“It’s just getting too complicated.”
I say that every year and every year I agree to go through it all again.
What I’m talking about is taking part in a Fantasy Baseball League. I bet that designing and building my very own Nuclear Submarine made entirely of Dr. Pepper cans would be easier and less maddening.
There is no denying that I am a big Baseball fan, but I am rapidly morphing into a Non-Fan of Fantasy Baseball.
SOMETIMES YOU WANT SOMETHING just because you want it, even though you know that if you got it, it wouldn’t be good for you.
Do I love Chili Dogs?
Yup!
Do Chili Dogs love me?
Nope.
They taste so good going in, but on the way out they can make for a loud and sleepless night.
I just saw an equivalent to a plateful of chili Dogs and my mouth watered up like the Vegas. It wasn’t food although it looked good enough to eat.
OK, I HAVE JOINED THE RANKS OF MILLIONS OF OTHER PEOPLE. I watched the season ending episode of “Game of Thrones” the other night. Now – will someone, anyone, tell me what in the heck that was all about?
Characters came and went… and came back again. Strange creatures and zombies were getting starring roles. Weddings turned into blood baths. That one I could relate to – you should have been to my Cousin Lulu’s wedding. The bride wore a Carhartt wedding gown.
ONE OF THE THINGS I REALLY ENJOY about doing this blog is the freedom of expression it allows me. Monday through Friday is pretty much of a Nonsense Dance. I can let my “Silly Gene” run wild. Mutations happen.
Each week I know that I can come up with about five things that can make me, and hopefully a few readers, laugh – or at least giggle.
I’M GETTING TO BE A REALLY ANNOYING PERSON when I have to deal with myself. Nag. Nag. Nag. I just don’t give myself a moment’s peace. Would it hurt if I cut myself some slack?
Yes.
What is behind all of this? Lemme tell ya.
FOR THE LAST SIX MONTHS (AT LEAST) WE’VE HAD A MAJOR CHANGE take place in our television viewing habits. I think that this change has come about because of two things; Online services such as Netflix and Hulu among a number of others have begun to air some new and very creative programming. Just about everyone else has been wallowing in a Political Stew that has been tasteless, without any real meat, and triggering my gag reflex.
So, we were faced with a choice: Enjoy some new and excellent programs or endure sphincter clenching broadcast venom.
Not a difficult decision – let someone else watch all the stuff with zombies.
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.
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.”
There are days, not many, thank God, when I think that I am the only sane person on Earth.
Today’s example —
As I have written here recently my wife, the lovely and temporarily right-handed, Dawn, is recovering from a broken left arm. She has been under a doctor’s care. The doctor prescribed some painkillers for her and the Kroger pharmacy filled a little orange plastic bottle with the pills.
Her injury really laid her low and in pain, so I took the scrip to the pharmacy. I explained it all to the crew there and they were most sympathetic. They filled the prescription quickly and I was out of there in minutes. Of course, to do so I had to forge my wife’s signature. Big Whoopin’ Deal.
IS THERE NO END TO THE “GAME OF THRONES?”
I think it has been going on since before the invention of Television.
My wife, the lovely and Plotline Coordinating, Dawn, and I have been periodically binge watching “Game of Thrones” for years and I have come to realize something:
It doesn’t matter if I miss some episodes, fall asleep, or leave the room while it is on because there is absolutely no continuity to the story – or stories. Plots start, develop, and then disappear in a puff of Dragon fire, never to be seen again.
NOW THAT WE ARE HOME, after almost two months in Ireland, there are some things that are obvious only now. We were perfectly comfortable there and had no “When do we go home?” moments. The one exception might be when it comes to food. It was a case of “Close, but no cigar.” It’s just a case of liking the things I’m familiar with.
IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME since I’ve written about St. Arbucks.
St. Arbucks, the Chapel of the Patron Saint of Jittery People is where I officially start my day about nine days a week.
When I arrive I pull into a parking space and stumble into the Chapel and beg a coffee from one of the Barista/Acolytes who run the joint. With my coffee in hand I take my place in the pew next to the other regular worshippers – AKA “The Usual Suspects.”
Today’s posting is a short story I wrote about ten years ago
“Lightning bolts are all around, but don’t worry folks. I’ll land this plane. I can’t see because of the clouds and one engine is about to breakdown, but I’ll get us home.
Co-Pilot Smitty – radio my Mom and tell her I might be late for supper.”
Co-Pilot Smitty barked in acknowledgement and wagged his tail as the jetliner disappeared into a froth of dark clouds.
Danger was everywhere and only the best and most courageous pilot could get them down safely before Daddy got home.
***
Down the Hall on Your Left 