I got another phonebook dropped of at my doorstep. I wonder how many trees are cut down to make the paper that is used to compile all the phonebooks printed in the United States in a calendar year?
I cannot think of the last time I've used the phonebook. I just simply go to one of the many online searches and find what I'm looking for. I'm kinda partial to http://www.smartpages.com but I'm sure there are others.
Is the phone book obsolete?
There was a very loud knock on the door which got Belle and Coco barking because an unfamiliar noise can not be heard unbarked.
So I walk to the door and peek through the window beside the door to see who it is. We have solar screens installed which allows me to see out but the people cannot see in (as long as it is brighter on their side than mine so one must be careful about walking nude with the lights on at night if you don't shut the blinds). What I saw was two middle-aged women and a girl that looked about 5-6 years old. I originally wasn't going to answer because I didn't recognize them, but I thought that it might be Nancy's new visiting teachers. Despite the fact that we haven't attended an LDS church in 2 years they still come by to visit her. I know how difficult it must be to come to a house where your message must be not so willingly received so I answered the door.
As soon as I answered the door I heard, "I'd like to give you a message...blah, blah, blah) and I caught in small print on a glossy stack of flier in the lady's hand JW and Jehovah. Great. The Jehovah's Witnesses.
My last encounter with a JW standing in my doorway involved a heated discussion that mainly involved my trying to get them to leave and they wouldn't go. This time, all I had to do was listen to their invitation to some conference they were holding, accept their flyer and wave as they walk away. They did try to use the current situation between Israel and Lebanon as a selling point to convince me the Second Coming is near.
At least this time I knew better to keep my mouth shut. If I had said something like, "If I couldn't accept the LDS what makes you think I'll like your church?" I'm sure I would've never gotten rid of them.
Well, I didn't get much sleep last night. I just couldn't seem to get my mind to relax. Then once I did manage to close my eyes for a bit I kept getting haunted by the same dream.
I was apparently in college. What college I do not know. I was still living in my childhood bedroom in Durham, NC. A room I haven't stepped foot in since 1986. A room that technically no longer exists since that house burned down a couple years after we sold it. Apparently, the owner cleaned out the fireplace and some of the ashes were still hot and they stored those said hot ashes in the garage and it caught the house on fire.
But I digress.
The weird thing is that Wally is in my dream in the role that he holds in real life....my best friend. The haunting nature of this dream is that we have final exams starting the next day and apparently, I have neither studied for them nor even taken the effort to attend classes all semester. Well, you see, in real life Wally hates college just as much as I do. But in my dream, he was not only prepared, but on top of everything. I kept calling him to try and find out what classes had exams the next day but he wouldn't tell me.
Needless to say, my alarm went off this morning right when I was getting to college and walking into the exam hall (which I must say looked awefully similiar to the one I went to at my high school I attended in Singapore). I was walking in and not knowing what test I was taking.
I wonder what I feel unprepared for. I'm obviously under great duress about something, I just don't know what
I must thank my friend Wally (not his real name). He has gotten me back into the gym. It's the perfect partnership. Both of us want to work out, but we can always manage to come up with some reason to not go. So we help each other get our butts over there.
The little gym I was a member of got bought out by a chain called L.A. Fitness. They finished building their new facility in June and I must say color me impressed. I have been a member of alot of gyms and gone to quite a few 24 Hour Fitness locations and I haven't seen a gym yet that compares to this one for variety of machines, free-weights and abundance of cardio machines (treadmills, eliptical trainers, stair steppers, recumbant bikes, etc).
I have been a fair-weather friend of the gym for about 4 years now and haven't really been at all since I had my ulnar nerve transposition surgery in April 2005. So I decided to go extremely light in order to prevent the dreaded lactic acid buildup and resultant pain. Unfortunately, I wasn't too successful in that endeavor.
I was fine until we worked our biceps and triceps. Since my surgery was on my elbow and involved the disconnection of my bicep and reattachment after the nerve we moved beneath it, I expected that biceps would be difficult. I also was more cautious to exercise with good form. I guess I did too good of a job, because my biceps hurt!
Needless to say, I am excited to be back in the gym. Like my wife keeps telling me, you cannot complain about things you don't like if you aren't willing to do anything to try and change it. Well, I've been complaining about my ever-expanding waistline and how much I miss my much leaner frame of a few years ago. Now I hope I can rebuild the habit.
For those of us who live in the United States or are expatriated US Citizens, yesterday was Independence Day, informally known as the Fourth of July because, well, it falls on the 4th day of July.
I was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling last night and into the early morning thinking about this blog post. Why couldn't I sleep? Glad you asked. It was due to the pyrotechnic experts known as my neighbors. Where I live in Houston it is legal to buy and shoot off fireworks. People spend hundreds of dollars on various types of explosive devices that seem to operate as efficiently and accurately as a Korean missile launch.
I don't know what's wrong with me because I love the fireworks at Disney World but I guess it may have had to do with the really organized nature of it and the fact that I can avoid the hassle of it if I avoided the prime viewing locations within the park.
But outside the Wonderful World of Disney, people are very Machiavellian when it comes to their fireworks enjoyment. There were long lines of cars just pulled over on the highway making it impossible for a car to pull off the highway in the case of an emergency. Why? Because they wanted a prime viewing location for the downtown fireworks celebration, yet didn't want to park and walk somewhere and they wanted the convenient location to the highway for when the fireworks show was over.
When it comes to those who create their own fireworks extravaganza, they don't seem to care if those around them could care less about an explosive light show. I even would bet they don't consider Independence Day as anything more than a day to drink beer, fire up the BBQ and enjoy burgers by the pool, topped off with lighting explosive devices.
I wouldn't be as irritated if the festivities concluded at a decent hour, but they shoot them off until 1-2AM and it isn't just that one night. This will be a night event for the rest of the week.
Then, when you complain, you are basically told that your opinion doesn't matter because it's the freakin 4th of July and it's their right to shoot them off.
I don't know when I started to hate fireworks. I cannot pinpoint a date where I went from ooh and ah to "shut the hell up". It must've been about the same time I started to hate snow. That point and time when you realize the fun doesn't outweigh the inconvenience.
I often wonder what veterans of our wars think of such amateur shows. As I was laying there it sounded like an air strike was going off over my head. Has their ever been a vet you was awoken by the sound of the revelry and hit the floor and went reaching for their rifle.
I'll be jumping for joy when they finally outlaw fireworks
I saw the craziest thing today. My wife and I were sitting on the couch discussing topics for her nursing exam on Monday and she turns to me and says, "Ray, look...Coco's asleep." Coco is one of our two Chihuahuas (otherwise known as the fur-kids). I told her that she couldn't be asleep because her eyes were wide open.
She insisted she was asleep because her body was twitching like she does when she's asleep. I got down and put my face in front of hers and she didn't move. I knew at this point she had to be asleep because Coco hates to have someone look her in the eyes and will turn her head away if you put your face into hers.
That's when I saw the cool yet wierdness. Her eyes were twitching like crazy. First they rapidly moved left and right. Then they'd roll back or roll to the side. The whole time her eyes were going crazy her body was twitching like she was wanting to run somewhere.
I guess what I was seeing was REM not the band, but Rapid Eye Movement. I just never knew anyone besides Beetle Bailey had figured out how to sleep with their eyes open
I tend to have these spells where I think about life, the universe and everything and I do most of this thinking the same place I think most red-blooded males do their thinking......in the restroom. Afterall, it's pretty much the only place within one's home that a married man has peace and quiet to do that serious thinking that he needs to do. Yes, we have tinkering in the garage, swinging iron on the links, or mowing the lawn but those all involve leaving the conforts of the home.
Well, as I said I've been doing some thinking and observing as of late and I suddenly noticed something about dogs and cats I don't think I ever noticed before.
As I said, I have been doing doing alot of this thinking in the restroom and that usually involves closing the door so as to not disturb those around you. Well, there has been a few times where I haven't shut the door all the way. Sure enough within seconds of shutting the door, the dog is pushing his head through the crack and looking around. As soon as she spots me you can almost see the look on her face saying, "Oh, there you are. All is right in the world". The thing that always makes me laugh is that I literally just walked into the bathroom and she comes looking for me. It reminds me of when I'm at my brother's house and his children want to always know where I am. I also have noticed that my brother's kids are always wanting to play and especially with their uncle. It's always, "Uncle Ray, will you play with me?". Well, I've noticed the dog is also like this. It's always, "Will you pet me?", "Will you throw the ball?", "Will you run in the backyard with me?".
It's these traits I love about our dogs and other dogs my friends take care of.
Now onto cats. I only know a few people with cats, but the personality traits seem to be the same. They could care less if you were there. You could be gone a week and when you announce your presence back at home, they just look at you with a look that says, "You were gone? I didn't notice." If you start playing with them and they get irritated, I can almost see them as little Joe Pesci's from Wiseguys,
"But, I'm funny how? Funny like a clown? I amuse you? I make you laugh?". Then they proceed to beat the crap out of you.
In reference to the blog Rollerbat 2006, my brother had the following commentary that he initially provided as a comment on the article in question. I thought it was an excellent retort and deserved a place in the front where it can get the attention it deserves:
There are several matters that you have glossed over in your rather lean and anti-septic description of "Rollerbat"
- Its Roll - a - bat. "Rollerbat" as you have it listed seems to imply there would be some kinda roller skates involved. And possibly batting or in the very least something bat and/or guano related. While thats a cool sounding game(perhaps played by bulky Germanic wimmin with clubs) i feel compelled to give you a B+ on memory retention. It neglects the robust history of the name of the game. Roll at a bat. Roll-a-bat.
- The reason that when we were younger fights erupted was because the rules were looser when we were kids. Hitting a fly ball that clips the tops of the trees, careens of two buildings and get caught by someone is frustrating. As children the rules seem to perfectly accept running down the field with the bat, and beating the crap out of the catcher. Everything dies down and the game continued on. Which only enhanced play. The catcher is thinking....you know i'm going to run across the yard jump the steps, and hurdle the hedges to get that buttheads next pop fly. As a game it promotes athletics, tumbling, good cardio vascular health, and coping skills, as well as its own unique talents and skill parameters. ( hitting a ball that you plan to bounce off two houses, and drop behind the dog pool on the wet side...is not easy and requires highly tuned motor skills and a fair amount of the right stuff) The game on the other hand is not endorsed by the National Coalition of Parents In Support of Peacful Backyard Games Foundation L.L.C. So care should be exercised before launching yourself into a strict regime to make the Multi-National-Roll-a-Bat All-Star Olympic Try Outs in November. It'll be on E.S.P.N. 8 "The ocho" the whole month.
- The game is flexible and has a multitude of applications limited only by the inventors mind. Example A: I throw a cold beer into the air. The Swedish Bikini and Oil Wrestling Diva squad tries to catch it. Oh the dilemna ! Will Svenka catch the hurtling beverage!? *gasp* Drama ! Intrigue ! Action Romance ! Stay tuned for the next episode of Beerman all you beerfans. Same beertime....same beer channel. ! See and that is just off the top of my head. You could play Volley-bat. Soccer-bat. Xtreme Snoboardin-a-bat. Look for that in the X games. Also on "the Ocho".
- This is too long and with my screen up to its highest resolution, i get this itty bitty box to type in. I feel like I'm trying to label the Constitution on the side of an asprin bottle with a No. 2 Pencil.
- Typos and grammar mistakes free of charge. I look at my hands when i type not the screen and with the text window at that size, there is no way I'll go back and edit.
So Nancy and I decided to put our house on the market. Well, in order to put the best foot forward with those people who are walking through our home we decided we needed to "declutter". Declutter is a 4-letter word for homeowners. George Carlin said it best:
So when you get right down it it, your house is nothing more than a place to keep your stuff...while you go out and get...more stuff. 'Cause that's what this country is all about. Tryin' to get more stuff. Stuff you don't want, stuff you don't need, stuff that's poorly made, stuff that's overpriced. Even stuff you can't afford! Gotta keep on gettin' more stuff. Otherwise someone else might wind up with more stuff. Can't let that happen. Gotta have the most stuff.
So you keep getting' more and more stuff, and puttin' it in different places. In the closets, in the attic, in the basement, in the garage. And there might even be some stuff you left at your parents' house: baseball cards, comic books, photographs, souvenirs. Actually, your parents threw that stuff out long ago.
So now you have a houseful of stuff. And, even though you might like your house, you gotta move. Gotta get a bigger house. Why? Too much stuff! And that means you gotta move all your stuff. Or maybe, put some of your stuff in storage. Storage! Image that. There's a whole industry based on keepin' an eye on other people's stuff.
I am by far the worst pack rat on the planet. Correction, I'm the second worst pack rat on the planet. My dad is the worst. He inherited the designation from his father when he passed away.
I digress.....
Nancy and I spent 4 days working on our "decluttering". Of those 4 days, most of one day was spent cleaning up the flower beds with some new mulch and weeding. The other 3 days was spent "decluttering" my office. Nancy took care of the rest of the house. I had stuff everywhere. There was stuff crammed into the file cabinet, I had stuff in boxes in the closet. Most of my stuff was paper related stuff. We ended up filling seven 13-gallon garbage bags with confetti from the shredder before giving up and we weren't even half way through the stack of paper that needed to be shredded. I was shredding bank statements going back 13 years.
There were a few bits of history uncovered. I found a "letter of intent" from a job I was offered 10 years ago. I have come a long way in 10 years. To think I thought 15,000/year was a lot of money back then. When I got that letter I thought I was going to be rich.
Boy did I throw alot of stuff away. I was pretty proud of myself. I felt like I was on an episode of Clean Sweep.
Needless to say, my office is unrecognizable. It's actually useable.
After the 4 days were done, our house looks awesome. I hope that we can keep it up
Here is another wonderful example of my brother's skills with coloring illustrations. The original line work was done by a person who goes by the screen name: DenisM79. The original artwork my brother worked from can be found here.
Clicking on the picture will provide a larger version
My sister-in-law sent this to me:
When the body was first created, all the parts wanted to be Boss. The brain said, “I should be Boss because I control all of the body’s responses and functions.” The feet said, “We should be Boss since we carry the brain about and get him to where he wants to go.” The hands said, “We should be the Boss because we do all the work and earn all the money.”
Finally, the asshole spoke up. All the parts laughed at the idea of the asshole being the Boss. So, the asshole went on strike, blocked itself up and refused to work. Within a short time, the eyes became crossed, the hands clenched, the feet twitched, the heart and lungs began to panic, and the brain fevered. Eventually, they all decided that the asshole should be the Boss, so the motion was passed. All the other parts did all the work while the Boss just sat and passed out the shit!
Moral Of The Story: You don’t need a brain to be a Boss......any asshole will do.Well, it was an excellent Mother's Day. I called my mom and wished her a happy Mother's Day and we got on with our day.
We went over to my my brother's in-law's house and ate burgers and Brautwursts. Then we sat around and vegged as we let the large quantities of meat we just ate process in our gullets.
I always like going to to my brother's inlaw's place. They just open up their home and make you feel like you are a member of their family. In fact, during the Hurricane Rita evacuation of 2005, they let my parents stay in their house (Rita is a blog entry of it's own).
I first had a sampling of my brother's brats when I was up in OKC last September. Ever since then, I've been craving those brats ever since. I got to have my fill today. Unfortunately, noone in my house likes them except me so I have bid my time until I get to try them again.
Nothing bizzare happened today. So my blog entry will remain rather bland this time
I am currently visiting my brother and his family in Oklahoma City. We just got finished playing a game that brought back fond memories of my childhoold. It's a game called Rollerbat. It has some pretty simple instructions.
You have a batter. He/She is responsible for hitting the ball whatever way they can. We were using a mini-basketball, but when we were kids it was played using a wiffle ball and bat. The ball is hit, you have 3 chances (strikes) to hit the ball before you are out. If you hit the ball and it is caught in the air without a bounce or richochet, the the batter is out and the one catching it is now the new batter. If the ball is caught otherwise, you have to stay where you caught the ball and roll it toward the bat, which has been laid down flat and facing toward the person doing the rolling. It is laid in such a way that the greatest amount of surface space is perpendicular to the direction of the ball.
If the ball is caught close to the bat (an arbitrary distance determined before the game), then then the bat is held upright so as to provide the least amount of surface space possible.
If the one doing the rolling is successful in hitting the bat with the ball, then they are the new batter.
Now the process by which the ball is caught reminds me alot of rugby. It's pretty much everyone for themselves. Alot of bumps and bruises were had this day.
It was very odd to play a game, as an adult, that used to cause my brother and I to beat each other with wiffle ball bats when we were younger.
Nancy was leaving the parking garage walking to the train stop so she could take the train to her last final exam for the Spring Semester. As she was standing at the crosswalk she noticed a little old lady next to who was wearing those plastic "glasses" they give you at the eye doctor. Nancy asked the lady if she just had her eyes examined. The lady responded by telling Nancy that she just had her eyes dilated and she was afraid of tripping over the rail track and if Nancy might help her navigate across the street.
Nancy, of course, obliged the lady and helped her across the street. The lady thank her profusely and hoped that she was going in that direction. Nancy told her that she was really heading toward the train stop but it was her pleasure to help her across the street. The lady proceeded to bless her for her kindness and Nancy went on to school to take her last final exam.
This final happened to be one in which she had only a couple hours to study for. Later that day she found out that she was a few percent points shy of what she needed to get an 'A' in the class, but she scored really high anyway. To score a high 'B' on a test you didn't study for is pretty amazing.
Nancy just said it was the Good Karma she got for helping the lady to cross the street. Honestly, how often do you hear of someone helping a lady to cross the street these day.
Boy do I love my wife.
My brother and I were having one of our usual length conversations on the phone about life, the universe and everything.
He had his usual hour long talk with my wife and then she handed the phone back to me.
He wanted to let me know that I was a luckless bastard. I got such a good woman for a wife that I couldn't have found her with the aid of a fistfull of 4-leaf clovers.
BTW, according to my wife, he feels the same way for himself
I have a very talented brother when it comes to the ways of the ink and pen. I have provided to the right one of his favorite pieces. He drew and colored this piece.
I will try to showcase other pieces of his. You can click the image to see a larger version
Cromm-Anvilringer
I'm having a run in with writer's block. I somewhat attempt to do autobiographical stories with a humourous slant. I want to always make sure the details are accurate and that my recollections are clear. At this time I have a few ideas of additional posts, but I just need to figure out the best way to put it down on "paper"
P.S. Kuri, thanks for the add to your list of 'Blogs of Interest'
[Author's Note: This is an attempt by me to write poetry. Take it for what you may.]
Muscles stretched
Tensed, poised feet in the block ready for the gun
BANG!
Feet launching out of the blocks
Feet meet track, track meet feet
Legs pumping like a two cylinder engine
Breaths short and fast
Finish line
Must get there first
Failure is not an option
Not in my dictionary
I don't know how to fail
No one in front on me
Must beat all my previous times
Must beat all the records
Finish Line.......
Race Over
Another 'W' in the Win Column
But I'm never done
No time to rest
Another race
Another race I have to win
Another race to show that I'm the best
Perfection must be maintained
Muscles stretched
Tensed, poised feet in the blocks ready for the gun
BANG!.................
