Picked up a little trinket yesterday

It felt pretty good.

. . . and about 50 or so people sang "Happy Birthday."
The actual date was April 9.

a friend brought donuts

. . . and then there was the time (episode 3)

When we last broached the topic of ER visits, we were writing about the first half of the last century, when I was but a wee lad in knee britches [yeah, that small].
Now we advance a decade and a half to the mid '60s and, for all intents and purposes, I'd reached adulthood [almost said I'd matured].
I couldn't yet grow facial hair, but had reached my full height.
I was 21 and had already voted in my first Presidential election.

So there I was* at the South Shore of Lake Tahoe.
It was spring break from college.
Woody and I had decided some fun in the snow and a little gambling would be nice.
We had loaded a two man toboggan onto my car and packed some warm clothing.
Although it was April, a late storm had created the necessity to chain-up for the drive over Myers Summit and there was fresh snow in the Tahoe Basin.
It was my first visit.

We'd arrived after dark on Tuesday evening so we just cruised Harvey's and Harrah's after dinner and then gone back to our accommodations at around midnight.
The next morning [I think it was still morning] we got up, went to eat, and then headed for the snow play area with the toboggan.
We found a place to park, dragged the sled up the hill, and found a place to catch our breath.
We weren't used to the 6000 ft. elevation.

Then we got on the toboggan and set off downhill.
The first thing we noticed is that it does not steer very easily, changing direction only slightly depending upon which way the passengers lean.
Another thing we noticed is that there were two young ladies, also with a toboggan enjoying the very same thrill ride.
We made their acquaintance.

We also suggested we could share the ride.
That way it would only be necessary to drag toboggans up every other ride downhill.
It's funny how people can figure out how to get close, huh?
With four on the sled it was even more difficult to change directions.

We scrambled back up the hill and climbed aboard the second toboggan.
Once more we set off down hill following a slightly different route.
It was a mistake.
We hit a mogul about 3/4 of the way down the hill and went airborne.
To me it seemed like we were in the air for an eternity.
I was in the front with three people behind me when the sled came down nose first, canted slightly to the left.
The toboggan came out of it unscathed.
I knew there was something wrong.
There was no pain, but my left foot was at a 90 degree angle to my leg, an angle which a foot does not normally take.
I'd also lost my watch and my sunglasses, but I didn't care.

I wasn't going to walk back to the car.
But fortunately we had a toboggan we could use as a stretcher to haul my butt back.
Everyone else survived without issue.
They somehow loaded me into the car and Woody drove to Barton Memorial Hospital.
At the time it wasn't much more than a triage site.
They x-rayed the leg, told me it was a fracture dislocation, and that I had a choice of going to Reno or traveling back to the Bay Area [or probably to any hospital which could do the necessary repairs].
The only thing more they could do for me was put a splint on my leg to immobilize it.
I opted to head home or, more specifically, to Stanford Medical Center, where I'd be under the care of an Orthopedist from the Palo Alto Medical Clinic.

We got our gear from the motel, making sure we also got phone numbers from the young ladies, loaded the car with me in the back seat, leg propped up on the passenger side of the front seat and set out for the five hour drive.
The first hour wasn't too bad.
Sometime in the second hour, as we passed through Placerville, I had to make a pit stop.
Getting me out of the car and into the restroom required the assistance of the gas station attendant.
Fortunately it was in the day before all there was is self-service.
Then it was back in the car and on the road.

I won't say I was in agony, but it was definitely painful.
I was sure happy to see the Dumbarton Bridge.
We went straight to the ER at Stanford Hospital.
The on call Doc from the clinic arrived shortly thereafter.
The original cardboard splint was removed, more x-rays taken and evaluated, and a plaster splint that offered more support was applied.

 It was determined that the deltoid ligament had been torn and would have to be surgically repaired.
The break was to the very end of the fibula and was not an issue.
It would heal fine.

The surgery was performed late the next morning.
I spent three months in a full leg cast.
It took another two months after than to stop limping and even longer for the leg to return to normal shape after atrophy.

So, that two ERs in one day.

not recommended

*sjc

Remembering (episode one)

I mentioned in a comment over here I would try to remember and pot various and sundry visits to the ER.
That goes back a few years.

My first trip I was still a toddler.
It was a Friday night.
My mother and I were going to dinner with her mother.
Grampa was out of town . . .   not home, anyway.
I was so excited to see grandma, when we arrived, that I ran toward the brick steps.
Then I tripped and took a face plant on the stairway.
(that was probably also my first head injury, definitely not the last . . .   which probably explains a lot of other things)
There was a nice wound in my right eyebrow [that would be the relatively normal one] that was bleeding like gangbusters.
It was determined that I would need stitches.
Back in those days San Francisco had emergency hospitals at various locations in the city where they also parked ambulances.
One such hospital was on Stanyan Street next to Kezar Pavilion.

I don't remember much, other than I had three or four stitches and the Dr. was someone my mom and grandmother knew.
We then continued on to dinner at Fisherman's wharf and afterward I got one of those little green turtles that live in pie plates until they succumb to too much handling.

let's milk this

It took a little reminder

While browsing blogs on my smartphone this morning it suddenly occurred to me I have no excuse for not having a post.

So, it rained on Friday night.
Saturday was sunny and relatively warm (60°F).
This morning it was like this.

It has only lifted a little.

thanks Sarge

Still 'nother one

This blog commenced publication.
Who knew it would last nine years?

. . . found something to replace smoking?

who cares

Yeah, why?

Apologies for not finding this sooner.
Glad I found it at all.

let's fix this

It's time

Yeah . . .   I know it isn't Halloween yet, or even Veterans Day.

But there's way too much evidence of the commercialization of another holiday already in evidence.
Thankfully, we are hearing of movement by some retailers to scale back the theft of family time from their employees on Thanksgiving.

It's what you get when the wind blows the Muse away

I may figure out eventually why Blogger messes with the font on this blog.
I have a specific font designated. . .    Unkempt.
I like it because it suits my attitude.

However, periodically Blogger chooses to replace it with a font that is similar to, but not, Comic Sans.
So, Blogger,  

GOML!!!

 this was almost yesterday's post

Sunday's lost post

Stupid is as stupid does.
So I complained about losing what I'd written first thing Sunday morning.
Well, I'd only misplaced it.

Now you get to suffer through it while I fly cross-country.

I even kept it to it's original size for ya.

told ya it wasn't much

So. . .

. . .there I was*, last Friday morning, turning into the parking lot at Costco.

Before I go any further, let me refer you to this post from last year [go read it. It's what I should've done].

Anyhow, I almost immediately knew I had made a mistake because the looks on the faces of the drivers escaping exiting the parking lot were anything but pleasant.
Some were even is such a hurry as to fail to leave room for those of us wishing to enter the lot.

I had momentarily forgotten it was the Memorial Day weekend.
Costco is bad enough on any Friday, but when there's a holiday involved it compounds the situation to Richter Scale proportions.
There are invaders tourists out of town visitors involved.

Lake Shasta, and its enormous houseboat fleet, is only about 20 miles north of Redding.
The University of Oregon is only about five hours (according to Gargle Maps) away.
It's the last chance for a big fling before school ends for the summer.
The party starts in the parking lot at the Redding Costco. . .   and dammit, we don't care if we do inconvenience anyone.

Inside the store it was like Black Friday.
(I can't honestly say that it was like Black Friday. I haven't been exposed to Black Friday shopping, except on television) 
It seemed like everyone and their cousin was there and filling baskets to the point of spilling over.
The couple in front of me at checkout had two baskets.
The Oregon folks were like they'd never shopped on their own before.
It was OGA# [yours truly has much experience with implementing OGA on numerous occasions].
I was getting just a bit steamed.
Worse, I was gonna have to deal with the parking lot again.

The clowns in the lot were either oblivious to the fact there were folks who wanted to leave, or they were purposely inhibiting the smooth flow of traffic.
Either way I was glad I wouldn't be going anywhere near the lake on the weekend.

*What’s the difference between a fairy tale and a sea story? 
A fairy tale starts with “Once upon a time” and a sea story starts with “So there I was”. (that previous line paraphrases another blogger's tagline) 

#organized grab @$$ - a term used to describe the pooling of funds over a period of time so that a large party may conducted. . .   then sending the least knowledgeable individuals involved to make purchases for said party

another reason to end three day weekends

After yesterday's post

I went into my library.
(That is the space behind of the things stacked on the floor of my office den hideaway)
Without too much difficulty I found the book I was seeking.
I have had it for about 20 years.
Everyone should read it.
The lessons are applicable to Everyone.

The premise is simple.
Everyone everybody deals with is a customer, some more so than others.
They camouflage that idea very carefully until some distance through the book   . . .after the reader has bought into how to treat the folks we want to impress    . . .and spring it on the reader.

The idea is that anyone we have any relationship with is our customer.
You don't have to be in sales.
You want them to be, at the very least, neutral if not positively affected by your approach.

If I were emperor, I'd make it required reading [right after I made everyone learn to read].
There would be a test.
I would probably fail.

c'est la vie

Once upon a time*...

Yesterday I had an appointment to see the urologist for a prostate exam. Of course I was a bit on edge because all my friends have either gone under the knife or had those pellets implanted.
The waiting room was filled with patients. As I approached the receptionist's desk, I noticed that the receptionist was a large unfriendly woman who looked like a Sumo wrestler. I gave her my name.
In a very loud voice, the receptionist said,

"Yes, I have your name here: You want to see the doctor about impotence, right?"

All the patients in the waiting room snapped their heads around to look at me, a now very embarrassed man.
But as usual, I recovered quickly, and in an equally loud voice replied,

"No, I've  come to inquire about a sex change operation, but I don't want the same doctor who did yours."

The room erupted in applause!

Don't mess with old retired guys!!!

ever

*What’s the difference between a fairy tale and a sea story? A fairy tale starts with “Once upon a time” and a sea story starts with “So there I was”. 
(that previous line paraphrases another blogger's tagline)

Tradition v legacy

I don't often discuss thing about the military here. . .

. . .unless it's a sea story.

But today I'm gonna make an exception.
Now my experience is relatively limited.
I spent but a brief period actively serving in the military and that was with the Navy.
I served in ships.
(Yes, in is the proper term.
I was crew, not a passenger.)
But, as The Sarge says, I digress.
So I will limit my discussion to the Navy.
More specifically, I will limit it to Navy uniforms.

My first thought about Navy uniforms today is, WTF!!!
(Actually that's been my thought for a few years now, but a cartoon I saw brought it up again.)
It used to be a sailor had a sea bag with three sets of blues (one dress, two undress [no piping, okay?], four sets of whites (all undress, and if he wanted tropical they were an optional purchase), three sets of dungarees, and four white hats (aka dixie cups)
There were other things like socks, shoes, underwear, pea coat, work jacket, watch cap, ball cap, rain coat, etc., etc., much of which was never worn.
There was even a flat hat. . .  think Donald Duck. . .  I was issued sold (yes, we purchased these uniforms out of our initial clothing allowance and, no, we were not given any choices, except for size.).
The first think we were taught about said uniforms was how to properly fold them so they took up little space and did not wrinkle.
The answer is, inside out (except for the dungaree shirt and the tropical white shirt [which was optional]).
It all folded flat, almost square, and fit in the sea bag with room to spare.
There was room to spare because the dress blues didn't go in the sea bag.
It was what was worn whenever a sailor traveled on orders. . .  ALWAYS!

I didn't much think about today's Navy uniforms until a couple of years ago.
GS and I played hooky one Thanksgiving and took a cruise around Hawaii [yes, the entire state] with Cuz and Mrs. Cuz.
While in Honolulu we made an obligatory trip around Oahu and did the tour of the USS Arizona Memorial.

The first thing I notice about the sailors on the launch that took us out to the Memorial was they were dressed like Jarheads*.
I mean their uniforms were not Navy uniforms, except for maybe the trousers were navy blue.
The creases were in the wrong direction.
The blouse was khaki.
The hat. . .   WTF kind of hat was that!!!
A freakin' piss cutter.
When did Navy enlisted [below E-7] start wearing piss cutters?

But that's only part of my problem with the uniform.
The overall issue I have is it seems nobody dresses to travel any more.
I will agree that it seems silly for civilians to get dressed up to fly anywhere.
But what is the point of having a dress uniform for military personnel if they aren't going to wear it when traveling?
No, I don't mean they should wear dress uniforms an a C-130 headed for a combat zone.
I mean when on independent travel under orders.
They shouldn't be in fatigues.
It make them look like Hippies [remember them?].
Hippies used to buy their clothes, used, at the Army-Navy store.

Oh yeah we didn't exactly call them Hippies.
There was almost always a descriptive adjective in front of Hippies.
Don't get me wrong.
Some of my best friends were Hippies.
I also have friends who're Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, and even Marines.
Civilians were suspect.

This bit about digressing, it's an age thing.
Once we reach a certain age we want to make sure we write down everything we remember.

So what's with traveling in BDUs (the new acronym for fatigues, meaning battle dress uniform).
If you're gonna travel in it, call it what it is. . .   travel dress uniform (TDU).
Then dump the darn full dress uniforms with all the rules about placement of ribbons and badges.

While I am on the subject of BDUs.
What was wrong with the Navy enlisted dungarees?
Seriously, they were functional.
We were taught how to make life vests out of the darn things.
They were light weight [which wasn't necessarily a good thing in cooler climates].
They were visible.
Why does a sailor at sea need camouflage?
What if he, heaven forbid, goes overboard?

I know part of the problem is that many prisons now dress the prisoners in clothes that look almost exactly like the dungarees.
The Navy failed to copyright the uniform I guess.
That, and law enforcement in many places had such a low opinion of sailors that they arrested them on sight.

I know just what the issue is.
It has nothing to do with practicality.
It has nothing to do with progress.
It certainly has nothing to do with tradition.
(the only reason we were sold flat hats was because the Naval Supply System was overstocked with flat hats)
It is all about those folks with stars on their shoulderboards leaving a legacy.
Change for change's sake.

All I can say to that is, "With all due respect, Admiral, #^@& off!"

go do something useful. . .

   like figuring out how to

 bring 1200 MRAPs

 back from Afghanistan

*a quaint Navy term for U.S. Marines

I don't really know why

Someone mentioned losing a spouse to death is about the hardest thing with which to deal.
I think I would agree, with one exception.

Something like 32 years ago my first wife and I divorced.
We had three children, a boy and two girls, all under ten years of age.
It was a complicated divorce and multiple parts of both of our lives were affected.
I, in effect, surrendered.
Gave up almost everything.
Walked away so they wouldn't have to.
Became estranged from my kids  . . .and it hurt  . . .and I accept responsibility for why that happened.
Then my youngest daughter got cancer and she died.
That hurt worse.

That's the simple tale.
I can't begin to tell the full tale because I only really know my part and by telling it I would have to speculate on the other half.
I refuse to do that because it would be giving in to resentment.
It is said that having a resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.
Besides that is a negative.
We don't do that here, except in jest.

I think I may have bared a little bit of my soul there?

Some of the hurt above has healed.
The rest will heal when I can make amends to those others who still hurt.

Life is a work in progress.

it's only been perfect one time

Carp!*

I was gonna stay under the radar today  . . .but Gargle outed me.

overslept, too

*s/b crap but after I saw the fat finger error I decided it explains how the day is.

Misty has an owie

I don't believe I have ever used the nickname for the Honda in a blog post before.
(I will probably not do it again)

The other day at the imaging center I managed to back into a vehicle that was using a little more of the parking lot than it should have.
The driver had backed a 3/4 ton 4x4 into the parking space directly behind my car.
(The parking places are straight in perpendicular to the driveway, as opposed to diagonal, and the driveway might be wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other... if the drivers are courteous and don't take their half in the middle.
He just hadn't backed it all the way into the space, leaving about a foot and a half unused and about 2 1/2 feet of his truck further into the lot than the vehicles on either side of his.

I hadn't paid that much attention, having been busy getting GS situated and her walker put away.
The vehicles on either side of mine were quite close, so it was necessary to back some distance out of the space before turning my wheel.
the view in my side mirrors showed there was plenty of room.
About the time I looked up at the rear view mirror attached to the windshield I heard the crunch.

I count us lucky.
Had the bumper on the truck been just a little higher I would be looking at replacing the taillight assembly as well as a repair to the bumper.
Yeah, I said repair.
The car has over 110,000 miles and Mike, at the body shop says he can repair it.
I believe him because I've seen and had experience with his shop's work.
Of further interest ...maybe ...is that this is the third time this particular area on Misty has been damaged.
This is just the first time there will be repairs.

The first incident occurred less than a month after we bought the car.
Somebody A real maroon turned a grocery cart loose and it hit just behind the rear door.
You'd have to know to look for the dent.

It really is visible in the first photo

 The second, a scratch, occurred on the day GS got out of the hospital after her surgery a year and a half ago.
Someone didn't pay enough attention to where their front bumper was and grazed the rear bumper of Misty as they either parked or departed the parking garage.

More noticeable in the first picture

 I was kind of amazed that the care didn't suffer more damages in that garage, as the spaces were quite narrow and the maneuvering room was scant.
I was kind of perturbed because we'd made it through three weeks without a nick.
Then on the day I go to get her some clown takes a paint sample.
As you can see, I didn't bother to have it repaired.
There are more important things in life.

But I can't, in good conscience, let this latest one go.
Probably because it's mostly my own doing.
There wasn't even any evidence of the incident on the truck.
(though there was some temptation to leak the tires ...the rear tires ...both of them)

There was no point in calling the insurance company.
I have a large deductible and, like I said, Misty was the only one to incur damage.

Next Tuesday she goes in.
Today she get her oil change, regular service, and smog inspection.

there are moments

 when every swear word

 learned comes back

Mmmmm ...okay!

My good friend the the Brighton Pensioner was talking about loonies yesterday.
All I could think about is the Canadian dollar coin is called the Loony.
I think there's just a little irony in that BP was talking about politicians, the Canadians about money ...and that somehow money and politicians are almost inseparable.

 really!

note:

I sometimes find it difficult to decide just which word in a post should provide a link to whatever it is I am referencing.
I also realize some browsers make it difficult to ascertain that there is even a link unless the viewer mouses over the word.
Hey! That's the way we roll.

Obligatory ***** **** post

How many people think it's ridiculous for the NFL to require folks to the name of the game when they are talking about it?

just sayin'

Change

We'll probably work on this some more....
...maybe add some more pages?
...clean up some more of the clutter?

Sometimes a topic kinda falls into our laps

What we do with them is a whole 'nother story.

Yesterday the Cranky Ol' Man posted a tale about an incident [or series of incidents] which took place in the late sixties.
It reminded me of how attitudes create situations and how current attitudes make us look at those situations today.

Back then, if memory serves, most households were still supported by a single wage-earner, typically a husband.
The ladies who worked were relegated to support tasks and considered, for the most part, to be only temporarily in the labor force.
There were any number of employers who based their hiring practices on this premise.
I worked in such a place.
We seldom ...like in once a year maybe ...had a lady even apply for a job.
It wasn't that the company didn't hire ladies.
There were a number of them working on the administrative side, handling paperwork, crunching numbers, and doing payroll.
I might also mention they were  nine to fivers, earning as much as and more than most of the men, the majority of whom were college aged and working part time.

About the attitudes, because that's what this is about.
They were shaped by our mothers back then.
I was in my mid twenties [no, I'm not a baby boomer, I'm officially old*].
My mother had stayed at home raising kids and keeping things nice during my entire childhood.
My friends and schoolmate's mothers, with a few exceptions, had done the same thing.
Nobody ever explained to us that this wasn't normal.
It was how things had always been.
The only ladies who worked were single girls, who'd not yet married and had kids, or single mothers, or those helping in a family business to maximize profits.

Back then it was a lot easier to get by on one salary because most families only had one car to support ...until the sixties.
That's when cheap imports became available the stuff we had became a status symbol.
In order to have stuff, purchasing power was necessary.
At first the guys would work a regular job in the day time, then take a part time evening job.
Eventually, wives started working part time ...if they could find an employer to hire them.
Many did.
Unfortunately, there were a lot of employers who took advantage by paying less than optimum wages because the demand for jobs was greater than the supply.
The rationale was the ladies weren't long term employees.
They wouldn't stick around.
Ultimately, though, they managed to infiltrate virtually every business, either through persistence, or, eventually, through legal channels.

Anyhow, I don't have a clue what this has to do with riots on Wall Street ...other than to explain men's ...particularly young men... attitudes in 1968.

I do know that anyone can make assumptions based upon observing those conditions.
But those assumptions do not apply today, except in maybe a few isolated instances.

an assumption is already suspect

*I read it in The Economist