CHOCOLATE COVERED BACON

Who else but us fruit cakes in California would come up with something like chocolate covered bacon? Real deal.

You can buy it at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk for 17 bucks a pound (or $4.25 for quarter pounder without cheese).

I read about this in today's paper and stole these pictures off of the Internet. Why drive to Santa Cruz for pictures of chocolate covered bacon when I can rip them off? Driving southwest for 6 hours just for a picture and a taste of chocolate covered bacon is not going to happen.

I have better things to do like build Bud can pyramids.

In the land of milk, honey and obesity, why not have something like chocolate covered bacon? Don't you think they should include coupon with every purchase? It would probably read like this:

GOOD FOR $1.00 OFF YOUR NEXT BY PASS SURGERY

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? How about a BLTC - bacon, lettuce, tomato and chocolate sandwich?

What would that be like?

If you're going to open a deli or restaurant this could be your signature dish.

ROLL ON IT

That's exactly what Zoe did yesterday: She rolled on it.

What comes with rolling on it is a bath. A stinky pup will not cut it in our home.

Looks like a drowned rat doesn't she? Zoe hates baths.


Saturday night is usually reserved for pizza. It's an old tradition. Last night Wifey wanted pizza so we took the less expensive way, easy way out and made our own using already prepared crusts.

Wife is allergic to Glutin (anything with wheat). The crust to the left is her rice crust because she's a Glutin for punishment. . . . yuck, yuck!


We have a sackful of organic veggies delivered to our door every Wednesday. They're grown by one of our local farmers. Last night was the perfect opportunity to use some of his tomatoes on each pizza.
Pizza has to have sauce. Contadina works for me with a little olive oil spread on first.

Then comes the pepperoni.

Tomatoes.

Sliced red, yellow and green peppers.

Then the basil.

Cheese.

Cook 'em up.

When I make my own pizza dough from scratch I go nuts with I put on a pizza because there's soooo much room for more stuff.

What goes on it? Everything I just wrote about plus:

Olives.

Mushrooms.

Anchovies! Damn they're good!!!

TGIF stands for Toes Go In First: The first rule every kid needs to know when they learn to put their socks and shoes on.

Happy Friday!

POMERANIAN PUPPY FARM

Gracie and Wifey visited Zeenie's birth place yesterday . . . a puppy farm, to pick up her papers.

Trilbee, the owner of the "farm" takes very good care of her pups and their moms and pops.

Here are several pups from a recent litter. They're 9 weeks old.

The pup on the left has that look in her eyes.
And now she's on the right still sporting "the look".

Wifey: They were so cute.

Me: So did you buy another dog?

Wifey: This litter is going for $2,500 a pup.

Me: Ouch! Prices have gone up since we bought Zeenie from the farm. Do the math: 2,500 bucks in Bob terms is equal to 4,200 cans of Bud.
Small puppies are hard to resist. Here's one of the 9 week old puppies making up to Gracie. Now doubt this pup is thinking, "Take me home! Get me out of here!"

Gracie is thinking, "Now if I can only get this pup into my pocket and out the door . . . "

For a 9 week old puppy that's quite a tongue.
Wifey had to get a picture of Zeenie's mom and here it is.

I'm glad the wife didn't bend and bring a new pup home. Two dogs, a granddaughter who's here from 9-6 five days a week plus all that it takes to keep this house going is enough.

But it sure is tempting. . .

POOP DE LA!

Public restrooms give me the heebie geebies. I'd rather fill my pants rather than use a public restroom. You just know these places are filled with all kinds of creepy, crawlers that can't be seen by the naked (no pun intended) eye. If there's anything out there communicable it can be had in any public restroom.

And that's a fact, Jack!

Last week Wifey flew back home out of the airport in Grand Forks North Dakota. She found a wonderful toilet while waiting for her flight.

These pictures were taken knowing how Bob feels about public toilets. I have to admit, I'd be sitting on this crapper if I had the chance. Check it out.

Here's how it works: A layer of plastic wrap covers the seat. No big deal, right?
There it is. Crapper ready for seating for one.
Here's the twist: Push the button and VIOLA! the old wrap is rolled up into the back of the seat and a new plastic wrap rolls out and covers the toilet seat. Whatta great invention. I just gotta have one!

Hello, Santa?

As the kids say, "That is soooo sick!"

In case you didn't know, that means this thing is sooo very cool.

ON GOLDEN POND

There's a pond several blocks from where we live. It's much smaller than the "pond" in the film On Golden Pond (seemed like more of a lake to me). Funny thing that Golden Pond that's like a lake is called a pond and our "pond" is called a lake.

There's a walking path around our lake. It always makes for a nice Sunday walk with the two dogs which is what we did yesterday . . . after the WE WUZ ROBBED caper was over with.

I should add to that post that the cops came and lifted prints off of the truck and the wife's BMW.

I took a moment to speak to the officer taking the prints:

Me: Wow, cool. This is just like CSI.

Cop: Nope. This is low tech buddy, like right out of the 1920's.

Me; Think you'll catch the bad guys with the prints?

Cop: Maybe. Who knows?

Me: Wow, neat! Is this going to be on America's Most Wanted? If it is I need to tidy up the garage.

Cop: America's Most Wanted?! You gotta be kidding. What planet are you from?

Me: Mars. Obviously you're from Venus.

This is our favorite pond. Beavers, turtles, fish (bass and others), birds, ducks and frogs habitate the lake.

We own a rental directly across the street from the pond. Our new tenants report catching a five pound bass in the pond several weeks ago.


Here's a goose with his neck up checking out who's walking on the path.
And here's Bird Legs Bob carrying pooped out Zoe, the 11 year old Pom who has a hard time walking for any distance. We make a nice pair, don't we?

It's Monday. Grace will be dropped off in an hour to spend the day with us. School starts in several weeks. Hard to believe that summer for most of Cow Town's kids is almost over.

It's equally hard to believe that our little granddaughter will be entering first grade. It seems like only yesterday that Gracie came into this world.

Time is like water through our fingers. It passes quickly and there's no stopping the flow.

Have a great week.

WE WUZ ROBBED

This is the look that I got this morning when I said:

Me: I think someone got into our vehicles last night. The door on the truck was wide open this morning.

Wife: Right, you were the one to get into the vehicles and no one else. Getting forgetful, Bob?

Well, I thought, maybe Wifey is right. Maybe I am getting forgetful.

Later this morning while I'm outside gardening:

Wifey: I have to talk to you. Someone got into my car. The little purse with change in it is gone, the center console open. Yup, someone was in the garage last night.

Wifey should learn to listen to Old Bob. Nine out of ten times I'm right. After all these years you'd think that she would know that!

Guess what? I heard those bastards this morning at 5:30 having opened the garage doors (truck door very closed) and sitting at this computer there was a thud (like a car door closing). I thought it was one of the dogs doing some thumping deal while they scratched themselves. YOW! These guys were in our garage going through both vehicles and I wasn't the wiser.

These guys went up one side of the street and down the other breaking into vehicles. A laptop was stolen. A car window smashed and an Ipod taken. Fifteen break-ins all told. Apart from what was taken from the wife's car nothing else is missing out the truck or anywhere else in the garage. Things like this don't happen in our neighborhood. Guess they do now.

On the subject but kind of off the subject:

One of our boys wants to borrow money. When this kid wants money he asks mom knowing what Old Bob would say.

Wife: Got to call the kid up today and tell him no go on the money. He's always crabbing about his piss poor life think I'll give him a dose of what happened today. Poor us - we wuz robbed of a whole buck six eighty.

Me: Yeah, and while you're at tell the kid that the robbers grabbed Bob, threw him face down on the floor and had their way with him.

Wifey: Why do you have to say things like that? That's so terrible to even think about let alone say it. They only talk like that in prison.

Me: Well, guess if I ever go to jail I'll be ready for anything.

If I would have caught those farts in my garage this morning Old Bob would have had his way with each and every one of them . . . and not that way . . . in the knock 'em, sock 'em, shoot 'em up and assume the position, you clowns kind of way.

Damn. Did I ever miss an opportunity!

BOB'S REGULARITY TIP OF THE WEEK

FARMER BOB

It is the middle of summer. The backyard is alive with fruit and beauty.

Wifey's roses.
The Santa Rosa plum tree is chock full of plums.
The early crop of apples will soon be ripe enough to eat.
And the lemon tree's fruit is turning from green to yellow. We use a lot of lemons and limes in our cooking.

Not pictured are:

The tomato plants which didn't do as well as they did last year. Should have changed the soil in their containers or at least mixed new mulch into them.

The Kumquat tree has blossomed and is just starting to display a nice array of fruit.

The fig tree which is laden with fruit much to the delight of night creatures such as possums and raccoons.

The lime tree planted several years ago has yet to bear fruit. Maybe next year. . .

Then there's the "mushrooms" growing in the lawn. . . . One crop that we can do without.

ZOE THE 5 POUND WONDER DOG

Even though she's a five pounder, eleven years old with 8 teeth left, Zoe will take on anything and anyone. She's rightfully earned the name of POM-ZILLA.

Anyway, this is the dog that generates the question, "What is she?"

I should have a t-shirt printed with Zoe facts on it. It would save a lot of time talking to people. The wife says I should like talking to people more than I really like talking to people . . . if that makes any sense to you.

I talk to people for a living. When I'm not working then I'm not talking. When you get to be Bob's age you start to ask yourself how much talk is left. Didn't the good Lord grant us so many talking minutes just like cell phone companies do? When you're out of minutes then you're out, bud . . . and then you're disconnected. I sure don't want to run out of minutes before my time . . .do you?

WALKIN' THE DOG

Here's the pedestrian bridge that put Cow Town on the map. It's pleasant to walk the dogs here.

Usually there are a lot of tourists on the bridge. Hard to believe that Cow Town is a destination for tourists.

And the tourists have to remark about Zoe, the tiny one in our family. The question "What is she?" always comes up for Zoe, a Pom with a haircut, looks like a little teddy bear. Last night was no exception as a group of students from San Hoser stopped us to ask "the question".

Me: She's a East Asian Berry Bear from Laos.

Kids: No way.

Me: Yes, way. Wanna see her eat tree leaves?

Kids: Yeah, and we wanna see her climb the tree, too.

Damn. Kids are way too smart these days. It's hard to be a crackpot and get away with bullshit stories.

JUNGLE BALL TIME

Zeenie loves her jungle ball. She literally goes nuts when they're brought out for play.

You know the kind, the balls that make all sorts of animal noises when they're thrown or bounced against something.

Jungle balls run on batteries (what else?). Here's the wife replacing a battery in one of Zeenies collection of jungle sound making balls.

Zeenie has learned patience when it comes to matters involving jungle balls. It takes time to replace the batteries.


Here we go, all fixed. Let's get ready to jungle! Away goes Zeenie.
Once captured, she just had to listen to the jungle ball and try to "name that tune." Zeenie has a way of cocking her head when she's in the midst of fathoming a situation.
Just another Saturday afternoon on the back lawn. Jungle balls make for pleasant memories.

ABSENCE MAKES THE LAUNDRY PILE GROW LARGER

The wife returned late last night from a trip visiting family in upper Minnesota.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. When you've been married for a while it comes down to absence making for larger piles of dirty laundry.

Well, not really. The laundry was done a little bit every day the wife was in Minnesota. You see Bob is self sufficient. I cook. I clean. I do laundry. I can do it all and do it very well.

But it's nice having the wife back home. I'm tired of only having the dogs to talk to. Their answers to the questions I pose to them is always the same: Woof, woof and more woof.

The sunflowers are in Minnesota, a stones throw from the Canadian border. That's were the wife's relatives live - her mother's side of the family.

Life in the midwest is so very different from life in California. Unless you've lived in the west and the midwest you have no clue what I'm talking about.

I'd move to Michigan, Nebraska, Minnesota, Kansas in a heartbeat. My kind of people live there along with my kind of politics, values, . . . the list could go on and on.

Sigh . . . .

I miss living there. . . . but I do not miss their winters!

PIERCED EARS

Grace's mom dropped her off as she usually does on her way to work yesterday.

First words out of Gracie's mouth: "I got my ears pierced."

My first reaction was, OMG, here we go with growing up at five years of age. Couldn't she have waited a few years?

For Grace to have her ears pierced is a big thing. She hates needles - cries at the sight of them.

It's funny how attitudes and fashion change from generation to generation. Take pierced ears as starters.

My Mom - many years ago: "Only the gypsies pierce their ears."

If that was true and/or remained true, judging by the number of pierced ears there's one hell of a lot of gypsies in this world. Mom also used to caution my brother and I as we played in the local park. Mom would say, "Watch out for the gypsies. They'll steal both of you and we'll never see you again!" Bring it on, I thought. Life with the gypsies might be very cool and interesting.

Frankly, had the gypsies taken me away that would have been the good news. Life with dear old mother and her second husband were not the best of times.

Now tattoos are becoming more and more prevalent. What used to be reserved for sailors no adorn in abundance male and female bodies. Mom would say, "Tattoos make people look dirty."

Mom gifted me with all kinds of prejudices and preconceived notions. Thank goodness for personal growth and maturity that helped me to overcome the dogma I lived with in the early stages of my life.

Society in the past 50 years has experienced evolution of sorts. It's hard to believe that prior to 1948 interracial marriage was outlawed. In this new century interracial marriages are common. Few give it a second thought. Today an African American is running for President. We've come a long way and there's even more to overcome.

When Grace announced her pierced ears yesterday morning the thought of "OMG, I've got a gypsy grandchild!" ran through my mind . .. and then I patted Grace on the head and said, "You're very brave to have your ears pierced. You look beautiful." Grace beamed and gave me a smile and a hug and said, "Thank you, papa."

Mom's story about gypsies and tattoos will be lost never to be heard by the new generation of our family. Some things are better left unsaid, don't you think?

CUPAJOE IS NO MOE!

Another favorite blog bit the dust today - Cupajoe. It is now open only to those who have been invited and have the password.

I can understand in this world of freaks and perverts that a blog written by a good looking female and is open to public comment can be a blog that is disgusting.

Then there's privacy issues. Some of us share more about our private lives than we should. Sharing with only a few is probably a good thing.

So Katie, I understand why you've gone private. I will miss your posts and your Wednesday fun with Mr. Sausage (clarification: her dog).

Adios!