Beer convoy

This is how we move beer around here.

Actually the Budweiser Clydesdale are in town, beer wagon and puppy included.

Knight

A. Knight in Ohio.

All Cracked up

Contaminated Eggs

* Checking the date on the carton.

Are you cracking up yet

Just in case the virtual salmonella hasn't hit you yet,

Here is one to get you cracking:

Shhh .. I am hiding my secret identity .... The Melon Bandit!

****************************************************************

Is my disguise working?

Melon Bandit?

So the garden swells with the over growth of sweet potato vines, more leaves than fruit tomato plants, half eaten (by the neighbourhood deer) corn, and a few surprise cantaloupe.

Yeap, these city folks got some melons in 'em vegetable patch.

Then in a blink ( a few unguarded seconds) a war erupted between Elmer Fudd (wanna be) and the Melon Bandit.

At the rate the fortress is expanding, we should have a few boys from the National Guard stand next to the multi-layered defence erected around a few melons.

Here is the evidence, notice little teeth marks from chewing and carrying to Mommy.

**********************

Oh yeah, the Melon Bandit is sooooo sorry.

*********************************************

Yeah right .... I am so cute, I get away with everything ... so far.

(Cucumbers, melon, Victoria's favorite left shoe, every stuffed animal, phone book, piss on daddy's side of the bed.)

Before and After

Before ... Blue Walls

*****************************************

After ..... Brighter Blue Walls

************************************

Really bright blue walls

Learn a new line

New Line:

"It is fun to hang a pirate."

- "Gunner", Hans "Dolph" Lundgren, The Expendables

Something to watch...

Before ....

I am watching something

Still watching you .... write on Mommy's wall ... you are in trouble!

I have my eyes on you Mister!

You cannot run away

You put big holes in the walls!

You are being watched by Jellii

How I know Sean O'Keefe

My tribute to Sean O'Keefe in 2005, when Space Shuttle Discovery returned to Earth safely.
And I will raise my cup again.
Cheers!

Cool Feet

More Doggone days of summer

more...

All you can eat ribs and PIE!

Roxii ..... ahhhh.

Solomen ... Cool feet!

What is happening

Tomato plants (not sure on the variety).

Corn, at least what the deer spared from the 10 stalks.

The barren ground turned into a lot of green stuff.

Surprise ... more flowers.

More blooms.

The summer has gone to the dogs ... really

Yes time for the monthly entry ...

Look at me .... don't look at the guys with the guns behind me.

Behind "bars" .... Armed Forces Day 2010.

An Infant garden.

Bottles everywhere ... relay for life 2010.

Enough already .. dancing with the farts.

Dancing with the Stars used to catch my 60 minutes of TV time a week, when real 2 left-feet compete and we booed them in our living rooms. Or kept Jerry "Fifi" Rice all the way into the finals, a quarterback in dancing shoes was an extreme treat.   The last seasons should be Dancing with the Former Dancers.   The astronaut Buzz was a good choice, but now we are down to those who had dance and physical experience, not too fair and not entertaining anymore. Yes, even Pamela Anderson had dance experience, even if it was with a pole.   My picks for next season: Iron Chefs Morimoto or Batali John McCain The Sheriff from Arizona Donald Trump (he can send Don Jr, easier on the eyes) Captain Sig (from the Deadliest catch) Hugh (From Ice Road truckers) Donatella Versace Joy Behar Nancy Pelosi Martha Stewart Oprah Winfrey Carly Fiorina   These choices are figures of authority, turn the tables on them for a change. Or cast your own choices - make sure they are fair, no athletes or performers allowed.

How to win a war

The strategy of war or Anatomy Class?
Where is Waldo?
Looks like my travel itinery, go North to go South, go East to go West!
Do I hear Porky Pig, "That's All Folks!"

SCARY

BUTLER and DUKE

More than a cliche, this game cannot be compared with anything in history, not a Cinderella Story, or Hoosier ... Proximity lay with David and Goliath, because they were so small in all aspects, the size of the schools, towns and the players. One coach has Olympic experience while the other baby face coach looks like he has yet to develop a stubble. My conclusion, I wished the last ball sank and the overtime is called. Let the game go on. Not enough for a small school to take the spotlight, not enough just to take the Titans of the court, they came to crush. Even if Butler only have to drive 6 miles down the road, those boys won the hearts and tears of the nation. Size may have mattered, physically, but those boys won with their tenacity and endurance.   The final shall go down as the "BUTLER and DUKE" story.

She is so small

New friend .....

scary with less neck pain

Hat tip to T-Bone

I am dreading the time I break the news to the kids, the passing of a musical great.

Tom "T-Bone" Wolk is the glue in Hall & Oates. My kids were born after the 80s, but they sing to these musical greats, including watching our favorite episodes of "Live from Daryl's", Christmas Episode. (another blog).

In every episode of "Live from Daryl's House", is the man with the hat, with the musical fingers.
Best fingers on strings.

Daryl & John, if you read this, wear a hat for 1 show, we will know who it is for.
T-Bone, we will miss you, music will not be the same, at least not from Daryl's House.

Peace.

CEMETERY ESCORT DUTY

This is a "forwarded" emails which I need to share (hat tip):


I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun. Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.

I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.

I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.

Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.

I broke post attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch.. I must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.

I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint.

'Ma'am,may I assist you in any way?'

She took long enough to answer.
'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days..'

'My pleasure, ma'am.' Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.

She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'

' Vietnam, ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'

She looked at me closer.. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine.. I'll be as quick as I can.'

I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'

She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie from a long way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time.'

'Yes, ma 'am. At your service..'

She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the flowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone She murmured something I couldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.

She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943..

She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944..

She paused for a second. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'

I almost didn't say anything but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'

She looked confused. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way.'

I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'

'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'

She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out.

'OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'

'Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'

She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle, Stanley was my husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all marines.'

She stopped. Whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully.
I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it over to Kevin, waiting by the car.
'Get to the 'Out' gate quick. I have something I've got to do.'

Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her. She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.

'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped it across the drive to the other post.

When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!'

I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud.
She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice.
I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.

Instead of 'The End,' just think of 'Taps.'

As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer: 'Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or overseas. Hold them in your loving hands and protect them as they protect us.'

Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in our thoughts.. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.

'In God We Trust.'

Sorry about your monitor; it made mine blurry too!
If we ever forget that we're one nation under God, then we will be a nation gone under!

Yes I know ...

No need to remind me, it is a new year.
Yes indeed I have neglected this blog, unfortunately life takes a biger priority here, especially my important roles of the bus, bank and CEO (Chief Environmental Officer).
So far the new year has been cold and uneventful.
The catastrophy in Haiti makes me feel more helpless and sometimes more fortunate.
(more to elaborate later)
Snow still blankets this area, in hand with the low temperatures.

As with above, more elaboration to come ....

Stupid Call

Redskins and Giants.   Joe Theisman vs Baby-face Super Bowl Quarterback. (That is how I remember these 2 teams, find your own lingo!)   Really what kind of stupid play was that? High School pranks at a professional level is too jovial for the season. To add insult to more insult, they used the same setup after a time out was called by Giants. Yes your secret is out, the other team knows what you were doing, but to return after 2 minutes with the same set up? Err ... a blond moment of D'OH! Double D'OH!   This is not a hand slap to the forehead, used a cast iron frying pan to the skull!   The unfortunate use of talent. Definitely an abuse of testosterone's or hormones if we are going there. Even the high school kids can ace that play too.   Really, a stupid call.

Stand up and take a bow

The time has arrived, we are trying to figure how much to spoil the kids and spouse, entwined with irrational travel habits compounded into this cocktail is the unrelenting weather.

Thankfully we have family to travel with, to visit other families.
We are thankful for our health so we can travel with our family to visit other families.
We are thankful for our employers, so we can travel with our family to visit other families.

Here comes the monkey wrench to the rhythm, cutting the strings to a cello in the middle of a symphony, screeching the wheels on a summer Saturday afternoon drive, a Superbowl Champion losing to the CLEVELAND BROWNS, Tiger Woods and his "Transgressions", an interception from a 100% quarterback ala Peyton Manning, you know what I mean.

There is a big group of men and women that I am thankful for. Straight or gay, tall or short, blue or green, vegetarian or eat everything under the sun, young or old, Active or in the Reserves or a Veteran.
Without them, I am not sure I can travel with our family to visit other families.
They contributed to our freedom that we take for granted today.
Freedom that was secured a long time ago, but still under maintenence.

Stand up and take a bow.
Men and women of the USA Marines,
Men and women of the USA Air Force,
Men and women of the USA Navy,
Men and women of the USA Army,
Men and women of the USA Coast Guard.

*Hat Tip

Coming next

Due to time constraints, I am unable to complete the next post tonight.
Here is the hint, I actually watched a movie in entirety, and shall post a review emmm ... tomorrow?

What the *9%$ about the Steelers

Yes I am returning to the roots of this blog, FOOTBALL (American).
Some (maybe 2) readers remember how this blog started, posting football scores for the troops overseas plus the yabbering of the misfortunes on the field.

Well over the years more writers joined the blogosphere and I graciously back step into the retreat of readers.

4 games later, I am fuming!! What is up with the Steelers? AGAIN!

4 losses, in a row, in a bad buffalo row. First of all, we cannot blame the coach for bad calls, ala my other love, Belichek. Mike Tomlin, did not make any slap in the forehead calls, but should have slapped, no, more like bat-whack the helmets of his players. Flipping though the playbook, yeap, football is still a TEAM Sport. Translating, more than one player completes the game. An injured player, therefore, should not cost the entire team to FAIL. The other members of the team completes the operation, finish the game.

What ever happened to the secondary teams, the backups, the other players?
The loss of the long hair dude, does not mean you let the other team waltz past you to touch downs. Big Ugly Jock, Big Ben is standing on the sidelines, that means his understudy should have been primed, lubed and cranked to take over. Walking refrigerators should be his caraface, protecting the infant and guiding him. My forehead is red from 4 games of head slapping disappointments, some one will be honored with the bill for ice packs.

What is the roborant? Maybe a little of Bill Cowher, a little Belichek, a little of humble pie.

As my dear Brady boy puts it,"We do not deserve a win with the mistakes we made."

Armistice Day

Armistice Day
Remembrance Day
Veterans Day

All these days fall on November 11. We forgot our history classes too easily because it was mundane about a group of over zealous clammering for World Domination. The pages of the book replay the same theme, 1 insane man becomes power hungry, motivates others to carry out his orders, rivers turn red with bloody losses, fields of food became battlegrounds for the egos, the pagans revolt, courage and honour precipitates, the tyrant is eliminaged and then the cheers of victory.

Sounds about right.

However with each turn of the war strategy, there are the brave, tall and honourable, whose sacrifice makes this rambling blog possible.

To all those in service,
To all those who served,
To all who will serve,
My hat tips,
And my poppy glows with pride.

to be continued .... getting sleepy

Nov 10, 2009

22 years ago, the words were burnt into my soul, "Mr Gorbachev, Tear Down this wall!" The distinct membrane separating freedom and communism, did fall 2 years later.

20 years later, assembled at the Brandenburg Gate were Mikhail Gorbachev, Chancellor Angela Merkel and the face which graced many of my essays, LECH WALESA. On the screen is an older but familiar face from 20 years ago. Not someone I really looked up to, but whose tenacity I admired. The Miner who freed Poland, united under "Solidarity". Who are missing from this gathering of historical figures? Let's examine, Perestroika is credited to Mikhail Gorbachev, Lech Walesa brought a country to their feet, Chancellor Merkel was a West German who now leads a unified Germany. Oh yes, Chancellor Helmut Kohl headed Germany 20 years ago is absent. The trio stood somber, as the rain mists, the obvious absence of another drapes this picture with a slight mourn.

No roar will be loud enough if we could hear President Ronald Reagan, standing alongside Gorbachev, "Gorby, give me a 5. We did it."

"If we don't fight for freedom, someday we will sit on our porch telling our grandchildren what it was like to live free."
And another daily lesson.

Winning Pumpkin

Pictures from Here

The chill in the air reminds us of the immiment change in the seasons, summer is over and Winter is just over the horizon.
Here are the signs as seen from the eyes of short "people".

For a Greater Cause

When I called for the numerous times to sign up for the North West Ohio Honor Flight, the coordinator asked why I am so eager. According to my age, I did not serve in the war. The integration of the World War into my background and heritage cannot be established. After a 15 minute summary over the phone, the coordinator requested a simple commentary on my interest and the importance of the Veterans Honor Flight, perhaps I may address the Veterans or volunteers for a future flight.

An absent muse in addition to writer’s block, hindered the fulfillment of her simple request. Alas, after many paper losses, an Archimedes re-enactment and a quiet stairwell, I discovered my muse is with me spiritually always. The success of this important flight is challenged by other logistics, hereby transforming a personal fulfillment to a larger cause.

For my muse, thus this tribute begins.

Dear Grandma,
Anxiety overflows from my every breath, the selection results for Guardians for the 2009 Hancock County North West Ohio Honor Flight, will not be released for a few more days. Fitting that I volunteered to accompany war veterans to the memorials in Washington D.C.

Only a simple gesture for me to thank them for us, for the both of us. All the childhood tales of sirens and dodging into bomb shelters during the Japanese invasion, those are vivid imagination that seared into my memory. How you suffered torturous beatings and starvation during the Japanese Occupation, which fueled anger in me at a young age. The scars on your back, an image I will never forget.

The celebrations on the streets of Singapore when the war was declared over, my dear grandmother crying tears of joy, a picture I longed to see. British and American soldiers together with the members of the Allies closed the chapter of decomposing humanity. The valiant efforts and triumphs by men and women of the Allies are carved in stone forever, here in the United States; it is the World War II Memorial, their honour.

These Veterans may not be the same men and women who were in South East Asia. They are part of the Greater Empire that toppled the menace. Together they stood steadfast against tyranny and emerged from the cloud of dust with victory cradled in their arms. Perhaps they may have walked the same streets in Singapore, when the locals burnt bags of Japanese yen when victory was declared. Or by coincidence they may know of a comrade who was on the high seas of the Straits of Malacca, when the Japanese surrendered after a futile sea battle. This trip with the Veterans of Hancock County is our way of thanking the Brave, Beautiful, Honourable, Tall and Valiant. They did not give up so you, my grandmother, could be free.

On October 7th, 2009, I hope to proudly march these Veterans to their silent parade of gratitude, their Memorial of Valour.

The Rainbow Girls of Findlay unanimously volunteered their potential earnings from a future car wash to help fund the Honor Flight. Currently we are gathering the local groups and organizations, the Elks, Masons etc to close the fund deficiency for this trip. Even the Marines and National Guard received messages from us, talk about calling in the troops.

Our personal cause just blossomed into a greater cause.

Time for EEOE?

Faith is something we seek, not something given.
When we lose faith in the structure we strive for, the crumbling begins.
Faith in a person or a group develops with time, envelope a comfort zone.

A fragile connection, a thin line between the ends. Immense satisfaction
can develop with a successful relationship. 2 ends to this connection, and
only 2 ends. External influence disrupts this connection and destroys the
prime existence of faith.

Retaliation for reporting a hostile condition, definitely extinguished my
faith in my environment, I lost the drive to try, my body feels like it is
breaking down. A burning fever continuously sears me, food is rejected all
the time and there is no indication of when this extreme will end. Self
doubts of my performance and mutual loyalty lingers. Will the dedication I
present be reciprocated, instead of excuse the sacrifice as over
zealousness. When activities deemed in most work environment as abuse or
harrassment was brought up, the advice was to endure the treatment, despite
the wrong. Punished are those with good work ethics, rewards flow to those
with less. Further notice to other supervisors had the same results. In
fact even the supervisor, a graduate, who should possess professionalism,
degenirated me further with threats and words like, "half-ass efforts" . I
had faith in professionalism, ethics and honour. My oath to perform with
the highest level of ethics which bounds my life is challenged. Caught
between a soveriegn oath and political unprofessionalism, my daily dilemma
continues.

The Death of Journalism

Look at the headlines, a shame at what the general public is concerned with, receipes, celebrity gossip and scams to get rich.

What happened to issues that matters, economy, public safety, public service, political incompetence?

The passing of great journalists also saw the loss of another great writer and observer. Onew who saw the world of the pain and victories, not the bling and red carpet awards.

News should matter, substantial information should be the conversation at the water cooler.
News that can make a change should be the headlines, not someone's change of hairstyle.

Our next generation is wired, unfortunately not to the right material that matters. With this lost connection is the dimish of simple achievements that matters, honor, respect and valour.

More rant to come.