So that's why...

There's nothing like a good, juicy medium rare rump roast or a well seasoned and grilled chicken breast.

Hmm, maybe this explains why they're a preference.

Ya think?  :)

Get on the stick, Bob!!

August marks the end of the fourth year of blogging and nearly 1,400 posts on What About Bob.   Four years!   Time does fly whether you're having fun or not.

Posting has become somewhat lax. It's summer. Things to do outside, inside. Sailing. Hiking. Walking. The days are full and they go very fast. There just hasn't been time made to sit here and write about Lord knows what. What? That's the problem. It's the what in blogging that's been missing. There really has not been any "what" that struck my fancy to write about.
It's not like there's not a lot happening. There is. Basically, I need to get on the stick. Take more pictures to post here. Think crazy, juvenile thoughts and jot them down to post on the blog. It's not that I don't think of things. I do. But four or five hours later I forget what the hell it was I was thinking about. Life is like that. And if you don't know what I'm talking about just you wait for one day you will.

It seems like a couple of months ago but we were sailing early Monday morning.  Several new friends having never sailed wanted to tag along.  They met us at the boat just before 8 and we were on the water by 8:15. 

Wifey took her usual position on the boat:  On the cabin steps.  Notice the flat water.  Yup.  No wind.

We actually had fun even without any wind to fill the sails.  You'd never know it by the bored look on my face.  Marc has about the same expression.  I think it's a guy thing to look bored even though you're not.  Marc's girl friend Trudi seems to be enjoying herself.  Notice the water and that it's still flat.  No wind.

Wifey instructs me to turn around and put on a halfway decent happy face.  And this is what I come up with.  Marc on the other hand maintains the same expression even though he's having the time of his life.  Or, so I thought.  Maybe it was the lack of wind?

After over three hours sails hoisted but moving with the aid of the motor we called it a day.   It was close to 90 on the lake and no place to be when there's no wind unless you're in the water.

In parting we promised to take them sailing again when there was a least a breeze to power the boat.  Hopefully, Marc and I will take on happier expressions during the next sailing "photo shoot".  I can do that.  I'm not so sure about Marc.

More Than Meets The Eye

I often hear, "Oh, how we'd love to sail around the world or to some warm, exotic place.  It would be so fun, so romantic, so exciting."  The accompanying sentiment is that once past learning how to successfully maneuver a sailboat from point A to B it's all peaches and cream . . . you now have the ability to sail just about anywhere you want.  Free lodging  - you sleep onboard.  Prepare meals that are fresh from the sea.  On the surface, sailing looks like fun.

Sailing can be fun when you know what you're doing.  Inland lake sailing is a favorite.   Inland lake conditions are predictable.  Warm water.  Wind in the morning.  No wind in the afternoon until 4 or 5.  Wind dies later on for the rest of the night.  No big deal to anchor, barbecue off the stern, take a swim to cool off, watch the starry night sky.  Listen to the sound of water fowl settling down for the night and gentle waves slapping against the boat's hull...sweet music that will lull you to sleep.  Doesn't get any better than that.

Lake sailing is all well and good.  What you see is what you get.  Predictable.  Ocean sailing is another story.  Unlike lake sailing/what you see is what you get, ocean sailing is unpredictible and dangerous. 

Like this:

http://www.latitude38.com/features/moonduster.html

And this which supports my point:

"The accident that took place onboard WindChild the morning of April 1, seriously injuring Michael Kalahar, has led to a renewed appreciation and an increased awareness of many things. It’s not that we take things ‘for granted’, but we do get used to a way of life — especially having support systems nearby.

When boaters head out onto the ocean for those big crossings, they’ve prepared for a long time. They work to acquire experience, education and equipment. During those crossings, they are acutely aware that they are outside the range of coastal rescue. It’s 2,800 miles from Mexico to the Marquesas. It had taken WindChild about 10 days to get 1,400 miles and it would certainly be another 10 before they’d reach land. Sailors out there accept that they are on their own and they take many steps to be self-reliant. Sometimes that isn’t enough."

And this one, too...a video of a knockdown (very end of video):



Then consider this:

Pirates.  Passing through unfriendly, we hate Americans, custom searches at each port.  Marina police (bribes anyone?).  Thieves.  People who love to hurt other people.

Toothaches.  Injuries.  Illness.

Then there are things that break on the sailboat and no mechanic nearby for repairs.  Ya got to be handy with the right tools and the right stuff to fix things that break.

All things going wrong are tended to at sea all by your little lonesome and without resources.  

It's like ....Tag!  You're it!!  Ball is in your court.  Fix it.  Or else.

Ocean sailing is more than meets the eye.  Romantic at times.  Exciting.  Fun.  Educational.  But potentially deadly.  All this said, short ocean trips and not lengthy ones make for not only successful trips but a happy marriage.

All this said, this (the video below) could happen while lake sailing.  Whoa Nellie!  I can hardly wait!!! 



 Monday is another day sailing on Whiskeytown.  We'll have two new friends with us to share the day.  Just another day in Paradise.

American Girl

A letter arrived last week for our Grace.  It was an invitation to a camp-out, sleep outside birthday party for a friend who's turning eight years old.  Enclosed with the invitation was a handwritten note that said, "Bring your American Girl doll or favorite doll to the party."

For those of you who don't know about the American Girl doll collection it's worth an investigation.  Twelve of the dolls portray historical characters. 

"Each of these American Girl dolls is not only the star of a historical six-book series, but also a shining example for girls today. Lessons of love, friendship, courage, compassion, and tolerance are at the heart of every American Girl story. These 18-inch dolls are for ages 8 and up."

On her own, Grace selected and bought one of these dolls, Kit Kitridge, paid with money she had earned working at home for her mother, here for her grandmother and during the time she spends with her father.  The dolls don't come cheap:  $115 (which includes a story book about the character doll) plus shipping.   It's due to arrive Monday.

Grace had already decided to buy the Kit Kitridge doll before she had received the invitation.  I could not help but wonder about the little girls who will attend the party without an American Girl doll.   How are they going to feel?  Left out?   The competition to keep up with the Joneses now begins at a very early age.

And yes, the school Gracie attends has predominently upper middle class parents who are highly educated and makes a lot of $$.   In this economy who else could afford a $115 doll?  And did I mention the ton of accessories that go with each doll?  Check out:

http://store.americangirl.com/agshop/static/dolls.jsp

The story unfolds about Kit Kitridge in the year is 1934:  "As a girl growing up during the Great Depression, Kit sees her dad lose his business overnight. To help save their home, Kit becomes resourceful. With Ruthie by her side, Kit also learns to treasure what money can’t buy—friends and family."

Last century old school lessons still applicable for life today.

There's also a Kit Kitridge video which we watched last night on HBO.  It will be replayed on HBO at various times July 13th - July 17th.  You would not regret taking the time to watch it.

Did you ever wonder why dolls are most always female?  Who would want a hairy backed, beer bellied, steak breath, butt cracked, balding doll?  I just answered my own question.

 

Little Stinker

Me holding you know who: Little Stinker.  She's got an eye mischief and a nose for trouble.

Take yesterday.  I'm cooking a special chicken dish that needs to be put in the slow cooker.  It's close to noon and I'm late getting it started.  I rush.  I open a cupboard for a large stainless steel bowl and forget to close it.

A half hour later I notice Kiri in my office chewing on something that looks like a round doggie toy.  Oh good, I think.  A closer look tells me that it's something other than a dog toy.  It's a round plastic cover for a small container that the dog had snitched from the bottom of the open cupboard.   Kiri has managed to chew better than half of the rim off of it.  What's worse, the parts are nowhere to be found.  An educated guess:  The dog didn't eat my homework but something worse.

I look at Kiri and she shines back a look much like what's in the photo here.  All smiles and an Alfred E. Newman look of "What me worry?"  I know this is not a good thing and I have to do something fast before any of what's been eaten is "digested". 

I quickly pack up the dog, jump in the truck and rush her to the Vet's office.  They say that they'll induce vomiting (as I thought they would) and ask to me leave Kiri in their care for about three hours.  At this point Kiri is sweating bullets and senses what's coming.  Tail is down.  She tries to hide her face in my arm or chest.  Poor thing.    

I leave Kiri with the Vet feeling guilty and like a stupid shit for leaving the cupboard door open.  Can't blame the dog.  She's a pup and a stinker at that who will chew anything and everything that's available.  Nothing is safe.  Nothing.

Three hours later I pick Kiri up at the Vet.  Our lady Vet who knows us so very well that we're on a first name basis, produces a quart sized ziploc baggie.  The width of the bottom of the bag . . . the complete width - at least a quarter inch wide, is lined with small red plastic pieces along with a few other organic looking things (grass, bark with a few rug fibers sprinkled in for good measure).  She says it was a good thing the dog was brought in to do a little impromptu close to on cue vomiting.

All is well.  We shake hands.  I leave a little wiser and 150 bucks lighter.  I assure myself that this is much better than surgery to remove all those things and that I should be thankful it was only an out of pocket $150. 

Past yesterday's trauma we watch Kiri like a hawk.  But this morning the wife forgets to shut her walk in closet door and quickly finds that the dog has taken a leather sandal for a mid morning snack.  There's no letting our guard down.

I'm hoping that at seven months of age this pup will soon outgrow the need to chew on everything and anything.  It's getting expensive.

Blogging Problems

Blogger changed up on their program making it close to impossible to post new entries. This has been going on since July 1st.   Bear with me until their editing system is repaired.

That said, check this out.  Bob made the local newspaper.   Yuck, yuck, yuck!

http://blogs.redding.com/mbeauchamp/archives/2010/07/does-it-get-bet.html

Sailing on Whiskeytown Lake

Simply Amazing

Long time friend Helen gave me a heads-up on what was on the marquee of a local Cowtown church.  Yesterday I drove by and snapped this.  Yes, our Gracie is amazing in so many ways.  In contrast to the social and emotional behavior of her parents, our girl is even keeled, on the money, chuck full of old school values (the good ones) and a delight be with.   I have to say that Grace is very much like Wifey times 10.  That's a good thing.   You'd expect that as she has spent much of her waking hours under our care since she was 6 months old.

There's no other words for Grace other than amazing. 

Each July Grace's mother, stepdad, two half brothers, and stepsister pack up and head to Monterey for what I call Jesus Camp.  It's close to a week long gathering of evangelical minded families that includes a lot of things to do (rides, games, food) along with religious oriented gatherings.  It must be fun 'cause the family goes back year after year.

Instead of tent camping this year the family borrowed a truck and rented a 30' pull trailer.  The photo taken yesterday is of Grace and step sister Hannah on the trailer steps right before their departure for Jesus Camp.  They were so excited.

I'd go to Jesus Camp if they had target shooting.   That's a favorite pasttime of mine.  Bang!  During the military years it was a  yearly requirement to demonstrate rifle proficiency.  That was worth four sharpshooter medals, the highest rifle award in the military.  You can call me bulls eye if you want to.

If Jesus Camp had target shooting it would be easy to find yours truly on the firing line.  There would be no looking for Bob.  To find my location all you would need to do is listen for someone yelling,

PRAISE THE LORD AND PASS THE AMMUNITION!

And that would be me.

Odds and Ends

Summer has arrived.  Daytime temps of well over 100 ....yesterday's high 106.  Overnight low a little less than 80 making for a closed home with air conditioning.  Cowtown now faces a traditional 60-90 days of 100 degree heat.  Hot is good unless you're on the water in a sailboat.  We'll have to restrict our on the water sailing fun to early morning or late evening.

Last week it was our job to pick up Gracie and her step sister Hannah at noon from vacation bible school.  Grace usually spent each afternoon with us while Hannah was taken elsewhere to be with friends or relatives.  Wifey, Hannah, Grace and Kiri are shown in the photo above.

Last week was also a tough one: 

Zoe was put down.   A horrible experience.

Then, during the course of a READ program (children reading to trained pups) visit, a boy sat down with Wifey and Zeenie to read.  Instead of beginning to read the boy immediately grabbed the dog firmly by the fur on either side of her face and stuck his face right into hers. 

Being startled and feeling very threatened Zeenie barked, tried to move away and was quickly snatched up Wifey.  But somewhere in the brief exchange the boy was either scratched or inadvertantly in contact with the dog's teeth.  Two small red marks (less than 8th of an inch) were on the boy's nose.  A little blood was drawn and wiped off.

The mother of the boy didn't seem concerned as it wasn't much of a commotion.  No around even  knew that anything had happened. The boy, between 9 and 10 years of age, appeared to have behavioral issues that even the mother had difficulty in controlling. 

Regardless of who did what, a dog having a negative reaction to a "client" or scratching/biting a "client" is not a good thing in the pet therapy world.  That said dogs are going to be dogs.  I don't care how much training they've had given the right circumstances they'll react to protect themselves if threatened or hurt.   And that's exactly what our dog did. 

Now if this boy pulled on the ears of another boy and stuck his face in the other boys face.....who would be justified in clocking that kid?  Yeah, you're right.  The boy asked for it.  But heaven forbid a dog reacting in the same manner.

All things being equal, it is likely that Zeen will be blackballed and her certification revoked all due to the actions of an impulsive boy.  There are no excuses, no justifying.  No whining allowed.   That sound you're hearing?  It's Zeenie's hours upon hours of training going down the drain.

Yeah, it was a tough week.  And this week looks even tougher.  I'm not complaining.  I'm just saying.

BTW:  Blogger has decided to not allow me to place the photos here in the order I had hoped.  So, top photo, 6 month old Kiri last night burrowing under the pillows on our bed.  Second photo is of Zeenie.  Always smiling.  Ready to play ball.  Always somewhat timid.  Always mellow.  But soon to be labeled something she really is not.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Peace, quiet, not being disturbed are at the top of the list of remaining sane in a world gone nuts.  The the top of that list is:  #1  Toss the cell phone, Blackberry, I-Phone, etc.

A year ago I did just that.  Verizon screwed me big time in breaking their contract.  And I mean it cost big time dollars to get out of it.  Bastards - after all those years of being a faithful customer I got that?   But hell, it was well worth the expense.  There's no missing the:

 "Can you hear me now?" b.s.

Checks for "bars" before making a call.

Dropped calls or receiving dropped calls (don't you hate it when idiots place a call when there's no cell reception so consequently the call is dropped but they keep trying to connect anyway. . . only to have each call dropped, so....the phone rings and stops....rings and stops - Drives me nuts!!).

Being interrupted or breaking the silence in whatever you're doing.

Now the rocket scientists are talking about the radiation emitted by a cell phone and that it is harmful.  After all these years they're just finding this out?

I figure if someone wants to talk they can call the house and leave a message.  And if I answer the phone there's the usual question from whoever is on the other end: 

Them:  "What cha doing?"

Me:  "Having sex.  Can you hear me now?"

Click.

Been There Saw That

I was a kid about 9 years old.  Swimming at the city pool.  It was a hot day and naturally the pool was filled with lots of kids. 

About half way through the afternoon a half dozen whistles started tweeting.  Lifeguards running all over the place blowing their whistles.  I was thinking somebody really broke the rules and their ass was in big duty. 

The pool got kind of quiet and about that time the lifeguards switches from tweeting to, "Everybody out of the pool!!  Out of the pool!  Out of the pool!!". 

Mid pool in my swim to the edge I noticed something brown on the bottom of the pool.  It was long, shaped like a turd.  By golly, it has to be a turd.  I hurried up my swim to the edge and quickly got out of the pool. 

Yuck, I thought.  Who would poop in the pool?  Don't you have to sit down to poop?  Man, whoever can poop standing up or better yet while swimming has got talent.

As they say, shit happens even when you're swimming.

Me:  I'd like to pull a trick on Gracie next time she's swimming at the Elks Lodge.

Wifey:  What kind of trick?

Me:  I'd unwrap a Baby Ruth candy bar and toss it into the pool.  Then I'd yell to Grace to swim over to where I tossed it in and say, "Hey Gracie...there's a prize for you at the bottom of the pool.  Come on over, dive in and get it."   The expression on Grace's face would be too funny when she saw what the prize was.

Wifey:  They'll throw your ass out of the Lodge and ban you.

Me:  The Elks would not be getting any virgin.  Besides, it would be worth it.  If they threw me out I'd just join the Moose Lodge.  No big deal.  Anyway, I think their swimming pool is larger.

I've always loved Baby Ruth bars.  There are so many uses for them.

Flaunt It!

Paris Hilton's pink Bentley screams, HEY!  LOOK AT ME!!!!  But on the other hand, there are those of us who think, If you got it, flaunt it.  If I didn't know better I would have thought Paris had been awarded the pink four wheel Mary Kay award for selling the most products.  Frankly, a pink Bentley is pretty cool looking.

Some celebs want privacy.  Hilton doesn't seem like the type who doesn't want to be in the lime light.  That's probably why she drives a pink Bentley.   People started noticed Paris Hilton come the release of a sex tape made by a long disposed of boy friend.  At the time I didn't sense that Paris had the HEY, LOOK AT ME!!! feeling when she discovered her video was being sold or distributed all over the Internet. 

I've been looking at buying another car, a convertible.  We've owned several over the years and just seems right to own one now.  My skin needs more "stuff" generated from lots of sunlight so I can keep my Dermo living in the manner in which he is accustomed.  He says business is slow and needs me to buy that car.

VW has an interesting convertible that has caught my eye.  It's not the new VW EOS model but the "bug".  I've owned a bunch of VW's over the years and it just seems right that I buy another.  Used would be okay.  There's a bunch out there with few miles and hefty warranties.  Someone else has absorbed the depreciation and the dealers want to deal in an economy that has few buyers.   I like that. 

Any color but blue or red, I say.  It must have satellite radio, a better than average sound system.  The top and tires have to be like new.  And there has to be a place for Wifey to put her top.  Yeah, that's one of my favorite things . . . drive down the highway, top is down and Wifey goes topless.  The car may not be as fancy as a pink Bentley but Wifey without a top makes a huge statement: 

HEY, LOOK AT HER! 

She's got it.  Why not flaunt it?

Zoe

May 20, 1998 - June 21, 2010

Time to Clean The Bathroom

Music to rub-a-dub-dub the bathroom.  Now where did I put the cleanser?

Medium Rare Bob

Yesterday on the lake:  On the boat at 7:15 a.m. polishing, fixing, arranging, getting Sparkle Plenty for a day of sailing.

11:00 a.m. Wifey and friend Caroline arrive at the dock.

11:10 a.m.  We're on the lake.

Wifey and Caroline waiting for their lunch.  Like any good skipper I'm below plating fried chicken, cole slaw, potato salad and opening bottles of Corona topped with lime.

There was a cool breeze blowing across the lake that made the early part of sailing rather frosty.  It was definitely sweatshirt weather.  If you look closely you see that my sweatshirt is inside out.  It's how I like it.  Always.  Never right side out.  Always inside out. 

Caroline took the helm and did quite well following my directions:  A little starboard (or right), okay now to port (or left), time to come about (go in another direction).

We sailed back to the marina, the ladies went their merry way leaving me to button up Sparkle Plenty.  At about 3:30 I was in the truck headed home.

Eight hours on the lake for a white boy who never thinks to apply sunscreen often brings a red complexion.  This morning the face is red, the knees are red, everything else is either lightly tanned or white, white, white.  I'd give anything to have just a little ethnic blood running through the veins which would bound to yield a less than medium rare Bob complexion after a day's worth of sun.

There will no rays for Bob today, tomorrow and maybe the next day.

Table for Four

Dennis snapped this photo of the four of us on Monday.  Wifey is holding Zeenie.  I've got the wild child, Kiri, age 6 months, the latest addition to the family.   She is hell on wheels.  The look on her face here?  It's always present to indicate that Kiri is ready for wrestling, ball throwing, a romp around the yard, a game of chase or for mischief.  She's a love. 

Today is for sailing.  Fried chicken.  Cole slaw.  Potato salad.  Fruit.  Cold drinks.  Everything we need but only one thing that might be missing:  Wind. But if that's missing today we'll drop the sails, drop the anchor in a shady cove, eat, drink, crank up the boat's sound system and enjoy the day.

It's summertime and the living, well, it's easy.

Just When You Thought You'd Seen Everything

Bacon Candy Bars

In “Pulp Fiction” when Samuel Jackson’s Jules Winnfield says, “I just don’t dig on swine,” John Travolta’s Vincent Vega replies, “Bacon is gooooood.”

That widely-held sentiment also applies to chocolate, which is why Katrina Markoff of Vosges Haute Chocolatier combines the two. Her Applewood smoked bacon and Alderwood smoked salt Bacon Candy Bars come in milk or dark chocolate. Bars, $7.50

The manufacturer of this wonderful concoction says:  "I began experimenting with bacon + chocolate at the tender age of 6, while eating chocolate chip pancakes drenched in Aunt Jemima® syrup, as children often do. Beside my chocolate–laden cakes laid three strips of sizzlin' bacon, just barely touching a sweet pool of maple syrup. And then, the magic — just a bite of the bacon was too salty and I yearned for the sweet kiss of chocolate and syrup, so I combined the two. In retrospect, perhaps this was a turning point; for on that plate something magical happened, the beginnings of a combination so ethereal and delicious that it would haunt my thoughts until I found the medium to express it — chocolate.


From there, it was just a matter of time... and what began as a love of salt and sweet quickly unraveled into an obsession. No sooner could I wait to unveil the royal coupling in solid bar form, a deep milk chocolate with bits of pieces of applewood smoked bacon and just a sprinkling of Alder salt. Really, what doesn't taste better with bacon?"
– Katrina
http://www.vosgeschocolate.com/

I'd like my eggs over easy please with that bacon candy bar......

Or, hold the mayo on my BCBLT (bacon/candy bar, lettuce, tomato) sandwich.

It Could Drive You Nuts

This afternoon I shot the video of Zoe that's seen here.  Check my comments that are attached to the video's page.   Click on them to expand.

Wifey has a difficult time tolerating Zoe's non stop fussing.  Me?  After working with kids for so many years I can pretty much shut out most any noise and concentrate on whatever it is that I'm doing. 

When you view this remember that Zoe's condition is about her mind.  Physicially she's in tip top condition for a dog her age.  No injuries.  No disease.  It's all in her head.

It's tough going for Zoe.  It's also tough going for Wifey and I.

Grade School Chum

An old friend from elementary, junior high, high school, and college stopped by yesterday on the way to visit his cousins in Crystal Town.  Dennis and I have known each other literally forever.  We pop into each others lives now and then.

Having just retired as head librararian for a community college, the trip from southern California to northern California was his way of kicking off the next phase of his life.

Dennis loves sailing and of course just had to drive out to the marina to meet Sparkle Plenty.  I'm not certain what Dennis is doing or thinking here.  I'll leave it to you to make something up. 

We sat on the boat for a while talking about people we knew, things we did in school, old girl friends...stuff like that.  Marina Mike stopped by the boat and snapped this photo.

After an hour of this we left the marina for lunch with Wifey at the Hippie Dippie restaurant just down the line from the lake.  Salads, sandwiches, ice tea and lots of conversation.  Wifey went to the rival high school across town from where Dennis and I attended school.  We knew lots of the same people so the stories flew like crazy.

After lunch it was back to the house for more conversation and a photo with Dennis with me with the eyes closed.  After all these years you'd think I'd be able to pose for a decent picture.

You can tell by the photo that Dennis looks about 4 months preggers.  When I was about to ask him when the baby was due Wifey knew exactly what was about to be said and pinched my butt royally.  Knowing the price I'd have to pay it was shut up time leaving me with no clue when Dennis is going to have his baby.  Your guess is as good as mine.

After four hours of time at the marina, food and conversation Dennis departed Cowtown for his destination promising to come back, stay for a while and sail with us.   

Another out of town friend is dropping by Wednesday morning for sailing, dinner later that evening (my Chicken Cacciatore) and an overnight stay. 

It's all good, don't you think?

Another Close Call

Ever have an experience that you were so very  close to being killed or in an horrible accident?  Makes ya think that if you had zigged instead of zagged you would have likely been singing with the angels. 

Several years ago Wifey and I were were waiting to cross a busy street in Sacramento.  It was the lunch hour.  Lots of traffic.  The pedestrian light turned green and it was our turn to cross.  I started to step from the sidewalk and in the middle of that first step I Wifey's grip pulled me back onto the sidewalk.  I went, "Whoa!"  Hell of a sensation to be pulled back when you're not expecting it.

Wifey had seen something coming that I didn't:  A woman had just gunned her car to run the red light and in doing that she drove close to the sidewalk the rush to cross the intersection.  I mean just several feet from where we were standing.   Had Wifey not pulled me back....even that one step into the street would have spelled disaster.  Surely I would have been killed....Wifey, too, had she not been on her toes.  That was one of the few times that looking both ways before crossing never entered my mind.  It was a good reminder to stop, listen and look both ways before crossing the street ...even with the green light in your favor.

So, last night.....returning home from the Diamonds concert with friends.  The red light in the intersection just up the street from the theater was our first stop on the way home.  The light turns green.  Our turn to drive across.  Half way through the intersection I see a small car speeding quickly towards us and to our right.  Friends in the backseat yell, "WATCH OUT!"   I brake quickly and stop in the midst of the intersection.  The small car, a real piece of shit vehicle, stops just feet from the side of our truck. 

From the look on the driver's face it was easy to conclude that he was  (a) Under the influence and that (b) He never ever saw the light turn red and never saw us coming.

Me:  If that little shit had hit us you'd see me haul that little bastard out of his car and kicking his ass all the way down the road to the police station.

And I would have.

Friend in backseat (who's very big and very strong):  I'd be right behind you.

In retrospect, I do wish I had done just that.  Hauled that little shit out out his piece of crap car and take his ass to the woodshed.  Yup, that would have earned a trip for old Bob to the slammer for assault.  But that little mother would have thought twice before ever running a light again.  And the lesson taught coupled with jail time would have been way worth it.

It's the teacher in me.

Your Missing Blow Up Doll

Hey guys...is your blow up sex doll missing?  It's in this video. 

Friends invited the two of us to catch a Diamonds concert at the Cowtown Music Hall tonight. Th video posted here features one of their hits.   Tonight Wifey's wearing her poodle skirt, oxfords and hair in a pony tail.  I'm going sort of informal.  You see, I'll be wearing only my Speedo's.  Only.  Hope they'll allow no shoes, no shirt, only Speedo's.  I'll also be the only guy there not only dressed for swimming...and wearing swim goggles but the only one who doesn't look like he's pregnant. 

It will be tempting to ask Tom, Dick and Harry (every old Tom, Dick and Harry will be there 'cause they like the oldies but goodies) if they know when the baby is due.  Yup.  They won't dare mess with me.  You can bet on that.  Who wants to rumble with a half naked guy who's barefoot, barechested, has a salami in his swim suit and is singing I Gotta Be Me! 

And if I get hungry during the concert, that damn salami will come in real handy.  If you're going could you please bring a brick of sharp cheddar?  Oh, and I knife, too.  You'll need to cut the cheese.   Come to think of it, after consuming a lot of that and plenty of salami it's like that I will, too!

Three Dollars In Four Bucks Out

I read this week that our government is spending at the rate of four dollars for every three dollars collected in tax revenue.  That's just plain irresponsible.   The Feds know that but still spend more than what is taken in with no sign of resolve to stop the bleeding.  What are they, nuts?

How long would your household survive by spending like there's no tomorrow?  Most of us don't live that way.  Buck in.  Buck out.  For some of us it's five bucks in, three bucks out, two bucks in the bank. 

Then there's California.  Our elected officials in Sacramento think and act about everything other than how to balance a budget that's big time into deficit spending.  The Golden State, unless things change markedly, is going to hell in a hand basket. 

It's hard to find any sunshine in the news when other topics make the front pages.  Oil gushing from the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico floor.  The Gulf may never be the same. Public and private pension plans as well as Social Security are finding they're under funded.  Major American corporations struggling to stay alive.  Trade with China seems less about what American manufactures (and send to that country) and more about what comes here.  There's a huge disparity in trade.  Iran won't stop their nuclear machine.  The war we've taken on in the Middle East continues to take the lives of our men and women every day of the week.  I could go on and on and on...... I'll bet you could, too.   

Doesn't it seem that the whole world is going nuts?  Or is it me?  I used to laugh over the prediction that the world is going to come to an end in 2012.  Somehow it doesn't seem that far fetched anymore.

I'm just saying...... 

I Said Shotgun!

Perfect for Father's Day

One way or another, I've got to have this.

One Tough Puppy

Zoe was 12 May 20th.  For some dogs being 12 is old but for others that number means little in regards to health and vigor.  The dog-perts tell us Zoe's lucky to live as long as she has.  If you look at human years into dog time 12 makes 84 dog years.  I should be so lucky.

Zoe will no longer tolerate the monthly visit to see the groomer.  Wifey takes up the slack.  Zoe wiggles, squirms, sometimes snapping at the Wife and protesting loudly that in no way does she want to be bathed, combed and cut. 

The dog-perts still maintain the position we should put our girl Zoe down.  After several days of non stop growling, yipping, yapping we come close to agreeing with that opinion and begin to step in the direction ofputting her down....then Zoe has one or more fantastic days.  She's like a 8 year old again....perky, cognizant, playful, running around with her tail up instead of down.   Oh, we think.  Maybe it's not time.  Or, maybe Zoe senses what might be coming and thinks, I'd better shape up here or else.

The vet says we'll know when it's time.  Whatever time it is, it's not yet Zoe's time. 

I GOT WORK TO DO!!!!

An Aching Back?

The new tenants arrived around noon yesterday. An hour before their arrival a semi-trailer with their belongings pulled up in front of the house, fresh from Iowa.  You see it here.

 I signed for the goods and off went the driver who promised to return in five hours to pick up his trailer.  In other words, the trailer had to be emptied by then or else.  Okay, fine.  Easy for him to say.

The "kids" arrived an hour later.  Kids, defined as being fresh out of college, wet behind the ears, dumb as a fencepost when it comes to how the world really works.  But that's okay.  We were all there at one time or another in this life.

I get ready to leave the chore of unloading the trailer to the "kids" when I realize there's no ramp to walk everything down to street level.  All of it has to be handed from trailer to someone below.  Normally that's no big deal except for the half dozen or more heavy pieces of furniture in the trailer.  Two strong men (or women) were needed for that.  Then I eyed a motorcyle in the corner of the trailer.

Me:  How did you plan on getting that down without a ramp?

Him:  I made this little wooden ramp.  I thought I could ride the bike down it.

Well, that was pure fantasy on his part.  It was apparent that once on the little ramp one or two things would occur:  The ramp would snap from the weight of the bike OR, the top of the ramp would come loose off the get go sending the bike and its rider on a quick trip to the street.  Both would definitely cause injury to the rider and major damage to the bike.

I knew it would not be right to leave without first lending a hand.  There was no way the two of them could unload the trailer by 5 let alone handle the heavy pieces without my help.  So I stayed.

Me:  I'm going to back my truck up to the trailer.  The tailgate will be close to the level of the floor.  Together we'll slowly guide the bike into the bed of the truck.  Then I'll back into the driveway with the rear wheels set at the lowest part the incline (or in the gutter).  That will put the tailgate of the truck a couple of feet from the sidewalk.  Then we can use your little ramp to get the bike off of the back of the truck.

Him:  Okay, fine.  Let's do it.

So we did.  Worked like a charm.  That's what old dog experience brings to difficult situations.

I stayed for a time to unload each of the heaviest items from the truck that in no way would have been possible for the two "kids" to do alone.  No way.  You should know even at that it took everything this old boy and the "kid" had to unload those half dozen or more items and put them in the house.   At one point the "kid" started panting.  I started laughing for I wasn't anywhere near the "panting" point of moving this one piece.  "I'm the one who should be panting!  Come on, man up, let's go!", I said.  I loved it.

After all of the lifting yesterday I honestly thought my back would be out of whack this morning.  Worse yet, that I would not be able to get out of bed.  That's what I thought.

This morning came and I'm definitely good to go.  No aches.  No pains.  Not bent over.  Bob's feels like he can unload another semi.  Would someone please put on the theme from Rocky cause I'm ready to roll!

15 - Ink Spots - Revolutionary Road Score

Hold on!

This song popped into mind with the last post, The Tenants Are Coming.  I should see a shrink about off the wall thoughts like that.  Ya think?

Hold on, the tenants are coming (to town)!!!!

They're Coming!

The tenants are coming!  The tenants are coming! 

They'll be here today around noon fresh from their trip from Iowa to Cowtown.  Yahhoooo!

For the past 32 days it's been fixing, cleaning, tidying, replacing, tweaking, and sweating in preparing the home for the new tenants.  It looks just like new again.  Paint inside.  Paint next week on the outside.  Fixtures.  New flooring in many places.   Landscaping looking like something out of House Beautiful. 

The only regret is that after all this work that we're not selling this property.  Given the sorry state of the local real estate market, selling now is definitely not the wise thing to do.  But it looks like the tenants will be in the home for three years or more.  That's money in the bank.   After three years I'm thinking the market will be looking good (how's that for optimism?) and we'll sell this home.

The new tenants promise to be winners.  The man in the family just graduated from medical school and is serving a three year residency at one of Cowtown's hospitals.  His wife is a stay at home mom (a teacher by trade) with their two preschool age children.   Everything points to this family maintaining the home in as best condition possible, given normal wear and tear.

They're going to love living there.  For example, it's right next door to a pond and across the street from a small lake.   Just yesterday we found turtle egg shells in the backyard.  Yes, shells.  Turtles living in the pond have a habit of laying their eggs in and around the backyard of the home.  Their little girls are going to delight in the beauty of nature that's right in their own backyard.

And I'm going to delight in a monthly rental check for the next three years to cover all the cash expended bringing this home back into acceptable (there's that word, Laroo :) ) condition.  The fixing/repairing and the bleeding of outgoing cash has finally stopped!

Now I can get my life back.  Back to sailing.  Back to blogging.  Back to whatever it is I do with my time (always busy, never sitting). 

Click Click (the sound of two heels twice together and Bob being happy, happy, happy).

Who Sucks:  People or Facebook?

Maybe both suck. 

I'm on Facebook.  Quit two or three times but went back for who knows what reason.  Things I hate it about Facebook or is it things I hate about people?  You make the call:

1.  Making comments that no one responds to.

2.  Sending friend requests that are not accepted  (Hello, anybody home?!  HELLO!).  Makes one wonder ...was it something I said or was it something that I did or was it anything at all?

3.  Stupid comments from stupid people.

4.  People who list each and every day what they're doing, where they're doing it, what time they're doing and who they're doing it to.  That said, no one talks about having a fantastic bowel movement..the best they ever ever had. 

I'll probably quit Facebook for the fourth time.  It's really just not for me.

This Has To Be It

It's May 27th and close to 5 in the afternoon.  The weather?  Rain with a high of 53 degrees at the end of a Spring month that should bring nothing but sun and 80 plus degrees in heat.

I've burned through two and a half cords of oak this winter.  Three weeks ago it was cold, rainy and windy.  I made a fire and said, "This is the last one of the season."

Two week ago to the day it was cold, lots of rain and plenty of wind.  I made a fire and said, "This surely has to be the last fire until November."

Last week. . . well, you get the picture.

Then today.  Cold and rain.  No sun.  As I write this there's five sticks of oak left from the 2 1/2 cords. I'm burning those babies today 'cause this will definitely be and I want it to be the last fire of the season.

Bring on the sun.  Bring on the heat.  It's time for lots and lots and lots of 110 degree weather.

Let's Talk Seniors

We get all kinds of shit mail.  Advertisements.  Catalogues for every Tom, Dick and Harry mail order business in the world.  If there's junk mail out there to send, we get it in our mailbox.

As we've gotten older the type of mail began to change.  A couple of months ago we started to get stuff about hearing aids.  Granted I don't have the best hearing.  Mainly the issue around that is about not being able to hear well because I can.  It's about selective hearing.  I only hear what I want to hear.  It's a guy thing.  Take for example Wifey's requests to like take out the garbage.  I never hear her say that.  But Wifey claims that she tells me to take out the garbage most every day.  No hearing aid out there can help selective hearing.

Last month came the ads for walkers.  Like I'm on my last legs?  Far from it.  Geeze!  A walker.  I'd get one if there were beer can holders and an ice chest on it.   Now that would be handy and something I could use every day.

Then came the ads for motorized scooters.  You've seen them.  They're usually red, have a basket on the front and are for old farts who can't get around any more.  Bob's way far from needing one of those although I'd love to have one to rid in Walmart.  I'd be playing bumper car with the idiots who block the aisles with their baskets and their load of screaming kids.  Wham!  Bam!  Get out the way, Mam!

How do they figure out who needs stuff like this anyway?  Probably an age thing. That said,  I have to thank our investment brokerage for selling our name to these businesses (junk mail is usually address to our trust).  Everyone seems to be making the statement that 40 is the new 30, that 50 is the new 40 and so on.  This is supposed to make you feel better with every birthday.   If this is true then please stop sending shit mail to those of us who (a) don't need and will never need things like this and (b) adjust the age grouping its sent to.  Many of us are not getting older.  We're staying young in mind, body and spirit. 

The kicker to this post:  Yesterday this comes in the mail, a postcard titled:  Let's Talk Seniors.  It was from a nearby senior retirement home who's sponsoring three talks (but who really want to sell you on buying one of their residences) on Maintaining Brain Health (sorry, any hope of maintaining brain health was lost in the 60's & 70's), Depression (yes, I'm depressed about the state of the USA, how it is run and what our future holds - will this lecture help me?) and Communicating with Different Personalities (women are from Venus and men from Mars and never the twain shall meet - there will never be any intelligent communicating between the sexes).

I guess these are topics of interest to older people who think they can maintain brain health after burning up so many brain cells over the years all due to booze, dope, smoking and knocks on the head.  And I suppose there are those older people who become depressed and need to deal with that.  I feel for them.  Communicating with Different Personalities . . . that's laughable.  Seniors who need a lecture on that topic are indeed hopeless.  At that stage of their life if they have not figured out how to communicate with all types of people they'd better pack it it in.  It's a little late to change, don't ya think?

The kicker of the little postcard that came yesterday was this:  "Please come early and enjoy a complimentary meal.  Dinner is served at 12:30 p.m."

Dinner is served at 12:30 p.m.?!  So if their target audience enjoys dinner at 12:30 p.m. it can only mean that these people hit the sack and it is lights out at 4 or 5!   

Motorized scooters, walkers, hearing aids, dinner at 12:30 p.m.  LET'S NOT TALK SENIORS!  It doesn't sound like any fun to me.

But I might go for the free "dinner".   Ya think?

Just Ducky

Here you see panel of Pergo laminate flooring taken from in front of the rentals kitchen sink.  Our wonderful former tenants allowed water to seep/drip/run/gush/gurgle from underneath the sink cabinet onto the wooden floor.  To the left is where the seepage began.  Mold had began to form.

For reasons I won't go into the Pergo flooring had to be entirely removed from kitchen to the home's front door.  230 square feet.  Ouch.

They say that those who do not learn from history are destined to repeat it.  That said this will not happen again, Wifey and I replaced the flooring with tile.  Yes, durable, can't screw it up with most anything beautiful tile.  Believe it or not tile was less expensive than laminate flooring.  The cost for laminate was $2,600 installed.  Tile installed:  $1,800.

Our insurance is 1,000 deductible and of course to make a claim means the rates go up next year.  Our former tenants had insurance, too, which is what we require.  That will yield but $1,000 toward these and all of the other damage to the home caused by the tenants.

As someone once said, "Something is better than nothing."  We'll take the thousand, keep the tenants thousand security deposit and call it even steven.

New tenants arrive next week.  I am so ready.

Life will be just ducky come the end of next week.  QUACK!!!

Best Damn Besame Mucho Band Ever!

When Wifey and I visit Mexico we eat, we drink and we be merry all night long, every night. When there's a mariachi band I fork over 20 bucks if they can play and sing Besame Mucho.  No kidding.  Every visit to Mexico I probably spend a couple hundred bucks just to hear Besame Mucho every night.  When I get stuck doing one thing there's no changing up.

After each and every band finishes the song, I stand up, clap and shout, BEST DAMN BESAME MUCHO BAND EVER!   The band doesn't know I always say this so of course they're flattered like hell over such a fine compliment.  Then I kiss Wifey, just like in the song and again and again and again. Then I drink a couple more shots of Tequilla and then I start singing Besame Mucho.

I'd like to go back to Mexico but I'm afraid that I'd lose my head if you get my drift.

Anyway, here's one of the best damn Besame Mucho bands ever!  Give it a listen.

It's Only Money Honey

Repairs to the laminate flooring are impossible to make.  So, today it's being completely removed and replaced with tile .  Tile is $600 less than laminate wood flooring and will eliminate the potential for any future water damage to the floor.  We're looking at a replacement cost of $1,800 for 235 square feet of flooring.  The bleeding has got to stop.  OUCH!  This is on top of the 3k already spent to rehab this property.

As said last night to the wife, It's only money, honey....relax.  Smell the flowers.  We can't take it with us.

Off to the rental to let the tile contactor in.  Yippee Skipee!!!!

Mother Goose

We were busy talking to one of our contractors today who was bidding on the repairs of the rental we're working on.  I just happened to look outside of the kitchen window and this is what I saw.  Every proud mother goose in Cowtown is parading their young about.... here.   There.  Everywhere.  The pond next door was no exception.  The geese and their youngsters were out in full force.

Our new tenants are in for a pleasant surprise.  The beauty of nature is right out of their kitchen window.

Busy Beaver Bob

I've been busy.  Busy as a little beaver (like the four legged beaver with big teeth so get your mind out of the gutter). It's that damn rental.  If anything needed cleaning it did.  If anything needed fixing it did.  Etc.  The rental is where Wifey and I have spent most of our time and a lot of money since May 1st. 

Without going into a lot of boring details let's just say that indeed the old saying that beauty is skin deep rings true in this example.  During the occupancy of the last tenants on the surface the home looked beautiful.  Come time for an under the microscope exam, they lived like pigs. 

For example, the carpet cleaner said he had never cleaned a home with so much food embedded in it.  Filthy window blinds.  Grease and burned on food in the exhaust of the microwave.  Stains on the master bedroom carpet that would not come out.  Laminate flooring near the kitchen sink buckling due to water damage.  The dishwasher damaged beyond repair due to items stuck in its drainage system.

I'm not whining.  I'm just saying.  This goes with the territory of owning property. 

After two weeks of "that" we took a break yesterday.  I headed out to the lake to wash Sparkle Plenty knowing that migratory birds nesting close by had shit up a storm all over her.  I was right.  Three hours of scrubbing later SP was back to normal.  I didn't mind the chore as it was a bright, warm, sunny day on the lake.  Down right pleasant.  I got back into my chee, the Zen, the relaxtion of life.  Cleaning up after birds I don't mind.  Cleaning up after shit bird tenants I resent.

Then yesterday afternoon we took in the Cowtown Symphony.  It was the last of the season.  Wonderful.  Having already bought season tickets to the '10-11 symphony season, yesterday's performance underscored how right it was to continue to purchase them (this will be our fifth year as season ticket holders).

After the symphony we headed to the Elks for a pork roast dinner.  First drinks at the bar served up by our favorite barrista, Nicole.  As we sat down for dinner a portly, older man approached our table and asked if he could join us.  Naturally we consented.  A few minutes later Dawn and Keith arrived and sat with us, too.  Nice meal.  Great conversation.

Yesterday's activities reminded me of what life should be all about.  Relaxation.  Pleasure.  Enjoyment of the out of doors.  Fine music.  Good food.  Family.  And befriending a stranger.  

We're in the stretch in regards to readying our home for the next occupant.  He's a physician just graduating from medical school in Iowa.  He'll serve a three year residency at one of our hospitals.  Two little girls and a stay home wife (with teaching credential) will spend those three years in our home. 

Ahh, three years without having to rehab that place one more time.  I'm going to love every moment it.

Happy Monday, people.

By Any Other Name

It's Wednesday.  Hump Day to some.  Today, Cinco de Mayo for some others.  For me, it's another Saturday in a life where everyday is either Saturday or Sunday.  Whatever it is for you, stop and smell the flowers.  Speaking of which, these are Wifey's roses vibrantly blooming in the backyard.  She trims, fertilizes, pampers and fusses over them.  It pays off with blooms like these.

Celebrating Cinco de Mayo isn't ever in my plans.  For Mexicans this day is about independence.  For Gringos it's an opportunity to slam shots and Corona and feast on Mexican food.  Since I eat Mexican two to three times a week and drink Corona (hold the shots, please), this Gringo has no need to do what the other crackers in town are doing.  Besides, having a couple of drinks today, driving home you're likely to be stopped at a DUI checkpoint.  The cops always have more than a couple DUI checkpoints not only on the fifth of May but on New Year's Eve, St. Patrick's Day, July 4th, Labor Day and on Drop Your Mother-in-Law off at the Old Folks Home Day.  It's best to eat, drink and be merry at home on most if not all holidays.

Regardless of what you do today, it's still kind of a workday for Bob.  It's about the on-going saga of "fix/clean/repair/etc." at the rental.  Looks like about 20 yards of bark is needed for the planting areas, half yard of decorative gravel for walkways, a new over the vanity light bar for the guest bath, kitchen sink removed and replaced, dishwasher removed and replaced...just to name a few things I'll be doing. 

A busy Bob is a happy Bob.

Happy whatever it is you're celebrating today.

Out of Snot!

See the fight last night, Mayweather v. Mosley?   The fight played on pay-per-view for a pretty penny.  Like anything else in this world, there was a way to beat the $55 (no HD) - $65 (HD) price of admission:   Checked the Internet for discounts or coupons.  Bingo!

Tecate, one of the sponsors of the fight, offered this:  Buy a twelve pak of Tecate beer.  Save the UPC label off of the pak along with the cash register receipt.  Print out the online Tecate discount form and complete it.  Mail those three things along with the DirectTV billing showing that you ordered the fight.  In about three weeks I expect to receive a $30 check from Tecate.  Granted, $35 bucks for a PPV fight stings a bit.  But a $30 buck rebate is oh so sweet.

Wifey and I were rooting for Shane Mosley who won the two first rounds then proceeded to get the snot beat out of him for the next 10 rounds.  It was brutal but predictable.  Going into this fight Floyd Mayweather was undefeated with 40 something wins.  Shane had like 50 wins and 5 losses.  Odds at the start of the fight favored Mayweather 4-1.

What a way to make a living. 

Shit Birds!

The house is probably in the worst state it's been since it was new in 2002.  The last tenants put a lot of wear and tear into her over and above what should have been normal. 

Stains in the carpet.  We'll have to replace parts in the master bedroom and the bedroom to their oldest boy(sullen little shit he is).  Gum and black stains on the carpet in the boys bedroom.

Microwave/Over the Stove Fan (all in one) ....the stainless steel filters have never been cleaned.  The vents in the microwave are filled with crud.

Broken window shades.  Window not cleaned.

Garage windows filthy.  Each of the six florescent light defusers filled with cobwebs.  The walls have spiders and weds all over them.

Dent on the dishwasher metal panel (big one).

Water deposits on the master bedroom shower door.  Dirty tile grout.

I could go on.  You get the picture.  Real shit birds!

There's not going to be a lot left of their $1,000 security deposit.