This posting was written about my activities yesterday but I‘m was late getting it posted due to todays activities. More information tomorrow about that but today we have 33 inches on the ground as of noon with another 6-8 expected before this mother of a storm winds down. Back to yesterday.
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Well we’re fully prepared for this storm or I hope we are. We’ve got six inches on the ground with a lot more to come. My better-half decided we needed to run out for a few things before it got too much worse. I can’t believe I agreed to it but I did.
Traffic is still pretty heavy with people shopping for a few last minute necessities. The shelves of the store looked like a gang of barbarians were shopping there. I was looking for guava and papaya and even that was almost sold out. I guess the first thing you go for before a huge snow storm are cans of tropical fruit. The place was packed with people buying all the bread, milk, and toilet paper the media has been telling them they need.
I mistakenly thought by buying only four items I could run in and right back out. Who’s the moron now? That would be me of course. I was twenty-first in line at the 20 items or less register. I had to wait an additional twenty minutes while the twenty people ahead of me with their filled carts checked out. Thank God I’m a calm person and not some pissed off crazed postal worker. It could have been really ugly.
Well, we’re back home now without incident and the snow is picking up somewhat. The better-half is dealing with the storm like she does with everything else, she’s baking cookies. I have no idea why and I’m certainly not going to ask. I can’t say too much to her since I’m in the process of preparing my ingredients to make a tropical salsa which should look pretty, taste wonderful, and have enough heat to get your attention.
It’s later now and I just returned from my third snow-blowing effort to keep the driveway as clear as possible. Each time I’ve removed four or five inches of snow and I’m hoping against hope that we don’t get buried with what’s coming later tonight and early tomorrow morning. The wind is picking up and it’s too cold to stay out for too long. I’ll make one more pass at eleven and I’ll be off off to bed.
Tomorrow morning will be interesting. The neighborhood hasn’t lost power so that’s a plus. Now I can catch a few hours of sleep and dream about snow.
Another "Storm of the Century" is upon us and since this is the third one in the last twelve months I guess we should all be hiding in the root cellar (if we had one). Weather forecasters in Maine don’t do much more than repeat whatever is relayed from the National Weather Service and then hope for the best. Maine is so lame at times they look for any excuse to exaggerate the facts and use all the panic inducing buzz words to scare the crap out of the uninformed.
Having lived in Maine for more than ten years I thought there could be no surprises left for me. I’m able to translate their weather speech almost immediately and then go on about my business. Unfortunately I underestimated them again.
My better-half arrived home from work and immediately began explaining to me the grand weather controversy being discussed by the local media. They seemed to be all pissed off that the National Weather Service has begun naming large snow storms as they do for hurricanes. Maine is such an important place in the grand scheme of things (sarcasm) that they feel they should be permitted to name their own storms. I hate to even think what those names might be. Something really sophisticated yet down to earth (more sarcasm) like Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. They may be right in their thinking however because who in their right mind would name a storm Nemo? Only the all seeing, godlike government of the United States could be that lame.
After giving it some thought my better-half and I decided that the so-called Maine weather experts really shouldn’t be permitted to name them either. So effective immediately this “Storm of the Century” will be named by the two of us. Let’s just call him JOHNSON. Read into that what you will you bunch of perverts. We ended this terrible controversy in less than two minutes with no help from either the government or the state of Maine’s weather idiots. Come on JOHNSON.
Now on to something really important. I had to go to the dentist today. A trip to the dentist for me is always an adventure since the age of 13 when playing sand lot football my best friend knocked most of my front teeth out. That required two bridges and a few false teeth which have plagued me ever since. My mouth is similar to having a old car and it requires much more maintenance. I could have bought at least three new cars over the years with what I spent on dental work. My dentist’s office is a family concern with my dentist the father, the hygienist is his ex-wife, and the dental assistant/receptionist is their daughter. Over the years I’ve become good friends with them all and it’s been a real hoot but the bottom line never changes. As nice as they all are I still hate going to the effing dentist.
After injecting me with enough Novocain to keep my face numb for a week he proceeds to do what I hate the most, drilling my teeth. The sound of that high-speed drill makes my skin crawl and if I never heard it again it would be too damn soon. Also if he honestly thinks that shooting cold water down my throat is helping me breathe he’s very much mistaken. Not only is my face numb but I think he’s subconsciously trying to drown me.
After a few kind words and a pat on the head I was escorted to the door, given a new tooth brush, and my next appointment date. Thanks for nothing Doc. I drove straight to the closest Dunkin Donut where I ordered a hot coffee and a sandwich. As I left their parking lot I took a quick bite of the sandwich and that was mistake number one. My mouth was still so numb I almost bit off the end of my tongue. I was forced to pullover to compose myself and check for damage. A few miles and a few dozen curse words later I opened the coffee container, took a giant swig, and burned the shit out of my mouth and tongue. I also scorched my crotch a bit when I spilled the coffee there too. I finally arrived home, sat down in a nice soft chair and refused to eat or drink anything until the feeling returned to my mouth and tongue.
How can people think storm JOHNSON is the big deal. It’s all about me and my trip to the dentist. People are so self-involved at times.
Just sitting around today waiting for the next uppercut from Mother Nature who is sending another huge snow storm our way. I sure hope those alleged weathermen and women are wrong but you know how that goes. When they say it will be sunny and fair they’re almost always wrong. When they say it will sleet or snow, they’re almost always right. If we get the 16-24 inches they’re predicting it will be a long few days of snow blowing, shoveling, and waiting for the roads to be cleared.
Yesterday’s posting seems to have struck a nerve in some quarters. Closest to home my better-half was less than thrilled about being mentioned in what she thought was a somewhat derogatory manner. I kept trying to explain to her that every time I refer to her in a post, it’s complimentary. She just doesn’t realize after all of our time together when I ‘m being serious and when I’m being funny. She’s thinks I should be more careful when discussing our personal life but I just can’t seem to help myself. Our life together is great but at times it’s also hysterically funny. She’s either purposely giving me a bad time or she’s all of a sudden lost her sense of humor. Truthfully I think she’s trying to be sarcastic and hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. She’s a sarcastic work in progress.
I had a great half hour of meditation this afternoon (as described yesterday) which always makes me feel terrific. My cat has picked up the habit of climbing onto the meditation platform (couch) while I’m meditating (napping) and stretching out to his full length and purring like crazy. That tells me he’s found his "happy place" which is probably somewhere near the Portland fish market. He so loves his seafood.
We both then retired to my man-cave for an hour of tax preparation. After a great deal of bitching and profanity the cat left in a huff as I finally e-filed my returns. That damn cat’s getting way too sensitive in his old age and needs to lighten up a little. There was a time when he would only respond to "Hey Dumb Ass", so I just don’t get his recent snotty attitude. I suppose he’s just feeling the "tax time" pressures vicariously through me. Dumb ass cat.
I would also like to send out a quick thank you to a few of my newest followers. Welcome to the blog that’s just “full of it”. I hope you enjoy your visits here and come back as often as possible. Thanks go out to: hayleyhobson, happsters, evanstang, puravidaeh, craftedincarhardtt, russelldeasley, hollisplample, and silkroadcollector. If the rest of you get a chance please give their blogs and profiles a look see. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them as much as I do.
I guess it’s time for me to gas up the snow thrower and begin preparations for the storm that’s scheduled to start sometime early tomorrow. Winter in Maine is a trip but I never said it was always a good trip.
I have a huge and life effecting announcement to make today. My better-half has renewed her gym membership and is again on the road to physical improvement. Poor Planet Fitness may never be the same again. I especially love her analysis of their programs when she returns home after each visit. Her fashion review and critique of all the new outfits being worn by her peers is always soooooo exciting.
I’ve noticed over the years that we humans are a strange and peculiar bunch. Not only do we need to have a modicum of physical exercise to stay healthy but we’ve got to look good doing it. You see it in the groups of early morning mall walkers. Huge numbers of senior, prego’s, and misfits arrive at the mall in their power walking uniforms. They’ve created their own little subculture of weirdly dressed individuals marching in unison around malls all across the country. Most seem more interested in the socializing aspect than the walking.
The same phenomenon is happening in gyms around the country. Cutesy little outfits being worn by what for the most part are folks with issues of weight and bad taste. I decided long ago that to do Pilates properly I’d need to spend a few hundred dollars on wildly colored outfits and OMG, special exercising sneakers, just to fit in. Why is it that we need a uniform for any and all activities we participate in. It’s imperative that we look better than all of the other masochists because weight loss all of a sudden becomes the secondary goal.
Our society has slowly but surely become infatuated with weight loss, exercising, and various forms of meditation techniques. I agree that something is necessary to fight this epidemic of obesity but we’re bombarded with a constant stream of programs like the Biggest Loser along with dozens of early morning hour long commercials for exercise techniques like Zumba and Insanity. It really is insane.
I recently considered giving Yoga a try but after pricing a new outfit, new sneakers, and a rather expensive Yoga mat, I had to let it go. Not only was I expected to deal with pulled muscles and many stiff and sore body parts but I had to invest a substantial sum to do it. I was forced by circumstance to develop my own meditation technique which I’ll explain in detail momentarily.
My technique is simple to do and requires much less actual physical activity. You won’t need any special equipment of any kind and if done properly you’ll have no additional costs. It can be done in any living room or bedroom in less that a half hour and clothing is optional. Let me take you through the process.
Step 1
Remove as much clothing as you’re comfortable with and stand in the middle of the room. Close your eyes and stand erect thinking only of your "happy place". Once you’ve arrived there you can begin to breath deeply and slowly.
Step 2
Take any old blanket or afghan and lay it across the divan, sofa, bed, or floor where you’ll be most comfortable. All the while maintaining your trance-like state in your "happy place".
Step 3
Assume a prone position on that covering with your legs straight out and your arms at your side. Very quietly hum to yourself the song "Desperado".
Step 4
Maintaining your trance-like state is crucial at this point. Slowly take an alarm clock and set the alarm for twenty minutes and set it aside.
Step 5
Very slowly pull a second cover over yourself. Breath deeply and slowly for 1 minute and then TAKE A FREAKING NAP.
Follow the instructions closely and complete them at least four times a week. I guarantee you’ll feel better about yourself and others almost immediately. You can also play background music of your choice but not very loudly.
I explained my meditation system to my better-half but she was no help. She thought it was stupid and ridiculed me a little longer than I thought was necessary. She stated emphatically that having sex until you drop was a much better way to go than my plan.
We agreed to disagree.
I’ve arrived at this point in my life where TV is becoming more of an irritant than entertainment. Between the endless commercials, drug ads, biased politicians, and government propaganda, I’m reading to scream. Recently I listened to three of those infamous talking heads on the tube telling me that video gaming is responsible for all the ills of the world. As Don Imus would say, “that’s a pant load”.
In past years I’ve posted long lists of things I love and things I hate. They’re always fun to do and also a great mental exercise. I find that as I’ve aged my mind is slowly folding in on itself and beginning to stagnate. Old memories can easily take over and consume my thoughts which while fun at times is ultimately destructive. Keeping mentally alert and mentally active is the secret to living a longer life that is actually worth living.
These last few years convinced me of those facts as I watched my mother and aunt slowly fade away and die. My mother lasted a bit longer mentally than her sister but died sooner. My aunt was suffering from an affliction which may have been Alzheimer’s where she mentally faded away quickly but her body just kept on going. I realize that there are some things we can’t combat and I am realistic enough to accept that and move on. I also believe there are things we can do to fight off the effects of mental aging with a regimen of mental and physical exercises. It will help greatly to keep you mentally in the present for a much longer period of time.
I’ve been a game player, both computer and other types, for all of my life. With the advent of video games and HD I was in heaven. I know there are a lot of people in this country and elsewhere who would like nothing better than to control gaming and through the games control us. I’ve never believed that violent games lead to violent behavior. It’s easy to do the math and realize that millions of people play these games everyday but aren’t the least bit violent. Unfortunately there are unstable people in this world who choose to do violence to others. It’s not the games or guns that are the problem but mental instability. Take all of the guns away then they’ll try and kill people with whatever else is at hand.
I’m getting off message here a bit and ranting about gun control is not what I’m posting about. Video games provide me with improved hand-eye coordination, problem solving capabilities, and the ability to focus that if not maintained can fade with age.
I get strange looks from people my own age when I excitedly tell them of a new video game I’m involved with. I get those looks that say, “grow up, that stuff is for kids not someone your age”. It’s that kind of backward thinking that tends to piss me off and makes me a little crazy. Maintaining a full physical program in a gym is fine for some people but not to everyone. As you age your body isn’t always able to perform like it did when you were twenty, no matter how hard you try to push it. I’ve resigned myself to doing as much physical training as I’m able but even more important to me is exercising my mind.
To those folks out there who insist they have all the answers I can only say this. You don’t! We each grow up, age, and die at our own pace so just stay out of my life and let me handle it. I never thought I would get to be this age and would have so many know-it-all politicians and religious groups interested in baby-sitting me and second guessing my every move. I guess it will finally stop when someone slams my coffin lid shut. Here are my words of wisdom for today and I’m sure they would certainly help our country return to it’s former greatness.
STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS
Forgive the profanity but there are times when something this important can only be expressed bluntly.
Don’t you just love the month of February? We get to celebrate Ground Hog Day, Lincoln’s Birthday, Valentines Day, and of course this year, Super Bowl Sunday. I wish I had all of the money spent preparing for and the celebration of a stupid football game. Do I sound like a sports hater? I’m not exactly sure but I think I just may be one.
I played a great deal of sports in my life and thoroughly enjoyed all of those activities. I had a great deal of success in my endeavors with Little League Baseball, Pony League Baseball, High School Baseball, Basketball and Football, American Legion Baseball, Semi-Pro Baseball, Racquetball, Bowling, and others I’ve probably forgotten. I’m not bragging but trying to show many of the reasons why I should be a screaming and hollering fanatic for all sports. Why is it that that watching sports except for possibly Little League Baseball is like getting my teeth drilled without Novocain.
As a younger man I often got caught up in following the Pittsburgh Pirates and Steelers and considered myself a loyal fan. That being said, I hate watching their games even when they’re winning. I’ve never been able to admit my dislike of watching sports because my father would have disowned me. He was an avid fan of most sports and was quite the accomplished athlete in his own right.
So why? I’ve only mentioned football because of all the Super Bowl hoop-la over the last week or so. My better-half who in truth is a fan, a fan of the parties and get-togethers, and interaction with her friends but only a so-so fan of the sport. I think the great majority of fans are just like her.
I’m reminded of our addiction as a society to sports every time I watch an episode of Spartacus. I suppose the human race has advanced from the Roman’s version of the Super Bowl held at the Coliseum where gladiators killed Christians, animals, and themselves in great numbers. With crowds of thousands cheering, betting, and orgying their hearts out. They called it then “bread and circuses” which allowed the political caste to maintain control over the great unwashed.
Do you see any similarities? These days we make it possible for our gladiators, the biggest and strongest of us, to be paid great sums of money to punish themselves and many times damage themselves critically. The money and glory, as in Rome, were all that ever mattered. Does that ring a bell for you? It not such an honorable profession when you see a super successful man like Mike Webster, formerly of the four time Super Bowl winning Steelers, suffering from amnesia, dementia, depression, and acute bone and muscle pain after his retirement. He lived out of his pickup truck or in train stations for years between Wisconsin and Pittsburgh. Webster’s wife finally divorced him six months before his death in 2002. He was only 50 years old.
Of course, Webster was responsible for his own decisions but in my opinion the system was responsible for the pressures of money, fame, performance enhancers, and steroid use that ultimately destroyed him. Unfortunately he’s not alone.
Maybe that’s what makes celebrating these sports so difficult for me.
And a big Happy Groundhog Day to you all. I almost decided to wear my full body gopher costume for the day but my better-half put her foot down. She refused to allow me to leave the house dressed like that. She told me in no uncertain terms that I’d just have to be happy with what I wrote yesterday. She can be such a buzz kill at times.
So instead I resumed my remodeling project and worked at it for most of the day. All of the electrical has been rerouted, installed and working as expected. The insulation has been replaced with care and repaired in certain spots as well. The new vapor barrier has been installed and finally allows me to get on with the reframing of the closet and the new opening into my bedroom. I’m still on schedule with final completion slated for sometime in late April.
My Harry Potter obsession seems to be winding down. In the the last two months I’ve read all of the books and seen all of the movies and it’s been a great undertaking. All that remains now is the two X-box LEGO Harry Potter games which are sure to be difficult and time consuming. I’ll probably be working on those two games well into the Fall but as with all obsessions I can’t wait to get started.
I surprised my better-half this afternoon with a Ground Hog Day night on the town in Portland. There’s nothing less exciting than a night on the town on a cold February night in Portland, ME. Luck was with us when surprise, surprise we found a decent parking spot almost immediately. Anyone who lives here knows what a miracle that was. We made our way down Commercial street to the Dry Dock bar, tavern, and meeting place for all those people terribly bored with the winter weather. The second surprise was an extremely nice and competent waitress which doesn’t happen all that often either. Surprise number three, the food. Without question this was the best little meal I can ever remember having. It was three plates of appetizers with each one more delicious than the last. Pork Wings followed by Crab Rangoon followed by hot and spicy Chicken Wings. Add to that a decent glass of Cabernet for me and a Shipyard beer for the better-half and you’ve got a great night going on. The place was an old building with the classic store front windows where you can sit and watch the world go by. You can bet we’ll be returning here often.
We returned home for some quiet time and if my luck holds I’ll be chasing my better-half around the house until she lets me catch her. As always it’s all about the chase.
Have a great weekend chasing whoever it is you chase.
Are you ready for the big celebration to begin? It’s Ground Hog Day eve. As I’ve mentioned many times before I was born and raised in western Pennsylvania from good sound German stock on my mother’s side of the family. February 2 was always celebrated and remains a well known and enjoyed holiday for us. I never bothered to search out the origins of the holiday because to me it didn’t really matter. So I found this little tidbit of information which is a little interesting and might tell you something you didn’t already know.
The celebration, which began as a Pennsylvania German custom in southeastern and central Pennsylvania in the 18th and 19th centuries, has its origins in ancient European weather lore, wherein a badger or sacred bear is the prognosticator as opposed to a groundhog. It also bears similarities to the Pagan festival of Imbolc, the seasonal turning point of the Celtic calendar, which is celebrated on February 1 and also involves weather prognostication and to St. Swithun’s Day in July.
I’ve written about my close association with Ground Hog Day a number of times in the past but it’s a fun story and bears repeating (in my humble opinion).
The holiday means only one thing in Pennsylvania and that is the appearance of our old friend ‘Punxatawney Phil’ on Gobbler’s Knob. He’s scheduled to show his furry little face on the second of February every year to let us know whether we’ll have six more weeks of winter.
To reminisce a bit, way too many years ago I was a rookie state police trooper in Pennsylvania. To a newbie that means getting stuck with every crappy police detail they can find for you. One of the crappier of those was being sent to Punxatawney to guard “Phil” and for crowd control in and around Gobbler’s Knob. I thought they were kidding me but they weren’t.
A few of us rookies were ordered to make the trek to Punxatawney, PA along with a veteran sergeant who must have lost the coin toss. We arrived in our cleanest and well pressed uniforms, met with all of the local politicians, and then were introduced to ‘Phil"’. He was cordial enough for a stupid gopher but we were well advised to keep our hands away from him. He was a touch cranky and known to nip off a finger or two if provoked.
Believe it or not the crowds were huge. I’ve never understood why every local politician from miles around flocks to that ceremony. I guess they’re just hoping to get some free TV face-time or maybe even an interview with some of the local media. I met some mayors, some councilmen, and a few political hacks which unfortunately weren’t even as interesting as meeting ‘Phil’.
The only good thing I experienced that day was a rather buxom news reporter from a nearby town who took an immediate liking to my manly stature and my pretty uniform. She was much less furry than ‘Phil’ which was a plus and she also paid for my dinner. She even convinced me that dating her was the right thing to do. So I did.
It’s sad to say but we all know any relationship built upon a Groundhog Day Ceremony was doomed from the start. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t care to drive to Punxatawney (a three hour round trip) every weekend. I finally explained to her that long distance relationships just never work out no matter what. It wasn’t her, it was me. I dragged out all of the old clichés I could remember and disappeared from her life.
They tried to send me on that detail the following year but I had a court appearance and was able to dodge that bullet. I wasn’t too concerned about meeting “Phil” again but that blond had me seriously concerned. Besides, do we really need a gopher to let us know we’re going to have six more weeks of winter. We really are stupid sometimes.
How many people do you know who seem to be constantly running here and there but accomplishing very little? They can’t slow themselves down so they eventually run out of energy and crash. It takes a while for them to recuperate but once they do, off they go again at full speed. During a normal conversation they constantly talk-over the person they’re speaking to and we all know how rude and annoying that can be.
I’m sympathetic to a point because many times they really can’t control themselves. If you know someone like that have them read the following few paragraphs. That might be difficult because many of these folks hate to read. They’ll read the first line of a paragraph and skip over the rest.
I was given this “Jar of Life” essay while in college from a stuffing know-it-all professor who apparently knew more than I thought.
When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the coffee.
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes".
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty spaces between the sand. The students laughed.
"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things — your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions — things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
"The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else — the small stuff." If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. "Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18 holes. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I’m glad you asked," he said "It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a cup of coffee with a friend."
I’ve always loved this piece because it just makes good sense. Share it with your frenzied friends who may need your help in prioritizing their life. If you have to, read it to them.
Well, we’re into February which means our winter here in Maine is a little more than half over. Now for the bad news. I’ve started receiving tax documents from here, there, and everywhere and if I’m like everyone else in this country, I hate doing my taxes. It’s like stealing from your own bank accounts and then being forced to do the paperwork too. Not only do I think were being over-taxed, I think we’re getting close to that critical tipping point where we’re paying more in collective taxes (federal tax, local tax, surcharges, fee, and fines) than we’re allowed to keep.
My first big question for the Fed is how many dependents can I actually claim. For most of my life I could answer that question without giving it too much thought. Unfortunately those days are gone forever. I’d really like to know since the IRS isn’t too understanding about errors on their tax returns and they seem to get some perverse thrill out of kicking all of us little guys around. Years ago it was just me, my wife, and child, easy right? No more.
With the advent of the Obama Nation slowly taking control of almost every facet of our lives, what do I do? This comprehensive list of my dependents is my conundrum:
12 million illegal immigrants
3 million drug addicts
42 million people on food stamps
2 million people in over 243 prisons
535 persons in the U.S. House and Senate
1 Narcissistic President
I should be getting back a freaking boatload of money if my calculations are correct but I won’t hold my breath waiting for that to happen. C’mon Barack, just give me one penny for each person listed above and I’ll be able to buy an island and establish my own country. Then I could declare war on the US and immediately surrender when their troops arrive. The surrender would be conditional with the US required to pay war reparations and an annual check of foreign aid for the rest of my life. If they can keep me funded and happy I’ll be their most loyal ally. Free money, no taxes, and no politicians to bribe or coerce. It could be the new Garden of Eden without the stupid snake and the apple tree. See, I really do have a plan if those A-holes in Congress and the White House would just cooperate.
The Ides of April are fast approaching. I hope I can find an acceptable solution to my problem by then. Have a wonderful tax season this year because next year it will be much worse.
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