WE WERE TRYING TO WATCH THE GIANTS GAME on MLB.TV the other day while we were down in Texas. We watch about 140+ games each year. It is well worth the price. Of course, any baseball fan would say the same thing – and they would be right.
We had pulled a surprise visit, flying down to Texas without any advance warning. Visit, visit, hug, hug, eat, eat, visit, visit, eat, etc. You do that for a couple of days and you need a break. You need baseball.
From September 2015
THE TV HAS BEEN FILLED TO OVERFLOWING this last week with every moment of the Pope’s visit to the United States. Regardless of one’s faith or lack thereof, this was a Big Deal for millions of people.
I tended to listen to it rather than watch it all. I could do other things and still take it in and I would not have been able to sit and watch the Tube for that many hours.
I’ve been hearing that ever since my carefree days as a fetus. I was about 7 lb. 6 oz. at birth (I checked my birth certificate) and that’s not too bad in most circles, but a lot of babies born with health issues tend to come in as featherweights. This makes me think that if everything had been OK healthwise I might have tipped the scales at 180 lbs at birth.
I know that my father was 12 lbs. – and he was born at home – to a mother who was barely 5 feet tall and under 100lbs.
Needless to say, he was an only child and my grandfather started smoking.
I DO LOVE BEING MILDLY SURPRISED by the actions of people. Sometimes those surprise actions are not good, but on most days they are downright delightful.
The other day I had the opportunity or the need, depending on your point of view, to be a passenger in a Customer Service Van. The driver was the kind of fellow you don’t soon forget.
My guess is that he was a native son of some place in the hills south of the old Mason-Dixon Line, or as we used to call that part of the South, “Pennsyltucky.” His accent was thick enough that you would need a chainsaw to cut it through. His language was filled with the ultra colorful language of the hills. Imagine the reality of what the old TV show “Hee-Haw” tried and failed to recreate.
WE ARE GOING TO BE TAKING A TRIP DOWN TO TEXAS the day after tomorrow. A surprise visit. A complete surprise. Nobody in Texas knows that we are coming.
Surprise visits may be a cute idea, but I’m not so sure that it is so cute to pull a surprise like this on Dawn’s 95 year old Mother.
Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued
Chapter Eight
Since his wife had walked out on him while he was in Philadelphia, three things had plagued the mind of Dominic Deltino:
He didn’t have any answers to the first two and he was afraid that he did to the third.
I’VE GOT A BAD HABIT that I need to break. I eavesdrop. I have become quite skilled in listening in to other’s conversations surreptitiously. I am both proud and ashamed of my skill.
Why do I do this? Because by listening in on other people’s conversations I pick up a lot of good things that show up in my writing. Without keeping my ears tuned in this blog would probably be a three-day-a-week affair.
HOW CAN ONE TRULY DEFINE what is, “Bad Taste” and what is not. Just as “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” the same can be said about humor. What one person thinks is funny another may not. In fact, I think you can be rock solid sure that for whatever one person thinks is funny there is another person who won’t laugh.
Such is the case of the picture to the right.
I think it is funny and I’ve had others say that it is “In bad taste.” Of course, if I ask them to tell me the difference, they fall silent.
One person tossed out the “bad taste” thing, saying that the balloon was what made it so bad. I then asked him if it had been a Get Well Card instead of the balloon would they have approved? That was met with stony silence. That was kind of nice compared to his whining. He was also upset when I said I would have done as much for him as was done for the deer.
Somehow I don’t think he’ll be bothering me again.
WHAT MUST IT BE LIKE TO BE SOMEONE ELSE – ANYONE ELSE? All of my life I have only been me. You have been you and, Thank God, They have always been them.
Despite the daily trials, tribulations, and just plain old pains in the tuchus, I would not want to be anyone else. Oh, sure, there have been those moments when becoming someone else seemed like an attractive option – like when you see flashing lights approaching in your rear view mirror.
The 7 year old me wanted to be Buck Rogers and the 10 year old me wanted to be Mickey Mantle. At 17 becoming Paul McCartney looked really cool – and it had nothing to do with music.
The Time: 6:43 AM
The Place: St. Arbucks Main Chapel.
As I pulled into the parking lot, headed toward my usual Gimp Spot to leave the Toyota I noticed something unusual – the lot was almost full.
Normally at this time of day – scratch that – this time of night, the lot is all but deserted except for the cars belonging to the Early Shift Geezers who must sleep over. No matter when I arrive they are already there swilling coffee and comparing hip replacement stories.
When I stepped inside there were about fifteen additional humans in there. The extras were all young, male, and large – College students.
YOU KNOW IT’S A SLOW DAY when the conversation at St. Arbucks scrapes the bottom of the intellectual barrel. An example:
“If you’re in an elevator that’s falling would jumping at the last second before it hits bottom help save your life?”
It got real quiet when one of the Usual Suspects asked that question. I’m not sure if it was a stunned silence or a thoughtful pause to reflect. An answer to that came shortly.
“That depends.”
Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued
Chapter Seven
After three days of eating from the snack machine outside of the rental office, Laura Smith made the calculated decision to risk a late-night trip to the Safeway supermarket a few blocks from her new home. She had a small kitchenette, she knew how to cook and she couldn’t look at another peanut butter-cheese cracker without gagging.
She would have to walk.
IT’S AN UNUSUAL DAY AT ST. ARBUCKS. It is a little before 8 AM and I am the only worshipper present. The Drive-Thru chapel is doing a booming business, but inside – I’m it.
On most mornings this place is hopping and quite noisy. This morning it is a good place for contemplative thought. Maybe they should put up a new sign out renaming this place as: “The Dalai Lama Coffee House.” Ommmmmmm.
IMAGINE WHAT A DULL AND BORING WORLD it would be if there were never any accidents. I don’t mean those accidents like plane crashes or ships sinking – no, those kind of accidents we could do without. I’m thinking more in the line of “I’ll be darned. How did that happen?”
Some of those small, seemingly innocuous, accidents can bring about world shaking changes. Others just elicit a giggle, a snigger, and a chilled bottle of wine – things important in their own way.
I WAS LOOKING IN MY CLOSET YESTERDAY. It was like gazing into a Time Machine. There are clothes in there that I haven’t worn in years. Some don’t fit anymore. Some never did fit, and some I used to wear to work.
And then there are The Neckties.
THEY SAY THAT CAESAR’S IMPERIAL ROME had the best system of water delivery in the Ancient World. There was a series of aqueducts, canals, pipes, and fountains that covered hundreds of miles and kept the city of Rome clean and quenched.
I think they could have learned a thing or two if they’d been able to study my sinuses in the morning.
I HEARD AN UNWELCOME NOISE as I stepped out of my car this morning at St. Arbucks. It was a noise I’ve heard a million times before. Each time I hear it I cringe and wish that Annie Oakley was still alive.
The Crows are returning to the city.
Fiction Saturday – And Pull The Hole In After You – Continued
Chapter Six
“It’s $1500 a month or $750 every two weeks, if you want.”
“I see. Is it month-to-month or is it on a lease?”
“Month to month, week to week, day to day if you like, but I don’t care for leases,” said the young man behind the counter. He really hated dealing with the renters.
“Is it quiet? I mean, it’s not a lot of noisy neighbors?”
“What’s quiet? Look, lady, you’ve seen the apartment. Do you want it or not?”
I HAVE MADE A NEW FRIEND HERE IN TERRE HAUTE, (That’s French for, “Is he housebroken?”). He comes into St. Arbucks almost every morning on his way to work. He is also there whenever I drive past the place. I think he has a cot in the back room and that he actually lives there.
When he says that he is on his way to work and drives off I wonder… what does he really do? He is wearing a uniform that has, in bold letters across the back, “Animal Control.”
I think he is The Dog Catcher.
THERE IS A GOOD REASON my wife, the lovely and unfailingly perceptive, Dawn, calls my trips to St. Arbucks, along with, “The Usual Suspects,” my “Play Group.” I admit that there are some days when the maturity level drops below Pre-School closing in on Pre-Natal.
For several days now the main topic of conversation among the group has centered on the television western series, “Gunsmoke.” This show hasn’t been on the air since 1975. Why this has become important enough to warrant two days of conversation is unknown.
Down the Hall on Your Left 