How much is enough?

I know, I know. It wasn't long ago that I ranted a bit about excess but here I am again.

Once again "How much is enough" takes place in the RV park where excess seems to be rampant. Check out the pole attached to this motor home with a flag atop it. Wasn't is Freud who said that anything longer than it is wide is a phallic symbol?

Here's the father of all symbols, phallic or otherwise.

Dang, I just thought of an opportunity I missed here.

Me: Dude, hellofa penis you got there. Must have taken a lot of Viagra to hoist that puppy.....Dude, you know you only got one ball up there? Aren't ya supposed to have two?

Motor home Dude looking up from his walker: Huh?

Dumbfounded people always response like this to dumbfounding questions.

No wonder visitors from other countries look at America and all of its excessive habits and ask, "How much is enough?"

Camping tonight....camping tonight...camping in the old camp ground...

We're RV camping. Arrived yesterday expecting cooler temps than Cowtown but found sweltering close to 100 degree heat. Could have stayed home and done the same. Fired up the a/c in the RV and chilled out between outside walks and trips to the grocery store.

Guy with monster motor home walked over on our arrival for a little chit and chat:

Him: You hunt?

Me: Why do you ask?

Him: Your hat. It's camouflage.

Me: Oh. Yeah, I hunt.

Him: What for?

Me: Pigs.

Him: Oh, yeah, I hunt for pigs, too. Where do you hunt?

Me: The lounge in the Red Lion Inn, Holiday Inn has a great piano bar, Hooters. . . pretty much anywhere there are pigs to hunt.

Him: Huh?

I just love rocking the world of old rich farts who think they know everything.

Venturing forth on the fourth

It's a little after 6. Wifey's getting ready. We're headed for the lake for early morning sailing.

We'll sail, return home before noon and pack-up to head north for the weekend. There's RV camping waiting for us.

Tomorrow is Independence Day. Write down these reminders for tomorrow and every other day of the week:

Cherish your freedom.

Fiercely protect it.

Thursday and it's a day for playtime

One of Gracie's little girl friends is coming over to play this morning. Time for Bob to hit the streets to avoid all of the giggling, tee-heeing, running around, hide and seek, let's play this, let's do that, I'm hungry. . . what's to eat? . . . Oh, oh, this just broke, Grammy, she's not playing fair. . .

You know the drill. Sure, kid's play is delightful. We should all do it. Doing it and observing it are two different things.

So as not to spoil the fun with my sometimes grumpy disposition, I'll hit the streets for a couple of hours while the girls have their fun. I'll shop. Have lunch. Check on the boat and do a little cleaning while there. It's not hard to fill a couple of hours away from home. There's always something in Cowtown to get my attention.

Wifey will probably dodge all of the action by siting under a tree in the backyard while the girls so their play day thing. It's a good thing to stay out of the line of fire.

It's July again?!

I can't believe a year has past and that it is July 1st.

Seems like yesterday that Wifey was touring Spain.













It also seems like yesterday that while shopping at Raley's market with Wifey Grace swallowed the dime that she had found on the floor of this store. That little deal was worth a trip to the emergency room where after consuming mass quantities of liquid and pudding the dime passed from her esophagus to her tummy thereby avoiding a surgical procedure.

A day later Gracie pooped out the dime (yes, what goes in usually comes out) which was found in our toilet after careful dissecting by Grammy of the turds in the bowl. The dime was mounted in a setting which is now attached by a necklace. Why we decided to create a necklace around a pooped out dime I'll never know. At the time it seemed like a great idea. A year later I'm thinking how stupid was that?!

A year ago Gracie could not read a lick. Thanks to a jump start with summer tutoring by Mrs. Ford and Wifey practicing reading with Gracie every day after school . . . this summer our girl can read, read, read. She'll be a star in second grade.



July is Bob's birthday month. Last year Grace helped me open presents. This year I'm thinking no presents as I'm the guy who if he wants something goes out and buys it. Bob never wants for anything.



















And last year we had horrible fires in our part of California. They began with lightning strikes in June and were not brought under control until the middle of August. What a smoky summer that was as evidenced by this photo which was typical of every day last June, July and August.

One year later Wifey decided not to travel this summer. Grace no longer puts things in her mouth that she might swallow marking yet another lesson our girl has learned about life. There are no wildfires in our neck of the woods and the skies are their usual deep blue.

One year after the last birthday Bob has decided not to grow older and will remain the age that he turned last July. Like a fine wine extended aging usually turns it to vinegar. Bob, on the other hand, has always been full of piss and vinegar. Why mess with a winning formula?

What a wonderful 12 months it has been.

Definitely.

Bob is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize

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

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

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

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

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

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

NO TALKING!

NO FIXING YOUR 'DO AND YOUR MAKEUP!

NO DOING ANYTHING ELSE BUT TAKE LEAK!

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

Ya think?

POST THIS AT WORK

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


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

Me: Squeal like a pig!

Wifey: EEEEEE!

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

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

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

Wifey: That's okay.

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

Wifey: That's okay.

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

Phone rings. It's one of the kids:

Kid: Is mom home?

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

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

A Touch of Bob

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Definitely.

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

Cheeseburger in a can

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

Available at trekneat.com

Trek and Eat describes this product as being:

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Kind of Woman

Wifey: Super Shopper Extraordinaire

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Screaming Game of Tennis Anyone?

Maria, 14 years old plays Venus Williams. Interesting.

Up a lazy River

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

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

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

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


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
















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















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

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

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

Around and around and around, through my mind


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

Split Decision

Sometimes I think he knows too much

His confidence never needs a crutch

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

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

By the time there’s nothing left to choose

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

Sometimes I think I know too much

’bout what goes on in the real world and such

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

One half has the symptom, the other has the cure

By the time there’s nothing left to choose

One half has the answer, the other looks for clues

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

Split decision

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

Sometimes I think we’ve come too far

If we’re lost and if not where we are

Half of us is easy, the other half is hard

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

By the time there’s nothin’ left to choose

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

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

Split decision

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

A very fine line

Sometimes I think I know too much

When confidence never needs a crutch

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

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

By the time there’s nothing left to choose

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

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

Split decision

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

It’s a fine line, a very fine line

A very fine line

WIFEY TAKES THE HELM


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

This obligation plays hell with during the week sailing.

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

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

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




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



















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

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

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

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

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

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

Wizard of Oz

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

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

Gracie is all smiles and rightfully so.




















Grace on the right, hands on knees.
















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

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















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

HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?

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

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

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

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

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

Check it out.

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


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

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

A quad with a convertible top.

Attached to the back of the quad were two bicycles.



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

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

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

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

Giving of yourself to those who love you?

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

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

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

Stick a fork this post, please!

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

Sailing? There's never enough.

ARRR!

Arr - Bee Father's Day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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