All Chick Luncheon

Friday is was an all chick Mexican luncheon for members of the Elks Lodge Chicks Only club.  All chicks.  But there's one man member.  Go figure.  Grace sat with friend Katherine.  She's just had to dress especially for the occasion.  She fit right in with all of the gray headed ladies.

 Wifey sat and talked with everybody.  She likes people.  I hate people.  Opposites attract.

Judging by Wifey's photo don't you think she needs a tattoo on her arm.  Something that reads in big red letters right down her arm like, "Bob Has A Big Dick".  That has a ring to it, ya think?  I'm sure she would rather have something else tattooed like, "Bob Needs Viagra."  Ha.  In her dreams.

Dawn ate with friend Robin.  Dawn has taken time off from work for lunch but still manages to suck down at least on Mexican slushy drink before heading back .  There's a chip off the old block for ya.

Dawn is having a chicken Mexican salad.  For me, chicken does not go on salad.  If you want salad eat salad.  If you want chicken it does not go on anything green.  On potatoes, rice, bread, pasta...you name it but anything but on salad.  Chicken on salad almost seems sacrilegious.  After picking up the 10 Commandments I don't think Moses would have been in the mood to eat a salad with chicken on it, do you?

And this lady.......the club chicks helped her to celebrate her 91st birthday with good cheer, food and gifts.  We should all be so lucky to have lived 91 years and look so very grand, so well preserved.

Are beer and chicken wings considered to be preservatives?

Down the Aisle

A friend is getting married this coming March.  I'm thinking he needs to learn some walk down the aisle get your dance on moves. 

So Russell, here's a video full of moves.   This ones for you!

Nothing like old Soul Train videos to moving first thing in the morning. 

Can't Have It Her Way

Classify this video as being Chicks Gone Nuts.  This is a must see. 

There's no original sound to the video as it was taken from a security cam.  What you hear is after the fact dubbing which does help to explain what the fuss was all about. 

Plain and simple:  Ya can't get chicken nuggets when it's breakfast time at McDonald's.  No way, Jose.  Don't even think about going there.

Fru-Fru Dinner

Last night's was an easy dinner.  Chicken tenders, sage leaves and asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, baked at 425 on parchment paper for 15 - 20 minutes (until the prosciutto is baked to your liking).  Served with rice.

A piece of heaven.  And there's no flatuence!

Two Syllable Flatulence

I was reading several other blogs this morning whose proprietors  bragged about earning money through their blog.  An attorney guy and his wife quit their day jobs to stay home to blog and make a living that way.  Believe it or not they're making more off the blog than they were from their day jobs.  Hard to believe but true.  Making blog money is all about the ads and the number of clicks on the blog which in turn generate income.  Like hundreds visit certain popular blogs every day and which generate a lot of cash.

Frankly, if I had to depend on making a living through this rinky dink rag if a blog there wouldn't be enough income to put a can of beer and a bucket of chicken wings on the table once a year.  Ever.

That's because this place generates few visitors as I post stupid, juvenile shit that pleases only me.  But for you who are here every day, thank yew, thank yew, thank yew ever so much.  I love an audience. 

Posting naked Wifey photos and elaborating on our monkey sex love life would draw visitors by the thousands.  I'd win the AARP Nobel Douche Bag Blogger Prize.  The bank account would grow by thousands every week. 

If I changed up here the blog would be so very great and popular that Wifey and I would be regular guests on Dr. Phil, Oprah, George Lopez (on TBS Mon-Fri nights at 8 ...he's soooo funny!), Rush Limbaugh (speaking to the rednecked, far right side of sex), IMUS in the Mornings, 60 Minutes.....you name it, we'd be there.

But no, oh no, I've got to write other things, keep the sex life and photos of Wifey out of here, and concentrate on what's important to me:  Juvenile thinking.  Besides, I'd only live a day, maybe two after Wifey found that I was posting butt ass nekked photos of her.  She's a good shot and it would be right between Bob's eyes.  Bang.

Here's a good example of juvenile thinking creates juvenile actions that translates into juvenile posts.

Shopping at Rite Aid yesterday for a new razor (damn!  they're 10 bucks or more), shampoo, floss and toothpaste.  On comes the song, Gypsy Woman.  The Impressions were first to sing the song making it popular and then came a lot of other versions.

Right before the song played it did feel like there was a lot of gas in me...that full feeling... all due to a wonderful dinner last evening that came with a side of beans, salad with beans, and soup with beans.  Add a couple of beers to the menu and by golly it's a case of , "Houston, We Have Ignition".  BLASTOFF!

As I shopped and the more that I shopped right there in the middle of Rite Aid I knew something had to give.  What goes up must come down?  Well,  what goes in Bob has to come out sooner or later and one way or another.

So then I'm listening to the song playing, Gypsy Woman.  The light bulb goes on.  I'll toot along with the music.  I'll bop down the aisles.  It will make me feel so much better.

When the time came for the chorus, She was a Gypsy Woman, I'll sing She was a Gypsy and then toot woman. 

It went like this:  She was a Gypsy Toot Toot, A Gypsy Toot Toot.

I tried, She was a Toot-toot Toot-Toot but there wasn't enough steam for two, two syllable words in a row.

Man, that was fun (doesn't take a lot to float my boat).  I was definitely good, even professional sounding at two syllable flatulent tooting to the music. 

Next time I'll have to try three syllable tooting to the music, like that song from Westside Story, Maria.  "Toot-toot-toot, I just met a girl named Toot-toot-toot!  Three syllable tooting would be an accomplishment requiring lots of beans, chicken wings, sausages and gallons of beer the night before. 

It was fortunate that Rite Aid was nearly empty for the sight of a card carrying AARP member happily pushing a cart down the aisles a dancing, a singing and a tooting would have created a cry for MANAGER!  MANAGER!  CODE 50 IN THE TOOTHPASTE AISLE!!!  MANAGER!!!

When the manager came to glare at me I'd still be singing, Gypsy Toot Toot, she was a Gypsy Toot Toot.  Sir, would you like to toot-too along with me?

All said, it was a fun way to get rid of that awful full feeling of too many beans and way too much gas to contend.  Sure, I could have hit the toilet but where's the fun in that? 

I have to say, shopping and tooting is one hell of a lot of fun.  I can hardly wait until the next bean laden meal and discovering there's a necessity to shop at Rite Aid.

I'd like Wifey to come check out this master piece, "Ohhh Toot Toot?  Toot, Toot?"

Wifey:  "Bob, quiting farting.  What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Indeed, a juvenile mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Kit's Ocean Visit

This is Gracie's American Girl doll, Kit Kitridge.  This last weekend she traveled to the ocean.  It was her first and probably not the last visit to the Pacific ocean.

Grace and Kit walked the beach and collected driftwood and shells.

Kit got tired of walking.  So Gracie had to piggy back Kit up and down the beach.  Somewhere along the line she started singing, "She Ain't Heavy, She's My Sister."  That's a new century girl who knows 20th century lyrics.  

Man Cave!

Sparkle Plenty will soon be taken out of the lake for the winter.  She'll "winter" alongside the house in the provided 45' long paved RV space.  

The question for last couple of months has been what to do with the 30' fifth wheel trailer that's already parked alongside the hous?  Can't park it in the driveway:  Vandalism seems to be on the rise in the neighborhood.  The trailer would make for an easy target.  And the neighborhood CCR's prohibit that kind of stuff.  

The trailer has a height between 13 - 14 feet.  The sailboat and its trailer has the same height.  It made no difference which went where, both rigs are about as tall as the law (and overpasses) allow.  They're as tall as they get.  Therein lies the rub.

The plan is for the trailer to spend the first part of the winter in an enclosed shed.  The sailboat will take its place once repairs and modifications are made to it.  The boat will be waxed and shined, all ready for the upcoming sailing season.  Indoor storage will save all of that work.  

Yeah, yeah, could have covered and stored one outside somewhere but there's no guarantee that there would be no break-ins or vandalism.  It does happen in these places.  Penny wise and pound foolish?  If the boat or the trailer were damaged that's exactly would it would be.

It's easy to find any storage shed with a 12' foot roll-up door.  They're not expensive compared to a shed with a 14' door.  Like half the price or more. 

After shopping and shopping I found this one.  The truck is parked in front of it.   14' high doors, 14' wide entrance.  45' long.  Room for either one with extra for a MAN CAVE!  Not that I need one because I don't.  Actually, I don't want one either. 

The sailboat trailer goes into the shop this week for new carpet.  The fifth wheel moves into the blue storage shed.  The sailboat comes home from the lake in September.

This is what happens when you have too many toys.  At this point I'm wondering if it is all worth the time, the trouble and the money.  

How much is enough when it comes to recreation?  How much?

4 Years - 1,406 Posts Later

What About Bob? hatched  on August 7th, 2006.  1,406 posts later equals a lot of information about yours truly.    Honestly?  I didn't think neither I nor the blog would last this long.  Here's to the next four years and at least another 1,400 posts.

The first post to the blog was short and sweet.  Here it is.

On The Beach - Brookings Oregon

This is what I do best (well, there are other things, too!) and something I enjoy. There's nothing like walking the beach on a warm day with two of my very best friends, Zoe and Jilli.

Always Something

There's always something broken or messed up that needs fixing or replacing.  Always.  It's a necessity to pay attention to the working order of the little things in your home, your car, your RV, your boat and so on.  If you don't you're either putting yourself in danger OR, there will be a whole pile of stuff needing fixing at the same time.

I try to keep up with repairs.  It's not easy.  There's other things I would rather be doing than fixing crap.  It's not being lazy, it's priorities.   Take the dryer vent you see in the photo.  I knew the lint was clogging the vent and piling up.  For the last 8 months the little voice in my mind kept repeating, "Clean it or you'll be sorry!"  This I ignored until one day last week I climbed onto the roof to check it out.

OMG, I thought.  This is "fire in the hole!" waiting to happen.  I attempt to clean out the vent on my own but in short time it was apparent that someone with the right stuff was needed to clean the vent and pipe out top to bottom.  One day and $75 later the vent and pipe were clean and looking like new. 

Wifey says she cleans the lint filter on the dryer nearly every time she uses it.  Nearly every time seems not to cut it.  Has to be every time.  The dryer is fairly new, is in good working condition and the lint filter recently replaced.  Cleaning the filter every time is a good thing.

The dryer vent deal is typical.  There's always something like this needing attention.  This week it was the sprinkler system.  Sprinklers get clogged with the little particles of dirt that are piped in from the water company.  Or they stop working.  Or the tops of the sprinklers come off and water shoots all over the place.  You always know when there's a problem with a sprinkler:  Everything turns brown and dies, especially in the everyday 100 degree heat of Cowtown.

Then there's Sparkle Plenty, the sailboat.  Issues with steering and lighting on the mast bug me.  Both have to be trouble shot by someone who knows what they're doing.  I could try but it's like there would be more damage I'd cause by "fixing" these things than it is worth.  Towing the boat to a dealer in the Bay Area come this fall will be necessary to make those repairs.  There's always something needing repair when it comes to sailboats.

I could go on and on about what needs fixing or attention but you get the idea.  We've all been there, know that and let things slide.  Instead of "put it off today and 'cause you can do it tomorrow" I should be practicing "never put off to tomorrow things needing done today." 

Taking care of "stuff" is becoming a full time job.  There's just too much of it.  Next time I think of buying anything that age old question has be answered first:  How much is enough?

Lunch with the Ladies

Last week it was Wifey's turn to prepare lunch for her women's club.  Every Tuesday at the Lodge all the ladies turn out, pay their 7 bucks and eat whatever was prepared by one of their members.  Whatever profit was brought in goes to one of the group's charities.  One charity that's near to my heart is the group's preparation of boxes of goodies and essentials that are sent to our troops in the Middle East.

Green salad, carrot salad, egg salad sandwiches, cake and a beverage ...all for 7 bucks.  Wifey had help.  Gracie (shown here at a luncheon table with Wifey), daughter Dawn, two friends and other members of the ladies group helped in preparing and serving the meal.  The luncheon was a success as it was sold out, the food all eaten and a handy profit made.

At each luncheon raffle tickets are sold and items raffled off.  It's a big thing for the ladies.  They buy their tickets and then coo in delight when someone wins a special trinket.  I'm thinking their raffle is a grand way to get rid of some of this crap we have around the house.  They'll be happy and I'll be just as happy to get rid of some crap and receive a donation receipt for tax purposes.  Win/win.

Wifey has to report for jury duty this morning.  Come noon that leaves just Grace and I to have lunch with the ladies at the Lodge.  We're meeting a few friends.  There will be stories, laughing, food (of course), raffle winners and most likely more than a couple of Bloody Mary's.  I'll be just one of the ladies.  Cackle, cackle, cackle.........

School begins in a couple of weeks.  Soon Grace will be hard at learning third grade things and eating lunch in the school cafeteria.  And just as soon the ladies luncheons at the Lodge will come to an end until next year.

With the start of school it also marks the end of summer.   I can't believe that September is around the corner.  We'll be pulling Sparkle Plenty out of the water for winter maintenance, repairs and spit polish.  Firewood has to be bought and stacked.  Gutters cleaned.

A life's chapter is closing, another just beginning.

Chicken Sunday

I like new things to eat.  Eating the same old food day after day after is for prisoners.  More bread and water, please.  That's what they say.  Bob says when the same old is served up, "Oh no!  Not this shit again!"

Well, not really.  Wifey is pretty good about changing up on what's for dinner  It's never boring.  It's the one meal we share so it's a must to make pretty good, not boring, scrumptious, no too Fru-fru sit down suppers.   Breakfast is rarely eaten.  Lunch is hit and miss.  Come dinner time, I'm ready for the feedbag and some serious chow.

So yesterday I found a recipe that looked yummy which seemed fairly easy to prepare.  It was rated a five star meal by other readers so it seemed worth a shot.  Wifey really wanted to take it.  In the interest of watching NASCAR I handed her my apron and headed for the Lazy Boy to assume the racing position.

I love shifting my lounger during any NASCAR race.  Makes me feel like I'm sitting in the stands with all the good old boys.

Our Quick Chicken Corn Chowder definitely turned out well.  It's definitely a keeper.  We'll definitely fix this one again.

Definitely.


Quick Chicken-Corn Chowder


You can have this chicken corn chowder on the table in less than 30 minutes.

Yield:  6 servings (serving size: about 1 cup)


2 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped celery
1 jalapeño pepper, seeded and minced
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 cups 2% reduced-fat milk
2 cups chopped roasted skinless, boneless chicken breasts (about 2 breast halves)
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen corn kernels (about 3 ears)
1 teaspoon chopped fresh or 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 (14 3/4-ounce) can cream-style corn
Melt the butter in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion, celery, and jalapeño; cook for 3 minutes or until tender, stirring frequently. Add flour; cook 1 minute, stirring constantly. Stir in milk and remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil; cook until thick (about 5 minutes).

CALORIES 257 (28% from fat); FAT 8.1g (sat 4.4g,mono 2.4g,poly 0.8g); IRON 0.4mg; CHOLESTEROL 52mg; CALCIUM 165mg; CARBOHYDRATE 28.6g; SODIUM 668mg; PROTEIN 19.1g; FIBER 1.9g
 

Hannah Spelled Backwards

Hannah, Gracie's stepsister, celebrated her fifth birthday a couple of days early on Saturday.  A birthday party for her was at the Cowtown plunge.  From 9:30 a.m. until 11:00 a.m. the swim center was for Hannah and her guests.  To help with the celebration they even throw in someone wearing a silly costume.  This is probably someones dream job.

Hannah's mom made a Tinker Bell cake.  It was, as you can see, a work of love and art.

Hannah opened a lot of gifts.  Judging by this photo finger paints are very high on her list of perfect gifts.

Would you like being five again?

Kid Rock - Cowboy [ENHANCED OFFICIAL VIDEO]

Moonlight Drifter

Early evening sailing with close to a full moon to light the way.  That's the stuff dreams are made of.  It seems the best winds are late afternoon/early evening.

Morning into p.m. sailing is the pits.  Hot.  No wind.  Tried early morning sailing today.   The sails were hoisted by 7 a.m.  It was worth a couple hours of time on the lake mostly to decide whether the wind was coming up or not.  Not.  Thank goodness for the outboard.

It's likely we'll hit the lake one afternoon soon around 4 or 5 and sail until after 8.  We'll have groovy jazz on the boat's sound system.  There will be lots of munchies and drinks to consume.  Might even take a butt naked dip in the lake.  

Wanna join us?

Nawwww, it couldn't be

RIP Chuck

I understand that Chuck recently passed away.   He will always be in Redding.

Motorcycle v. Pickup

Yesterday, late afternoon, an accident on the highway close to the marinia.  The video here was taken shot by a bystander and placed in this morning's local on line newspaper.

On Three
Friday Grace and Wifey went swimming at the Elk's Lodge. The pool is large, usually not crowded and an easy use.  There's a snack bar, mixed drinks from the bar inside the lodge, and lots of lounges under shade trees.  Swimming at the Lodge is a fun thing for Grace.  She loves to swim and usually ends up at the end of the day with two new friends.

Our girl loves to jump off, not dive, off of the diving board.  At eight years old Grace has her diving routine down pat:  Hold your nose, run down the board.

And into the water she goes!

The pool is larger, much larger, than what's shown here.  What's in these photos are one end of the pool reserved for diving only.  On the other side of the brick wall shown here is a small wading pool for the little ones.

 

Marina Bob's son lives in Sacramento and was visiting his dad this past week.  We asked Bob if it was okay for his son Albert to swim with us at the Lodge.  Since he was working, Bob was thankful for his kid to have something to do.    Like Marina Bob, Albert is a character and is definitely a chip off the old block. 

Come to think of it, what Bob isn't a character?   

One Bob Gone Stupid

There are at least three Bob's on the Marina.

Marina Bob:  He manages the docks and rents boats.

Sparkle Plenty Bob:  That would be me.

On The Edge Bob:  That's the name of the boat you see here.  He's the One Bob Gone Stupid.

On The Edge Bob doesn't maintain his sailboat.  Apart from the month he spent on it last summer all due to his significant other booting his sorry ass out the house, he rarely checks on or sails his boat.  Take this for example.  During last winter's many storms, when all of the other owners made certain their boats were secured, On The Edge Bob was content to do anything but that.  In return on one cold, dark, stormy night, the bracket on his outboard motor came loose resulting in both the motor and bracket going to the bottom of the lake.

There's always bird crap on his boat and water in the cabin of the boat (there's no cabin door . . . only a piece of plastic to keep out the weather).

Last Sunday took On The Edge out of its slip for a day on the lake.  The winds, if any, were light.  It was a day to swim the lake and not sail it. 

Bob had not been out long when he and his friend motored into the marina in the condition that you see here.   No one knows exactly how or why On The Edge was demasted but it had to be one of two things:

#1  Metal fatigue and the headstay snapped (the wire from the of the mast to the bow).  It's evident that the supporting mast wires on this boat have never been replaced.  Most manufacturers recommend replacement every 10-15 years.  This sailboat is easily 25 years old. 

#2  Someone, during the course of hoisting the jib, pulled the pin that holds the headstay wire in place.  When that happens, down comes the mast.

It's lucky that no one on board On The Edge was hurt or killed.  One or both of those things usually happens when a boat loses it mast. 

The mast, as seen here, is beyond any repair as it is big time bent in the middle.  FUBAR, to put it mildly

The photo here shows the end of the dock with the upper most part of the mast protruding outside of his slip and partially submerged in the water.  This is a navigational hazard for his neighbors to contend with.

As is the habit of On The Edge Bob, the boat sits exactly as it did a week ago.  Check on it in a month or two, it's likely to be exactly as it sits today.  On The Edge Bob is like that. 

This once again proves that even in a small group of shining star Bob's, there's always one gone stupid.

From There to Here

It began here. Born in a midwest hospital with the first years spent just a few miles from there and in this home.

Mom, grandmother, grandfather ("Pop"), mom's two high school age sisters and me: We lived there. Bio dad was not in the picture nor was he ever. I never quite understood why and would have liked to have heard his side of the story. Bio dad died at the age of 67 a few years back. I'll never really know "the rest of the story".

The home remains today much the same as it was back then located on a corner lot just across the street to the left of the home from the Union Pacific railroad tracks, primary to the travel of passengers and freight through the midwest.

I often wondered how things would have turned out had mom not married a soldier and the three of us moved to his home in California.  Growing up midwest probably would have been a good thing.

This home, the place where mother and her sisters grew up and which served as my first home, was up for sale a year ago.  $48,000 for 2 bedrooms, 1 1/2 baths, 1,600 square feet including the basement.

It was tempting to buy.  Grandfather purchased the home in the 1920's. It had just been built.  A little piece of family history would have been neat to own.  But the distance from here to there was great, the midwest winters tough (frozen pipes) and the question of whether to rent it or use it infrequently a tough one to answer. 

I'd relocate to the midwest and live in this home.  In a heartbeat.  My heart belongs to the midwest.  Never was much of a California boy.    Most likely Wifey would choose to remain here.  I'd be there.  She'd be here.

Then what?

Anything For a Buck

Here's a new product that's due to be on the shelves come August. 

First reaction:  Anything for a buck. 

Second reaction:  As if we don't have enough shit to makes us fat or clog the arteries. 

And last reaction:  Yet one more thing that can't be recycled.

But, coming up with weird shit is the American way, isn't it?

It was a horrible night last night.  Kiri.  Krink.  Krunch.  Krink.  Krunch.  All night long.  I was up with her four times.  Wifey did three turns.  She had to pee, poop, drink water, run around.  She must be uncomfortable and in some pain or discomfort.  The cone on her head is enough to drive anyone nuts.  Major surgery has its own aftermath issues. 

We grin.  We bear it.  We take afternoon naps knowing this will be over shortly and our girl will be back to sleeping through the night without the Krink Krunch cone around her neck. 

Busy day.  I should be sailing but taking care of biz has its own priorities like:  Bank deposit.  Check out a new gym.  Haircut.  Buy nylon line for the weed eater.  Check out an other storage facility to store the boat trailer.  Shop at Target.   My turn to cook dinner so need to shop for that...thinking about preparing chicken stew. 

Then there's always other things like yard work (still raking up leaves from last fall thanks to the 30 plus oak trees - there's still a few left), hitting the lake, wiping the boat down and starting the engine to charge the batteries. 

Gracie will be with us this morning until about 5:30 this afternoon.  She's always one of the bright spots in the day.  After her voice lesson this morning it's likely Grace and Wifey will go swimming at the Elks Lodge.  They keep busy doing girl things . . . things that Gracie will forever treasure as precious memories of her grandmother. 

Sitting at the computer is not doing anything to dwindle the list of things to do.   Gotta get my butt in gear.   It's likely I'll get hungry while out and about doing errands.  Wish I had a can of sandwich for a midday snack.  Not.

Happy Thursday.

Bob

There once was a boater named Bob.

The price of fuel made him sob.

He said with a wail,

I'll turn to sail

and let the damn wind do its job.

 Kiri Cone Head

Seven months old, it was time to slice and dice Kiri.   She was close to coming into heat.   Being a mother was not in her future. 

In the name of keeping Kiri away from her "wound" we're destined to live for the next 8 days with a dog who clunks around with a cone around her neck.  Last night was her first one home from the proccedure.  Confined to her crate (it's a large open wired thing), Kiri rolled and tossed through the night which created the sound of crinkling plastic.  Not exactly music to anyones ears. 

At 1 a.m. enough was enough.  Kiri was taken outside to relieve herself and stretch.  Then it was back in the crate for the second half of the night's double header restless sleep. 

In the interest of a good night's sleep we could place Kiri in another room.  But I feel that it's important to have her close in the event the cone comes off or she needs meds to kill the itch and/or pain. 

You'd think there would be a better way to isolate a dog's wound other than subjecting them to cone headed torture.  In researching the Internet I did find that following this procedure a few owners place t-shirts on their pups in lieu of the cone.  Somehow I can't see this working as (a) The dog will find a way to the wound at the bottom of the shirt and (b) If that doesn't work they'll tear the shirt to pieces.  Or so it seems.

It's going to be a long 8 days.

Taken at the county fair a while back. Need I say more?