cleats is loosening the nuts.  Come to think of it, my nuts are feeling a bit loose, too.  BOB'S HANGING LOOSE!

I take time to visit with the young girl who LOVES MY FURLING JIB!  She tells me that her day launched his J24 sailboat yesterday and that it's on the hook in the marina.  I check it out.  Nice boat.  Nothing at all like Sparkle Plenty.

9:15 a.m. I drive to the second marina across the lake to check out where other Catalina 250's  are moored.  There are four with mine making a total of five on the lake.  I stop to talk with another sailor who is making repairs on his outboard.  He owns an older Catalina 25.  Nice guy.

9:45 a.m.  As I'm driving along the lake front an SUV stopped in the middle of the road waves me over.  They can't find NEED camp (a wilderness camp run by the local county office of education - -- and the camp that I once oversaw as part of my duties with the office of ed).   These people missed the NEED camp turn off miles back.  I tell them to follow me and that I'll get them there. 

10:00 a.m.  Back home.  Take the American flag down (you did know that yesterday was Flag Day, didn't you?).  Another banner is put in its place. 

10:20 a.m.  Return phone call to prospective renter.  Likely we'll accept this person's application tomorrow and sign a year's lease.  Three kids and a wife.  One kid in high school about to graduate.  Two girls homeschooled by their stay at home mom.  Dad is a big wig with the city of Cowtown and makes big bucks.  No doubt the rent will be paid promptly and in full each month.

10:30 a.m.  On the computer to make changes to the lease for the rental.

10:45 a.m.  Exercise the dogs.  It's warming up (over 88 already . .. and none too soon to tucker the girls out).

11:00 a.m.  I hear fire trucks heading south.  Check the net page of the local paper and find that the fire is in a field right by a friend's home...possibily in her field (who is out of town and likely unaware of the fire).   I make a several calls to see if we can't give her a heads up.

11:15 a.m.  I field several calls from Wifey.  She's shopping for replacement blinds for the rental and picking up a set of wooden blinds that have been repaired.  Wifey asks if I'd like steak for dinner.  Does a bear shit in the woods, I ask?

Noon:  I discover that I've not eaten a bite today.  Rummage through the refrigerator and find left over beef stew.  I heat it and eat it (and I'm a poet and don't know it).

12:30 p.m.  I check e-mail.  Several of interest the rest crap.  Why is it that crap e-mail seems to be the norm these days?  One from a high school friend who had been suffering from prostate cancer.  Seems that he's on the mend and likely in A-okay butt-hole condiiton.  Good news.  Another e-mail is in the bunch from a blogger friend.

12:45 p.m.  Sit down at the computer thinking of what, if anything, to post on the blog.  You've been reading the "if anything" which came to mind.

The day is nearly half over.  It's been busy but for some reason it feels somewhat pissed away.   I wonder if I am destined to spend the rest of my life this way.

It's likely a good thing to keep enjoying the pissing away each day part of life.  Things could be worse.

Nothing Like It

I miss sailing the catamaran I once owned.  Sailed it for many years.  And tipped it over many times.  That went with the territory. 

Not long ago America's Cup changed up from monohull boats to "cats".  Right on, I thought.  Competition sailing is a young man's sport.  Why not a young man's boat?

There's a fine line in cat sailing from everything under control and everything in the drink upside down.  The photo here shows that I'm maintaining that fine line.  A move to put the starboard hull a bit more in the air would have meant capsize.

Yesterday on San Francisco Bay a smaller model of a Cup boat (45 feet compared to 72 which will be raced in the Cup come next year) owned by ga-zillion-aire Larry Ellison capsized.  Expensive mistake (torn sails, no doubt damage to the hull and rigging).  Most likely chump change to Larry.

You just have to see this:



SAN FRANCISCO – When America's Cup sailors said their fast new catamarans were cutting-edge and exciting, they were factoring in inevitable capsizes.
Monday afternoon on breezy San Francisco Bay, it was no less than one of the most dominant skippers in America's Cup history, Russell Coutts, whose 45-foot catamaran went head-over-heels in a spectacular wipeout.

Grinder Shannon Falcone was thrown through the wing sail and into the chilly water, and another crewman was thrown into the water. Falcone was examined by paramedics on the dock and taken to the hospital for precautionary X-rays. Sailors wear crash helmets and foul-weather gear when sailing the speedy boats.

Coutts, the CEO of defending champion Oracle Racing, was racing skipper Jimmy Spithill as part of a media day to publicize the U.S. debut of the new boats. His boat was bearing away during the prestart maneuver when the bows buried in a wave and the cat lifted into the air and went over before coming to rest on its side.

The catamaran was pulled upright by a support boat.

Coutts almost capsized on Friday, the second day of Oracle's first testing session in the new cats on San Francisco Bay. The AC45s debuted earlier this year in New Zealand, where two capsized. The AC45s will be used for the AC World Series this year and next. The 2013 America's Cup will be sailed in 72-footers, which will be faster and more powerful.

Sailors have known that getting up to speed in the new catamarans is going to be tricky and possibly dangerous.

Coutts, a four-time America's Cup winner, was prophetic when he and Spithill spoke at a news conference earlier in the day about the risk-reward of sailing the cats.

"They're very demanding but also incredibly exciting," said Spithill, a 31-year-old Australian who is the youngest skipper to win the America's Cup.

Said Coutts, a 49-year-old New Zealander: "Sometimes it helps to be a little younger, you know. You've got to get to the point of finding the edge and not going over the edge, and sometimes you're going to go over the edge. That applies not only in a sailing sense — we're challenged as sailors like never before, probably, in these boats — but in the design sense. These guys will tell you, that's one of the big considerations in the 72. Because the closer you design it to the edge, the faster it will go. But you don't want to go over the edge. Or preferably not over the edge."

After sailing a monstrous, space-age trimaran to defeat Alinghi of Switzerland in 2010 to win the oldest trophy in international sports, Oracle — owned by software billionaire Larry Ellison — decided to contest the next America's Cup in catamarans on shorter courses to make the sport more TV-friendly. The cats replace the plodding monohulls that were used from 1992-2007.

"It's a complete change," Spithill said. "I think if you ask the average person about America's Cup, they think of guys sitting on the side of a monohull yacht, a heavy displacement yacht, going quite slowly around the course. These boats are the complete opposite. Everyone is wearing helmets for a reason. There's a significant amount of risk. They're probably one of the most athletic boats I've seen for the crew to sail. There's also a huge reward for sailing them well. They're the fastest boats out there at the moment. To get the best out of these boats, you have to push."

The Oracle sailors joked about having an "old guy boat" and a "young guy boat."

"We're trying to get comfortable with these boats. It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks and I can tell you, I'm not sure if I'll ever get comfortable with these boats," Coutts said. "Anyway, I'm giving it a go. Basically, Jimmy and the guys are way better than we are in our boat right now. I'm pretty sure Jimmy and J.K. (tactician John Kostecki) get amused when we screw up. They had grins all over their face the other day when we almost capsized. Jimmy actually said to me, 'It's a pity you didn't capsize.' I don't know. we'll be certainly duking it out and trying to beat the hell out of each other just to try and get these guys ready to go and race the cup."

Kostecki grew up sailing in the Bay Area.

"If these things are that much fun, the 72s are going to be wild," Kostecki said.

The combination of the fast catamarans and San Francisco Bay is sure to be spectacular. The bay provides a natural amphitheater, ringed with famous landmarks like the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, the Transamerica Pyramid and Coit Tower.

What's In A Name?

I'm often asked how our sailboat, Sparkle Plenty, got its name.  Goes way back to reading Dick Tracy comics, a favorite "strip" of mine:

"Plenty familyThe Plenty family was a group of goofy redneck yokels headed by the former villain, Bob Oscar ("B.O."), along with Gertrude ("Gravel Gertie") Plenty. Gravel Gertie was introduced as the unwitting dupe (accessory) of the villain, The Brow, who was on the run from Dick Tracy. The family provided a humorous counterpoint to Tracy's adventures. The Plenty sub-story was decades long, and saw Sparkle Plenty grow from an infant to a young married lady.
The Plenty family appeared with Tracy in a story that occurred in a bank, where "B.O." found a way to prevent thieves from snatching an envelope of money from a counter."

Or,

"In his comic strip Dick Tracy Chester Gould has created a repulsive
gallery of characters which includes such figures as Flattop, The Brow
and the Mole. Last year Gould married off two of his unseemly
personalities, B. O. Plenty, an unkempt, smelly old criminal and Gravel
Gertie, a banjo-playing dervish who lived in a gravel pit. Two months
ago this grotesque couple amazed Gould's public by producing a beautiful
child named Sparkly. Her dazzling eyes and hip-length blond hair
immediately won the hearts of Dick Tracy's 26 million readers.

Among them was an ex-all American football player named William
M. Mc Duffee, manager of the toy department of Gimbels, one of the
largest department stores in the U.S. McDuffee reasoned that because
of the popular comic strip a Baby Sparkle Plenty doll would need little
advertising or promotion. Mc Duffee took his idea to the Ideal Toy and
Novelty Co. Forty eight days later, the production of Baby Sparkle
Plenty dolls began. On July 28 they went on sale. At a stiff $ 5.98 apiece,
10,000 sold in the first five days. Sales in the next two weeks zoomed
to 22,000. At this rate more Baby Sparkle Plentys will be sold in the
last five months of this year than all other types of doll put together.
Mc Duffee, who knows a good thing when he has it, is getting ready
to bring out Baby Sparkle Plenty cradle and a Gravel Gertie banjo."

Sparkle Plenty seemed as likely as any other to paint on the side of the boat.  The boat does sparkle plenty. 

It's About The Music, He Said!

I love leaving the marina at the helm of Sparkle Plenty.  And everyone on the dock knows Bob is headed out for a day's worth of sailing.  How?

16 year old Bob (the inner me) cranks up the boat's sound system (speakers inside her and out) usually with something like this.  Puts a smile on my face.  People smile back.  I wave.  I toot the boat's horn.  Ring the ship's bell (my way of saying, Hells Bells!) If you can't make  a lot of noise in this life why bother?

Today I'm taking the neighbor kid sailing.  He's home from law school and itching to sail.  I'm gonna see what this kid is made of starting with the music 'cause he'll soon learn that it's not only about the sailing but IT'S ABOUT THE MUSIC!!, too.

The Snapshot Kid

Wifey and Grace traveled to the coast a couple of weekends ago.  On the way there they stopped at a rest area.   Grace grabbed the camera and photographed her favorite grandmother (and only grandmother).

Not bad composition. 

After taking a slew photos Gracie climbed back in the car to feast on the spaghetti that I made the night before.  It was packed in a Thermos  to keep it warm knowing our girl, like her Papa, will devour decently prepared pasta any hour of the day or night (photo here was snapped at approximately 10:30 in the morning).  And yes, that is pasta sauce on her little bitty chin.

Can't you just tell that Grace wants to shout out, MAMA MIA, THAT'S A SPICY SAUCE!

Well, she kind of does.

The Wisdom of the First Americans

You may have to enlarge this by clicking it. 

Some people convert to another religion.  Me?  I'm thinking of converting to another race or culture.  Native American.  Maybe we all should.  America could become a better place to live (at least the males in the tribe).

Bob's Dibs on a New Native American Name:  Dances With Beavers.

And that's the name of that tune.

I Like Your Jib!

Yesterday I was on Sparkle Plenty readying her for a shake down sail to make certain all was in place before taking on passengers.  Inside the salon I had just changed from jeans into shorts when I hear a female voice, "I like your jib!"

Shit, I thought.  Someone caught me changing into my sailing shorts and likes my jib?  Hahahahaha, the little voice in my head cried out.

I climbed up onto the deck and there was Leslie, a college age female who works each summer at the marina.

Me:  You like my what?

Leslie:  Your furling jib.  I love it.

Me:  Oh.  Yeah, a furling jib a good thing.  Would like a furling mainsail.  It would make single handing the boat a lot easier.  Have you sailed much?

Leslie:  Naw, I haven't sailed for a while (typical answer I get from most who I put this question to).

Me:  You're welcome to come sailing anytime.  There's always room for more.

Leslie went back to her marina duties and I returned to readying the boat for sailing.  As I watched her walk down the dock I thought to myself that back in the college days young ladies made over other attributes I had.  Never did I think there would be a day when a twenty something lady would be taken with the furling jib on my sailboat.

If Leslie does come sailing I wonder if she will squeal with delight when I unfurl the jib?  I should get that on video.

Ya think?

D-Day : The Normandy Landings HD

Okay Already

Okay already.  I've been busy.  The home you see is vacant and needs a new tenant.  For the past 7 days it's been fix this, paint that, replace that, hire someone to do something I can't.  You get the picture.  The wallet is not half full but half empty. . . . just like the glass.  The place needs to be leased so the bleeding can be stopped.

New living room rug.

New garage door (don't ask).

Interior and exterior paint.

Replace the dryer vent.

Down one large oak tree.

Replace the water heater.

Refinish the guest bath tub.

There more but need I add to this list.  Nope.  Not necessary.

Finding a good, good tenant is difficult.  Ones that do not smoke, do not have pets, who will not grow weed in the backyard, who are reasonably employed with sufficient income to make the lease payments, with credit histories that look half way decent. ... etc., etc.,. ... etc., ......are hard to come by.  We've talked to a few and so far each are many fries short of a Happy Meal. 

Sure, we could have picked one of them out this first bunch and leased the place for a year to them.  But at what price in the long run?  In one year would there have been holes in the wall?  Would there have been many late or missed lease payments?  How about damage to the appliances?  One can't be too careful in letting just anyone live in an asset worth over a quarter million bucks. 

That's what has been taking my time.  It's been raining most every day meaning working at the rental is a good thing as it's too wet to sail.  This said, the weather this week is forecast as being over 80 and sunny.  It all starts tomorrow.

Hmmmmm.  Come tomorrow......   Rental?  Or sailing?  Rental?  Sailing?  Okay, sailing!