Populus Es Bardus

Artistic Thursday - Emily's Playing In The Sand.

2012-01-26T14:40:00.000-05:00

Emily's 'believe'

Emily's 'Just Dream'

Emily's 'Hope Threatened'

Emily's 'Hope Diminished'

The above pictures were taken by Emily when we went 'shell collecting' a few weeks ago. I always try to be the teacher but end up learning from my children, more times than not. The creativity they have is both a source of pride and shame for me. Proud that they can create beauty and understand their environment. Shame because somewhere in my journey between youth and maturity I have lost the ability to see the writing in the sand.

GREED!

2012-01-23T14:18:00.000-05:00

I'm tired of hearing and reading people bitch about the greed of big corporations. It's usually the people who are the greediest of them all, Walmart shoppers. I know there are people out there saying, "Reed, how does shopping at Walmart make me greedier than a corporation or one of 'those rich people'? It's really simple, when you break it down. Walmart came up with a great way to cash in on the greed of the American people. Greed is defined as: excessive or rapacious desire, especially for wealth or possessions.

Walmart shoppers want everything for nothing. They don't care if it costs a worker in borlakistan an arm and a leg(literally) and/or an American worker their job, as long as they can afford to get more and more items for cheaper and cheaper. After all, aren't they entitled to everything everyone else who works harder than them has?

Want to know the second most greedy people? Union members! These people are so greedy, they fight for more money and benefits regardless of the worth of their actual work. They pay money to an organization whose sole purpose is to buy politicians, have unfair laws passed and monopolize a work force that could/should be easily replaced by non-union members and people who, gasp, actually want to work for a fair wage. Union members I know the words, 'fair wage', are very confusing to you and have not been explained by your union leadership, do not panic, I will help you out. Fair wage is the amount the market is willing to pay for a service, not the greedy amount you want to embezzle from them.

I know there may be a couple of union members out there saying, 'Reed, I had to join a union and didn't have a choice.'. I genuinely feel bad for you. As someone who was FORCED to be in a union in my younger life, I know how much it sucks to be FORCED to give up part of your pay to a corrupt organization that does not share your morals or beliefs. I also know how hard it is to deal with unintelligent co-workers who would die to keep the corruption intact.

Some executives are greedy. Some are just hard working people who deserve a salary. Who can say what is a fair salary for an executive? The next group of greedy people, shareholders/investors.

Investors commit capital in order to gain financial returns. Who is an investor? Anyone who has stock, retirement funds, money markets, mutual funds or other financial vehicles. Why do investors part with their money? They desire as much return as possible. That sounds excessive to me.

A corporation is defined as: A company or group of people authorized to act as a single entity. So big corporations are NOT greedy. Even though our government gives the legal rights of an individual to a corporation, a corporations is an entity and therefore can not have desire.

So let's take a run down.

Who is greedy:

All Walmart shoppers.
Majority of Union Members.
Some executives.
All investors

Who isn't greedy:

Corporations
Someone who doesn't shop at Walmart, isn't a union member, probably isn't an executive and doesn't invest.

Who does that leave?

SOPA Box

2012-01-20T11:48:00.003-05:00

Politicians never cease to amaze me. We have the democrats telling us that we need to raise taxes on mean rich people for the good of the few on programs. The Republicans say that rich people should, get this, be treated like every other citizen. In reality, neither party is effective, people who make significant money generally pay less taxes(percentage wise). New taxes on a certain group will not cure that, fixing current tax law or a flat tax will.

I Digress.

Now republicans and democrats are banding together to protect the gravy train of funds from lobbyists of the movie, music and drug industries. Putting those three industries together, puts my brain in joke overload.

For those who have been living under a rock for the last few weeks, I'm talking about a pair of anti-piracy bills pending in the house and senate, SOPA and PIPA(HR 3261 and S.968). Our politicians would like you to believe these bills are being passed to protect intellectual properties on the internet. They are not! We already have a bill for that purpose. It was passed in 1988 and is called the Digital Millennium Copyright Act(DMCA). The DMCA protects the intellectual property rights by allowing the property owner to go after the person or group that infringes on their rights. Sounds pretty fair and straight forward to me, but I'm not a corrupt politician. Well the industries that are lobbying realized how hard it was to enforce this law overseas, so they've decided (through the politicians they've bought) to write these two new bills. In essence the two new bills allow the property holder to not only go after an alleged 'infringer' without due process but force the search engine, ip or website to block the content or face legal recourse.

Let me try and put this in a way that even a politician may be able to understand. Let's say that I create a product(intellectual property). This product starts getting knocked off(pirated) by a company in Badlandistan and freighted by an American shipping company(search engine, website or isp) to a port in N.J.(persons computer). Currently I can sue the company in Badlandistan for damages. Due to political climate, its tough to sue a company in Badlandistan, so I lobby congress for a bill. Now, I don't have to sue the company in Badlandistan, I don't even need to start legal action. I can force the American freight company to inspect every crate(streams of information going over the internet) and force them to not ship the knockoff goods. Wow, that sounds like a slam dunk No knockoffs can get through from that shipping company. There are several problems with this methodology.

There is no due process provided in the bills, so the property owner can blame everyone of infringement and force the shipping company to not do business with them.
It doesn't stop the flow of illegal property, just forces it to change routes.
It violates everyone's privacy because all crates, not just the illegal ones would need to be opened, searched and verified as good.
It unfairly puts the job of enforcement on the shipper and not the property owner.
It forces the cost of all those legitimate goods to go up because of the increased responsibilities placed on the shipper.
If the shipper fails enforcement, they are breaking the law.

The above analogy is only pointing out an infinitesimal portion of these bills. I could write pages of negatives against their entirety. These two bills are a bad idea.

Everyone with at least half a brain (sorry most college students and all politicians) agrees that intellectual properties need to be protected. They should not be protected at everyone’s expense.

Best quote on the topic: "When the Chinese told Google that they had to block sites or they couldn't do [business] in their country, they managed to figure out how to block sites."
Chris Dodd – ex-Senator (D) from Connecticut, cause for one of the biggest financial failures in this country and now head of the MPAA(I guess the Republicans aren't the only ones stroking big business in return for a big payday when they can't get reelected.).

Be proud Connecticut, now your ex-senator believes China is a good model for freedom of speech and human rights.

Update 1: I left out that President Obama did the right thing and said he would not support these bills even if they passed.

Update 2: The bills have been indefinitely put on hold in the house and senate. The MPAA via Dodd(dud) has threatened to pull all campaign funding, but not lobbying money.

Creative Thursday - He was a Fungi

2012-01-19T16:25:00.000-05:00

Creative Thursday - Shell Collecting

2012-01-12T22:19:00.000-05:00

Lizzy's 'Perspective'

I switched out my photography gear several months ago and gave Emily my old dslr. I was feeling kind of bad that I had not gone out on a photo safari with her. Well, this Saturday was unusually warm, so in the afternoon the girls and I went to the lake and then to the beach on a photo safari. When we got to the lake, I showed Emily how her camera worked and different shooting techniques. I was her age when I got my first Canon SLR, I saved for half a year so that I could afford it. It was magical! I could capture memories on paper, now in pixels she had the same opportunity. Lizzy was jealous when Emily got my old dslr, but Lizzy is still too young to get one of her own, so I bought her a simple digital camera and she usually uses one of the various point and shoots we have around the house.

We got done at the lake quickly and the kids wanted to go to the beach. I showed Emily the impact of shadow and motion on the lens and we took several hundred shots each before the light ran away to the west. When we got home, we downloaded our photographic treasures and viewed them.

Out of all the pictures, one of Lizzy's from the lake, stuck out. It was a shot of a hole in a fallen tree. I laughed to myself as I realized the wonder of a child's perspective. Out of all the pictures taken that day, Lizzy captured the true treasure on the little point and shoot camera, that's quality is mediocre at best. Emily and I had some nice shots, but I was so deep in the technical for Emily, I overlooked that which made me fall in love with photography, the beauty that no one else would see, because they didn't look at something just a little differently.

Sunday came and the girls wanted to go back to the beach for “Shell Collecting”, as I call beach photography. We drove to Sandy Hook State Park. If there is photgraphers' heaven, Sandy Hook is definitely part of it. Two lighthouses, the beach, bay, wildlife preserve, bird migration path, old military fort and the New York Skyline are just some of the sites. We weren't looking for those though, Sunday it was time to take Lizzy's lead and I gave the kids the goal of looking at things from a different perspective.

On the way, I explained to the girls, “Anyone can take pictures of a skyline, birds or lighthouses a photographer makes what he takes his own.”. When we arrived, we were ill prepared for the weather that we were about to face. The mercury dropped the night before and though it is usually colder on the hook than the other beaches, Sunday was especially brutal. I asked the kids if they wanted to leave, but they were too excited and trekked to the beach between the dunes and sand grass.

After an hour and a half, my body was going numb, a good indication that the kids were probably feeling the same. We started our walk back, this time inland from the water. We had been shooting from different angles but I still felt there would not be enough impact in the pictures. It was time to reach into my youth; time to remember the young man with an slr for the first time; time to remember why I want so much to leave the warmth or the cool of the indoors to struggle through unkempt trails and wet lands and anywhere else with the weight of a camera on my shoulder.

I watched Lizzy and thought how things must look from her height and I knew what I had to do, I laid flat on the beach and looked at a spent nautilus shell. From above it was nothing special, but looking at it from the level of the beach, it was amazing, a beauty that most would never see. The kids watching me thought I was crazy but after coaxing them to try the same thing, by offering the warm sand, they tried it.

When we got home, Emily made hot cocoa and we sat together while we went through the pictures.. We were pretty happy with the results and as always, I was proud of my girls. We had a great day, “Collecting Shells”

Emily's 'Into The Broken Mouth'

Emily's 'Drift Wood Off Into The Distance'

Emily's 'Post Apocalyptic Gotham'

Lizzy's 'The Resident'

Lizzy's 'Three Sheaths to the wind'

Lizzy's 'Dumbo is Falling'

Lizzy's 'It's a Small, Small World'

Reed's 'Finding Peter Pan'

Reed's 'Guardian of the Night Sand'

Reed's 'Entering the Nautilus'

Reed's 'Just Below The Shellf'

Reed's 'Shell Collecting'

Tuesday Tips for living alone – A Wii bit Crazy

2012-01-10T13:01:00.001-05:00

I took my first tennis lesson this past week. I've been talking about taking lessons for a while, but never really got the oomph to start. Thankfully, a really good friend bought me a lesson at the local racquet club as a Christmas gift. I like taking sports lessons.

The first thing you learn when taking a sports lesson is that you need more lessons. This isn't usually a product of instructors wanting extra money, more the byproduct of poor body mechanics and the counter-intuitive nature of most sports.

When I was younger I took bowling lessons and I'm pretty good at that. I took a couple of golf lessons and I still suck at that. I'll take more golf lessons in the spring, but tennis can be indoors or out, so it makes a nice winter sport. I hope to stick with tennis lessons and am going to schedule one every two weeks.

Tennis and sports really aren't the point of this post though. It is about something the instructor told me to do. He said, in order to get my muscle memory in tune, I should practice my swing at home without a racquet making sure the blinds were closed, so that no one would think I was crazy.

I laughed maniacally. People think me crazy?

I leave my blinds and curtains open all of the time. I bought my co-op because of the amount of light that comes into the rooms at any given point of the day. When I do my dishes, any passerby gets a concert. They get to see me dance, sing out of tune and fling suds all over. At night, all of my neighbors can watch me walk around my den, like a dog preparing to sit while I look for my tv remote, cell phone, keys or fill item in here. On nights when I really can't find an item, they watch me fling pillows in the air and pick them back up, cursing to myself the whole time.

I'm guessing someone watching me would think playing air tennis was the least of my ailments. Even so, I came up with a simple solution. It was an epiphany, of sorts, as I watched my kids play wii this weekend. You can do any stupid thing at all with a wii controller in your hand and people will dismiss it as playing some cool video game.

I now sing to my wii controller while doing dishes, practice my golf swing with my wii controller in hand and even pompously jump in front of my window while practicing wii-mote tennis.

Now if I could just find my wii-mote, I wouldn't have to toss my pillows so often.

WARNING! Using wii controller at home prevents you from looking crazy, using wii controller in your car, on the beach or in any other public setting has the opposite effect.

Bullying and Suicide.

2012-01-10T00:46:00.000-05:00

Where to begin? When I was younger I don't remember bullying or being bullied too often, not that I wasn't, just no more or less than anyone else. I believe I ran into more bullies when I got to corporate America, than I ever did on a playground. Now when I watch the news, I can't believe the anti-bullying crap that spurts out of celebrities' and politicians' face holes. Being bullied, like so much in life, may not be just but is still an integral social interaction; one that builds resilience, character and ultimately tolerance.

As a child, my mom always taught me to feel sorry for bullies. They were just people with severe inferiority complexes that lashed out at those they felt threatened by, in some way. Through the years, I have come to realize that some people have inferiority complexes when they are younger but many more have them when they grow older and realize, they really are inferior to other people.

Guess what? In spite of what our government and liberal friends would like us to believe, we may all be created as equals in the eyes of our creator, but that does not mean we all have the same strengths and weaknesses.

Almost anyone could act or read from a teleprompter but not everyone could be a professional soccer player.

I digress.

Bullying is something that happens in human nature and nature in general. The weak are herded out and the strong survive. If someone gets their feelings hurt, they learn to deal with it. If someone is a bully they will be taught, usually in a harsh way, that bullying is wrong.

Yes, if bullying becomes too physical it can be dangerous and should be dealt with. If parents don't teach their children that not everyone is going to like them and that, gasp, their feelings get hurt, these children shouldn't commit suicide, but parenticide.

Creative Thursday - Howe Cavern

2012-01-05T10:57:00.000-05:00

This past summer the girls and I went to upstate NY. We visited Howe and Secret Caverns. They were alright, but not as neat at Bristol Caverns in Tn. or Lurray Caverns in Va.

I digress.

I was showing a friend my cavern pictures and they asked, "How did you get those pictures in the dark of the caverns?". I of course corrected them and said, "You mean in the light of the caverns?"
So I started thinking that most people who have to take pictures in less than optimal conditions with less than optimal equipment (I really need to start using a tripod), probably miss out on a lot of their better shots. Digital cameras have an amazing ability to hold much more information than is visibly conveyed. What this means in English is that simple enhancements can be done to make a seemingly bad picture into a good one.
For a quick example, I found two pictures I took in the cavern. One appears dark (photographer error, but one a typical auto camera would make.) and one with the correct exposure (I'll blame the first one on the kids).
Below are the pictures. The first two pictures are the same picture, one is dark and the other was Auto color enhanced using the freeware Irfanview. The third picture is a different picture, taken of the same subject but correctly.

Dark picture that would normally be tossed.

Same dark picture run through free color enhancer.

Correctly exposed picture.

The colors in the enhanced version, do not match the correctly exposed picture because a lot of the color enhancers over do it a bit. Gimp, X3, Photoshop and Photo Studio will all do a better job at getting the correct colors, or you can correct them manually. Some people even like the juiced up color a bit.

The above examples were done with good equipment but I found this trick while using a Canon S1-IS point and shoot at the Grand Canyon several (5+) years ago. It was night time, under a full moon, and I took a bunch of shots that I thought would amount to nothing. After throwing them through a color enhancer, the shots changed from a moon lit sky to a unique view of the canyon. I'll post those at a later date, when I find them.

Next time you take a picture in a less than optimal light condition or with less than optimal equipment (don't we all have at least one, if not more point and shoots). Don't toss them, throw them through a color enhancer. You'd be surprised how much more the camera sees than you do.

I tend to keep most of my images in an unedited state and don't let my camera do any sharpening, but all of the shots in this post have been lightly sharpened.

The above shot is the only one color enhanced, out of the group.

The F-Bomb

2012-01-04T09:53:00.000-05:00

Sorry, I love saying that. Not the actual F-word, though I've been known to use that too. It's like a conversation grenade. I almost expect a plane to fly overheard and bomb the 'F' out of something. It never ceases to amaze me, the power we give words. If I actually pull the pin and lob the proverbial F-bomb, people are appalled but if I say, “F-word”, or, “F-bomb”, people know exactly what I mean and yet it is, somehow, less offensive. Yes, there are plenty of examples. Putting the starting letter of an offensive word in front of the word, "word" makes the implied meaning acceptable.

Where is this going? I have no F´ing idea.

Maybe we should start using this methodology for all offensive words. I've never heard words like fat called the Fa-word or ugly as the U-word or awkward as the aw-word. Are these any less offensive or hurtful? The whole situation seems the st-word to me. I think the problem is that most people are NH's (kNuckle Heads), a story unto itself.

How Many Times Did You Vote?

2012-01-02T15:09:00.001-05:00

I'm a little confused. Not that that doesn't happen often. I've been reading a lot about the voter ID situation. A group of people want Americans to have a photo ID in order to vote for the fate of their country. The basis behind this is to reduce voter fraud by people voting more than once or under a false name. Another group calls this racist, classist and unfair.

What prompted me to write about this was Eric Holder, the Attorney General of The United States, is challenging a law passed in South Carolina that requires a picture ID in order for someone to vote. In 2008 the Supreme Court upheld Indiana’s law requiring citizens to show a government-issued ID before voting. This means that Holder believes he can supersede the Supreme Court. This should be grounds alone to kick his corrupt ass out, not to mention many other instances where this idiot has failed to do his job competently.

I digress.

So I started thinking about this.

Things you need a picture ID for:

Operate a vehicle / Drive a car.

Take an airplane or cruise.

Purchase alcohol.

Purchase tobacco.

Go to a doctor (unless under 18, then the parents have to show a picture ID)

Purchase a house or rent an apartment.

Get a credit card.

Get a government job.

Open a bank account.

Cash a check at a supermarket or other legitimate concern.

Get a library card.

I know there are more, but how many more do I need to prove my point?

Who would be restricted from voting?

People who have:

NEVER traveled in any form other than bus or train.

NEVER had an alcoholic beverage.

NEVER smoked or chewed a tobacco product.

NEVER filled out paperwork in a doctors office.

NEVER lived in an apartment or house.

NEVER had a government job. (or most real jobs.)

NEVER Had a credit card or bank account.

NEVER went to a public library.

So, who are we disenfranchising? Looking at the above list, you would need to live in a cave, never travel, drink, smoke, work, have credit, gone to the doctors or put money in the bank. If I've described a race in America here, I'd like to know which one. So how is requiring an ID for voting racist?

Yes the press is also on a classist kick. Having no real reporting skills or brains of their own (Yeah, I'm talking about you, you useless piece of pond scum (sorry pond scum) Chris Mathews.) the press has started 'Not so urban' legends. These myths look like a mad lib game and when read in the papers or online, look something like this...

There is an __________old woman

age over eighty

in ____________________ that has never driven a car.

Town too small to be on a map

She is very ____________ and lives in a

synonym for poor

modest __________________. She can not drive and does

Type of low income dwelling

not get around very well because she has ___________________.

Type of Ailment or disability

Her ______________________ struggle to bring her

Member of family or organization

_______ food every week.

Type of pet

If the voter ID law passes, she will not be able to afford a valid ID to vote with.

These stories, meant to tug at your heart strings would make sense if:

A. There wasn't so many different but similar versions of the story in the media.

B. Voter ID cards weren't FREE in Indiana and South Carolina!

Yes, you read that right, FREE. In order to make sure that people were not disenfranchised, these states offer a FREE voter ID card for people that fit into all of the categories mentioned above.

If you ever run into a person that is opposed to voting laws requiring picture ID's (or Eric 'the incompetent' Holder), scream, “FRAUDSTER!!!!”, at them.

Strange Reflections. Aka. Terminal Velocity.

2011-12-30T15:11:00.000-05:00

I've always hated Christmas and New Years.

Christmas because of several family issues when I was younger and New Years, because it is an arbitrary day that marks a hard reflection on life.

As years move on, I am so amazed at how quickly time moves forward. A cruel joke of speeding up towards demise. Now it's over two years in my condo. It seems like just yesterday I moved in. At 18, I moved to TX for two years that seemed so much longer. When I was 4-5 it felt like I had watched Godzilla and the Million Dollar Movies on WWOR for a lifetime. In all honesty it was a fifth of my life at the time.

Maybe, as time's perception speeds up, we need to quicken the pace at which we celebrate life. When people get older, we should wish them Happy New Month, Happy New Week, Happy New Day, Happy New Hour. Sooner or later we all reach Terminal Velocity.

Happy New Minute!!!

Those You Touch In Life, Define Who You Are.

2011-12-30T01:22:00.002-05:00

I wrote this blog in October. Not sure why I didn't post it, but here it is...

I see so many people who live their lives not thinking of others. During a flight I was on last week a lady next to me was playing armrest wars. After every passive tactic I could muster failed, my temper began to flare. As I began to form the words to explain to her that the armrest is a boundary and going over that boundary was encroaching on my personal space and an act of war (a tirade, unfortunately, well rehearsed on many flights before) a strange thought came over me. I thought, what would be my legacy? What would be the legacy of the people on the plane? Who would remember John Doe in seat 17B if anything happened? I began to realize our legacies, for most of us, are not what we did, how much we made or what we owned. Our legacies would be stretched across time and location in the minds and hearts of people who we came in contact with. There is a negative and a positive to that philosophy. Malcontent towards others is contagious, but thankfully, so to is kindness. In the acts of strangers, we have all been forged.

I began to think of the things that I would want said at my funeral Nothing said would truly sum me up or make a difference, as much as my day to day actions. The times where I chose to act, made a simple gesture or even just smiled at someone who looked like their day was not going well. Simple acts have larger consequences, mostly unseen. Simple acts not only define our lives, but the lives of others that we touch.

I smiled looked over at the woman and began, “Excuse me, I need to reach my seat belt.”. She harrumphed, moved her arm for the action and quickly moved it back, her elbow now dangerously close to my crotch. I took a deep breath... Smiled again, tapped her on the elbow and said, "Excuse me, your arm is in my seat.". She gave me a dirty look and did a splendid faux move, that didn't fool anyone.

“SERENITY NOW!” flashed across my mind like the ticker in Times Square. I tried to smile (though I'm sure it looked disingenuous), I struggled to maintain an even tone, “You can have the armrest, I would just like to have my seat if possible.”. The lady, in a shrill tone and indistinguishable(possibly Slavic) accent began, “I specifically purchased a seat with extra room. I expect to get it.”. She then quickly turned away from me to talk to, whom I assume was, her husband.

Remember that whole serenity sign... black out! I widened my eyes, bared my teeth, poked her in the arm and glaringly stated, “SO DID I!!! If I don't get at least the space of my seat, I will make your flight hell!!!! Do we need the stewardess?”. The lady quickly moved her arm. Turned to her companion and said something in a language I could not place. The gray bearded man looked over at me, as if in pain. Did I feel pity for him? YEAH! Did I still stare him down, yeah. I never got my answer about the stewardess. Strangely the rest of the flight they were both very amicable.

OK, so maybe, just maybe, it's not only the kinder acts that define us, but the tougher ones too.

3rd Times A Scam.

2011-12-29T01:11:00.000-05:00

OK, I mentioned I started on match.com, The site will allow me to send a virtual 'wink' or even an email to a potential match. It gives me daily picks that, supposedly, fit what I'm looking for. It's kind of like internet shopping for a date, but without a guaranteed inventory system (just like lowes.com). I view the initial eight matches and pair them down to five I send a few winks and two emails. This dating stuff seems easy again.

Two days later, sure enough I got three emails, two from women who live way too far away and one from a woman I 'winked' at that lives about 25 miles away. I discard the first two and consider the third. She is on the young side of the scale at 30. Her message reads that she is tired of the dating sites and will no longer be on match.com, but I can email her personal email address. Spidey senses started tingling. I emailed back to '25 mile away' woman and sent out emails to three more ladies. I then realize two of the women haven't been on the site in more than 3 weeks, whoops, that was a waste.

'25 mile away' woman sent me back an email saying, in poor English, that she grew up in England, lost her parents and would like to get to know me better. She works for the world health organization and when she is on leave, she would like to visit. She stresses that, 'she has very few money but is not needing for money, yet.'. She also attaches three pictures that do not look like the one on the, now defunct, profile at match.com, in fact they look like they are of an internet pornstar (Not that I'd know that it was Melissa Midwest.). Spidey senses explode! She actually said 'not needing... YET'. Wholly crap, people actual scam people for money on dating sites?

I quickly searched, 'match.com scams' and for the first time in my life got a google of results on Google. Turns out about 40% of all dating site profiles are fakes, set up in London or Nigeria by con artists. I read a bunch of articles, blogs, etc. about people who actually wired money to people overseas in the hopes of a date or getting more money in return. I began to wonder, with that many gullible people, can the human race as a whole, really survive carrying that much dead weight? Yeah, you can say I'm being critical or cruel or cynical, but really, falling for the Nigerian email scam through a dating site? That's a new level of...Duh!

On a lighter note, match.com does not seem so bad. It takes a while to understand how it really works, but once you figure out how to tell members from non, things do actually seem to move along.

Playing With Speed.

2011-12-28T00:31:00.003-05:00

Freehand Slowing Down The Shutter Speed

Rushing The Wall

2011-12-26T10:34:00.000-05:00

So many blogs I've written don't even get posted and I'm usually shocked at the time between posts. Two weeks ago I wrote a blog(not posted) about taking up tennis. I have not taken formal training, I just went out, bought a good racquet and began practicing on the wall at the park. I thought of all the lessons that you learn by playing tennis against a wall. Things like:

“No matter how hard you try, the ball always ends up back in your court.”

“You can never win, playing against a wall, but you can always keep improving by doing so.”

“Sometimes the outcome is inevitable, but the motions still worthy of completing.”

“Just because your opponent can not be defeated, does not mean you can not succeed when against him.”

The last two weeks have been too cold for me to play and I tweaked my back doing another new sport, bowling. Reading back the nearly completed blog, I realized the lessons it contained have a so much broader application for life.

The more volleys we get in the better we feel about ourselves. The more we apply ourselves, the more we get out of it. The more we realize we want to win, but winning isn't always attainable, the better we can become.

I'm thankful that my play against the wall so far has left me a little banged up, a little wiser and ready to continue improving myself when I can.

Original Photo

Photo credits go to Lizzy. Gimping Emily out of the shot was done by me.

Merry Santamas! aka. Another reason I'm not religious.

2011-12-25T01:55:00.000-05:00

Christmas morning at 1:32a.m.

All the shopping is done.

All the gifts wrapped.

Christmas Eve dinner was a success.

All the stockings are hung by the chimney with care.

The gifts are under the tree.

Dinner is prepped for tomorrow.

The kids are dreaming of tablets and 3d Nintendo.

I'm exhausted and thankful that it is almost over.

Then it hits me... “Why is the whole christian world waiting for Santa Claus and not Jesus?”

Merry Santamas!

Setting Match.com On Fire?

2011-12-01T23:39:00.002-05:00

All my local friends, who were single, are no longer single. I'm the last one standing. This causes a number of problems. My female friends' new boyfriends aren't happy when a single guy hangs out with their girlfriend. My guy friends' girlfriends don't like them hanging out with the single ex-wingman. Lastly, going out with a 'couple' more than once in a while makes you a flat third wheel.

In light of this, I decided to join a dating site last week. Thought hell, why not, friends have done it with some success, how hard could it be? Day one, try signing up for match.com and it wouldn't take my credit card. I should have taken that as some cosmic foreshadowing, but I'm really not that bright. I called up customer service and my card goes through. They explain that if I do not find someone in six months, they will give me the next six free. Wow! So if it doesn't work in the first six months, They somehow think the second six will render MUCH better results. They give you stats on everything else on the site, nowhere are there any stats on that.

I set up my profile, wrote a quick summary of me and what I do. Now it's time to put a picture up. Well, I'm the photographer. Always being behind the camera means I'm very rarely in front of it. There is a reason I'm not in front of a camera. When I was younger, I thought I was the ugliest person in the universe. Why, because I am so 'not photogenic', my good side is from below. I really thought I looked like I did in the majority of the pictures until a photographer friend convinced me I really wasn't that bad and took a good picture of me. I'm not saying when I saw it that I was the best looking guy in the world, but I was far from the worst. Short story long, I downloaded a picture I took when I was dabbling in other dating sites a year ago, one that looks like I was posing and shocked to be photographed, at the same time. I figure, what the hell, the women will be pleasantly surprised when they see me in person. I look better than I do in that picture and I can always change it out.

That leads to Thanksgiving night, I have a friend take several pictures of me. I think, now I'll have a good picture to put up on the site. OK, somehow I forgot how 'non photogenic' I am. The best picture out of the dozen or so makes me look like Farsworth from Futurama, if I lost the facial hair and added some wrinkles. No matter, up on the site it goes.

Farnsworth

It's time to start searching. I punch up women in my area 36-42 looking for a 41 year old guy. Wow, this looks great, a whole bunch of hits. Now it's time to play the odds game. Click on the first one and the profile looks really good. Hey, this computer dating thing isn't so bad. Attractive brunette, 39, 5'0, cool profile. That is until I get to the, 'HER DATE' portion. Her date according to her profile is 5'11 or better. Really? The guy needs to be at least 11 inches taller than her? OK, that's only the first, profile. Number two Age 38, cute brunette, 5'2, interesting profile, Her Date 5'10. I continued on to several more ladies and the majority of them are looking for a guy at least six inches taller than they are. Wow, I've seen stripper heels that wouldn't make up for those differences. To give reference, I'm 5'6¾ . I put down 5'6 for my profile until a friend explained the whole rounding thing to me and I changed it to 5'7.

Now, I can understand if your athletic and want someone athletic or are into a particular hobby and want to make sure your potential dates are also interested in that hobby, but to say you want someone that much taller would be akin to me saying, must be a super model with d-cups.

After some thought, I talked to several friends who have done the internet dating thing and what they said, shocked me. The women said that the men they dated all lied about their height, so I should too. The men said that I should not only lie about my height, but use the term 'laid back' in my profile because the women all like that. Some men claimed most of the women on dating sites lie about their age, so it would be OK for me to 'exaggerate' things. All agreed that nobody looks like their pictures anyway and the profiles are just a game. Huh? So to find someone who I expect to be honest with me and in turn someone who expects me to be honest with them, we both lie? I already stated that I'm not the brightest guy in the world, but I don't think that's a real good start for a relationship. If that disqualifies me from dating women who do, then so be it. Maybe this internet dating thing is hard.

Speak Plane!

2011-10-23T11:42:00.000-04:00

I've been traveling lately, so the next few blogs will be on that topic.

For those of you that fly, here areseveral rules of conduct.

A Carry On is a small bag, not all your luggage because your too f'ing lazy or cheap.
Though I'm sure you are a special needs person, “Wanting to get on the plane first.”, does not qualify, wait until they call your row. That courtesy is extended to people who have a physical, not mental need for it.
If you have found your row, sit the F' down, standing in the aisle to take off your jacket or get one last stretch holds up the entire plane.
Pressing the stewardess button, unless you are in first class, before everyone else is seated just turns on a dickhead beacon.
If you need to put more than one bag in the overhead, quickly press the stewardess button and read rule 4.
A coach seat is not an extra space seat, an extra space seat is not a first class seat. If you do not know the difference of privileges, don't complain, squeeze another dime out of your ass next time and find out.
The restroom is not supposed to look like a third world nation. If you have not learned to go to the bathroom like a human being, at least figure out how to clean up like one.
When deboarding the plane, if you put something in the overhead that takes more than five seconds to take out, sit the F' down and wait. Realize that some of the 120 people behind you need to catch connecting planes.
The luggage carousel is not a Disney ride. If, when you grab your bag, people are placing odds on you or the carousel while it drags you around, your bag is too heavy. If you can not lift your luggage, you should not take it with you or expect someone else to do the heavy lifting for you.

Saturday At Allaire State Park.

2011-10-14T14:34:00.000-04:00

Last picture straightened, due to my unbalanced personality.

Bob The Bull Dog, Yes We Can.

2011-09-30T14:35:00.001-04:00

So, my buddy needed to go on a business trip and asked if I could take care of his Bull dog. Being the nice guy (read sucker) that I am, I agreed. Almost two weeks later I realize I made a mistake. Bob, the bull dog is awesome. He is a 90lb pile of wrinkles, hair and cute that spews disgusting by-products from every orifice. We are not talking usual body functions either. Mucus comes from his eyes, drool come from his jowls, smelly oils come from his skin, you get the picture.

Not currently being a dog owner, I forgot how much time and energy goes into a dog, especially one as needy as Bob. Unfortunately when Bob got to my house he was so out of shape, he couldn't even do a two hundred yard walk without taking five rests along the way. I know bull dogs are generally lethargic, but there comes a point in time when you have to decide whether to walk a dog or start burying it.

Did someone say snoring. Yup, bull dogs are notorious for that and Bob brings it to a whole new level. The lawn people actually came to my door at 8:00a.m. And asked me if I could turn down the wood chipper, they were getting complaints.

Don't get me wrong, Bob is a big lug-of-love. He's fun to watch, when he's awake. He is friendly to everyone. He's playful (in a short burst or one-off kind of way). He's solid enough to pet. In fact he is so solid, when he's bad, you can't physically hurt this dog, so you have to hurt his feelings. He gets his feelings hurt easily, too easily. I brought Bob to see the neighbor's dog, a Pomeranian. The Pomeranian is a great dog, she's small, friendly and spoiled beyond belief. Her first impression of Bob was Holy S#!^, Godzirra!!!! Of course when she barked and walked away from Bob, Bob started crying. Every visit over there ends up with Bob crying.

My biggest issue with Bob is that he keeps me at the co-op, I feel like I can't leave. He whines for attention more than he breathes. The few times I've left the co-op, he has barked non-stop and the time I left for 4 hours, he thought it would be cute to poop on his blanket. Two more days of Bob. I'd like to say I'll miss him but I know, though he will not be here, his smell will linger on.

Creative Thursday - Monarch, Tiger and Tree Oysters

2011-07-28T19:42:00.000-04:00

100% of the People Polled in my Co-op Unit Say...

2011-07-26T18:13:00.000-04:00

It's amazing, I did a poll in my co-op unit and here are the results...

100% believe no one would say they want to be taxed more.

100% believe harvard graduates are the dumbest people in America.

100% believe Alfred Nobel would have committed suicide, if he wasn't already dead

100% believe The liberal media believes the public is too stupid to question their ignorance.

100% believe the liberal media thinks their ignorance is genius.

100% believe that Reuters should be renamed Roto Reuters because all they do is write shit.

I was reading a Reuters article, oh who am I kidding Reuters hasn't written anything but propaganda or fluff for years. The piece is, 'Americans back mixed solution for debt crisis: Reuters/Ipsos poll' The piece is trying to make people believe that a, “...poll found that 56 percent of Americans want to see a combination of government spending cuts and tax increases included in a deal to bring down the U.S. budget deficit...”. Really? Let's raise the taxes on these 56% of the people and take care of our budget problems.

The next great quote is from a pollster, Julia Clark, she says., “...It does seem to be that the popular narrative is falling on the side of the president on this one...”. Really, so you are saying THE PRESIDENT WANTS TO RAISE TAXES ON EVERYONE? It is about time the media admits to this. Of course dim witted Julia did not expect Americans to read that into her quote.

But wait, as in a cheesy infomercial, there is more.

The piece then has a section siting, “WHO'S TO BLAME?”. In this section, “...The Reuters/Ipsos poll found that 31 percent of respondents held Republican lawmakers responsible... 21 percent blamed Obama and 9 percent blamed Democratic lawmakers.”, now I'm no math teacher, but given the admitted, “...margin of error of 4 percentage points for all respondents...”, that means the numbers, 31% republican, 30% democrat are insignificant.

It then continues, “...Along those lines, 29 percent said Republican lawmakers should give the most ground in the negotiations, a quarter said Obama should and a fifth said Democrats should.”. What. Wait. Along those lines? Who should give the most ground? Obama isn't a democrat?”. I think I need two quick impromptu polls in the co-op.

100% believe a quarter + a fifth = 45%

100% believe 45% > 29%

By Reuters own admission, 45% of the people side against the democrats and the president. That would mean Reuters article contradicts itself and it's title completely.

So Reuters, you useless, uneducated, hacks! Please learn how to report the news and while you are at it, take a basic math course.

Politicians Es Bardus! Debt Ceiling.

2011-07-25T13:13:00.000-04:00

I wrote a blog for today on Minimalism, but thought this one would be more appropriate to post.

When I was married, money was no object, I earned it and my ex spent it. She then opened up as many credit cards as possible and used them up. If a piece of furniture did not look new, it was replaced. If a room wasn't just the right color it was repainted. Financially, we were out of control.

After the divorce, I decided I needed to cut my expenses. I lived in my mom's basement for a year. When my wife bought out our previous house, I went home shopping and decided to buy the co-op instead of a house. I paid cash, I did not want the burden of a mortgage and high utility bills that I had, had for my entire adult life. I paid off my credit cards.

I had large alimony and child support payments as well as insurance and school payments. I needed to furnish a co-op and fix it up. I had to pay off a lawyers bill and put my life back on track. I decided after seeing how detrimental credit cards were, that I would cancel every last one. I needed to keep afloat and begin saving. I decided to put away money each month that I would not touch. That meant no extraneous purchases, trips to the movies, nights at the bar or eating out at restaurants.

The final part of the plan was to stay within my means, my co-op still needs work done, but I won't do it at the expense of my savings. I budget in money each month so larger projects have to be planned and smaller ones prioritized.

Now that I am running at zero debt and my budget allows it, I am living pretty well. By keeping my spending to a minimum, I always have money in the bank and can do things that I never thought I could before.

Where is all this going? Politicians Es Bardus!

Realizing a financial problem, I Cut my spending, Capped my Expenses and Balanced my budget. With the whole 'debt ceiling crisis' that our country is in, the politicians do not get these simple concepts, at least most of them don't. They could have raised the debt ceiling last week if they wanted to. Most people do not realize that a Cut, Cap and Balance bill passed in the house, but was blocked by the senate. This bill would have raised the debt limit, forced the government to cut spending, capped spending based on taxes collected and passed a balanced budget amendment to The Constitution. While watching C-Span (Queue the cricket sounds), I was astonished by how many politician were vehemently opposed to this bill. Check your politicians voting record and if he was against this, VOTE HIM OUT! Asking a politician to stop spending is like asking the rain to stop falling. Even the president threatened to veto this bill if it passed the senate.

I'm tired of hearing that it is political posturing or that one side is to blame more than the other. Both parties have ignored their responsibility to the people, both parties are anti-American and anti-Constitution.

I actually have a question for our ignorant Hawaiian president or anyone else that would like to answer it. Why would social security be the first thing cut if the government ran out of money? Social security is funded by payments that the citizens made (and are still making). Money that our politicians have stolen (Nice lock box, biggest douche in the universe aka. Al Gore). Why wouldn't unfunded programs be the first to be cut? Stop scaring our seniors! Start scaring our least productive members!

Unfortunately, God has blessed America, too much. Now all we can say is God help America.

NetFlix, Gross Customer Service.

2011-07-14T07:50:00.000-04:00

I have always been a firm believer in NetFlix's business concepts. That was until yesterday when I received an email, from them, explaining that I would have to pay a 60% price increase, for the same service I am receiving today. I'm a big advocate of customer service and will gladly pay more for an item or service if their company is customer-centric. Unfortunately, I was fooled into believing Netflix was one of those companies by there constant emails and recommendations.

It is almost like a politician has taken over NetfFix. Being from NJ, I remember when our state fruit, governor Jim McGreedy, came up with a plan to balance the budget by raising taxes on cigarettes. Unfortunately those horrible smokers quit en mass and left a huge hole in the budget. An example of the basic math behind this stupidity is this.
You have 100,000 people smoking that pay a 1.00 tax for a total of $100,000.00
You raise the tax on cigarettes by .50 to get an additional $50,000.00
You plan on getting $150,000 total.
40% of the smokers quit.
60,000 remaining smokers pay the new $1.50 tax for a total of $90,000
You may say Reed, that is a $10,000 dollar loss. Wrong! That is a $60,000 loss. Remember $150,000 was spent in the budget.
Let's say we change the new tax number from .50 to .75, that changes the revenue to $105,000 dollars. That assumes the extra .25 does not get anyone else to quit. It is still a $55,000 loss and a guarantee that less people will be in the tax pool going forward.

Where is all this going? What does this have to do with Netflix? Simple, if 40% of the people who are currently on NetFlix quit, they will lose money. Worse, going forward, less people will join NetFlix in the first place.

With the business climate that NetFlix is in, they do need to increase their rates. My problem is that I usually get stroked before I get F*!^ed, well at least I got a movie out of the deal. If NetFlix wanted customer's like me to stay, they should have at least offered free Blu-Ray or some other insignificant(to their bottom line) additional services.

To all of the people that I have talked into joining NetFlix, I apologize. The service was good while it lasted though.

How Many Journalists Does It Take to Screw Up a Light Bulb?

2011-07-13T17:41:00.000-04:00

Bad Mod, even if it did only take 5 minutes.

I read an article “House Republicans: Down with squiggly light bulbs “ By JIM ABRAMS

Associated Press. (Link here, as long as it works). This is one of those articles that is so slanted left, my guess is that Jim walks around bent over, ready to take it at all times.

The article is about a law passed during the Bush/democrat house era, that forces higher energy efficiency of light bulbs. Jim basically says how the Republicans do not understand the impact on the energy costs of the bulbs.

Jim, calls out Rep. Joe Barton, R Texas for saying "If you are Al Gore and want to spend $10 for a light bulb, more power to you,", and says that Barton exaggerated the cost of most energy efficient bulbs. Really Jim? Are you that far out of touch that you should be a politician? Have you ever actually purchased or used one of these 'Energy-efficient' bulbs? My guess is no! The L.E.D.s cost approx. $35 each for a 60w equivalent(brightest available at Home Depot) and 100w equivalent cfls run about $8 each (For full spectrum, non-subsidized).

Jim then goes on to say... 'The White House says the standards drive U.S. innovation, create manufacturing jobs and reduce harmful greenhouse gas emissions.'. Hey Jim, where are those manufacturing jobs being created? In the U.S.? No you idiot, China, Japan, Over-seas-istan, anywhere OSHA can't dictate stupid rules that harm businesses and destroy jobs. Don't see you calling the White House out Jim. Oh, and about Green House gas emissions and the environment, where do you mention the environmental hazards of cfls? If they break, they release poisonous gasses into your house and the atmosphere, not to mention the amount of Mercury they use and the dangers in manufacturing them.

To top it all off, Jim then talks of an advocacy group that has quotes from Thomas Edison's(inventor of the incandescent bulb) great-grandson and great-nephew saying, they support the new standards. Really Jim? What have these 'kin', as you put it in your article, invented? I have ancestor that invented things too. Am I a legitimate source to quote about them? Not even close.

Don't worry Jim, I'm almost done with you. The majority of bulbs in my house are L.E.D.s, the remainder are CFLs. Why Jim? I believe in the technologies. I don't need someone forcing me to buy something I do not want to because, they feel, it is better for me. If you like this law Jim, why don't you ask the government to do it right? If we want to talk efficiency, outlaw all cfls in favor of L.E.D.s, outlaw all L.C.D. and plasma TVs in favor of L.E.D.s and D.L.P.s and force, I mean pass a law against all non-rechargeable batteries? I know why not, in your mind Jim, they(the politicians) are soooooooo much smarter than you. They can't trust people like you to make up your own mind and exert your ability to change the market. They need to force you, for your own good.

This issue is so much bigger than someone like Jim could understand. We (the people) subscribe to democracy and capitalism. The government and media need to learn what that means. It means that the people vote with their money. In the form of light bulbs, the free market holds an election. People vote on what they want, by buying one or more type(s) of bulb(s). The light bulb(s) that get enough votes(purchases), to continue to be sold, win.

I guess I ask to much when I ask for a non-partial, informative media.

P.S. If anyone knows what light bulbs are being used in the White House and what the cost of those bulbs were, please email me. I have not found any information after researching it.

A Politician is NOT Smarter Than a Fifth Grader.

2011-07-12T17:01:00.000-04:00

Summer is here and that means I get the girls on alternating weeks. This past weeks lesson was compliments of the U.S. Government. I told Lizzy that if she and Emily did the dishes I would give them each ten dollars. I then proclaimed to Emily that if she did not do the dishes, she would still get the ten dollars. Emily said cool and went to play on her Ipod. Lizzy complained it was unfair and that if she did the dishes alone deserved the full amount. I explained to Lizzy that we were going by the rules of our elected officials and therefore because she was the worker, she would have to give Emily, the non-worker her earnings. The wealth had to be redistributed. Lizzy was annoyed and asked what would happen if she did not do the dishes. I explained to the kids that, what they just learned, was the failings of a concept that liberals will defend MORE than The Constitution of our great nation; MORE than the principles of freedom our very country was founded on. It is called socialism.

People liken socialism to charity, it should be likened to armed robbery. While charity is the ability to freely give to those in need, socialism is using the governments power to force one person to give to a less deserving person.

It never ceases to amaze me that my children at 8 and 13 can learn simple lessons in under fifteen minutes that our politicians, media and current generations couldn't grasp in 78 years. I hope that the seniors who put us in this mess, my generation which has contributed to this mess and the following generation that is aggravating this mess can use what is left of their precious brain power to make changes. At least I know if they don't, my children will be prepared to, if it is not too late.

Creative Thursday - Writing Pad

2011-06-23T22:07:00.002-04:00

Creative Thursday - Falling on the Path.

2011-06-16T22:32:00.000-04:00

Tuesday Tips for Living Alone – 3.48lbs. of Pig Were Harmed in the Writing of This Blog!

2011-06-14T20:48:00.000-04:00

It has come to my attention that manufacturers have completely missed the whole single serve concept. In fact the whole size thing has confused them. Whether it be the quantity or count, somehow there is either never enough or too much.

Let's start, simply, by going through the departments of a store.

Produce. There is a new trend at the supermarkets and farmers markets in which an employee stuffs cherries, grapes or the like into a specialized bag, seals it and leaves you to either brake the seal or buy 3 lbs. worth. Yeah, I can get bananas, and other fruits and vegetables based on how much I'm going to eat, that euphoria ends with carrots and celery. They are bagged on a plantation in Guacamola and can't be separated under penalty of, 'I don't know'. Amazingly they charge by the pound and have an exact pound weight on the bag, nifty trick. Want a salad with your dinner? Grab a head of lettuce, if you need ten. Oh wait, bagged salad. Wow, small bag feeds 2-3 and family size feeds 3-4 (best family size ratio in the store).

Meat. Try finding chicken, pork or beef in a single serving pack. It's the normal size or Family Pack. Family Pack? Really? What normal family eats 3 lbs. of chopped meat, 15 pork chops or 20+ chicken parts at a sitting? They should either call it the 'call your doctor first pack' or the 'If you bought a huge ass freezer pack'. Purdue thought they would cover all of their bases and call their version 'Perfect Portions' or 'Individually Wrapped'. Depending on whether you go to the typical store or the warehouse variety, this is the pack for families who have between 6 and 20 individuals and each wish to unwrap their own raw piece of chicken.

General food. Let's look at juice boxes. Ask yourself how many juice boxes does a typical kid drink when they are thirsty? How about an adult? The answer varies based on the juice box. They come in sizes from 3 to 8 ounces. 3 ounces is a dose, not a drink. To make up for this slight liquid inadequacy, at wholesale clubs, they package them neatly in case quantities of thirty six or forty eight. I'm thinking, this is a place for consolidation. In a wierd reversal, they do have single serve baked goods and cookies. Really? If we were honest with ourselves, the regular size would be called single serve, no matter what size. That's like saying I have single serve money. You don't want a lot, just take a few pennies and leave the bills.

The Deli. The single serve mecca of the supermarket. That is until the person behind the counter gets annoyed at you ordering a quarter or eighth pound of each item. At best they cut it thick, or press on it. At worst, don't ask.

Frozen foods. Except for the gallons of ice cream, no single serve here. Yeah, I'm psychic, I know you are all thinking, 'Reed, this aisle has loads of single serve meals with pictures of beautiful gourmet, looking, food on them.'. Well, technically the portion sizes are single serve. Health wise, these meals could give daily allowance of shit to an army. You might as well eat a tub of lard, pound of salt and a can of processed cheese 'food', the nutritional value(and probably ingredients) are close to the same. Oh, about the pictures. If you've ever had frozen food that looks like the picture, email me. I won't hold my breath.

The Dairy. The dairy is pretty serving size friendly. You can buy milk, eggs, cheese, sour cream, cottage cheese, etc. All in various accommodating sizes. Unfortunately, some more reverse single serve faux pas. The incredible shrinking yogurt containers. These are usually sold in four packs(one serving?). Pretty soon these flimsy plastic containers won't even be able to fit the word, 'Yogurt' on them and will just say, 'Yo' and a catchy name. Oh No, it's already happening. The second is the 6.0928973 ounce smoothie that after sticking to the sides of the container is actually 3.2 ounces. Aren't smoothies supposed to be healthy? Who can drink just one at that size? What they need is a liter teflon bottle.

There are two solutions to these problems. The first, we all need to by huge ass freezers and miles of plastic wrap.

The second is a little more practical and more for the manufactures than the rest of us. Standardize the size of food packaging.

Make a single serving enough for one person, couple serving enough for two and family size enough for four. Anything bigger could be called large family or lard ass size. It would make dinner parties easier to plan for and maybe even, gasp, make people eat healthier portions.

Learning to Walk.

2011-06-10T22:34:00.000-04:00

My eldest daughter graduated from 8^th grade today. Just this morning, it seems, we were looking at each other for the first time, she helplessly up at me, grabbing my finger and reassuring me that we would get through the journey ahead. The calendar pages have browned and fallen; the path never seems to stop growing behind us. The baby in the pink blanket is now a young woman in a white robe and square cap.

My pride and amazement, of my children, never ceases. When Emily received The President's Award for Academic Excellence (not Achievement) this year, I was shocked and pleased.

Next year, Emily will be going to a parochial high school I'm not that fond of. A school I went to for a year and only learned, through observation, that smart and educated are not synonyms. Some years later, in college, I ended my educational career when I was asked to leave a class after a heated debate about The Civil War (I was in a Dallas College and for the record, Grant had every right to break Lee's sword. He was, after all, the victor.). I hope the school Emily is going to has gotten better. I'm sure she will succeed, because or in spite of the school. She has a thirst for knowledge that I did not develop until later in life.

As an Alumni of her grade school, I was asked if I would like to walk in the procession. The last time I walked in a procession at the church, I was wearing a blue gown and square cap. It was 27 years ago.

As I sit in the church, I watch Emily walk down the aisle; I fight tears. Shortly our path together will end and a new path will emerge for her. I say a prayer to a god, I know she believes in. I think of how much I cherish the education that my mother struggled to give me. I think of the tools and gifts I received from this school. I am thankful that they have shaped me into who I am today. I look at Emily, not as my little girl, but as a young woman and with a sigh of relief realize, the school has given her the foundation that she needs. They taught her to take her first steps on the road of life.

Creative Thursday - Bubbles, Glass and Light.

2011-06-09T14:08:00.000-04:00

Why do I like nature photos so much? Minimal screwing with light. The sun is either here or there. I can usually change my position to accommodate or wait for the shot. Inside, artificial light is a must. I hate artificial light. I know most of you are saying I could use the portable photo studio, but that does not capture the moment or 'real life' the way I like to. If you come to the co-op, this is actually what you will see (Verdict is still out on whether the glasses stay underneath or not though), not a black background with led's to make glass 'look pretty'.
Enough ranting though, the pictures above are of Lizzy's(blue) and Emily's(pink) blown glass bubbles with my blown 'disciplinary' glass in the center.

Varsity Season and the Seasoned.

2011-06-07T22:03:00.000-04:00

So tonight was the parent daughter softball game. It was the school varsity team vs. the old people. Basically, it is a vehicle by which the kids can realize; if they want to play sports, they better do it when they are young, the window of opportunity slams shut pretty hard. The ex dropped Emily and Lizzy off and got out of dodge. Lizzy was a cheerleader, though she looked more like someone playing Angry Birds, while sitting on the bleachers the whole time.

Parents were up first and of course, I was first at bat. I didn't embarrass myself at this point, got a hit and made it to first base. I decided, what the hell, I'll steal second. Remember the whole, 'I didn't embarrass myself at this point'? Well, that point was about to come. As the pitcher released the ball, I forgot the formula, 'mass * velocity + bad ankle = the play I was about to make'. I barreled towards second base and swore I saw an ant walking by me. I thought, body be damned and as I had to beat the ball, slid. In my monkey brain, it looked AWESOME. In reality I went from A. Rod to A Hole. I slid past the base and while grabbing at dirt, like a falling mountain climber grabbing at the surface, finally stopped as my ankle hit, what could have been a grain of sand or blade of grass but felt like a, Grand Canyon size, divot. I clawed backwards towards the base and finally reached it, the umpire yelled, Safe!'. My newly twisted right ankle felt 'out' and I'm pretty sure it was a bad call, so I ignored it and limped back to the dugout.

I did get a run(or in my case, I guess you would call it a hobble) and while fielding, I did run down the ball a couple of times(bad ankle and all) only to bobble it, while trying to toss it from my mitt to my throwing hand. The amazing part, to me, was how good some of these parents were. In the end, we softened up our play considerably and let the girls score enough to win.

Where is all this going?

For starters, parents be involved! The parents that showed up for the game had a great time and their kids appreciated it. One of the parents had a bad knee and she was there playing to show her support for her daughters. I can understand that some parents couldn't make it at 5:30p.m., I used to commute, but ones that could have, should have. How is your child going to think anything they do is important, if you do not take the time to show them your support?

Secondly, those who know me, know I do not believe in taking it easy in competition and do not feel people should be entitled to winning or just getting a trophy. This was different though. The uber-competitive parents out there on that field blatantly softened up at the end, to show the girls respect(not entitlement) for the amazing season they and their coach put together. They achieved the best Varsity Softball record the school ever had. They had the highest batting averages and some of the best stats in the league. They made it to the playoffs. They worked really hard and in the end, looked like a team.

Lastly, appreciate your kids coaches. I actually went to grade school with Emily's coach; he was super competitive then and is super competitive now. I'm not saying his cap did not take more than a few tosses at the ground but he and the assistant coach were tough when the girls needed it without being abusive or condescending. Through great mentoring skill, they made a group of young girls into softball players and collectively a formidable team.

Emily is already interested in pursuing softball when she gets to high school next year. You know I'll be at every game cheering her team on, safely from the bleachers.

I Inhaled and Now I Have a Little Pane In My Stomach.

2011-06-02T13:24:00.000-04:00

I've become a total Groupon fanatic. I see something on Groupon, research it, buy the Groupon and do it. This post is not about Groupon though; it is about something I found there. I found a Groupon for Hot Sand, a glass studio in Asbury Park, NJ. I bought a blowing session for each of the girls and a sand cast session for myself. The weather being so hot this past weekend, we limited our outside time to the mornings and evenings. Sunday afternoon, we decided to go to the Hot Sands studio and use the Groupons. The kids each blew a glass bubble and I decided, Groupon be damned, on blowing a drinking glass.

There was one young girl ahead of us; we and the rest of the crowd were amazed as she turned a piece of molten glass into a glowing bubble right before our eyes. Looking at all the amazing pieces they had for sale hanging from the ceiling, lining shelves and on the walls, we realized just how incredible the artistic nature of glass really was. There were spectacular examples of blown, cast, fused and slumped glass everywhere.

It was our turn and we elected Lizzy to go first. The artisan explained the entire process and answered some questions Lizzy had. To say Lizzy looked a little uncomfortable as the pipe with the molten glass on the end of it approached the work bench, would probably be an understatement. Working with 2100 degrees of amorphous silicon lava initially seemed a bit much for her. After she grabbed it, with what looked like oversize tweezers, and began twisting it, she became quite at ease with the glass. Several color adds, rolls, blows, cools and reheats later Lizzy's globe was complete. The master glassman then brought it to the cooling oven and we watched as he tapped the rod and the globe gently rolled off.

After watching Lizzy, Emily was ready to go. A crowd had gathered and was watching. Emily was a bit more confident and as I watched the process again, I truly began to appreciate the amount of work that goes into the art. Like so many other things I wondered how the first glass blowers figured out the techniques and best practices that were needed for the form. Emily looked a little bored at the work bench but a few minutes later, her globe was also in the cooling oven.

Next it was my turn. I love doing new things! Blowing glass is a much more gentle process then I imagined. More work and time is spent in the shaping, stretching, heating and cutting. I never knew that when heated, glass could be cut with metal shears, so it was amazing to watch a true artisan do so. Within a short while, my glass was in the cooling oven and the kids and I were on our way home.

After the relative silence, of the girls, during and after the process, I was shocked when they began telling everyone we talked to how cool the whole thing was. I'll be picking up our own little pieces of art this Friday. I can't wait to see how they came out.

I have to give a major shout out to the staff at Hot Sand, they were friendly, knowledgeable and made the whole process spectacular. They do the lion's share of the work in helping you make amazing creations. Their approach in educating and promoting the art of glass through hands on work made this one of the best experiences the kids and I have had in a while and has set the bar pretty high for this summer. We will definitely be going back. If you are ever in NJ, go to the boardwalk in Asbury Park and stop by Hot Sand for a visual treat and a unique souvenir. Oh, unlike me, remember to bring your good camera.
Their website can be found here. http://www.hotsandap.com/

I Hate Facebook and Twitter

2011-06-01T11:02:00.000-04:00

I don't think it is the actual services, so much as it is their impact on our dimwitted society. I was out the other night and a woman actually said, “Face Palm”. Really? I'm less than two feet from you. In fact, I'm looking right at you. Are you so lazy that you can't do the gesture or has your feeble mind lost the ability to express itself in person? At this rate, everyone will walk around expressionless and just talk. Next time someone verbalizes an expression, I think I'll have to blurt out, “Middle finger!”, and see if they get it.

Another thing that has to go is the idea that an acronym or abbreviation of something is an actual word, W.T.F.? I understand in this day and age there are some typing challenged people (maybe 5), but do you talk so slow that you need to say it out loud in that form? As if saying everything in short form isn't bad enough, pictures have become verbalized. Since when has heart become a synonym for love? People actually type out or say, 'I heart you' . Every time I hear this, I want to stab them in the love.

Text streams. I understand the need for people to communicate on a constant basis, when they have something to say, but must they discuss their every waking thought and action, no matter how inappropriate. For those of you who don't use these services, I'll give you a quick rundown of what your missing and some translations of the acronyms, in italics.

I just pooped and it was brown and green, IDIOT (I Did It In Our Toilet)

#toilet

You must be STUPID (Stunned That U Pooped In Der)

#casual user

Oops, I dropped my phone in while typing, I need to RITALIN (Reach In Toilet And Laugh Insanely Now)

#toilet

I can't believe you reached in there and are typing CRAP (Clever Rhyming Acronym Poetry)

#Lazy Bum

That's funny, 'in' rhymes with 'RITALIN'. I bet you FART (Fear Another Raging Turd)

# I'm confused

I have to BEAT (Be Entertaining And Teach) my child.

#toilet

OK, I'm BEATing my child now. He has a booger in his nose. :?)

#toilet

Last time my child had one, I scraped it out with a Hanger. 8@(

#clueless

I heart using hangers

#toilet

This dribble goes on non-stop minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day. When something finally does happen exciting in the persons life, nobody really gives a crap.

Where is all this leading to? My teenage daughter just opened a Facebook account. Now I'll have to open one, to keep an eye on her. How unkewl is that?

Sad Memorial Day - 2011

2011-05-30T20:52:00.000-04:00

I put up a new flag for Memorial Day and began reading on the internet about different Memorial Day 'festivities'. I also began thinking of the whole concept of 'Happy Memorial Day', it's kind of an oxymoron. There is nothing happy about Memorial Day.
Memorial Day, we honor the greatest of our dead, our fallen military heroes. On Veteran’s day, we are to honor our Veterans. Everyday of the year we should thank God for the brave men and women of our military who keep us safe and make us proud.

With that thought in mind the kids and I did not go to the parade this year. I failed to find out about the military service up the road until it was too late, so we watched several episodes of, 'America: The Story of Us.'. It's a well done series, that though left out a lot of crucial facts, shows how through blood of soldiers and ingenuity of it's people, America forged itself.

It is sad to me that we consider this a 'happy' day. Until this year, I never gave it much thought. It had always been a day of hot dogs, hamburgers and the unofficial start of the summer season. Now I realize this should be a day of honor and respect for those who served and gave their lives as well as their families who made the ultimate sacrifice.

It doesn't matter how old you are. You are never to old to learn or gain understanding. The kids and I talked a lot about the meaning of Memorial Day. I think some of the impact was lost. In a way I'm glad, the last glimmer of innocence has not been smitten by the realities of adulthood. They may be embarrassed when we drive by the local fort and I honk my horn 'in support of our troops', but I hope, when they get older, they will remember and understand that you can hate the war, not the soldier. I also hope they realize the sacrifice and sanctity of dying in the service of your country for the hopes and dreams of your fellow man.

We Honor Those Who Have Fallen For Us and God Bless America!

Happy Blogiversary - Populus Es Bardus

2011-05-27T00:30:00.001-04:00

Today is the one year mark for Populous Es Bardus. In some ways it seems like just yesterday I started it, in others it seems like forever ago. I wish I had written more this past year and will be writing on a more frequent schedule going forward. I have also updated my photography equipment (LOVE my lenses!), so look forward to more, or at least better pictures.

The little blog that started as a means to hone my photography; writing skills and relieve me from the boredom of writing technical manuals has blossomed quite nicely.

Some fun facts about the blog...

It has now been read in 47 states. Screw you Wyoming, Montana and North Dakota.
It has been browsed in at least 10 countries

There have been over 6000 page views.
The most viewed blog entry is Some Daughter at about 2000 page views.
The lowest viewed blog entry (ranked) is Sand Destiny under 20 page views.
Funniest Search Keywords, 'girl belly down on bed' (The runner ups may be a future post).
1.2% of my visitors still use dial-up for their internet.
10 different OS's and 9 different browsers have been identified using the site.
Over 20% of my traffic comes from Google.
This will be the 180th post.

Thank You Readers!

A lot of the stats aren't very impressive, but they do shock me. I never thought anyone would care about what I posted or even find the blog, as I've told few people about it. It is true that I would have done the blog even if I had thought no one was actually out there but it is nice to see that people found it and hopefully enjoyed it.

Now for another year!

Tick! TIck! TICK! BOOM! (aka. To all You Older Byrds!)

2011-05-25T12:03:00.001-04:00

I was on a dating site the other night and was surprised at how many women, older than I, stated that they wanted to have their first child.

Ladies,
If you are my age (or older) are single and are planning on having a baby... that's a clock that makes Big Ben go, “DAMN, that ticking is loud.”. If you are married and planning for a child in your 40's, God bless but, if you don't have a relationship yet and somehow think you are going to meet a guy, skip all formalities and have a baby, it's like me saying I want to be a baseball player. Even if I was the best player in the universe, no one would draft me, sight unseen, knowing at my age, I only had a good year or two left in me. Do you not understand that there was a time for that and chances are that time is called the past.

Age is a crueler mistress to women than men. Women have a biological time frame in which they can have a child without medical issue. Men we can have children at whatever age we want. Sadly we don't realize how amazing children are until after we have them. That being said, most men don't want to coach soccer from behind a walker or get a senior discount at Babies 'R' Us.

I'm not saying you 40 something women aren't sexy, or that there is anything wrong with not having a child. I'm also not saying 40+ women can't plan a relationship, a marriage, a baby and get it all in under the wire; it is kind of like saying a dog can't jump from the Empire State Building. We all know it can happen, it just shouldn't and the impact on the dog would probably be detrimental.

So ladies, you've made it past forty without child and relationship. Congratulations, it's not the end of the world. Maybe reproduction is not for you. There are always nieces and nephews and friends with kids that are looking for a babysitter.

Have you ever watched one of those movies where there is a guy disarming a bomb and the digital timer is blurring a countdown at an incredible rate... 3.01, 2.05, 1.09, 0.23. and the guy has to choose the blue or red wire before time runs out and right at the end of the movie he snips one. Ladies you are the credits that roll at the end of those movies.

Tuesday Tips For Living Alone – Noise While 'not baking brownies.'

2011-05-24T13:18:00.001-04:00

Yes, that is my laundry on the right and office chair on the left..

Most people living alone, like I, live in a multi-family dwelling. Whether it be a condo, apartment, co-op or townhouse, the builders of these homes never planned on humans actually living on these premises. If they had the walls would have been better insulated against noise.

Where am I going with this? I have an exercise machine I bought right before the divorce. It is a knock off of the one Chuck Norris and Christie Brinkley peddle on late night TV. I really like it and it seems to fit my lifestyle; it even folds up and can be pushed under a bed or leaned against a wall. Since moving into the co-op, It's sole purpose has been a place to hang the clothes I will be wearing the next day. This weekend I decided that moving it from one location to another should not be the only exercise I get from it. I put it in the center of my bedroom, fully extended it and decided that I would do reps of different exercises every time I walked by it.

Let's step back for a moment here. Remember how I said noise travels freely through the walls of my co-op to the neighbors? Well, it is a two way situation. My neighbor has a bed that has the propensity to, for lack of better definition, squeak. So once in a while when she has company over, I know they are, 'not baking brownies', if you know what I mean.

So yesterday, every time I walked by the exercise machine I decided to do ten to fifteen reps of one of the various exercises. Around lunch time I decided on doing a little bit more of a workout. After about twenty five minutes of huffing, puffing, grunting and sweating, I went out to my yard feeling pumped and ready to do some yard work.
My next door neighbor was out and the conversation went something like this.
Her : “You have somebody over?”
Me (still puffing) : “No, just taking a lunchtime break.”
Her : “Oh, thought I heard something.”
Me : “Just me upstairs in my room.”
Her : “Oh.... OK, cause it sounded like you had somebody over there.”
Me : “Nope, all alone. I have to pull some weeds from the beds now.”

After pulling some weeds from my two small beds out back, I went in and decided to do a few more reps. I get lulled into the gentle piston-like noise of the exercise machine, “Whirrr...Whump, WHIrrr... WHUmp, WHIRRR... WHUMMP.”, I let out an, “UHHHNNN”, as I butterfly one too many times. It hits me. The utter and sheer feeling of embarrassment that is burning more than the muscles in my shoulders. My neighbor thinks, I was alone, uh, 'not baking brownies.'.

I take a shower and look out the window. My neighbor's car is gone, she has already gone back to work. Ah, just as well. I'm pretty shameless and very rarely get embarrassed, so now, I begin to laugh. I wonder what the neighbor is going to think when she is home and hears the exercise machine go off ten to fifteen times a day.

I digress.

The tips for today. If you are in a multi-family dwelling with noise enhancing walls:
1. Learn to ignore things. There are plenty of professional ways to damper noise, but most are rather costly and aren't as effective as needed.
2. Communicate with your neighbors. The other of my two neighbors goes to bed early and has to be up for work by 4:00a.m.. Since she told me, I've learned to curb my noise level in certain rooms of my co-op later at night.
3. If you are, 'not baking brownies.', God bless, put the TV on a little louder or play some music. If you hear someone, 'not baking brownies.'. Put your TV on or play some music and give them some privacy. A little noise control goes a long way.

No Babies Were Harmed in the Course of This Post.

2011-05-23T10:51:00.000-04:00

So my latest Neurosis is Baby oil. I noticed my skin was getting dry so I started to put baby oil on it after I showered. At first I thought, skin lotion, but baby oil sounds so much cooler. Thoughts of magical baby extract or age defying oil squeezed from babies comes to mind. Think about it Corn Oil from corn, Sunflower oil from sunflowers, Baby oil from?

I also figure that the ladies out there will actually dig this concept. What's the latest thing lonely middle aged women are into? Vampires! What sounds closer to being a vampire then rubbing crushed baby extract on yourself to keep your skin young forever.

You can all laugh at my neuroses(I do), but any of you that have seen a baby being born, know where I'm coming from. I'm not saying babies aren't cute, just that they aren't initially human. They come out covered in slime and are alive but not breathing. They have scales like reptiles and when their mouths first open, their faces contort and they let out a pterodactyl scream. The nurse takes them out of the room, rubs baby oil on them and BAM! An insanely cute soft skinned human child comes back.

Since starting this regimen, my hair has become noticeably softer. As a dude, the only downside is that my skin has gotten a little too soft. Guess I'll have to go eat some pork rinds and yes, they really are the skin of a pig.

Side note: Since I wrote this last week, I've gotten a zit on my forehead. I haven't changed my diet, so there is only one logical conclusion. The baby oil is working! My face has regressed to my teenage years. Now If I could only find some magical solution like ground kitten or crushed puppy to get the hair on my head to start growing back, I'd be all set.

No More Room Left On The Fridge.

2011-04-20T16:50:00.001-04:00

First Choice, 'They'll Never Guess It's Me', by Lizzy

So, I finally did it. I got a tattoo on Monday.

It wasn't the tattoo I initially planned on getting, but I'm glad I chose the design I did.

To answer everyone's question, "No it didn't hurt".

My plan to go to North Carolina did not come to fruition, so when my friend from North Carolina came up for a long weekend, we decided to get the tattoos in NJ. He has a bunch already, so this was just another one for him.

Lizzy's 'The Flea'

We went to Freehold Tattoo. They were extremely professional and did excellent work. There were some amazing tattoo designs on the wall, that tempted me, but in the end I went with, 'The Flea'. 'The Flea' was done by Lizzy when she was warming up to draw a tattoo for me. It had always been a consideration, but after seeing all the small lines in my first choice and the lack of color, 'The Flea' seemed like a natural.

Prototype

I copied the design in a paint program and with a friends help smoothed out the edges, added the circle and some flames(hey, gotta have flames!).

Strangely, I was not nervous or anxious about sitting in the chair at the tattoo parlor. It was a little surreal trusting someone to draw a picture on your body that would never come off. In the end though, I love it. I have a piece of art from my daughter that will always be with me. Maybe someday Emily will draw something for my other arm. I'm not rushing her, but would also not be opposed to it.

The only downside to the whole experience is that you need to put A&D ointment on the tattoo three times a day for the first ten days. For those of you who don't know, A&D ointment is normally used for diaper rash and smells like baby ass.


'The Flea' the first time the bandage was taken off.

Mikey's new Tattoo

Creative Thursday - The Last Coffee Mug, A Childrens' Story.

2011-04-07T17:52:00.000-04:00

The little coffee mug lived in the back of the cabinet with his nine other sisters and brothers. They would all excitedly wait to hear the kettle whistle or gurgling of the coffee pot. When the cabinet door opened, they would reach out their handles and scream, “PICK ME!!! PICK ME!!!”. The coffee mugs in the front would always be picked and when they came back to the cabinet, would tell wonderful stories of how they held coffee, tea, or some other exotic beverage. They would spend hours explaining the taste of the sweet honey that was swirled into them or the mint that floated just below their rim. The little coffee mug in the back would particularly like the stories about the soapy bubbles, the soft sponges and the towels that would be used on the others before they were put back into the cabinet.

One day the cabinet opened and the two front coffee mugs were taken out. The little coffee mug in the back waited patiently for them to return with their stories of the day. But the next time the cabinet opened they were not returned, instead, another two of the coffee mugs were taken out. It was a peaceful night in the cabinet with only six coffee mugs and no stories. The little coffee mug in the back drifted off to sleep with the thoughts of coffee, soap suds and sponges.

The next morning he was awakened by the gurgle of the coffee pot. When the cabinet opened, the little coffee mug in the back reached out his handle as far as he could. As his handle was grabbed, he beamed with excitement. His hopes were dashed with a, “Hey Watch it!”, from a mug in front of him, as they met with a large CLINK! The hand released him and yet more of his family left the cabinet.

The little mug sat with the other two mugs. They talked about what it would be like if they were chosen next. With a clack, the cabinet opened. The three mugs reached out they were almost never picked, so they tried their hardest to get attention. The cabinet closed and the last little coffee mug was alone in the corner of the cabinet. The fear of being alone was overcome by the thoughts of being the next mug used. He tried to keep his excitement down. Once before all of the other coffee mugs but him left and just as the cabinet had opened for his proud moment, the rest of the mugs filed back in one by one. He was so excited, he would not sleep that night.

The next morning came and the last little coffee mug shook with delight. This was his morning. He heard the scoops of the coffee rustling against the filter, the water being poured into the maker, the whoosh of the steam and finally the gurgle of the last few drops of coffee.

The cabinet opened.

The hand reached in.

His handle was grabbed.

This was it, this was his moment. He could hardly contain himself. He was getting closer to the coffee pot. The counter was just in his reach. The smell of the coffee, the light of the sun, the freshness of the air all came together. In his daze, the last little coffee mug did not see the edge of the counter, nor did the hand that was holding him. With a simple tap just inches from the coffee pot, the hand released and he tumbled through the air, down, down. “I'm flying”, he thought, but was rudely interrupted by the hard tile floor. CRASH! As the little mug lie in pieces on the ground he shed a tear. All he ever wanted was to leave the cabinet, and now he would never return.

The moral of the story kids, Wash the damn dishes Reed!

* No Actual coffee mugs were harmed in the writing of this story, but some were dirtied *

Great Times and Bad Hot Dogs.

2011-03-24T23:08:00.000-04:00

Sunday was the night! Lizzy and I went to the WWE RAW wrestling matches at the Prudential Center. I bought tickets from D&G tickets and they delivered! We were second row ringside. The trip was awesome. We took the train up to Newark and walked the couple blocks over to the Prudential Center. When we got there, we entered into the building and no lines for us, we walked right to the floor seating section. Did I mention the seats were amazing!?! We got there about fifteen minutes early and the place really filled in as the wrestling began.

Watching the athleticism of the men and women in the ring was spectacular. As fake as wrestling is, there is no doubt that most of the people in the ring are talented athletes. By most I'm excluding some of the guests, like that ogre from NY, Snookie (who by the way did not show up at the Jersey venue).

Lizzy's eyes were as wide as saucers the whole time. WWE RAW truly is amazing entertainment. The performers kept the entire center hopping and involved. The wrestlers all did their rounds, slapping hands as they went by but poor Lizzy kept getting passed over. I sent her to the crowd control fence when Randy Orton and John Cena went by. She disappeared behind the crowds and I could only keep track of where she was by her bright pink shoes. She would come back and say daddy, they leaned right over me and were inches from me, but they didn't slap my hand. The last wrestler of the night to walk by was Triple H, Lizzy ran to the gate followed by a ton of other people. I saw Triple H hug one of the children, but did not even ask Lizzy if she slapped his hand for fear that, though so close to her heroes, she did not get to slap hands with any of them.

When the matches were over Lizzy and I went to the concession stand. They didn't have any crowd control or any Triple H shirts in Lizzy's size. She was bummed, but I got her a 'I Was There' shirt, a Randy Orton Necklace and a WWE yearbook instead. As we walked back to the train station, she seemed tired and a little cranky. When I asked her if it was everything she expected, she said, “Yes and no.”, she didn't give anymore details than that, the wind completely fell out of my sails. I went from being super dad to the guy who killed the Easter Bunny in just three words.

We were a block from the station when she looked up at me in some strange realization and said, “Daddy, Triple H hugged me.”, she continued walking. I slowed our pace and looked down at her, “Triple H? The Game? Hugged you?”, my mind raced to remember as he went by. I saw him hug a child, but behind the crowd could only see the blond hair and Lizzy was wearing a cap. I thought about the fact that I had to tell Lizzy to pick up her cap that had fallen behind the crowd control gate and my mind put it together, Lizzy was the child that was hugged, that was her blond hair, her hat must have flown off. She wasn't tired, she was in shock, the biggest wrestler of the day hugged her. Her young mind was trying hard to embrace the event, the unlikeliness that she would be the only child in the whole arena that was hugged by the man that would be taking on the Undertaker at Wrestlemania, the man who was The Rock's nemesis (when I used to watch wrestling in my college days), the no doubt future Hall Of Famer. The shock was starting to wear off and her face changed from the tired/shocked look to a look of awe. As we got to the station, Lizzy asked to see the shirt that I picked out at the concession stand for her. She admitted, it was excellent. The train ride was filled with Lizzy texting to her sister about the great time she had, all the wrestlers and 'The Hug'.

When we got to our station, we found the rear passenger door of my Escape wide open. Lizzy in her excitement had forgotten to close it when we left earlier that day. Luckily nothing was stolen.

The only downside of the night was trying to get food. Lizzy was in the mood for a Nathan's hot dog. She never got one. The, as of yet, unanswered letter I sent to Nathan's, that night, follows.

I don't like to bitch in an email, but what I saw this evening was a disgrace. Let me start off by saying, I normally go to your Monmouth Mall location and they do a good job. Tonight I went to the WWE event at the Prudential Center for my daughter's 9th birthday. The people in front of us came back with Nathan's and after seeing them with it, my daughter proclaimed she was hungry and wanted a Nathan's hot dog. The people in front of us commented on how long it took them to get their order. A 10 min. intermission came and my daughter and I bee lined for the Nathan's. I asked my daughter if she would rather have pizza, but she insisted on a Nathan's hot dog. When we got to Nathan's, all of the lines were between seven and nine people long. We got in line and eight minutes later were still in the same spot. A lady several lines to the left demanded to see the manager and complained that she had been waiting ten minutes and the lines hadn't moved. The manager yelled to an employee to get her, her order. The pizza place had funneled through every customer, even the ones who had shed from the Nathan's line and had NO LINE. I asked my daughter once more if she wanted pizza, but she really wanted a Nathan's. Someone came and said that the intermission was over. My daughter and I went back to our seats, missing the first couple minutes of the match that she wanted to see most(She was wearing Randy Orton gear from head to toe). We didn't get a hot dog and ended up grabbing food at a deli on the way home.

I don't want to tell you how to run your business, but somebody obviously has to. I managed a deli and now run a successful small business. If I was half as inadequate as the manager there, I would have been reprimanded or probably even fired on the spot. If you know your restaurant is at an event center filled with children, at dinnertime and the intermission is coming, maybe, I don't know, be prepared. At least serve some people. The manager seemed completely uncaring and the staff looked like statues. I was not the only one who was cursing Nathan's. As we left the line, empty handed, and went back to our seats, there were at least 50 other people in line who left grumbling the same time we did, not to mention the many who got in line after us and left in disgust, before we had the sense to.

Sincerely a former customer,

Tuesday Tips for Living Alone (and even with people) – Taking out the garbage.

2011-03-15T18:36:00.000-04:00

No, this is not going to be a political bashing, though by the title, it's iffy. Today is about the wonderful world of garbage and how it gets from point a, your house to point b, the curb. When you live with more than one person, there is a trash day safety net. That is, if one person forgets to bring the can(s) to the street, there are 'backup people' to take care of the task. When you live alone, the backup has crashed and if you forget the task, your front yard begins to smell worse then American Idol's new judges.

There is a bright side to living alone though. I HATE overflowing garbage bags, cans, fill form of container in here. When you live with other people, a centuries old game of 'last piece in takes the garbage out' becomes a daily event. In this game Jenga-like skill is used to get one more piece of garbage into the container. The game continues until the trash bin gets to the point of 'filled ten pieces ago' or explodes with enough force to leave a crater the size of a football field. I don't think that there is a family household in America that does not play this game.

I started living alone and the game ended rather abruptly. At first I actually missed it and would throw random, 'foul shots' onto the floor. Later, I would pick them up in disgust and add them to their awaiting friends, that had made it to their destination the first time, just as I had always done. Eventually, I decided to get rid of my larger garbage can in favor of smaller bags that I could empty more often and easily replenish when I went shopping.

When the kids come over on the weekends, they still try luring me into the game. When I reprimand them and ask, “Can you not see the bag is full? Did you not see the paper towel plop out onto the floor?”. They look at me with confusion. In their mind, I'm convinced that garbage is like cartoon characters, “That Pesky Paper Towel Pete, He jumped out of the garbage boat again. I hear he's armed and dangerous, I better leave him be... on the floor.”.

This brings up the solution for both living with people and living alone. If your problem is living with people who don't understand that the bag's cavity is finite, empty the bag more often; put it on a schedule. Empty the bag once or twice a day whether it needs it not. If it seems like more work, consider what it takes to clean the floor or trash cabinet or crater from the overflow.

If you're single, Look for that one neighbor that thinks he is the mayor of the town, you know the one. He usually lives across from you and complains about all of the city ordinances you've broken by sneezing on a Friday, by an open gate. Chances are, this person lives for leaf collection and breathes garbage day. If you were still in high school, you'd flagpole him (probably by the pole he has in his front yard.). If all else fails, set an appointment alarm on your cel phone (that is what it's for).

I Know I'm a Little Late.

2011-03-15T03:06:00.000-04:00

I was going to blog on the President's belief that bullying causes drug use. Of course he then says that he was severely bullied. Is that a cry for help? Does he use drugs?

I Digress.

Today I wanted to write about the horror that happened in Japan. My thoughts and good wishes go out to those who were effected by the earthquake, the following tsunami and the after effects that are still happening there.

I know people are expecting a rant and rave about Toyota and the death mobiles they knowingly sent to America, but everything seems small compared to the forces of nature and the brutal devastation that it causes.

As a race we are resilient and resourceful. We adapt and change our environment; seeing the tsunami as it dragged cars, trucks and houses back into the ocean, we realize that nature will not be quelled. The arrogance of man to believe that he could challenge such a force.

After the initial shock of the event, my heart cracked at the thought of people being trapped. Surrounded by water and yet none to drink. Surviving the initial disaster and hoping for a rescue that in only days would be too late. Nine days approximately. In nine days a healthy adult will likely die without fresh water. The weaker and the children, don't even have that 'luxury'.

If you are religious, say prayers for the people of Japan. If you can donate, do. Regardless look into the eyes of your family and friends. Cherish that which can be taken away so easily.

This weekend the tsunami came up as a topic of conversation between friends. Someone made the comment that says it all. It doesn't matter about the buildings, the trucks, the houses or the planes, they can all be replaced. The people, they are what really matter.

Tuesday Tips For Living Alone - Finding Sh!#

2011-03-08T19:17:00.000-05:00

When you live with someone, it is relatively easy to find lost items.

The steps for finding something when you live with someone:

You ask other person where lost item is and they swear they never saw it.
Look everywhere you might have put it.
Think like the other person (may require a brick or sledge hammer) and look where they would put it.

Voila, item found.

When living alone, it becomes much more difficult. This was the case with my dual screen digital camera last night.

I know I keep all of my cameras in the closet in various camera bags.

I know that the last time I used the camera was at a wedding. The front lcd puts on a show and is much less intimidating when trying to take pictures of younger children then the jagunda dslr.

I know I put the camera cable and battery charger with it.

I know it still took me an hour to find it.

The steps for finding something when living alone are:

Look where you would have sworn you put it last.
Look where you thought you saw it last time you couldn't find something else.
Look where you know it should have been put but never was.
Go into Navy Seal mode and begin a room by room sweep of the place proclaiming, “Not here!”, at every possibility, until all rooms are exhausted.
Stop and tax your already malfunctioning brain by trying to remember where the hell you put it.
Start looking in the remote locations, that by some act of a higher (or lower) power you might have placed the item.
Fuel an improbability engine with thoughts like; it was raining on Tuesday and I turned a light on, the item must be in the medicine cabinet.
Think of the last time you had company and where you put all of the items that needed to be “moved” out of the main living areas.
Scour every room, looking in places where the item could not even possibly fit, seething, “NOT HERE!!!!”.
Randomly go through the above steps until exhausted.
Sit down and contemplate the meaning of woe.
Give up on ever finding the item again.
Start doing a meaningless task.
See lost item while doing meaningless task.
Shrug and forget why you needed the item in the first place.
Leave the item there so that next time you can go through the same steps.

I know that some of you are saying, "Just be more organized.". Look at your own homes. Every dwelling has at least one “closet of death and despair” where unused items go to die or much worse, be tortured and left for dead. It's that closet that you hope no guest ever opens for fear of them being buried alive or drawn in never to be seen again. Basically if you cringe with fear, when opening a closet, that is the one.

The solutions to the lost sh!# problem.

Next time you are going to search for something, don't! Go online or to the store and buy a replacement for the lost item. This will result in the immediate discovery of the lost item and now gives you two of them to lose.

or
Change your life to incorporate a one use/disposable architecture. Realize nothing lasts and after using an item throw it out or donate it. It's easier to find an item in a 100,000 sq. ft.warehouse store than your < 10,000 sq. ft. dwelling.

Self Reflection.

2011-03-08T00:55:00.001-05:00

So I was sitting around the co-op deciding what the next upgrades were going to be. It feels like I've been working on this place forever, and the progress seems rather minimal. There were so many small things that needed to get done and now I need to start tackling larger projects. Being a master of avoiding things that I don't want to do, I decided I'd hit the internet.

Wow, I realized I had not been on dating sites in a real long time. I type in some of the more well known ones like cupid.com and begin doing a search. I check Females, Single, 29 – 41, within 20 miles of where I live, “Search”.

First entry; Sunshine Eyes 18 Brooklyn, Loves to laugh, adventurous, loves to try new things, mister right where are you?”.

First, in what universe does 29 -41 years old mean 18? Second what fold in time and space puts Brooklyn within 20 miles of where I live? Third, I sorted in distance order, how is Brooklyn closer than Red Bank? Well, I got 27 cupid emails and 4 winks. Amazing considering I had none when I first logged on after an insane amount of months and by some psychic dating presence, they all decided to contact me the exact same day and want me to text them back.
Of course texting costs money, do I smell scam? Then to make matters worse I decided to see if they have any speed dating events. That's how I found this site in the first place, over a year ago. Let's see, they do mention speed dating. It's an article saying how speed dating doesn't work. My guess is it probably wasn't profitable enough, so they axed it and now are bashing it.

On to Okcupid.com. Names are close, but this one seemed more interesting when I started signing up for it last year and was referred by a friend. The problem is after hours of answering hypothetical partner what if's, I fell asleep at the keyboard and decided this site was way too much of a hassle. So now I skip all of the questions and start looking on the site. I get an email and think, great, here we go again. Wait, the email is from a staff member. They are telling me that if I submit a picture, I'll be included on more searches.

Awesome, except for one thing. I'm never in front of the camera. Out of the tens of thousands or so photos on my network drives, I'm not in any of them. The only photos I have of myself are me in Halloween costumes or me when I was like seventeen years old. Of course I do have the ones I took for the blog and the one that is on cupid.com, but in those I look like I'm stunned to see a camera or a speed baller coming down off a bad high.

I'm not saying I'm the greatest looking guy in the world, but in pictures, especially self portraits, I look a little more like Joseph Merrick (Ben Affleck's twin brother.) then I'd like to.

I quickly grab my dslr and realize, that without setting up the tripod, it is not the right tool for the job. I try a few shots anyway and realize, I do not have any lenses, that at arms length will look good. No problem I have my Iphone. Taking a picture with an Iphone in anything but OPTIMAL light looks like ass (Steve Jobs face),unless you photoshop the crap out of it. Saying pictures from an Iphone are hip or artsy or cool, does not make you hip, or artsy or cool; It makes you a douche bag. It is equivalent to saying it would be artsy to scribe your bands latest diatribe of unfortunately failed suicide on a wax cylinder.

So now I remember, that while I was replacing (even though I never got rid of any of) my camera equipment, I bought a Samsung dual lcd digital camera. It's the type that has an lcd screen in front for self portraits. Great, now all I have to do is find it. I keep all of my camera equipment in cases in the closet, so how hard could it be? Let's just say, tomorrow's blog will be on just such a topic.

I take a few shots, upload them to the laptop. Damn, I didn't shave and am wearing my old glasses The glasses are so dirty. I have like 8 pairs of glasses (Strangely, I'm nearsighted but my prescription hasn't changed since I was 15). Problem is that I leave them all over and whichever pair I find first, I wear.

So I get done taking the pictures, upload them and now I'm ready, at least I thought I was. I now have to fill out more essays then any communication major could tackle. Whew, I'm almost done. If I send someone a message, my profile will be 50% complete, time to find a match. I check Females, Single, 29 – 41, within 20 miles of where I live, “Search”.

First entry Green Eyes, 37, NYC, NY.. Wow dating geography sure is strange. 4 pages later and hey, there is a woman within 10 miles of where I live. She has no profile information and has not been on the site since August of 2010, but hey, maybe I should send her a message. 6 more pages later,

wow a real candidate. Lives close, seems intelligent, wow I think I'll message her. Wait, what's this, answer 10 questions on compatibility? OK 10 questions answered, I'm going to send her a text. Wait, take the tests that they took and compare results. Sure.

Well, now I've spent as much time as I'm going to on this site. I haven't found a date, but according to the tests, I'm an OrangutangCat, a centrist who is financially conservative and I'm the life and soul of the party.

Best Political Quote of the Week...

2011-02-23T11:39:00.000-05:00

"The only action available to us to slow this down and allow democracy to work was to take us out of the Capitol,"
One of the missing Democrats, Minority Leader from Wisconsin, Mark Miller, hiding out in Illinois.

Genius! Let's take all of the politicians out of the capitols. That way democracy will work.

Common Sense, Treason, Unions, Liars, Immaturity and a Super Bowl Ring.

2011-02-19T00:58:00.000-05:00

I've never bought a foreign car. I've always believed that in order to keep the economy healthy and Americans employed, the money made in America should be spent in America. That simple concept can't intelligently be denied and yet there are groups of American people who feel the need to hand over their hard earned cash to people half way around the world because American goods are too expensive. Most of these people are the ones complaining about the low wages and lack of entitlements given to American workers.
Yeah, this is going to be a rant against unions and certain treasonous politicians, but I really don't fear recourse. The union members have proven they are too stupid to think for themselves. They won't be reading this blog, unless of course, their union rep tells them too. If they are one of the aforementioned politicians, they're in hiding and will be for a while.
For those of you not reading the news, of course I'm referring to the lovely state of Wisconsin. Their team wins the Super Bowl and their senate and several thousand of their people become retarded. Did I offend Sarah Palin? Good cause she's retarded too, but that's a topic for another blog.
Back to Wisconsin. There is a bill that needs to be voted on in the state senate that includes:
1. Eliminating the collective bargaining rights of the union, except over wage increases not greater than the Consumer Price Index.
2. Having state workers pay more for health insurance and a higher percentage towards their pension
3. Giving people the right to a private vote once a year whether to be unionized.
The Governor is not proposing these things because he's a sadistic jerk, he's trying to avoid layoffs due to the state's projected $3.6 billion budget shortfall.
So now illegitimate baby having Rev.(Why do people laugh at religion) Jesse Jackson is down there rebel rousing. This is the same guy who, when I was a kid, claimed that Martin Luther King(Rolling over in his grave) died in his arms. Later we all found out that was a lie, like the ones he told all the women he slept with while he was married.

I Digress.

So this bill needs to be passed to help save jobs, seems like a no brainer. Basically it is saying the unskilled barely qualified union monkeys need to abide by the same rules that hard working people have to. They may actually have to justify their jobs, work hard to get raises, pay for there health insurance and put money towards their retirement. Am the only one who sees the craziness here? Wait, it gets better. The dumbocrats in the state senate decided they didn't like this bill; after all the unions steal from their less than intelligent members and funnel gobs of money and votes to the dumbocrats. So these members of the state senate not only won't show up for the vote, they run away to where else, but the place where only bad politicians go, Chicago. Running away from the vote? How old are these people? Four. They don't like the rules of the game, so they are taking the ball and leaving.

Well of course the liberal media makes a big deal about thousands of people marching on the capitol and touts the politicians who have left the state. If the stupid republicans had walked away from a certain Hawaiian’s (unpopular) health bill, the American people would have been in better shape, but would the press have been so kind? The press also stands behind the teachers who sympathetically decided to call out sick in support of their fellow useless, I mean union, brethren.

So basic rundown of whats happening...
Governor of Wisconsin decided to shore up the state budget and save jobs by proposing a bill that tells the union they cannot force membership, their less then intelligent sheep must actually earn their pay raises and contribute more for their benefits, like honest workers do.

Thousands of people (out of 5.65 million residents) showed up at the WI capitol building led by one adulterous scum bag liar and the press treated it like the second coming.

The immature dumbocrat members of the state senate disrupt the democratic process of their state and this country by playing hookie and 'hiding' in the homeland of the worst politicians in the world, Chicago.

The President, of course is siding with the unions. Why wouldn't he, they paid for his presidency and in turn were rewarded nicely with the ownership of two car companies and now his endorsement in Wisconsin.

Unions were started in this country to ensure that less than intelligent workers would be protected from unsafe conditions and not be taken advantage of. They were not supposed to be large businesses themselves taking advantage of the workers. They now take the workers money, tell them how to think, act and vote; all the while doing so to increase the profit of the union and pocket more politicians.

Tuesday Tips For Living Alone - Shellac Everything

2011-02-16T01:53:00.000-05:00

Living alone and not having a dishwasher, means dishes are always piling up in the sink and need to be washed. Everyday ends with having to wash a mountain of dishes. This problem is not just limited to dishes, it also extends to tools, cloths, mail, you name it.

It took some creative thinking, but I now have this one solved.

While at Lowe's this weekend, I found sprayable clear coat. I've come to the conclusion that though I'm no artist, I'm the only person that really knows that.

So going forward instead of cleaning things, I'm just going to clear coat them. Today a pile of messy laundry, tomorrow an interesting piece of wall art known as “Fashion Pile In Still Life.”. Not only does this solve the dilemma of having to constantly clean; with the money you sell the 'pieces' for, you can afford to hire someone to do your dishes, laundry or whatever.

Best exchange of words in a supermarket ever.

2011-02-09T20:23:00.000-05:00

A well dressed middle aged woman in front of me, paying with a Government Food Card (Food Stamps?) looked arrogantly at the 60+ year old cashier and blurted, "I don't have to use this, my husband makes a LOT of money. My friend showed me how easy it was to get one of these though and I guess it is becoming the fashionable thing to do."

The older cashier without missing a beat fired back at the woman in a kind voice, "I don't have to work here, I'm retired with money in the bank. I got tired of all my friends and family asking to borrow money because they couldn't get work. So to prove a point, I came to Supermarket Name, applied and they hired me. Now I'm here because it sends the right message."

The well dressed woman grabbed her bags and grimaced while leaving the store.

Farewell Paisano!

2011-01-20T23:51:00.001-05:00

I had my cat put to sleep today at the ASPCA, actually he has been my mom's cat for quite some time. The cat was breathing faintly and he would have been mistaken for dead when I got to my mom's to pick him and her up. As we watched the veterinarian give him his final shot, a memory collage pasted on mind. Paesano was 22 years old. I got him when I was in Dallas. I was going to Dallas Community College and working at the housing authority at the time. One of my coworkers, while on his way to work, saw some kids throwing rocks at a kitten. He brought the kitten to work and as we stood around wondering who would take him, the cat walked up to me, curled up between my feet and put his head on my shoe. In a room full of cat lovers, he chose me; the guy who's first cat ran away while driving him to his new home (whole other blog), the guy who had a cat that had not been seen for the full six months in his care and was living rapped around the cathode tube of his console TV.
From the first night, Paesano was piss and vinegar. An orange and white tiger striped cat that decided me going to bed was cause for him to go all 'Fantastic Voyage' and to try to climb into my mouth. I closed my bedroom door and he meowed all night to get in; I'd get up, he'd stop meowing, I'd go to bed and the meowing would start. I chased him around the apartment, but he thought it was a game.
The second night I named him Paesano after he sat in my lap and help me finish off a bowl of baked ziti. He quickly learned to eat from a fork and preferred human food to the Science Diet I had been feeding him.

A month after I got him, I came home from work to find him chasing Doogie, the irradiated cat that lived behind the TV, around the apartment, before I could even close the door, Doogie went whizzing by me and out the door. Paesano stood in the doorway taunting him. Amazingly, Doogie looked like a cat that lived on a TV tube. His hair was sparse and he looked emaciated, even though I know he ate the food that I left on the side of the TV for him, it was the only time I would see him. The next time Paesano or I would see Doogie would be a year and a half later outside the window of the apartment. I assume it was Doogie, it was a beautiful healthy cat but I was sure it was him.
Paesano, as I said, was piss and vinegar. He would jump on the top of my shower door only to lean over and whack me in the head, while I washed my hair. He could jump incredibly high and loved to play and get into trouble. He was incredibly skilled at opening the garbage can and getting any leftovers out of it.
When I left Texas to move back to NJ, the Veterinarian gave me sleeping pills, to give Paesano, for the plane ride. I gave him one when we got to the airport. This little runt of a cat began meowing like crazy, long MEEEEOOOOOOWWWWs. I gave him a second one before getting on the plane. He sat in a carrier beneath my seat for a good ten minutes, when the lady next to me started sneezing like crazy. Of course, even though I purchased the space under my seat for Paesano, the airline put a lady who was allergic to cats next to me. Just as she leans over and says, “I never sneeze like this unless there is a cat around.”, The supposedly knocked out cat's response was, “Meeeeoooooowwww”. I talked to the stewardess and got the lady a different seat, the meows grew steadily louder and longer during the flight.
My first night in NJ, Paesano decided to get payback on me, for drugging him, and peed on my head repetitively while I was trying to sleep. He held grudges like that. When I moved out, my mom kept Paesano. At her house, he raised three dogs and two cats, he outlived all but one dog.
Everyone loved Paesano, he had attitude, personality and though a runt, never backed down from another animal. He would jump out windows, over railings, up Christmas trees or anywhere else he felt like. He was the first cat my children ever saw. After twenty two years, he was the last attachment I had to my previous single life.
Now he's gone. I watched as he took his final breath on a metal table, much like the one that Connie, my dog was put to sleep on several years ago.

Good-bye Paisano, you will be missed.

There She Is And There She Goes.

2011-01-16T01:14:00.000-05:00

I watched Miss America tonight with the girls. The scary part was listening to my thirteen year old proclaim, “It's much more fun watching the 2 year-old pageants. If your still doing it at this age, your not very bright.”. I wish I could say that I didn't agree. When I was younger, the Miss America Pageant actually meant something, now it just stands for years of child abuse and mothers vicariously living through their daughters.

I'm not saying the Miss America Foundation doesn't do a lot of really good work, just that the pageant itself has become, well, boring and too political. Asking a pageant contestant the merits of universal health care is like staring at a balloon and expecting it to explain Einstein's theories. It may look pretty, but if your expecting to hear more than the escape of air from inside, you'll be disappointed.

I may just be bitter, because I picked Miss Kentucky to win and felt she was the prettiest from the semi-final round on up. Her Evening gown and talent portions were average, but should you really judge these women on talent? I joked with the girls that there would be a ventriloquist, isn't there always? Strangely the contestant who did ventriloquism this year was actually the best in show, hands down (pardon the pun.).

When I was younger, every year, we would look to Atlantic City to find out who the prettiest young woman in America was going be and to hear Burt Parks sing, “Here She is Miss America.”. Now, thanks, in part to reality TV, the magic is gone. I wish it was just me who saw the wizard's feet under the curtain, but even at eight, Lizzy was not impressed.

I think the only thing the pageant has going for it, is the whole 'train wreck'-like quality. It keeps you tuned in, hoping that something goes right in a sea of everything going wrong. Tonight, what happened in Vegas probably should have stayed in Atlantic City.

Two -isms

2011-01-14T16:02:00.000-05:00

Someone asked me how I can be so cynical and yet so happy all of the time. I think it is a strange optimism. I expect the best out of everyone and everything and when the notion gets shattered by reality, as it always does, a part of me drifts on the winds of cynicism. It doesn't make me any less happy, cynicism can be quite gratifying. I'm like a puppy that gets upset at the ball when someone puts it under the cup only to pee myself in excitement when the cup is moved.

The other reason I am usually happy, is the fact that I choose to be so. Too many people wake up in the morning and curse life. I wake up and taunt death. No really, I actually do. Some of my more recent taunts have been leaning over the edge of the steps to put up a smoke alarm before my first cup of coffee and frying a pound of bacon and waving the incredible aroma in death's face while finishing off every last piece, all the while, humming, “You can't have any!”.

My optimism is undying, “next time”, I think only to realize next time is a permanent expression. I commuted to New York City for thirteen years. If that didn't dampen my optimism, nothing will. When Frankie said, “If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.”, I think people misunderstood him. He was actually saying if you could physically get there during rush hour, there was no place on earth safe from you.

I digress.

Why am I always happy? I pay attention. Life has always provided great amusement. Sometimes I play the hero and other times the clown. I don't take the time to worry which one or when. I just go with flow and enjoy. I can always look back on my life at the times when I thought I couldn't go on; time and understanding have always healed my wounds and proven me wrong. I am optimistic that going forward will not be any different. Being happy is a state of mind, being disappointed is a condition of life, being able to navigate the valleys in between, well, that's where I use cynicism to be my guide.

Not So! Artistic Thursday.

2011-01-13T20:59:00.001-05:00

I haven't been dating much lately. One of the reasons is that the Co-op has been a mess and I really would be embarrassed to bring someone home to it. In fact my project this past week was to redecorate my den and this week, it is to clean the place from top to bottom. I swore when I moved in that I would have a minimalist existence. Epic fail! Unfortunately, what I didn't count on was all of the stuff I owned being extremely in excess of the room I have. I quickly realized I was trying to fit ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.

The problem I've had up until now was that most of the stuff I have is in good working order, I just don't need it anymore. I tried to donate it, but the places I've gone to don't take electronics or cables or the other various crap that I'm trying to get rid of. I usually (read almost always) hate to throw good things out,but I have backed myself into a corner and six bags later, I'm seeing progress. Some lucky curb candier or dumpster diver will hopefully have a feast.

I know this is supposed to be Artistic Thursday, my schedule has just not been conducive to it. I've been so busy lately my camera hasn't even come out of it's case except for a friends wedding I shot a few weeks ago. That'll probably be another blog.

So I'm writing today because I promised myself I would write as much as possible and it gave me a reason to take a break from the de-pack-ratting and moving furniture around. Well back to cleaning out the closets.

That Funny Math in Az. and D.C.

2011-01-13T00:55:00.001-05:00

I've been pretty quiet as of late, but hopefully that will end soon. Once again I'd like to say it was for something cool like an undercover CIA mission, but in all reality, I've just been really busy between work and life and haven't given much time to writing in general, none the less this blog.

Today we are going to talk about politicians, centering around one that was shot in Arizona, Congresswoman Gifford. Though what happened to the congresswoman is a terrible tragedy, it may have increased the IQ of our government by 50%. Sound cold? Our politicians are now talking about bodyguards for, guess who, all politicians. Let's see six citizens gunned down and one politician shot in the least used part of her body. Why are we worried about the politicians? Citizens are far more important than they. Why isn't congress talking about protecting citizens. No, those self serving pieces of dog crap are more worried about themselves than the dumb sheep that vote for them.

Politicians are civil servants and as far as civil servants go, they rank somewhere between the fat lady in the next town over who gets a city car and big salary to drive around and fine people who put recyclables in their normal garbage and the horses the NYC policemen ride.

For what we pay these politicians and the job they do, they should be our bodyguards. They should be helping citizens and jumping in front of any stray bullets to protect them. They would be the highest paid bodyguards in the world. So I ask you, next time you hear of an incident like this, don't listen to the media, do the math. 6 citizens dead + 1 member of congress wounded = pass laws to protect the congressmen. That's an equation I can't live with.

On a side note, if the gunman had wanted to kill the congresswoman, he should have shot her in the wallet.

Another Used Year.

2011-01-02T03:14:00.000-05:00

I don't understand the whole New Year's concept. It's simply an arbitrary day that we decide should somehow change our lives. I don't understand it because every day on the calendar starts a new year from the previous one before and I celebrate it as a new beginning; I don't get drunk, light off fireworks or take off the next day, but have found that subtler course corrections don't require such drastic measures.

It must be hard to only be able to make resolutions once a year. What if you make a mistake on January 2nd? Do you have to wait another 364 days to right that mistake?

My New Year's Eve was spent with my daughters. I was supposed to drop them off at grandma's and go to a killer party. My life is not that simple. Lizzy was pale as a ghost and was sick to her stomach, so last minute I had to stay home. Just me, the girls and a 2lb shrimp cocktail ring that was frozen solid.

At first I wasn't happy about it, but sitting on the couch with my daughters flipping between the multitude of New Year's Eve programs turned out to be a great family evening. We talked, laughed and enjoyed listening to the various musical performances. The funniest moment of the night was watching New Kids On The Block and Back Street Boys perform. These bands sucked twenty years ago when their only talent was dancing and having their voices digitized and regurgitated into the nausea inducing cat vomit they called music. Now they were just sad looking old men who had no talent. The voice processor was gone and they might have broken a hip at any moment during a poor rendition of the Macarena. My eldest daughter laughed the loudest, “Daddy, I danced to their music when I was three and it wasn't new back then.”. Yeah, I should probably feel pity for these guys, but my parent instincts kicked in and I explained to my children about living in the past and the sad repercussions that it could have. The humorous performance in front of us was a prime example.

We continued watching and talking and laughing. That was until I saw Dick Clark. I don't want to sound mean but it actually shook me to hear him talk. Dick was a golden voice. He “was” New Year's Eve. In my younger mind, he was a constant that would never change. Seeing him struggle with the words, I realized, even the seemingly timeless have to eventually succumb to the years. There is only one constant in life. I felt old. Emily saw the sadness as I watched him and I explained to her that Dick Clark was never supposed to age. My first memories of New Year's Eve were of him hosting. He was born to do it. In my mind he was the only one who should or would ever do it.

That thought was interrupted quickly as various other music acts performed. I watched the ball drop. I listened to people explain their once a year resolutions. I thought, I really don't have any resolutions right now, but maybe I'll come up with some tomorrow, the next day or some other new day during the rest of my life.

Where Are You Christmas?

2010-12-29T01:45:00.000-05:00

I'd like to say I haven't been writing in a while for some cool reason; like I'm really Santa Claus and needed to take a couple of weeks off to settle a union contract dispute with the elves, that will probably bankrupt Christmas in five years. Unfortunately, as most of you probably know, I'm not Santa Claus. In reality though, the scum bag unions will bankrupt our country in another five years.
I digress.
This is not a union rant, I'd need start a whole other, “unskilled workers blog” for that. As is, I have a long backup of regular blogs from the past few weeks. This current blog is about my Christmas. Though not currently affiliated with any particular god (still looking for sponsors), my mom and my kids are Catholic, so we do Christmas.

Now for my background. As a child I was raised Catholic, went to Parochial school and had a Jewish step family. We celebrated a lot of holidays. Christmas has always been my least favorite. It's not just the commercialism. It's not 'good' Christians, killing their neighbors for the last widget 3000 at the mega mall or racing out of the church parking lot like they were running from God-zilla. It's the phony-ism of it all. Christmas has gotten to the point that it is not even a Christian holiday.

December 25th is an arbitrary day, well not really arbitrary (Actually believed to be Saturnalia in Roman times.), just not historically correct.
There are all the stupid reindeer, snowman and snowflake decorations. Like these people aren't cursing their beloved snow when it comes and they're shoveling out their car.
The insane traffic consisting of “Kangaroos”, women with an SUV or minivan pouch filled with screaming sugar induced brats while talking on the cellphone to a like person about the blah blah that she got at blah for only blah blah blah over her credit limit.
The 400th rap remix of, 'The Drummer Boy'.
Answering the advanced physics questions posed about Santa Claus by your 5 year old concerning flight trajectory, time space continuums and waist to chimney ratios. This is the five year who can't even count past ten yet.
Everything about Santa Claus (except the movie, 'Bad Santa').
The four hundred charities that find your phone number for the three weeks before Christmas and treat it like a child playing with a new toy regardless of your answer.
Cutting trees down for the purpose of utter embarrassment; Slowly cooking them with 1000 low watt, 'ultra white' bulbs, dressing them in more colors than a $5 whore during a $1000 gang bang and showing them, through the largest window of the house to their outside tree friends, who are laughing at them.

The only thing that makes Christmas special is the look on a child's face on Christmas morn. It makes you forget the rest of the bad things, for about as long as it takes said child to toss the first gift and ask for the next one.

Happy Holidays!

Just Breathe

2010-12-17T01:55:00.001-05:00

Tonight was the annual Christmas pageant at the girl's school. The church was filled to the brim. I watched as each grade went and sung their carols. Lizzy being in the younger class came on before Emily. As Lizzy got on the stage, I could see that she was nervous. Her grade sang quite well. Lizzy sang her heart out, but the butterflies in her stomach seemed to be flying around her face. As a parent it is tough seeing your children in those positions, the learning positions that prepare them for later on in life. In a smile of irony, I remembered the anxiety and fear that I used to have speaking and performing in front of people. I saw my face in hers and remembered looking out upon the crowd of parents, staring, laughing and whispering in screams.

I wanted to scream out to her “BREATHE”, she looked as if she had forgotten how to do that. I know I did, when in boys cloths, on that stage, so long ago. Lizzy is a lot like me when I was younger. She can be painfully shy. Seeing through her eyes, I remember the fear and anguish, but also the relief of getting through it. Part of me laughs when seeing her nervousness, knowing that the butterflies will die in time and with practice.

After several more groups, it was Emily's grade's turn. As much as Lizzy is like young me, Emily is like older me. She fortunately was smarter though and didn't have quite as long of a learning curve. Emily's performance could be summed up in two words, “Bored confidence.”. She looked as if she had done the songs all her life and the routine was wearing on her. She didn't smile much except for a few times during the Christmas sock song.

This would be her last pageant, her last year in grade school. To her I wanted to scream out, “Cherish these times Emily, these memories will be buried under makeup, study, friends and boys.”. How bittersweet, our young moments often get lost, only to emerge in our older minds; time capsule filled memories dug up when least expected. Then I thought to myself, “Wait, Emily and boys? Just breathe, Reed, just breathe.”.

Two-Bit Blog in a 3-Bit World.

2010-12-16T01:18:00.001-05:00

Color is one of those things that differentiates the sexes. Men basically see in eight colors. Something is blue or green or red. Never when we were younger did we ever hear the word midnight used before the word red, it was a time, actually it was precisely 12:00a.m.. We as men, see things very clearly and never have issues describing things. I bring this up because I was wearing a new green sweater that I purchased. A woman I was talking to complimented me on it and commented on what a nice heather forest it was. Heather forest? Flower forest? The lady three doors down forest? No, just a suffix that women use to describe a material that has flecks of color in it with the word forest appended to the end.

When I was younger I learned the colors of the rainbow as Roy G. Biv. (Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet). These colors make up the clear light spectrum. I didn't see the girls learning another acronym like, Flortentino H. Floggendoggencollinsworth III, so I assume they too at one point only saw the original eight colors. At what age do people decided that colors should be described by items? It's always some strange, nice or exotic item. You never hear colors like transmission fluid, midnight fart or heather dung. Now when I buy clothes, the colors include Turkish Java, Shark, Midnight Rose, Grey Heather. I don't want to eat or smell my clothes, just wear them.

Yes, I know very well that this is marketing, but I think that we should put in effect some form of self control when giving items color descriptions. Maybe limit the colors used to those in the original 64 Crayola Crayon boxes, you know the ones that had flesh color as some eerie orange and pink mixture. Yes, I do think that it was racially insensitive. The people who complained about this color were racially insensitive to associate it with Caucasians. Do other races actual believe that caucasian skin color looks like a Pinky ball mated with an orange peel?

Anyway ladies, as most of you know, men are very simple creatures. Please refrain from telling us about your passion fruit blouse and red sunset skirt, just tell us the pink blouse and pink skirt and we'll figure out the rest.

Tuesday Tip For Living Alone #4 - Repair Victories

2010-12-14T23:44:00.002-05:00

When you live with other people, you fix something and move on, when you are alone, every repair is a celebration.

I'm not sure whether it is because, when you are alone, you don't have the constant nagging and complaining and need to rely on your own motivation or whether it is the ability to celebrate the little things without fear of someone seeing you look outwardly silly.

I've owned two houses and did the majority of the work on both of them, even fully automated my first house without even a high five.

So where is this going?

My toilet began running several weeks ago. I decided that rather than have a huge water bill, I would fix it. I quickly deduced it was a faulty flapper valve. It's a real simple repair. I ran down to the local Lowe's to pick a new one up. Lowe's actually sells them in 5 packs. Who has five toilets that's flapper valves all go at the same time? I had a toilet that needed the flapper valve replaced once a year at my last house and it still wouldn't warrant buying a five pack to save a nickel a piece.

Well, after about thirty seconds of repair work, the toilet was back in commission. I was so happy, I did a happy dance and flushed the toilet over and over. I went downstairs, got a beer, went back up and toasted my toilet with several more flushes. By my celebratory nature you would have thought I had repaired the Sistine Chapel.

I'm sure when I get my water bill, the celebration will be a sour memory.

The tip for the day, celebrating life's little victories is fine, just think before you flush.

Tuesday Tips For Living Alone - Overcoming Partial Procrastination.

2010-12-08T03:26:00.000-05:00

One thing that seemed to happen to me when I started living alone was that I began to procrastinate. Not so much put things off as start them and then realize there was something else to do, partial procrastination.
The conversation with myself went something like this.
“Wow, I really need to, fill meaningless task in here.”. I'd start it and then inevitably, “ You know what, I think I'll pay my bills and do it tomorrow.”.
The next day would come and I'd be like,”You know, I could, fill meaningless task in here or I could read that new book I got. 'War and Peace' here I come.”.
This progressed until day five, when it became, “I could fill meaningless task in here, or I could continue to read 'War and Peace' or I could finish paying my bills or I could watch 'Two and a Half Men'. That Charlie Sheen sure is funny.”

I'm not saying that I didn't procrastinate before, just that the level of alone procrastination has the ability to neutralize time itself, “Hey I need to take down those Halloween decorations, it's the day after Halloween. Wow, is it Christmas Eve already, why are my Halloween decorations still out?” It's almost Halloween, great, I don't have as much to decorate this year.”.

There are several ways to deal with this problem.
1. Write down tasks that you need to do in a dated list. This usually fails epically as you wipe your cheek off with a napkin that has, “Buy a notebook!”, scribbled on it.
2. Use your phone or computers calendar function to keep the items that need to get done in it. This also fails in a big way. Substitute, in the above sentences, fill meaningless task in here with look at phone or computer calendar.
3. Begin to do things as you think of them. This is the winner. As you think of doing the bills, sit down and do them. Need to go shopping? Get up and do it. Light needs replacing?, run out to Home Depot and buy a new one.
You'll be amazed at how much gets completely accomplished and how much free time you'll have left over. This will not guarantee that larger tasks will get done in one sitting, just that they will get done. Well, it's almost Wednesday, I think I'll write my Tuesday Tips For Living Alone blog and post it.

The Best Seafood In The World

2010-12-03T02:21:00.003-05:00

Last night I went to dinner with my partners to the Oriental Garden Seafood Restaurant in NYC. I've always referred to this place as the Chinese Seafood Palace. I don't know how that name got into my head, but it did and it stuck. I know I've been doing a lot of rants lately, but this is going to be a rave. If you want a rant go to the last posting that mentioned this place, here, Peanut Butter on an English Muffin vs. The Best Seafood in the World.

There is no place in the world that does seafood as great as this place. The fish is all kept live in tanks up to the moment they cook it, just minutes before it hits your plate. The shrimp is cooked with the head still on, though a turn off to some, no need for alarm; you can pop the head off, just like the tail, with a good pinch. The flavor of the shrimp is indescribable, so I'll just say, heaven is a place where you could eat them all day. The scallops are visually stunning, served on the shell with an amazing sauce and noodles. I've eaten many different dishes there and can sum up every one of them by saying, spectacular.

I wish my kids liked seafood and as soon as they show interest, I am going to take them to the garden. It may ruin any other seafood for them, but at least they will be able to say that they have had the best seafood in the world.

Besides the amazing culinary skill of the chef, the scale of these fish (pardon the pun), is not to be believed. Crabs that have better than 3ft claw spans. Hardy shrimp, Horror movie sized lobsters, Oysters that could be a meal each. I wouldn't be surprised if I saw the giant nautilus from the original Doctor Dolittle, cleaned, cooked, plated and on it's way out of the kitchen.

If you are a seafood lover or want to be one, you have to go to the Oriental Garden Seafood Restaurant. It is located in Chinatown across from the police station on Elizabeth Street. You'll see the fish tanks in the window. Tell them Reed sent you, they'll have no idea who your talking about, but I've always wanted to say that, so tell them anyway.

Creative Thursday - Guess Where I Was Tonight?

2010-12-02T01:58:00.000-05:00

Full Body Scanners

2010-11-29T23:51:00.001-05:00

OK, with all of the press this was getting, I had to put in my 2 cents. People are freaking out about the new TSA body scanners at the airport. Really? Is your life that empty that this is a cause that you feel compelled to fight for? World hunger? Nah! World Peace? Nah! Airport scanners? My God! That is the most important cause I could have, I may even have to miss a PETA meeting.

Basically this thing produces an outline of your body. There have been fake scans on the Internet showing a naked woman,but if your stupid enough to fall for them, you probably shouldn't be trusted to pack your own luggage. What makes people so scared of the human body and even more scared of their own? So some unknown watcher can see your outline. Trust me most of the bodies going through that scanner aren't exactly Playboy material and if they were, probably wouldn't be so upset if someone saw them. If anything, I think the ex con TSA workers should go on strike over this. Would you really want to see the majority of those scans?

This is just a simple security device, at airports, one we wouldn't need if law enforcement were allowed to do their job in the first place. Unfortunately to do their job correctly they need to exercise those dirty words, “good police work”, I meant to say, “Racial Profiling”, sorry, easy to confuse. If the airports only needed to scan people who would be suspects, the seventy year old woman in front of me, wouldn't be subject to a body cavity search (but I think she may have enjoyed it.). That lady may have been filled with gas, but my guess is she didn't have a bomb on her.

Speaking of strip search, why don't we get rid of the scanners all together and instead of making one TSA person suffer through the outlines of 'The World's Biggest Losers', subject everyone to it? Shoes, shirt, pants, skivvies in the bin, you can meet your clothes at the other side. This would probably be more effective then a scanner anyway and cost much less.

The airport would even be a much friendlier place. No one would cut you off to get into the security line quicker and I'm sure there would be a lot less conversation between friends and coworkers on their way to the gates, “So...”, looking up, “how's... the weather?”

Until we decide political correctness does not mean that we have to cater to every last individual in this country, we better get used to more invasive technologies in all of our lives. For those people that complain about the scanners: If it is because you are ashamed of your body, work on your self esteem. If it's because you have no better cause to argue, than maybe the scanning you need to worry about, is not that of your body but of your life.

Black Friday

2010-11-29T03:13:00.000-05:00

OK, I'm not into the whole early morning rush to the stores to get a little bit off of a product thing. Come to think of it, I don't like the whole early morning thing the other 364 days of the year.

At around 2:30p.m., I was coming back from visiting relatives and Best Buy was on the way. I needed a new GPS. People may say I wanted and not needed a new GPS. Those would be the people who did not drive with me before I had one.

As I walked into the overcrowded store, I was greeted by tables and boxes of GPS units, but not the one I was looking for. I continued to the back of the store to the GPS section. After searching for a few minutes, I figured the unit I wanted probably sold out. An employee there was helping a customer pick out a GPS so I figured I'd ask him when he was done.

Here's where I feel bad for retail employees. The customer was going to each unit on display and asking him the features. Every time the employee told him the features of the unit, the customer felt the need to argue about whether or not the unit actually had that feature, or if it worked as described. After about five more units, the customer walked away. I say to the employee, "Don't you hate people who waste your time and argue with you about the product, then don't buy it?". The employee gave me a blank stare like the customer before me broke something in his brain. I continued, "I'm here to actually buy a GPS, do you have this model in stock?". The employee pauses for a second, "Uhhh, the store only has GPS's on these shelves right here, so if it's here we have it.". Really? The store only keeps them right here? What about the ones locked up underneath the shelves, the ones on the end caps or the ones on display up front?

I find another employee and ask him about the GPS. This guy is really competent. He tells me I can order the unit online, but that he has the same one on sale with a slightly smaller screen for about thirty dollars cheaper. Well the smaller one is the same size as the one I have, but has free maps and traffic for life, so sold.

Anyway, in NJ we have a law that, in a parking lot, cars must yield to pedestrians. It's the whole 2 tons of death and destruction vs the much less flesh and bones weight. So on my way out of the store with my new GPS, an older couple in a Mercedes feels that they should have right of way. The man says to his wife, with the window open, "Vy are dese people just wawking in front ov us?". I'm going to make a flash judgment on their nationality/religion here and say that if I were them, I would not get in a metal box made by Germans that had locks on it and was filled with gas. I sure as hell wouldn't be proud that I paid $60,000 plus for it.

So I gave him a dirty look and continued on to my car, leaving the mass hysteria of Black Friday behind me.

Happy Thanksgiving?

2010-11-24T22:58:00.001-05:00

Can You Find The Native American In This Picture?

Ah, Thanksgiving, one of my least favorite holidays. I love the family aspect of Thanksgiving, it's the origins of this holiday that confuse me. I think Thanksgiving should be like Passover, you should invite a guest; only the guest should have to be an American Indian. They were invited to the first Thanksgiving. There are several problems with this though. One of them being that the amount of American Indians seen whoring Thanksgiving in ratio to actual American Indians is only trumped by the amount of fake Santa's whoring Christmas in proportion to the real one. Another is that you'd have to lock up the liquor cabinet.

This rule would limit the amount of families celebrating to, oh, six. How many people actually know any American Indians. No cheating, the guy who owns the Seven-Eleven on the corner does not count. Speaking of which, why are Native Americans even called Indians?
Either:
Some dumb guinea got lost, landed on a whole new continent and because the natives there looked and talked soooo much like people from India, he called them Indians.
or
The natives seeing how well the British treated the real Indians decided it would be a good thing to call themselves.

I digress!

The last time, I even saw a real Native American was about two years ago. He slowly got on his knees, put his ear to the ground and proclaimed, "Me Hear'em Jackpots Comin'.". At least I think he was a Native American, I was at Mohegan Sun Casino at the time and he had a feather headband. Honestly though, what do the Native Americans have to be thankful for? Our great harvest this year? 24-7 casinos that lure stupid people of other races into unregulated gambling? There are some endangered species that have greater numbers than the Native Americans.

So this Thanksgiving, while you are among family and friends enjoying a hearty feast and good times, be thankful and look carefully around the table at the faces you'll see. If this Thanksgiving is like the first, at least one of those faces will eventually con you out of resources, call you names that you didn't want to be called or slaughter you.

Happy Thanksgiving Native Americans.

Bartender, Make It A Double.

2010-11-23T12:16:00.000-05:00

Maybe I'm just picky, but here is how the bar scene has been going lately. All the women I meet that are around my age have been falling into four categories.

Category 1: I'm The Best and I Owe It All To Me.
These are the women you meet and while first talking to them, they sound perfect. They start out telling you how great of a mom they are to their kids. A plus. Then they tell you about how they love their job. A plus again. Then they elaborate on how they went through a brutal divorce and are now completely self made. They own their own house/condo, they bought themselves a new fancy car. They have money in the bank. They lure you into thinking that they must be a high powered lawyer or corporate exec.. Then they tell you what they 'do for a living'. "I work in retail", or "I'm a administrative assistant", (I think that's code for secretary). I have no problem with people working in these professions, but you didn't buy a house, a car, put your kids in private school, or become wealthy by working at your job. You earned money the same way my ex wife did. You married a sucker, divorced him, get more money a year than the average family makes in your state and now your touting financial independence. F minus. If you want a shot at a guy who makes money, tell it like it is, you are a hard worker who is subsidized by your ex to afford a lifestyle you could not possibly afford on your own. Tell me that and you'll keep my interest.

Category 2: I Haven't Found The Right Guy Yet (Because he doesn't exist).
These women all start out the same, “I've never been married, don't have any kids and can't seem to find the right guy. I've had a string of short term relationships that end with me having a broken heart.”. If you are my age, that's a really long string. D minus. They go on about how they are looking for a guy with looks, money, personality, fancy car, fancy house, likes to cook, likes to clean. Basically these women want a gay guy who will support them while they sit on the couch and eat bonbons or go to the mall so they can smell the scent of his burning plastic. They usually avoid telling you what their career is at any cost, but are not ashamed of telling you your faults. F minus. Basically, these women are looking for a guy that doesn't exist and are going to take it out on any guy they can.

Category 3: Some Call Her Easy.
Ladies, some of us guys are still old fashioned. If you want to sleep with us, that is great. I understand and enjoy the fact that women are a lot more forward than they were when I was younger. Please refrain from throwing a condom on the bar. I don't want to have to play, “How many from the 100 pack she bought on Monday does she still have on Friday?”. At least make me believe I am one in a million, not one of a million. F minus, and have that checked.

Category 4: Mrs. I Was Divorced/Broke Up Last Month And Am Ready To Date.
These women are usually found at coping with divorce meetings and the like. I know men and women who started dating immediately after divorce and done fine doing so. These women are not them. These ladies believe their ex should be part of their next relationship. They find it important to mention things like, “You fill in quality here, just like my ex.”. I can't go lower than F minus, can I? These ladies will go insane if you make a joke about their ex, yet feel they can spew trash about him until, just like him, you leave. F minus.

I'm not saying I'm the end all be all catch and yes, I am very critical of people. Thanks to the above type women, I no longer go to bars thinking I'll meet any long term prospects. I always say, “I'm not actively looking”, the reason why, is that it is proving difficult to find a normal woman without the emotional hang-ups or drama. Most people will say it is my fault, bars will probably attract the above type women. I agree, that is why my next attempt is going to be on Craig's List.

Some Lessons In Life Need To Be Experienced.

2010-11-21T01:37:00.002-05:00

My teenage daughter proclaimed to me that, "A life without love is not worth living.". Ah to see through the emotional eyes of a thirteen year old. I can't fault her. When I was younger, I believed in love above all. I was even more of a hopeful romantic then, than I am now. As much as I'd like to shake my daughter out of her hormone induced euphoria, I know that lessons in love cannot be taught by a parent, but only by life and experience. There is a different lesson plan for everyone when it comes to love and sadly, I'm sure there will be many a tear shed in the name of learning by my daughters.

As far as a life without love, I don't know. If the statement is about romantic love, I think there are times when romantic love is slightly overrated. I love my children, my family, my friends and the small joys and moments that move me. Romantic love is more difficult though, it is a lot of work. It is not without reward, just not always a priority.

Yes, sadly I have become older and more cynical. I now see both sides of the glass. I see friends who are 'happily married' envy the freedom of single life as much as I see single friends who envy the security of married life. I wish there was some way to walk the line, unfortunately it doesn't work that way. For now, I'm walking on the freedom side of the road.

Advice I can give my daughters from a parent, “Follow your heart.”. In matters of the heart, it is wisest not to envy others for what you don't have but cherish that which you do. The heart will bring you on wonderful adventures, some not to your liking, but others to the place where you will ultimately be happy.

Good-bye Confidence Road.

2010-11-20T00:28:00.001-05:00

I went out to dinner at the bar the other night and was feeling pretty good about myself. Women were checking me out and I have to admit my confidence was pretty high. I decided to make it an early night though, because I needed to go to the library the next morning and also had to clean my place. Still feeling pretty good, the next morning when I got to the library, I held the door open for a nice elderly lady. While sitting in the library, I noticed an attractive mid thirty something woman looking my way. So now I'm like, I may have a few more wrinkles and a lot less follicles, but I still got it. The whole day, I was strutting. When I got home, I did some cleaning and decided to go food shopping.

The lady next door to me is dog sitting for her kids, so on my way out to my car, the dog begins to bark at me. It's a small black poodle looking thing, so I do what everyone does when they see a small dog, I talk to it like I'm five years old. I lean over and start saying, “It's OK... I'm not going to hurt you... you don't have to bark at me... I'm the friendly neighbor.”. The dog wasn't buying it and continued to bark. I usually keep dog biscuits in my pocket for just such an occasion, but I'll tell you about the dog biscuit, dog park incident some other time.

Watch this, this is where my overinflated confidence gets flattened like a supermodel in bed with a sumo wrestler. The lady next door looks over and starts calling the barking dog. I tell her, “It's OK, the four foot fence is enough to hold back his scourge.”, My neighbor, who is very sweet smiles and yells back, “Do you know who you look like?”. When I was younger people would say Keefer Sutherland, so I thought, this should be good. She says, “Elton John!”. Craaaaash! Somehow I went from feeling like Casanova, to being told I looked like an over the hill gay rock star, whose waiting for death. Now don't get me wrong, I like Elton John as much as any other heterosexual man, but to look like him is completely different. I shout back to my neighbor, “I don't know if that's a good thing?”. She replies, “Oh, it is.”.

Now I start thinking, the ladies who have been checking me out, have they been scanning thinking they could find a new gay friend? I don't have anything wrong with gay people. Even have some friends who are gay. The neighbor three doors down is flaming. Never met him, but during the summer, he had some friends over and the neighborhood reeked of gaydom. All you heard coming from his back yard was what sounded like a group of low pitched chicks who kept getting their tongues stuck to the roof of their mouths. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

So now as I'm driving to the store with wounded confidence, I start thinking, 'Hey, at least she didn't say I looked like the Village people or that crazy dude that dated Ellen and is now with James Tupper.'

Blenders, Blenders, We Don't Need No Stinkin' Blenders.

2010-11-19T00:59:00.001-05:00

Another item that I found in storage was my juicer. This isn't one of those Mam-be Pam-be auger jobs that cuts grass, this is the real deal. Nothing says Man-pliance like a ¼ HP, 4500 rpm. blade of spinning death and destruction surrounded by stainless steel and held together by a plastic nut. With my ape brain it's amazing I haven't lost a limb to this thing. It is 100% made in the United States of 'God Bless America'. Safety, there is no safety on this thing. You can turn it on, open the lid and watch the blade spin out of control.

I actually bought this thing at the beginning of my divorce. The math was simple, 3.am. + Deal site + depression + the decision to be healthier + free shipping = Acme Supreme Juicerator. I thought, I 'd be leaving the house soon and eating healthier and home cooked meals, might as well start early. I also enjoyed going to the orchards and farms in NJ and was always annoyed at the fact that a lot of fruits and veggies, I bought, would go to waste. The juicer would solve all that. Sounded like good justification to me too.

When this thing came in the mail, I was like wow, it's heavy. What do I have in the house to juice? Nothing. Off to Eastmont Orchards with the kids. 3 bushels of apples later, I was ready to try this thing out. I plugged it in and flipped the switch. With the sound of a jet engine, the juicer jumped to life, I think I actually grunted when I heard it. I fed the first apple slice into the chute and with a zzzziiiiing noise the apple disappeared and juice started to flow. It was magical. For the next several months, until I left the house, I was juicing one meal a day. I juiced every vegetable and fruit known to man and some that hadn't even been discovered yet. The only problems I ran into were:
     A. Humans were not meant to go from consuming less then normal quantities of fruits and vegetables to the amount that it requires for a single cup of juice without explosive consequences.
     B. Cleaning a juicer is one step below being beaten by a stick for 12 hours while listening to Barbara Streisand.
     C. Normal people don't care about other people making juice, they have more important things to worry about. There are however two warring factions that seem to think you give a crap about their opinions.
          1. Juicers: These are the people you could usually blow over with the air that escapes from your eye sockets. They think that juicing is the equivalent of milking god. They will be happy to tell you about a Tibetan monk who lived to 4 million years old on just juice and yogurt. Where the hell would a Tibetan monk get electricity for a juicer or a refrigerator?
          2.Anti-Juicers: These are the McDonald swigging, Walmart shopping, we need to adjust the clothing size scale creatures that feel it is their duty to snuff out anything that could be remotely considered healthy. They tell you that juice is empty calories. By the looks of most of these people, someone has been overfilling their calories for years.
     D. Your poop looks like Kermit The Frog's head popping out of the toilet.
     E. Some vegetables and fruits taste like crap when they are juiced.

When I left the house, the juicer was plunged into the darkness of storage. Yesterday, I unpacked the juicer, bleached it down and set it up on the kitchen counter top. I haven't been drinking too many bloody mary's lately, so I had a bag of limping celery. I also found some apples and carrots. I cut up the victims and flipped the switch. With the roar of the electric motor my testosterone level jumped and I quickly pushed down the celery, carrots and then apples into the chute. Each ziziing producing more and more juice. I shut off the machine and grabbed a gulp. It tasted great. I guzzled it down. I felt energized, alive, curious.

For those of you playing which one does not belong, curious was the bad one. I quickly scooped the fruit pulp out of the juicer and ran outside to the butterfly bush. I threw the pulp down and ran back inside. My ape brain had been given a natural sugar rush. I wondered, 'What else can I juice?'

Just so everyone knows, vegetable chips, do not produce juice in the juicer, however if you add a drop of water to dust of said chips they reconstitute. Twizzlers licorice sticks, don't juice and probably did some damage to the machine. Almonds are rather loud in the juicer but produce a remarkable amount of juice. No I'm just messing with you, but the almond dust may be good on some recipes. I knew this before, but had to try it again, onions produce a large amount of juice, but you would rather drink the Veggie chip and almond dust covered in camel piss then the onion juice.

Creative Thursday - The Last Sunset and a Poem.

2010-11-18T13:52:00.000-05:00

The above picture is probably the last picture you will see taken with my old Sony Alpha camera, I thought it would be fitting to be of a sunset. It served me well over the last few years. Due to problems with Sony customer service though, I have upgraded to a Pentax.

Last night, I was going through some of the stuff that I recently got out of storage in my mother's basement and found another bunch of poems I had written when I was about 21 years old. I laugh at some of my writings, but am glad I did them, they give me insight as to how messed up I really was and how far I've come.

Not so... ... ... Fast Food.

2010-11-17T19:25:00.001-05:00

Yeah, I've been a little edgier lately, I blame it on my diet. I did something I hadn't done in years. I actually ate fast food twice in under two weeks. My first experience was when I was coming home from the city. McDonald's was on the way and the Granola yogurt concoction I ate on the train, though tasty, just didn't cut it. Driving from the train station, an older woman (think Methuselah old with a Buick) was driving in front of me going 20, regardless of the various speed limits posted. I decided I'd lose her by going to the McDonald's drive-thru. I put my directional on, after seeing she had not, and as I pulled into the entrance was almost clobbered by her car cutting over the curb and into the parking lot in front of me. What are the odds of this woman going through the drive-thru. 100%! She pulls up to the menu and order box and as a disembodied voice screeches, "Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?", the lady grumbles back, "It's going to take a few minutes, I have to see what I want. In fact, I'll tell you when I'm ready.".

REALLY, You pull into a McDonald's drive-thru and have to scrutinize the menu? You're only options are crap, crap that looks like beef, crap that looks like pork, crap that looks like chicken or a Crappy Meal. So after four minutes, yes I was looking at the clock on my radio, my zen-like attitude disintegrated. I yell out my window, "If you don't know what you want, go into the restaurant, they have a menu board in there.". The lady looks back but realizing I'm about to go Chuck Norris on her mummified ass, quickly looks at the box and says, "I'm Ready Now!". She then asks, "Is it possible for me to get just a cheeseburger and a coke?". The voice at the other end of the box squawks, "Cheeseburger and coke, that will be $2.37. Please pull up.".

Really? You have to ask if they have a cheeseburger at McDonald's? Seniors, do the rest of society a favor. If you are having a "moment", please slow down and pull over to the side of the road. Make sure it is the side of the road and not the center and take a nap. So now I pull to the box with a line of 50 cars behind me and I ask for a McRib. I haven't had one of those things since I was a teenager. For those of you who haven't tried this messy, gooey, pressed mystery-meat on a roll treat, it looks and tastes like cardboard and artificial barbecue flavored gook. I wonder if McDonald's has actually gotten to the point of saying, "Ah screw it. Change it's shape, market the crap out of it and watch the money flow in. Make it taste good? Don't bother, these idiots will eat anything."

So now, last night, I had a function to go to and it ran late. On the way home, I was hungry and saw White Castle. I have to admit, I love White Castle. Something about steamed onions and a patty that look like it got in a gun fight with Al Capone makes their burgers irresistible. It also conjures up the memories of a group of teenagers in a van traveling forty-five minutes to buy a 100 sack(Yes, they used to sell 50 and 100 sacks) of their trademark sliders (a.k.a. belly busters, a.k.a. hamburgers). Even as a teenager though, the next day after White Castle the bathroom effect was quite pronounced and was the equivalent to the two peso Mexican buffet in Tijuana.

Back to the story though, I pull into White Castle and there is a line of about six cars. I think, six cars is worth the wait for those onion flavored delights. Five minutes later, there are still six cars in front of me. Wait a car moved. There are now five cars and I'm starved. Twenty minutes into drive-thru hell and they get to the car in front of me. The lady starts spouting out like a bad 70's Burger King commercial, hold the pickles, hold the onions, hold the ketchup. What else is there on a White Castle burger? There are only five basic ingredients, 1tsp meat, 1tsp ketchup, 1 paper thin pickle slice, a butt load of onion squares and a roll.

So Now it's my turn, I pull up to the order box and a pleasant voice comes out of it, "Would you like to try a sack meal?". Barring the humor of that statement, when taken out of context, I say, "Yes, I'd like a number 2 special with a coke.", no response. I wait a second and say, "Are you there?". Now I realize I was talking to some stupid sales recording that asked me if I wanted a sack meal and not the sub-human that I am about to engage in conversation with. In a voice that sounds like a woman who has 40 kids, insomnia and the weight of the world on her shoulders comes,"Can I help you?". I think about the question for a second and say, "Yes, as I was telling your electronic counterpart, I'd like a number 2 sack meal.". Silence... silence...,"Huh?". "I said, I'd like a number 2 sack meal with a coke.". The reply was unpredictable, "What would you like to drink with that?". Now it's my turn, "Uhhhh, the coke."

Oh, if that were the end of this story. I got my total and started the drive around. The line of cars that built up behind me was astronomical. In a few more minutes they would have to close the highway. So now I pull up and the lady that ordered in front of me is still there. Hands come out of the service window with a sack, hands pull the sack into the car. Thirty seconds later the bag pops back out of the car and a lady's voice starts complaining that it is not her order. I could have cooked a gourmet meal in this time but am hopeful that I will be getting my goodies shortly. The car behind me pulls out of line and darts down the highway. Good move a-hole, you couldn't have done that before you ordered? By the number of burger filled bags stacked up in the service window, I'm guessing a lot of people do that.

It's finally my turn. I can't wait. I had time to dig through all the compartments in my car, so I have exact change. I pay. The lady takes the money and says, "It'll be ready shortly.". Huh? What exactly was happening in the time between me ordering and waiting for the whole debacle in front of me? Another couple of minutes and I finally got my sliders.

"Would you like to try a sack meal?", "I'll take a number 2."

"Goat Clue" - It Was Abraham on the Rock with the Knife.

2010-11-16T22:37:00.001-05:00

To my Muslim friends, Happy Eid al-Adha. To everyone else, three terrorist free days. I don't mean to be hard on Muslims, but yes you are thought of as terrorists. It's your own fault. If you want non-Muslims to treat you the same way they treat everyone else, you have to clean up your own backyard.

This is not just a Muslim issue. It goes for anybody of any race or creed. If your race is associated with crime the members of your community that perpetrate those crimes are not, "Good boys.". They are scumbags and the parents, if they protect them, are also scumbags. If that upsets you do something about it. Take responsibility for yourself and your community. If you know someone who is a criminal or a terrorist, TURN THEM IN! Don't blame the police. They are sacrificing their lives because of the delinquents you are protecting.

Yeah, I'll probably get some hate mail for this blog, but I really don't care. I'm tired of communities whining that they are being treated differently. You are being treated differently! You're being treated the way you are asking to be treated. If you don't want to be treated that way then change the perception people have of you. I'm not saying everyone knows of a criminal or terrorist based on there race or religion,. I'm saying a lot do and would rather, "protect their own", then the greater good of mankind.

I have a quick story on this:
I remember as a commuter, a particular train ride home. Two Hispanic teenagers got on the train with a boom box and started playing their music extremely loud. All but four of the commuters and myself left the car spitting out racial slurs. The five of us that stayed attempted to ignore the occurrence by putting on headphones and reading. The music was louder than any headphone could drown out and the conductor said nothing and avoided the car. At the next stop, Newark Penn Station a Hispanic businessman got on the train. As he entered the car and heard the music, he screamed at the kids in Spanish and they turned off the boom box. He then proceeded to apologize to the commuters left in the car. It was not an apology from himself, but from the Hispanic community. His words were to the effect that he was sorry there were people in his community that did not raise their children with respect. His words were powerful and regret evident. In my eyes, he was a great man. He understood that sometimes there is trash in your own community and even though the trash was not of your own making, you should clean it up. Five commuters gained a whole new respect for the Hispanic community that day. Unfortunately many more left the car and their respect behind.

I know being a white male, many people are going to ask how I help clean up my backyard. Easily, I let the police do their job. If Charles Manson came to my door, I wouldn't hide him, give him food or tell him how to get away from the police, I would call 911 on his ass and they could pick up the remains. The same goes for McVeigh or any other white criminal. Criminals of other races, I'd just turn them in. See the difference there. If a policeman stops me while driving and says I match the description of a suspect, guess what, I don't run, call the ACLU or sue. They are "racial profiling", those are key words for "doing good police work!". They are looking for someone of my description, not pulling me over would be negligent..

There is always an excuse for not doing the right thing. Not stopping a crime you know about is worse then committing the crime yourself.

Tuesday Tip For Living Alone #2 - Don't Die, They Won't Find You!

2010-11-16T01:32:00.002-05:00

Living alone, you start to get what I like to call *'Havnophobia'. This is the process by which the voice of reason fails to tell you not to do something crazy or potentially dangerous. Remember in 'Animal House' where the guy has an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. It's just like that, but the angel's kid has a soccer game, so he doesn't show up. Sometimes it's little things like using a paper towel, not a potholder, to take something out of the oven. Other times it may be a 'Fear Factor' approach to the home made guacamole (at least it may have been guacamole) that you found in the back of the refrigerator when you were dying to eat those, almost out of date, Tortilla chips.

You would think that while talking to yourself that you might actually say, “Wait, I want to do WHAT?”. Unfortunately though, usually it works against you and sounds something like a pep talk, “It would be great to fix the metal awning during a storm. How many people actually get struck by lightning?”, or, “My wood stairs are dirty, furniture wax would make them REALLY shiny.”.

I have a theory about this. When you are alone you have an amazing amount of intelligent thoughts, way more than you could have if you lived with someone else. 'Havnophobia' is the counterbalance, that equalizes all of those great thoughts in short burst of, “What the ?”. My example for today requires me to give you some facts about my place:
1. I have eight foot ceilings upstairs and down.
2.My attic entrance is a huge swing door located on the upstairs hallway ceiling to the right of the staircase.
3.My ladder is about 4' tall.
4.I am just over 5'6” tall.
I think you all see where I am going with this. I could probably put the ladder in front of the kids' room door, but what fun would that be? So when I needed to put the 50 pound orange and black bin of Halloween 'stuff' away, I put the ladder, where else, but in front of the stairs. Well, that's not dangerous enough. I can't reach into the attic on the four foot ladder unless I go to the top wrung, so second wrung warning be damned! I'm now about 16ft. From the bottom of the steps on an a-frame ladder that just won't cooperate while I'm balancing on one foot and leaning into the attic. I get down safely and say, “While I have the ladder here, I might as well put everything in the attic that needs to go there.”. I look down the stairs and say, “Wow that's far down... I better start putting that stuff away.”. After box number three, I realize I need to move some of the boxes farther into the attic. With all of the grace and skill of a drunk gymnast, I launch myself from the top wrung of the wobbling ladder and using just the side beams of the opening pull myself up. Half a centimeter more launch and I would have knocked myself out, or created a sky light. I say to myself, “Good job, that was close.”. I move some boxes and try for a perfect dismount. Holding myself up with my arms, I hover my feet onto the swaying ladder.

My living alone brain, pats me on the back, “Awesome, I don't need a taller ladder to clutter up the place.”. I then look up at the smoke detector. The previous owner mounted it on the ceiling above the stairs. He was alone too. Last time the stupid thing had a false alarm at 4:00a.m., I almost did a header off of the ladder and down the stairs. I think, “Wow, if I die, how long will it take for someone to find me.”. Thanks to AT&T service my cellphone went from excellent to it doesn't ring half the times and sends people direct to voice mail. How long before the smell would start bothering my neighbors? The fleeting thought of, 'I have to be more careful.', is followed by a verbal, “What was I thinking about now?”. Oh yeah, 'What if I die of natural causes?'. Like the flash of the devil on my shoulder, I laugh and say, “Don't worry about it dude, you won't be around anyway.”

* Havnophobia – [hav-noh-foh-bee-uh] The fear of not fearing when you should.

Next Tuesday, Tip For Living Alone #3!

The Boobs Who Live On Sesame Street.

2010-11-13T21:53:00.002-05:00

For those of you that don't have kids or don't read entertainment news, Katy Perry (a singer) filmed a duet with Elmo(a Sesame Street character). Sesame Street decided to cut Elmo's duet with Katy because she was showing too much cleavage for preschoolers. Maybe some gay men and uptight women would look at her and say she was too sexy for children, my guess is an infant would be thinking, "lunchtime! Where's the taps?". Why is it we villain-ify breasts? Breasts should be revered. They are one of the many beautiful parts of a woman's body. If Katy was a sloppy woman of any other ethnicity with her boobs hanging out of her overworked tube top on 'The Price Is Right' or 'Worlds Laziest Loser', they would say it's OK, she can't help it. This is a young attractive woman though, so the moral upright(read slothenly(or slovenly) and lazy) are up in arms.

I have issues with this. First, this is PBS, the station that brought nudity to the seven channel airwaves when I was a kid. Second, we complain about women's low self esteem and then tell them their breasts are horrible scary things that must be kept out of the sunlight. The only breasts seen in their entirety are the unrealistic breasts of actresses or pin-ups. Lastly, who sees more breasts than infants? This would be the equivalent of saying my diner is offensive to some people, so we have to cover it up and only I can eat there.

If Sesame Street really wanted to help all of these kids, they would probably show the clip followed by, "This clip was sponsored by the letter 'E' as in entitlement or employment. One your parents feel and the other something they can't get because of that feeling."

I'd post a picture with this blog, but it would probably offend some unemployed minions who watch Sesame Street.

Honoring All Who Served.

2010-11-11T09:04:00.001-05:00

Creative Thursday has been put on hold this week in observance of Veterans Day. If you know a veteran thank them for their service to their fellow man, their country and their world. They sacrificed and continue to sacrifice to keep us safe and free.

Thank You Veterans!

Just As A Single Leaf Changes The Landscape Of A Forest, One Person Makes A Difference.

2010-11-10T23:28:00.000-05:00

At lunch I decided to take a quick walk at the brook. As I got there, the geese and ducks were coming closer to the easily accessible portion of the paths than I had ever seen them before. Learning my lesson, I carried my good short lens as well as a decent long range lens. I walked around the open part of the brook to get closer shots, but the waterfowl had spotted me and was sure to keep a safe distance. I conceded to their want for privacy and readied to leave.

On my way to the car I saw the trail into the woods. I've never really gone that far down it and decided, now that it was fall, it would be easier to navigate. Cutting away from the parking lot I began my journey. If the sounds of falling leaves could be felt it was present in the static of the dry fall air. I jumped over a small cut in the path that looked like it could be some sort of drainage and continued through the rustling leaves, hearing the company of non-human footsteps. My senses heightened, I kept one eye on the water and the other on the trail. I got to the spot where I was stopped by overgrowth on my last visit and handily walked on through the dried remnants. Many different types of plants, vines and berries were all around me.

The trail split and I cut to the right under a large pine tree wondering if I would encounter any ticks. It is too late in the season for them, but as I learned last week with the snake incident, nature does not follow the same calendar I do. I continued under a bunch of low stalks that were covered with vines carrying some type of blueberry on them. On the other side, the wood gave way to an opening. There were trees with magical red and white berries on them. I had been at the brook for almost an hour, it was time to work my way back. I began to take a different trail and paid dearly for it. It was lined with thorn bushes. The jacket I was wearing was tough, but my jeans were not. As, “Pay attention when your hiking”, crossed my mind, I got rapped in a thorn vine slightly above my right knee. I calmly tried to undo the thorns, but soon realized my left leg had suffered a similar fate with less effect. I gently pulled away, but not without taking a few good hits from the pointy tips. Annoyed at myself, I started back to the car.

I reached in my jacket pocket to retrieve the cap for my long range lens. It was not there. I searched my other pockets, but it wasn't there. I got to the car and checked my camera bags, it was not there either. I remembered taking it out of my pocket and saying to myself, “If I don't secure it, I'll lose it.”. That was by the magical berry trees. I rushed back down the trail avoiding the pine trees via a new route where an animal must have had a good bird dinner the night before. Two fallen sticks had formed an 'X' as if hiding some buried treasure, but no lens cap was to be found. I got to what I thought was the magic berry trees, but quickly realized I had overshot them by a couple hundred feet.

This trail lead to a wide opening by the water. I wanted to go back and look for my lens cap, but I could not resist seeing where I was on the brook. I walked to the water and found, what will be, a great spot for photos when I go back. I returned to where I was before and searched for my lens cap. It was not there.

I began slowly walking the trail back. Half looking for the lens cap, half admiring the landscape. With all of the leaves on the ground, it is surprising how slowly the fall is creeping into the trees of the brook. There is still a lot of green. I continued on to a bend in the path, looking up I saw one, time torn, red leaf clinging to the tip of a branch. It stood in defiance of the blowing wind. It had succeeded where all of his brethren had failed. He was a lone, red survivor swimming in a sea of green. Off to the field and the car beyond. My lens cap just another remnant of man left in the peaceful woods.

What does the title have to do with any of this? I don't know, it was just something that made it's way into my meditative thoughts while hiking.

Tuesday Tip For Living Alone #1 - Talking To Yourself.

2010-11-08T23:47:00.002-05:00

Yes, it's time for me to add a new regular topic to the blog. Tuesdays will now be Tuesday Tip days. Things we do when we live alone and solutions to the many embarrassing moments they may cause.

The first involves talking to yourself. When you live with another person and especially when you have kids, you often feel like you are talking to yourself. When you live alone, no one else is there, so you actually are talking to yourself. It's really not so bad when you are home alone and no one else can hear. The issues starts when you forget that people think you are one cow pie short of a pasture when they see you spouting out phrases like a schizophrenic-Tourette's victim in public.

The solution to this one is really simple. Go to your local Radio Shack and buy the biggest, wonkenest blue tooth headset you can find. The only criteria is that it is comfortable to wear. If you look like an NFL coach calling plays on the sideline, you bought the right one. Your tech level does not matter, you are not going to connect the headset to a phone anyway. This device is purely a prop to evoke the "Look, Recognize and Ignore Reflex", in outside observers. That is the reflex by which people...
Look at the stranger they think is talking to them incoherently at the, fill location in here.
Recognize the flashing light and alien device in their ear and realize that the target is really some poor unseen person on the other side of cellular airwaves
Ignore the person completely.

When you go out wearing a headset, people expect you to mumble or talk out loud. Hell, even if you are not living alone, you should try this, it is a whole new level of freedom.

Basically, you can say anything that you would say if there was someone on the other end of the headset.
Don't use statements like, "I Just Kegeled!", after seeing an obnoxious senior citizen getting run over with a carriage while stealing candy out of the per pound bin for an hour and a half.
Do use statements like, "Haaa! That's the funniest thing I ever saw.", when an obnoxious mother who's blue tooth headset, we'll assume is real, quickly hangs up and cries, "I never took my eye's off of him, where is my child?", five minutes after you saw the brat walk out the door to the parking lot.

Next Tuesday, Tip For Living Alone #2.

Today Is The First Day Of The Rest Of My Life.

2010-11-07T23:47:00.001-05:00

The title of this blog is something I say to myself every morning. I had a homeroom teacher in high school that used to make us say, “I'm bred for happiness and geared for success.”, or something like that. As in so many cases in my life, the words did not matter as much as the intent. It was a positive message to make me realize that I could do whatever I needed to do and succeed. Did I always succeed? NO! That is not the point though. The point is that if we believe we can succeed, we have the ability to succeed. If we believe we will fail we will only succeed at failure.

What brought about this little bout of philosophy was a quote I read today by Douglas Adams. It goes...

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”.

I love that quote, it feeds into my many philosophies. No matter where we think we are supposed to be, we always end up where we need to be. Unfortunately in life we usually go where we don't intend to. That does not mean we are not where we should be, just that the road still has pavement for our feet.

Today was truly the first day of the rest of my life and guess what, tomorrow will be too.

Writings From A Train.

2010-11-07T01:21:00.000-05:00

I was invited to go to an art show in the city. It is at a gallery, so I figured I should probably not wear my jeans and a t-shirt. I have done that before and who would've guessed they frown upon it. I have a ton of dress clothes that never get worn, problem with working at home. I pick the same outfit I wore several weeks ago to a christening. This works because, while the rest of my dress clothes have been sitting in the closet, these clothes have been recently cleaned and are easily accessible. I drop the kids off at grandma's and begin my dash to the train station. One small problem. There is a rip in the crotch of my pants. Not so much a rip as of an unseaming. Quick, to the thread. Five more minutes and I'll miss the train. Of course out of all the pants I could have chosen, I had to take the 'easy' ones that had a problem. I quickly grab thread and needle and go to work. First attempt, huge fail. Second attempt, it will have to do. Mad dash to the train station and I just catch the train.

It's the weekend, so the train stops at every forsaken place it could possibly stop at. The trip that would take an hour on the weekdays, takes almost twice as long. I decide to continue writing pages for my novel. That lasts about 15 secs. Before I start writing this blog. I now realize with the time it is going to take to get to the city, I should have driven. We'll see what the traffic looks like when I get there. Did you ever notice wherever you sit on a train, the loudest J-hole with a cellphone will sit next to you. Today it was a Jamaican (from the island, not Queens or maybe both.) woman. The people four cars away must have looked like they wanted to hear her conversation because she was loud enough that they did. I was not in the mood for conflict so I ignored her.

I always bring a bottle of water to drink on the train, commuter survival rule #127. The downside to a bottle of water is that drinking it on a train has the side effect of making you have to use the bathroom, right before your stop. Today was no exception.

Well, I'm in the city now, I realize why almost fifteen years of commute was way too much. I'll post this later tonight after I get home and put the kiddies to bed.

Creative Thursday - Look At Me and I Think I'm Lost

2010-11-04T23:22:00.000-04:00

Let Me Look Into My Crystal Ball.

2010-11-03T23:53:00.001-04:00

I love astrology, psychic readings, tarot cards and the like. When I was a teenager, I even believed in most of them. Of course, I also believed in religion back then. I find all of these things very entertaining now, they draw me in like a good book or TV program. Just the other day I was looking at a horoscope and as I began to read it was like, "This is pretty good.".
It started out...
'People born under this sign have an attitude and know how to draw a spotlight. They keep it on themselves as long as they choose.'. Wow, so far sounds like me.
' They are flirty and semi serious'. Hey, they have me nailed.
'They have a highly charged aura and are flattered by attention. They have a hard time knowing who to trust and their romances are affected because of this.'. I don't know what plug I need to maintain a highly charged aura, but three for three, I continue with great confidence.
'They are sunny towards their past and therefore have a great attitude about the future.'. This is uncanny.
'They believe their children will learn lessons just as much in failure as they do in success.'. Everything they said describes me exactly. This person knows me.
Maybe this stuff isn't complete bunk. Now I start reading horoscopes for other signs. Oh my gosh, they fit me exactly too. My mother must have been in labor for 12 months, I just kept popping my head out once a sign.

The problem I have with all of these readings and psychic "stuff" is there is never anything really negative to it. Yeah, you'll hear a psychic tell someone that a time would be bad to do one thing or another. How negative is that really? I think I would find horoscopes or psychics more realistic if they would once in a while say, 'If you were born under this sign, you will be a douche. No one will like you and wait, please pay up front, I want to make sure I get my money before you die in the next five minutes.".

You can call me a hypocrite because I believe in karma, the power of positive thinking and that everything in the universe is somehow connected. Aren't parts of our human condition faith, hope and love? I've been watching a lot of documentaries on people who have survived one fatal disease or another. Not one of the people who has beaten the odds ever said, "I planned on dying.". Each one tells a story of hope, or a story of a religious belief that has brought them through to their recovery.

True Hope, True Faith, True Belief and even True Love can conquer more than the provable realm of science can afford us. Are there powers at work that we do not understand in the universe? I like to believe so, and I hope to never find out otherwise. As far as people seeing the future, they can, but only if they pay attention and wait for it to happen.

A Note About HBD

2010-11-02T22:21:00.000-04:00

One of my lesser bleached shirts

Dear Readers,

I am a germaphobe. More precisely, I have Hyper Bleach Disorder(HBD). I hike, I swim in pools, lakes, the ocean, I'll even use public bathrooms when necessary. My phobia is when food is involved.

In my younger years, I would not only practice the ten second rule, but perfected the twenty second rule. If food fell on the floor I would have no qualms picking it up and eating it. I licked car door handles for shotgun (for you younger readers that is short for “riding shotgun”, or getting the front seat of your parents car.). I even licked random food items for dibs.

Now I bleach everything in my kitchen several times a week. When people see me in my casual clothes, they think I am a dysfunctional tie dyer. Most of my tee shirts have at least one bleach spot or smear on them, if not more. I also bleach my bathroom, but that's more of a clean and no mold on the tile thing. They say cleanliness is next to godliness, but I spent a train ride to New York City next to a guy who thought he was Jesus. After that experience, I'm not sure how close I want to be.

The root of my HBD comes from when I worked in food service. Anyone who has gone to Board Of Health certification and has seen the movies that they show, can not possibly be comfortable about the food they eat. I wash chicken, fish and steaks from the super market and have a spray bottle of bleach and water to disinfect my kitchen surfaces after each food preparation. I watch food at parties to see how long it is being left out and when in NYC, cringe at the sneeze guards being so high at the serve yourself delis. Strangely, I have developed a sensitive stomach (I blame it on vitamins). I can go to a buffet and be the only one who gets sick.

Am I neurotic? I like to think of it as being safe. I need to go and spray down my cutting board now.

On this one, I just said screw it and bleached it all.

A Beautiful Day

2010-10-31T00:35:00.001-04:00

Monday was a beautiful Indian Summer day, so at lunchtime I decided to take a hike. I ended up at Tinton Falls. I decided to trek the trails at the feeder of the falls first and work my way back to the falls proper. I pulled into the driveway of the historic Crawford house, an 1800s butcher shop and the entrance to the trails that rap around the stream and rapids. I walked past the slave burial ground that was uncovered several years ago and began to trek into the woods.

The paths are wide and many unique trees line them. I often see deer tracks, but have never seen any deer on the trail. The birds are deafening and the squirrels scurry as the water rushes quickly in a deep ravine. I followed the trail to where the grooming ended and decided to keep going up stream. Someone had placed a bench by the rapids, so I sat there for a few minutes watching the water react to the light.

I decided I needed time at the falls proper trails, so started back to Escape. Getting to the other side of the road and walking down to the falls was such a contrast. I left well groomed trails just 50ft away to pretty much make my own in the brush and tall grasses.

Today's goal was to go farther than I had previously gone. I took the usual route that cuts on an angle slightly away from the stream. Due to the change of season, the tall grass that impeded the trail was starting to brown and die, making it an easier path to travel. I got to the high spot that looks over the hidden pond. The pond was quiet except for the call of a hawk somewhere above.

I knew through the grass to the right, the narrowest part of the stream awaited. I was shocked when I got there to find that the water had subsided enough that I could cross. I had never been to the other side and was excited at the proposition of traveling new ground. There was no real path after I crossed, but knew if I kept going I would pick up a trail. Most animals go to the water and therefore leave some type of trails behind them.

I walked about 200 yards and weaved in and out of that area. I was in exploration mode. There were a lot of small creatures in that area and I could hear them scurrying about as I walked. I never have gotten trail fright. But with expanse palette of colors, textures, sound and smell, I was starting to experience sensory overload. I decided to narrow my field of view to a shorter distance and continue on. I waked for a couple hundred more feet when I saw something that looked like it may have been a dried up part of the riverbed. I moved towards it with the thought of using it as a trail to walk back towards the falls. The idea seemed feasible as I took my first step onto the bed. I looked down it and did a bearing check. Then I realized my foot was sinking. The top of the bed seemed dry, but deeper in the ground, it must still have been wet. I know better than to panic in these situations so I slowly pulled up my right foot, it was not in as deep. I stepped about one foot forward from where I left the indent and slowly pulled my left foot out. It was an amazing ground condition. It was solid when stepped on but slowly sank. It was not quicksand, more likely dry ground on an underground stream or water source.

I was too far in the woods to be playing on potentially dangerous ground. Especially when hiking alone. I decided I had accomplished my goal and needed to head back anyway. This was turning out to be a long lunch time. I headed straight for the crossing of the stream and began to slowly walk back.

One thing I love about the falls trail is the amazing variety of mushrooms. The colors and diversity of them is one of natures most overlooked gifts

I continued on the trail parallel nearly thirty feet from the water, I decided I wanted to get a picture of the stream, so I walked toward the water, I could hear the activity in the dried grass increasing. In the distance I spotted a box turtle and hurried my step.
As I reached the box turtle, I raised my camera and took e a shot. I was only several inches from the water. Activity about a foot away beckoned my eyes to between me and the trail. It was a green and yellow Garter snake . It lifted it's 35 inches or so of body out of the grass, angled it's head towards me, spun around and slithered quickly away in the camouflage of the dried yellow grass. My heart had stopped, but now I could hear it pounding fast. I have run into five other varieties of snake while hiking and luckily have not been bitten. Garters are non-venomous, but from what I've read, their fang-less mouth still feesl like being hit by a bolt of lightning when their teeth connect with flesh.

The turtle now frightened by my movement, tucked his body into his shell. I had already broken one of my hiking rules by not paying attention while rushing through the grass to the turtle. I was not going to violate another by picking the turtle up and trying to coax him out of his shell. I always tell the kids that it is important that we leave nature the way we found it and not interfere. Our footprints should be the only changes we leave behind. It could be argued that I interfered with the snake and his turtle lunch, but a lesson was learned of rules I need to self enforce.

Walking back up the trail, I heightened my senses. I could hear birds and small creatures rushing through the grass, leaves fell disturbing the air and scratching other leaves as if to coax them into the trip to the ground.

I got to the edge of the trail and looked back in a gesture of goodbye, the 'wind controlled' trees waved in return.

Allhallows Eve.

2010-10-30T15:41:00.000-04:00

To me, there is no holiday greater than Halloween. I will argue it with anyone. I know most people like Thanksgiving or Christmas, or Passover, but those holidays are reflections of things you cherish, have, or have done. The gifts if any are for those, or from those, closest to you. It's relatively easy to be thankful for those closest to us and we should be everyday. The problem I have with these holidays is this. You reflect, You remember, You give, You receive, you, you, you.

Halloween is the only religious holiday in which people of all creeds and all races give freely of themselves to others, mostly strangers, with no expectations in return. Wouldn't it be great if everyday we would give a stranger in need something they wanted or needed, just for uttering a three word phrase. It would not even have to be "Trick or Treat.", it could be as simple as, "Please help me.". Sadly though and I see this in myself, as we get older, the world hammers the lesson of getting taken advantage of into our brains. Cynicism becomes the religion of everyday detachment from the simple act of giving.

I'm not saying people don't give to charities or drives during many of the holiday seasons, I'm saying, that it is not enough. There is a big difference in giving to someone directly and paying someone to do it for you.

Happy Halloween

I'm In Love!

2010-10-29T01:55:00.002-04:00

One look and my heart was racing. She has great curves and is beautiful to look at. It's probably not what you think. A friend of mine got a Tesla Roadster 2.5 and let me test drive it. I love this car! This was a serious bucket list item, so scratch one more off.

One of my best friends somehow got this impossible to get car. He's the guy that has it all, great wife, great kids, great house, great toys. If anyone truly deserves the life he has, it is him. He and his wife have taught me so much about people and compassion. He is also the friend mentioned in my Karma post.

Back to the Tesla. It is an all electric sports car. No other car company anywhere has anything that can compare to it. It's probably the most innovative car produced since Ford rolled out the Model A. When I found out my friend had gotten one, I begged him to let me test drive it. He laughed and told me to come over his house. Another of our friends was over, so the three of us went out to the garage. I was handed the keys and told to have at it. Seeing a Tesla, amazing; getting into the Tesla, challenging; once inside a Tesla, WOW! You feel like you are sitting in a high end race car. It has all of the amenities and then some. I quickly put the key into, what I guess could be called, the ignition and turned it. My Ape brain did not hear anything, so I turned it again, nothing. The third time, my friend knocked on the window and said, "Dude, the car was on the first time you turned the key, it's electric.".

Did I feel stupid? Let's just keep going. The steering wheel is much smaller then anything I've ever encountered which helps give the feel of driving a formula1 race car. There is no shifter, just buttons marked 'R', 'D', 'P'. I pushed the button marked 'R' and pulled out of the garage. The car slows down quickly after you take your foot from the gas(Err, electric) pedal. It's like downshifting times two and a half. I then pushed the button marked, 'D'. I stepped on the gas and the car smoothly accelerated. I took my foot off at the end of the driveway and the car slowed to enter the road. I looked up to see if it was all clear and punched the gas. With no sound coming from an engine and no torque curve or shifting noise, your head messes with you. With these simple driving queues gone, your brain can not determine the speed or acceleration, that is left to your stomach and body. From the time it took my brain to scream, "PUNCH IT!!" until the time my stomach cried, "Look at the speedometer.", the car was already approaching fifty. It didn't seem possible.

It was eerie and refreshing, hearing only the noise of the road. I decided to turn around, so I pulled into a driveway. Upon exiting, I hit the gas(well not really gas) and again the car was at Forty before I gave it a second thought. I wanted one more crack at the long straight road, so I turned around and punched it again. At the stop sign, I took a left and brought it on some windier roads."What's the hurry?", I thought, I wanted to test this baby out.

Coming back to the neighborhood, I had the car going about sixty when I realized I was about to pass the road. I took my foot off the gas and made an insane hard turn. I gunned it and the car came around smooth as butter. The wheels never pulled or left the road, it felt like I was going much slower. I read the performance reviews on the car, but cornering at that speed with that much confidence was amazing and probably stupid. The movie line, "Son, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash.", flashed across my brain. I punched the gas and with the acceleration building made it down to the house. I pulled slowly up the driveway and as I reached the spot where I had left my friends, pushed the 'P' button and turned the key.

Getting out of the car was a challenge both emotionally and physically. Once I got out, I thanked my friend and in a fit of adrenalin, described how awesome the car was. They suggested I get in the car for some pictures. I stupidly left my camera in manual mode and did not adjust it for the light. So some of the pictures that they took were dark. As I sat there posing, I decided I needed to do another test drive, so off I went again.

I am not a car person. I've never bought a copy of 'Road and Track' or whatever other car magazines are out there. I've never been to a NASCAR race. When I first saw a pre-production Tesla being put through it's paces almost three years ago while flicking through the channels on TV, I was intrigued. An all electric car, made in America that would be on the road by 2009(Before any foreign competitor). An American car that could get over 200(now over 250) miles per charge. An American car that drove silently, An American car that could out 0-60 a Ferrari, a Porsche a Lamborghini,or a Vette. This could be an amazing success story. I followed the progress on the internet. Now I can say I had the pleasure of driving one.

Tesla is the kind of business we need to encourage and keep from failing in America, not the large corporations.

Artistic Thursday - Color My World.

2010-10-28T20:55:00.003-04:00

Perspective One... 2:00p.

Perspective Two... 4:00p.

The effects of light on color.

Would I Date Myself?

2010-10-28T00:36:00.002-04:00

I was reading a great blog at 'Chelsea Talks Smack' when I asked the blogs question of myself. 'Would I date me?'. After weighing the argument, I think I probably would. I'm not saying I would not be challenging or that my perspectives aren't 180 degrees off of the main stream. I've just seen the competition and feel pretty good about it. That being said, I'd probably break up with myself shortly afterward and 'just be friends'. That seems to be my pattern.

I've said before that I have a macabre sense of empathy. When I watch a romantic movie, I don't rejoice for the hero who gets the girl, but feel sorry for the nice guy who gets left at the altar so that the hero, can get the girl. In real life, that guy has more in common with me than the lead character. I'm the guy who is Mr. Right Now, not Mr. Right. I don't see it as a self esteem issue, more as a personality flaw.

Being a hopeful romantic, I open the car door, pull out the chair, bring flowers and write poetry. For guys, these are terrible qualities. If you do any of these once for a woman, god forbid you EVER forget to. The first time you miss a door or a chair or don't bring flowers, women become irate and you suck. Women would rather have a guy who never does these things, then one who does them 'most' of the time. They want stability and predictability. On paper, I'm the guy women say they want; in practice, I'm the guy they break up with to find the guy who they said they didn't want. Strangely it works out for them.

The good news for me is that the above is a generalization. I'm sure there is a woman out there who would truly enjoy a guy with these qualities, just from my experience, they are few and far between.

Arguments as to why I wouldn't date me. I am neurotic. Not that you would get that from my blog. I have ever changing neurosis about things that most people would ignore. I am extremely goal focused. Once I am set on a path, I must bring it to it's logical conclusion unless of course a new goal is set in the mean time. Once a conclusion is met, I need another goal to occupy my thoughts or my mind will obsess on what cellphone to buy, all of the latest physics articles, politics or anything else that will eventually become an 'eye bleeding' research project on a moot topic.

I also have high expectations. I always go for the brass ring. I feel eventually, I'll get it. I expect a lot of myself and of others. I would go to the ends of the earth for the right person, but under my terms. Gone are the days of frivolous journeys to the land of broken heartedness. Will I make any changes to myself? Nope! I'm self confident enough to be who I am. I've learned now that changing to be the 'right' person for somebody means that I was the wrong person for them from the start.

Back to the original question. 'Would I date me?'. Yes, I think I'll ask myself out to dinner tonight.

Now, what to wear?

Blame the Vitamins

2010-10-27T10:11:00.003-04:00

Lately, I've decided to be more healthy so Friday I started to take vitamins, nothing fancy, just some b's, e's and c's. I very rarely get sick, usually less than once a year. I'm really taking them because I watched a documentary on how good vitamins are for your body and how little nutrition the fruits and vegetables we eat actually have.

So, Friday day I made a pot of BBQ ribs for the kids and me. That night Lizzy wanted to watch wrestling so it was snackapalooza. Saturday for lunch I made some fried chicken.

When I said I never get sick, I was referring to every type of disease but of the stomach variety. So Saturday night, there was a thunderstorm brewing in my stomach.

To show you a glimpse of my ape brain in action, the first thought that came to my mind is, "Damn vitamins!". It couldn't be the fried chicken, ribs, the large quantity of coffee or countless other junk I ate. No, it must have been the good stuff.

By Sunday day the storm had passed. I took some vitamins again and nothing. I guess even I can't blame the vitamins. Until next time.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

2010-10-26T11:47:00.000-04:00

After posting, 'Lizzy's Brain', a few blogs ago, I thought I had something to explain. Whenever the kids do artwork we usually name the pieces, as a group, before they are put on the Frigidaire Museum. It started when Lizzy did a piece we refer to as 'The Scream...Of the Fly.'. Now we just rattle off names and if one sticks, we give it to the particular work. It's actually a lot of fun. Lizzy will, once in a while, sneak a new piece into the gallery without it being named. That is usually short lived. By short lived I mean until Emily or I expose it. Emily's works get named too. Lizzy named the following, 'Zombie Balloon Ride.' It was one of those Paint-A-Canvas kits that Emily had worked on. I love those things. They are basically a small, cheesy piece of canvas(or sometimes paper) stretched over a frame. The canvas has the lines of the image and the kids just have to paint the colors to it. The first two they attempted as a kid's project turned out pretty well.

Much better than the design your own T-shirt kid's project fiasco in which my floor was painted blue and red with fabric paint. Emily's shirt came out well, Lizzy after having a real nice design done, decided, if the shirt looked good with a little paint, it will look great with a lot of paint. After pulling the paint-glued fabric apart and letting it dry, the shirt didn't need a hanger and stood up by itself. You would think fabric paints would have been designed to dry soft, like me, you would have thunk wrong. They also seemed to dry better to vinyl tile than to fabric. After scrubbing the floor to the point of near damage, I got it clean.

Lizzy's, 'Falling at the Brook.''

The kid's projects overall have been a big success. Lizzy has gotten interested in photography and Emily, well she is a teenager, I just hope she will continue to enjoy the different projects that we plan. I will post more from time to time.