Are we on a roll?

If I actually post this we are.
All things being equal, I just can't not post this.



It reminds me of . . .

seven in a row (days, that is)

Sometimes I repost

https://lionskip.blogspot.com/2008/12/browsing-againhmmmm.html

White Space

White Space

I was just looking through a bunch of other blogs... none of which are listed on this one... and I came across one where the blogger was absolutely gushing about how thrilled she was to have received some recognition for her blog and that the number of hits had doubled.
Then on the very next post she was having second thoughts because she was afraid that her postings wouldn't meet the readers expectations. I'm sorry. I don't get it!!! That is unless the goal of the blog is to have a huge readership and maintain or increase the level of readership.
My goal for this blog is to entertain... ME!

More White Space

More White Space

so far, so good

File under 'Florida'

because it was there

Kid's stuff

MB and I were away for the weekend.
I mean really away.
She was at Lake Tahoe.

That reminds me.
The picture of the spiral over Coit Tower I posted on Thursday is one she took with her smart phone.

But I digress.

Away as in away from one another.
Somewhere around 250 - 260 miles away.
In two different states.

Coincidentally, we departed within 15 minutes of each other.
We returned home within five minutes of each other.
Go figure.

It was about then I heard an interesting question asked by one of the grandkids of another.

"Where are the tan pawns?"

You have to listen carefully, lest you miss hear things.

Tan Pawns WBAGNFARB

Skip, the wind chill factor

Sorry. . .
I couldn't resist.

Once upon a time So there I was*
. . .someone had decided I had management written all over my resume.
I had been placed in a position of authority.
Almost immediately my co-workers started bombarding me with brilliant ideas for changes in operation that would mostly benefit them.

My employer, who was also my immediate supervisor, made it known that he did not wish to be bothered with these ideas.
Nor did he want me to entertain the idea of implementing any of them.

So there.
We've taken another's blog post and made a mockery of it.
. . .and given a whole new meaning to wind chill.

words are fun

*A Fairy Tale begins with "Once upon a time" and a War Story begins with "So, there I was"

Bonus:

credit - http://rumbear.blogspot.com/

Holiday snicker

and some puns. . .

Energizer Bunny arrested -- charged with battery.
My wife really likes to make pottery, but to me it's just kiln time.
Dijon vu -- the same mustard as before.
I fired my masseuse today. She just rubbed me the wrong way.
A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your mother.
If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?
Corduroy pillows are making headlines.
Is a book on voyeurism a peeping tome?
Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?
A successful diet is the triumph of mind over platter.

or maybe PUN ishment

I won't tell anyone who sent this to me

The subject of Geezers arose in the comments section yesterday.
I'm not so sure that applies here.
But, it is a catchy tune.

Post by 95.5 the ROCK.

Maybe some criteria need to be set?

almost said we need to set

This is realy h_ _ _ r!

see what that word (hodor) can mean?

Dumbass argument

I got into a stupid discussion on Facebook.
Yes, Buck, I said Facebook.

It was on one of those You know you're from . . . pages.
Somebody posted how they cringed when they heard someone refer to California as Cali.
Someone else said that wasn't as bad as when somebody called THE CITY Frisco.
I couldn't just sit back and observe.
I had to jump in and offer may two cents.
Anyhow, everyone there is on the same side.
The argument is about how ignorant and where the nitwits are from.

Cue the music.

dumbass

Ignore this post

So...
Have any of you noticed how there's some kind of paradigm shift when there are extra people in the home?
It's really a good thing there is.
 Otherwise we'd be shiftless.

My routine has been so out of whack for so long I forgot what whack is.
Then GS daughter, whatsername, moved back home.
Then GS went to the Dr. in August.
Then GS had surgery and healed.
Then we found out what's really wrong.
Now I find out that there are others who are out of whack.
There's a whack shortage.

I have found that if I pretend things are okay, most of the time they are okay.
That's because I'm not the one who is physically uncomfortable.
In fact, it isn't about me at all.
I just have to remind myself that I am only in control of my own attitude and actions.
I can't change anything else.
Now if I could only get others to see the same thing... that it's not about them, either [GRINS].

I really miss playing golf.
If you don't play, you'll never understand why.
Even if you do play, you may not understand.
It's not about the score, or winning, or the exercise.

need more sleep

Works for me

and blogger didn't like all of the labels

Weird ...or at least funny peculiar

Yesterday (July 30) I commented in response to a comment on another blog over on the other side of the International Date Line. Now I know they are one day ahead of us here on the West Coast, but it still seems strange to see tomorrow's date show up automatically at the bottom of a post.

So if tomorrow someone was to look at my comment over there, then immediately click to this post, it would appear I post this about eight hours later. When in actuality it's 32 hours later.

It's a small wonder they call it Oz.

Australia, that is

Éirinn go brách

Póg mo thóin

Odds 'n ends (unexpurgated)

I'm off to conduct a workshop tomorrow so you'll have to deal with the scrapings off the bottom while I figure out what I'm supposed to do

Psychiatrist vs. Bartender

Ever since I was a child, I've always had a fear of someone
under my bed at night. so I went to a shrink and told him
'I've got problems. Every time I go to bed I think there's
Somebody under it. I'm scared. I think I'm going crazy.'
'Just put yourself in my hands for one year,' said the shrink.
'Come talk to me three times a week and we should be able
to get rid of those fears'.
'How much do you charge?'
'Eighty dollars per visit,' replied the doctor.
'I'll think about it,' I said.
Six months later, I met the doctor on the street.
'Why didn't you come to see me about those fears you were
having?' he asked.
'Well, Eighty bucks a visit three times a week for a year
is an awful lot of money! A bartender cured me for $10.
I was so happy to have saved all that money that I bought
me a new pickup!'
'Is that so!' With a bit of an attitude he said, 'and how,
may I ask, did a bartender cure you?'
'He told me to cut the legs off the bed! -
Ain't nobody under there now!!!'
STAY AWAY FROM THE SHRINKS..
HAVE A DRINK & TALK TO A BARTENDER!

Quote of the Day:

"When in the company of well-diggers, don't get them started on how cold it is."

All of the above were plagiarized exactly as I found them

'cept for the video
(was too big for the space)

Third time post a charm?

.
This here gives a whole new meaning to Left Behind.

I just may start thinking about becoming a vagrant vagabond.

I'll have to talk to Cecil when he gets back from Yosemite... or the EIP?

I suppose it would be best to consult Grandma Skip first?

the muse is loose
.

This isn't about a haunted mansion

.
Knucklehead wrote a post last week, followed by a post by Suldog on Monday about childhood mayhem innocent fun. their posts reminded me of those days.



It is kind of about growing up in my neighborhood.
Yes, the building in the picture is in my old neighborhood. Except back in those days it was painted a different color and wasn't in nearly as good shape as now. It is, believe it or not, a school. Just as it was back in the old days. The main difference back then was that most parents didn't want their kids anywhere near the place because they considered it dangerous and the parents who sent their kids there weren't exactly mainstream. Like that alone would keep kids away. Heck! It was the so-called dangerous stuff that made it attractive.
Okay, so it didn't have any grass play areas. Neither did the public schools back then. It didn't have any paved areas, either. As close as I can tell, it still doesn't have grass or pavement.
Back then the play equipment was pretty rustic. You know. The kind of stuff kids really like to play on. There weren't any swing sets. There were rope swings... lots of them. They had things kids could climb onto so they could get a really good start on the rope swing, kinda like from a tree branch like Tarzan or Robin Hood. Or, a kid could ride a bicycle right by the rope swing, grab the rope, and let the bike keep rolling until such time as gravity or the lack of inertia took over.
Then, of course, there was always the possibility that if there were more than one kid, they'd all want to be on the same rope swing. So the first kid would swing off the fake tree branch and swing back and the next kid would jump on. Then when the swing came back another kid would jump on. I think the most kids on the rope swing was five.
There were horizontal bars, like gymnasts use, scattered throughout the school grounds, too. It was fun to ride bikes under them and grab on while letting the bike continue. I wonder if any dads ever figured out how those bikes got bent forks, bent wheels, broken chains and other damage?
Even ten years later, when my kid sisters were growing up, parents were still forbidding their kids from playing there. How do I know this? Sooner or later the probability that a kid will have a relatively serious injury, like a broken arm or leg, will occur. My youngest sister was the victim.
It was a really great place to go play because there were always other kids there; there weren't any major traffic thoroughfares nearby; and our parents never thought to look for us there because we weren't allowed to play there. The best thing about the whole place was we could use our imaginations.

There is a certain irony in writing about my kid sisters, who are ten and twelve years younger. At the risk of incurring their wrath, I will tell you they are both older than Suldog.

Today is...

And now a word from our sponsors

There is no post here this morning.
This is a figment of your imagination.
Grandma Skip [my wife] and I are at the Senior Center helping to serve at the community breakfast. She's waitressing and I am sweating over the flattop cooking french toast and scrambling eggs.
Next Friday is the tri-tip sandwich fund raiser sale for the Senior Center. Come on down to the Walmart parking lot around noon for a really great sandwich.

I told them I'd get
it on the Internet

So Suldog said

.

If you look back a couple of days, you will note that I posted about another dentist visit. In terns of dentist visits this was almost painless. I did get a cramp when I reached for my checkbook. As it turned out, I never did see the dentist because no further adjustments to the appliances prostheses are necessary. I only visited with the hygienist and then we ended up talking about computers more than anything else.
Anyway... earlier today Suldog commented that, If I could get pictures from my dental adventures of the last year, we could each post some and let the blogosphere  decide "Whose Mouth Is Nastier?" I'm sure he's talking about how they look, because if he means language, I'm not going there. I worked too hard to clean up that part of my act.
I have found the before picture. It's not from the dentist. I may eventually access their photos, but this one will do for now.
So, Jim, whenever you're ready I have it already to post.

it sounded like a
challenge ...or a dare
they always seem
to get me in trouble

On naming a...

.
Street.
I live in a neighborhood where all of the streets are named for trees... well, not exactly. Someone slipped one in that, as it's spelled now, is a family name. Maybe they screwed it up in the Recorder's Office? That wouldn't be a first. At least I know the source of the street names here.
That hasn't always been the case. I can only guess what... or who Hugo Street is named for. Juanita Way doesn't even begin to give me a clue. Fredrick Court, it turns out, was supposed to be Fred Rick... whoever he was; Hall Street... no clue; Fifth Avenue... no imagination; O'Keefe Street... another blank; then there is Balboa Court. It was there before the first Rocky movie. I am fairly certain it's named for the explorer who stumbled upon the Pacific Ocean.
Up next is El Camino Drive. Here in this part of the country there are lots of generic Hispanic names and faux Hispanic names. It was the only one in the neighborhood. Ronlini Lane was another recorder's error, much to the chagrin of our neighbors who created it attempting to use the first syllable of each family member's name. It's probably a good thing that I wasn't consulted. I will have to explain some day about how I named family pets. That street name is almost entirely irrelevant now, considering what those same folks did with it regarding their neighbors.
Off to another street with a tree name and a Hispanic pronunciation; then to Weeks Road and then back to another tree and the worst apartment in which I ever stored furniture. I may have slept there a time or two, but it was a time of transition, as were the two previous addresses.
From there I relocated to here, where it's been the longest I have been in any one place. I will say though that Fredrick Ct. had more influence, though. It is partly because that's where I spent most of my school years. Partly because, when I joined the Navy, it had been where I'd spent more than half of my life. And, finally, it is where I went whenever I felt the need to touch base.

Oh, heck! About the family pets... puppies and kittens, that is. The first was a cat... a stray. She
[that's key] wandered into my parents yard and almost immediately took a liking to me. When I inquired of her what her name was. She responded, "Raaalf." Hence, the name that she responded to when she didn't respond to "Kitty."
The puppies are slightly different story. Elsie and Truman were named after former neighbors who were good friends. Dennis, Nancy and Duane were named for my best man, one of his sisters and her husband. If there'd been more puppies they'd have been named after their children. Gender was irrelevant.
As for what I'd have name that street. My first choice was Dirt Road. Because that is exactly what it is.