this is a Misc. post

 think I'll just ramble.

1.  my blog people say for  me to click on the pencil icon at the top right and they will provide you, the reader, with profound comments and links to what I am writing.   Well first of all, there is no pencil at the top right.  There is one on the left side of the page which I will now touch.  Nope, that's not it.  At the far top is a heart and other stuff.  Nope, that's not it.  I suppose I will just have to live with not knowing what they want you to know.  No pencil.  No extra connections.

2.  I remember once they gave me the chance to Monetize my posts.  I tried that.  In doing so, I made a bit of fun (I thought).  I figured I'd make a penny every time you clicked on something.  Maybe in 5 or 10 years, I'd earn a dollar.  They did not take kindly to my money thoughts.  I was eliminated.  No money making retirement for me.

3.  Saturday, I got a notice:   JURY DUTY.   As it turns out, I'm a tad bit old for them. Actually, I'd probably fall asleep in the jury box if chosen. Seems that I have 2 different ways to get out of service. The first is my age.  I'm WAY OLDER than their 75 limit.  I thought it was a 65 age limit.  Their website says it is 75.  They don't really want an old yapping man sitting in that jury room.  Now, do they?  Might be fun except for reason #2.  My wife's Alzheimer's.  She really cannot be left alone.  Sure, she seems fine when you sit down and have a conversation. But, after a while, she will ask the same questions 4 or 5 times.  And, there's not real predicting what she might decide to do.  I caught her trying to open the lid on a pressure cooker a while back.  At the hospital last fall, I left her in the waiting room while I went to talk to the doctor.  She was gone when I got back.  Rest Room break.  She couldn't remember where the waiting room was.   Short term memory is the culprit right now.

Anyhoo, interestingly, the jury is being selected for the local Salado Justice of the Peace - not the Bell County big time courthouse.  I wonder what happens in the Justice of the Peace courtroom.  Curious, I am.  But, not ready to volunteer.

4.  I remember being called for a jury in Amarillo.  I had just left my teaching job at Tascosa HS that summer.  It turns out that the case was between a mom and dad - divorced type.  They were arguing whether the daughter, a student at Tascosa, probably 15 to 17 yrs old, had the right to choose which parent  should keep her.  Immediately, I figured out this was not for me.  When asked, I raised my hand; I was invited to the front of the court room; I was asked what my problem was; I explained where I taught and that I thought a girl that age could make up her own mind.   That brought down the house - the judge and lawyers all ascended upon me Shhhhhhh Shhhhhhh - it went.   I was excused.  That was on a Monday.

Naturally, my interest was peaked by the case.  I paid attention to the lawyer world.  It seems the father had a very rich family and expensive lawyers.  They went first.  All week they raked the mother, not a rich woman, over the coals.   On Friday, it was the mom's time.   Instead of putting the father on the stand, the family made some concessions and a solution was found.   As disappointing as it may be to you, I cannot remember the results of the trial.   I believe they reached a "shared" solution.

My only other jury experience came when we lived in Plano.  I couldn't figure out how to get off that jury.  I served.  It seems this teenage boy took his fathers semi-truck without permission on a joy ride.  Students had gathered in the Plano HS parking lot - a few hundred.  When they were dispersed, this kid was arrested at the scene.   Drugs were found in the big truck.  There was to be a court trial.  Frown as I might, the lawyers still liked me.  The kid's lawyers argued that:  the father had just returned that day from a trip across the continent.  He had picked up a hitch hiker.  Of course, the hitch hiker had left his drugs in the truck.  It wasn't the kid's fault.   No, he didn't do drugs; he just stole his father's semi tractor and went for a joy ride...no license.   My 12 member jury had several bleeding heart females.  Oh, my, what a disaster for this young man .... oh, me, oh my ....   I had no desire to fight with them.  The boy was found not guilty.  I betcha the policeman was really peeved at us.  I went home and hid.

5.  Did I tell you that I was sent to a hematologist 2 weeks ago.  Friendly young doctor.  He had them pull out 11 vials of blood because my white blood count is quite low - a 25 out of 100, whatever that means.   We go back to that doctor tomorrow sometime to get the results.  FYI:  my father died from leukemia back in the 70s.   Blood things scare me.   My daughter, who works in a hospital lab,  looked at the results and said that I didn't have that.  We will see.  The prostrate cancer was bad enough for me.  I'd just as soon not find a new cancer at this time.   I have a wife to care for.

6.  I own a weather machine.  It sets on the fence.  The weather machine connects to a display inside the house.  It shows outside temperature, inside temperature, rain fall, wind direction, wind speed, and some other stuff.   Sain Logic is the company.  I really enjoy watching the display.  One of my favorite things.  

It's time to stop.  Ramble is over.  See previous post, nobody has killed me yet.   I really enjoy watching On Patrol Live on the Reels channel.  Makes me glad I didn't go into law enforcement.  Y'all take care now.  I'll be back.   (p.s. still can't find the pencil to click on)

mtz

  

Here we are again.

So many things come around again and again.  We expect some and even happily anticipate others.  I like Christmas.  My wife doesn't like the hoopla.  I've lived with that negativity for years.  Thanksgiving:  who doesn't like the day with family and specialized food.  I used to like it more; but, since this diabetes thing where I should not eat certain things, it has lost a bit of charm.  No pie or sweet potato covered in marshmallows.  Still I get a turkey leg and klubosniks.  

For years in my family - I mean all the way back when I was a little kid too - I got the drumstick.  Every year.  Every year.  I savored the treat.  Then, about, say 4 to 5 years ago, two of my granddaughters stated they wanted a drumstick as we sat down to eat.  There were only 2.  It made me a bit mad.  I tried to handle things correctly.  My true feelings were there.  

The next year, I bought an extra package of six drum sticks.  It was better.  I do try to be in place to grab one of the 8 drum sticks early.  With ornery children, you never know what has been plotted in the back smoky filled room.

So, certain days are anticipated.  We got that.  

Tomorrow, my wife and I have our 61st anniversary.  They do come around once a year.  61 years - that's a long time.  It wasn't all roses and lollipops.  On the average it was a pretty good run of sixty-one.  We drove off in my brother Marshall's 1962 light blue Ford convertible heading west for the Grand Canyon, HONEYMOON.  I was so naive.  Who would have thought you'd have to get a reservation to stay in main hotel of the Grand Canyon during the first week of August.  Never mind, though, we enjoyed the trip and didn't go broke.   Marshall loaned us his American Express card for the trip just in case.  Credit cards were foreign to us.  It was eye opening trip. in many ways.

Hopefully, we will make it to year 62.  Married in 1962 - celebrate #62 - that should be a bit noteworthy.  Bring on the dancing girls.

Taxes - birthdays - start of a new school year - Super Bowl - you can name so many repeaters.  My retired weeks and months roll around.  I pay my bills on a certain day.  We take out the trash on Thursdays.  My pitiful social security check comes on the 12th.  {side bar:  Texas teachers don't pay into social security - we have a retirement plan.  Thus, my few quarters of payments for various other jobs in the past, they do not amount to much.  Ten years teaching in Oklahoma got me 40 quarters.  Hey, the check  is not enormous.  I'm not giving it back.  Would you? }

My big issue of today, Friday.  The MEGA MILLIONS TAX.  That is what my son calls it when you buy a lottery ticket.  I think he was the one who said it.  I buy one ticket for $2.  That's a $2 tax since I never win the millions.  My own fault.  Stupid.  Very small chance of winning.  Tonight shows over a billion dollars.  I just have to pay my stupid tax.  Feel bad later about the waste.  My waist is another thing.

In my mind I have so many things I'd like to do with that money.  Scholarships to college.  Setup a company to disperse money out to certain high school bands who are always a bit behind the 8 ball, cash wise.  Gifts to certain lovely people I know.  The list is too long for here.  All of my family would become millionaires - not just my kids but nieces and nephew and brothers and who knows.  There are certain charities and religious groups who need my help.  I really "believe-In" places like the Methodist Children's Home in Waco and Boy's Ranch near Amarillo - gift to a past church choir -  the wife would never clean house again, Heck!! we could afford our own chef --

I've always wanted to open a museum of my junkie, worthless stuff.  Y'know, stuff nobody wants to see like my post card collection and stamps.  None have real value.

I bet in just this area, there are a hundred old guys with a worthless collection who are wondering what will happen to their collection of wickets after they die.  That's probably a waste of money.  So I babble.

I bet one of my few readers could come up with a million dollar project.  Perhaps, I could give $5000 to anyone who reads my blogs and actually leaves a comment.  

THAT is a rare commodity.

I close.  Time to go pay my tax and buy a big gulp.  The sun will come up, tomorrow, once again starting it all over again and again.

mmtz

Hot Stuff

 Friday - March 17th - St. Patrick's Day,  2023

What you just read has nothing to do with this entry.  However, it is safe to note that the above is accurate.  Not everything you read is true y'know.  I was shown something on Facebook a while go, it wasn't true.  Thus, we should make some type of an assumption.

=================================================================

DIDJA KNOW:

that a bottle of Frank's { Extra Hot } REDHOT Sauce will bounce off a concrete floor.  It will.` Yes, it will bounce one time if it hits flat on its side.  If you are quick enough, you might catch that bouncing bottle on that first bounce.   If you're not?  It will break on the 2nd bounce.  To be honest here [like I am never honest here??] - the bottle doesn't bounce very high - maybe 4 to 6 inches.  But, bounce it will.   Wait - but not twice...

Told you this is hot stuff.

The first sentence should have read Frank's Redhot, Extra Hot, Hot Sauce.  That is a lot of hots in one sentence.  Hot Stuff.  As Advertised.

Personally, I have always been a Tabasco Man.  Tabasco goes on most stuff.  I became somewhat addicted to Tabasco back in the 70s when my family was running Ragtime in Amarillo (this adventure shall be saved for a different bloggy).  At that time I ate what we had on the menu - lunch & dinner.  I became particularly fond of Tabasco on tater tots.  Don't knock it till you've tried it.  There have been bottles of hot sauce in my house constantly since childhood.  Tabasco has even traveled with me over the years.  I do like it.

Last week, reading my morning paper as I do religiously on a regular basis frequently in the morning oft times, I read an article about a Chinese guy who came to the USA via Hong Kong several years back.  He carried $20,000 in gold hidden in condensed milk cans.  Now, don't go asking me questions about how he did this.  

I cannot imagine: open a can - insert gold - tape the lid back on with duck tape ??  You figure it out.  I shan't recite the entire article right now - you can look it up somewhere. This Chinese brilliant man came to the USA.  He moved to N.Y.  Then, he moved to Calif.

In California he took some gold and bought a big building.  He started making his Sriracha Hot Sauce.  It took a while, but the sauce caught on.  Now it is the 3rd best selling sauce in the U.S.      -- 2nd best is Frank's.  Of course, Tabasco is #1.   The guy, whose name escapes me, became a billionaire with his sauce.  Good for Him.  Maybe Huy Fong ??

It made me thunk....think.   I need to try these sauces again.  Might be good.

jump forward

Went to an HEB grocery store in Round Rock Wednesday to pick up a few things.  I saw Frank's on a shelf.  I reached over an removed a jar.  But, it said  EXTRA HOT.  Nah, for my first time in a long time, I should take home the milder.  I put the jar back and - yep - brushed another one with my arm.  It flew off the shelf like it had a mission to complete.

Straight for the floor it fell, landing on it's side.   I grabbed for it.  I had time to see it bounce and sink back down.  Wham.  Hot sauce went everywhere.  My hand was just a foot off the floor.  Too Late.  I froze.  Who saw me?  Panic and Run?  What to do?

Behind me a 30-40 year old dark haired lady yelled (almost yelled) at me to not touch a thing.  She would go get help.  I had no intention of touching anything.  It was a broken jar surrounded by smelly red hot sauce.  Taking out my handkerchief, I blotted the hot sauce from my paws.  I stood and cautioned people to be careful.  The really nice lady returned with a worker.  I smiled weakly - apologized as best I could - thanked all for helping - grabbed another bottle of hot sauce - and walked fast.  

Let me pause the narration here.  I am old.  She was middle age.  Did she respond to me so quickly because I look old and feeble?  Was she afraid this really old guy might try to clean up the mess?  Or - and I hope this is it - or, was she just a nice lady who would have reacted the same way to a much younger, less feeble looking person?  Getting old is not always easy.  Being young wasn't much easier at times.  We all do stupid things.

That's it.  I ended up with an EXTRA HOT bottle of the sauce, which has turned out to be somewhat mild.  Hours later at home I discovered that my left shoe was covered in dry hot sauce.  I had spent the rest of that day showing my hot sauce adventure to the remainder of the world, ONE STEP AT A TIME.  Never Noticed. Not Once.  If it had been a snake, it would have bitten me.

Ethically, should I send HEB a check for the broken hot sauce?  I do feel guilty.

or not.

mtz3     

FNBO BABBLE

With an apology -  I have just reread what I wrote below.  It is nonsense to read.  How often have I been stuck beside some old person who just rants and raves about some meaningless subject.  They don't know when to stop.

Here is my  meaningless rant.  Try to enjoy.  You won't.

===================================================================

 Here is the deal.  A while back I had dealing with the First National Bank of Omaha.  I owed them some money.   I'm gonna make up some dates and $$ amounts here.  I don't remember the facts.

Anyway, lets say that I owed them $100 and it is the end of April, 2019 or so.   I received their statement; and, I mailed them a check for $100.  Well it seems that in between the dates that I don't really remember, I had used their card and charged something else - let''s say it was a purchase for $50.  

Fine.   According to their printed paper, if I paid off my debt, I would not be charged interest.  These clowns charged interest on the $50 when it was still in "it's" first month.   I called to explain.  The girl on the phone recited some garbage - I asked to speak to someone higher up.  If I am going to call and sit through the phone nonsense, I want good results.  Higher up person listens.  He recites some garbage.  I questioned.  He gave me the name of someone else to call - tomorrow.  I did.  Got another young girl on the phone and we repeated yesterdays adventure.  

After 3 calls and same garbage response, I gave up.  The interest was only a couple of dollars.   At that time I sent them a message to forget that I existed, and I cut up my card.  Done.  Over.  Complete.

Now that was when I lived in North Texas.  I moved to Central Texas in my motorhome and used the mailing address of my daughter for business.  That was about 2 years ago - the moving that is.

My daughter moved.  I moved up here.  The now resident of her old place gave her a letter addressed to me from this company. . They were sending their yearly credit rules.   

GADZ.   I have not done business with them for over 2 years.  How did they get my new/old address?  Mind boggling.

I am mailing them the following letter ( which I modify here because some folks like to do bad things when they get certain info).

 ================================================

TO:  First Natl Bank of Omaha 

Sir:

I have a problem. 

You recently sent me a letter regarding my account.  It went to the {new/old} address listed below. As an FYI, I have not lived at that address for about 2 years.  The above address is my current address. {address listed on letterhead by me}  

Frankly, I cannot find this card.  I do not have the slightest idea where it has gone.  Digging in my stuff, I found an old letter that I had written to you; otherwise, I would not have known how to contact you.  Apparently, I have not used the card for well over 2 years.

I had one account with  you that had made me angry.  I didn’t like the way you charged interest on certain items.  On the phone, I just got a run-a-round story.  This may be the card that I vowed never to use again.  Beats me.  I’m old.  Who can remember being mad over 2 years and 2 house changes ago?

Do what you want.  Send me a replacement card or cancel the account.  But, most importantly, if you are going to keep me on the books, change my address – please.

{signature}

Credit Card

0123 4567 8910 etc. 

Former addresses:

{old address}                                               {new/old address}

=====================================================================

SOOOOOOO,

This brings my questions.  Why would anyone do business with a company that has lost you for over 2 years?   Obviously, I am not a good source of income for over 2 years. Why do they mess with me?  I am willing to bet they will send me a new card.  I have another account with them - different company on letterhead - but still FNBO.  

I close.

tomorrow, I will try to write much better babble.

The Big Three

 Last December, I made a resolution to post more often.  Now that I have messed that up, in January, I am making a resolution to post more often even if I don't feel like it.

Moving on.

==================================================================

THE BIG THREE:

No, I am not talking about Russia, China, & the good ole USA.

No, I am not talking about Cancer, Heart Disease, & Warts.

And, NO, I am not talking about Trump, Polunkski, and/or Biden.

This list could be extended for several pages.  Make your own list of Your Big Three.  Let's see what you come up with . . , The, And, & You Know . . . Football, Baseball, & Basketball . . . Roast Beef, Pork Chops, & Fried Chicken . . .  Easter, Christmas, & Thanksgiving (with a nod to the 4th of July) . . . Christians, Jews, & Muslims 

We could go on with this for hours:   Rain, Snow, & Hail   You get my drift here.

----

My big three:

SOLAR - BUGS - & SHINGLES

I  live in a nice little neighborhood / housing development.  You can look it up online - love the title - Amity Estates.    Not Amityville, just Amity Estates.  I understand that our HOA has a new website going up yesterday or thereabout.  There is a facebook page too.

It's a nice area.  As of this year, the development is "built out."  This means that all lots have houses.  There will be no more building here. Of course in our associated close-by village - Salado - many many many more developments have been started.  These houses are not mansions.  They're just nice little, over-priced homes with grass and few trees.  I'm getting to the big 3.

We moved here about 2 years back in a house that was  probably built 5 years ago.  It is fine.  We're happy.  Now, that is the rub.  Sometimes we are not happy.  You sit back in your easy chair, relaxing your eyes.  They flutter shut.  There is a hint of a mild snore.  All three dogs  (ANOTHER BIG 3) have settled down for their afternoon nap.  Anna, Bella, and my own Sadie.   Sadie has a cushion by the front door and keeps a look out for killers and muggers and teenagers  (3).

All relaxed.  Settling down.  At rest  (3)

ALL OF A SUDDEN, YES -  ALL YOU KNOW WHAT BREAKS LOOSE.  The dogs have seen, smelled, or sensed (big 3) movement outside.  Let the barking begin.  Anna, the big girl, has the biggest bark.  It could cause deafness in the more fragile.  The other two have annoying barks.  I'M SURE their sounds reverberate around the front porch before reaching the ears of .... you may have guessed it ....  One of the Big Three.

Our neighborhood - being fairly new - is prime resource for companies who want more money.  They are a bit wrong about Amity Estates.  On the average, someone comes to my front door at least 3 times or more per week.  Are you getting it yet?

Today, my front door visitor:  Two fairly young, good looking men with matching shirts and a small computer in the left hand.  I stepped outside and said, "No, I do not want my roof shingled;  or my house treated for bugs;   and I do not want to place solar panel thingys on my roof."  They both smiled, and we had a nice conversation about me having too many salesmen trampling down my front sidewalk.

They moved on to the house across the street.  I stepped back into the house to try and shush my vicious animals.  My wife came out of the bedroom and said that she had really enjoyed her non-nap.  I put my trusty 45 back in the drawer.  And - I use this word too often - And, we both tried to settle back in before the next visitor arrives.

An Aside:  last week I was visited by 2 different young ladies from the Salado M.S. Band selling World's Finest Chocolate (and girl scout cookies).  This is different to me and happened after nap time.

To sum it up, I will add the 4th Biggie.  I get phone calls DAILY of people who want to buy either this house or my Rent house.  Each promises big money.  I did that type of work back in the 80s.  But, I only called people who had FSBO (for sale by owner) listed in the paper.  They were willing to stop and listen to me.  That experience is a completely different stone for a later date.

I close now because ANNA is in the back yard barking at the school bus.  I think it is time for her to come inside and nap more.

Thanks for visiting and listening.  "Hey, would somebody grab that ringing phone?"

mtz3 

If you are looking for an intellectual conversation -

 If you are looking for an intellectual conversation, this is prolly not the place.

For example:  let's take up the names of the days of the week.  Right there should exemplify my title for this missive.  To save time, I will will list them all now:   Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and, finally Sunday.  I feel certain that our names somehow come from the Greeks.  I don't know that.  Greek or Latin roots seem to plague us.  I know certain females who have dark roots - my tree has dirty roots - then, there was that TV show Roots.  None are related to my conversation.

Question #1:  When creating week names, did they start with Sunday or Monday?  It is my belief that our answer lies in religion.  Most, I say MOST, Christians celebrate Sunday as the Sabbath.  There are those who really like Saturday.  7th Day Adventist have their thing.  The Jewish community use to shut down on Friday night - or was it Saturday?  I'd have to go back and watch Fiddler on the Roof to know for sure.  Then, we have the Catholics who seem to be able to have Mass on more than one day.  To me that seems the most logical.  Have it when it fits your schedule.  Not going to complain - any group who has to go through all that Confessing in a little booth - they have my utmost respect.  I don't think I could ever do that and be completely honest all the time.

God create earth.  On the 7th day he rested.  So, in your mind is the 7th day when?  Okay, let's say that a couple thousand years ago, I am creating the names of the week and I am Jewish.  Sunday becomes the first day of the week?  This is not meant to be accurate reporting on my part.  Frankly it doesn't matter to me right now.

Let's say, this guy Amos said, "The first day of the week is Sunday."   

Then comes Monday.    Why, why,  WHY was the 3rd day not named Tunday?  Wenday?  Thurnday? and so forth.  It makes sense to me.  Spelling is a whole "nother" issue.  Well, of course, part of the answer is simple:  Amos wasn't speaking English - or in my case, Texan.  Maybe in Yiddish these names are listed poetically somehow.

I'll leave you with this.  If dogs had named the weeks, they would be Barkday, Snortday, Growlday, Pantday, Ballday, Wagday, and Napday (this would have been the Sabbath),  It is obvious that dogs would have had an 8th day:   EAT or COOKIE day

You can make up your own cat named days, starting with:   Purrday (derivative of Purrfect - albeit Sabbath).

Lunch time for me.  Later Miss Gator  (bugeyeday)

m3

I'm getting a Tattoo - but wait....

It is true.   I am getting a Tattoo.  I've held out for all these years while others were making black ink marks.  Not me.  I truly don't understand tattoos.  I once new an elementary P.E. teacher who had a tiny little butterfly on the outside of her right ankle.  I suppose it was lovely.  I didn't understand it then; I don't understand it now.  Someday that young 20 year old will begin to put on weight - or her ankle will swell up.  That cute  little butterfly will enlarge to be a large vampire bat.  But it was her ankle.

Follow this:  I am getting ready to have radiation treatments for 5 days a week for 9 weeks.   I muttered "That would be 45 treatments."  The doc jumped right in and said, "Only 42."  I suppose I am blessed.  I have a cousin who had 40.   Soon, I will report to the Baylor Scott & White cancer institute and they will zap me 42 different days.  I have been told that I will never notice it.  

The problem is:  the Big Zapper does not know where to zap.  They don't just take aim at you from 20 paces and let fly a jolt of uranium.  Nope.  Doesn't work like that.  Tomorrow I go in for a scan.  During the scan they will place a couple (who know, maybe 10) marks on me   in an appropriate location of course.  These will be tiny tattoos - so I have been told.  

No, I do not intend to take photos of the tats and post to Facebook.  I'm thinking, down in the area where the prostate and bladder are located, that might create a photo which would lean towards the Porn side.  Don't want to go to no jail for having my tats shown to some 11 year old child.  If they want to see my Tats, they'll just have to wait until they hit "OF AGE" and, then, pay me a lot of money.  I mean a lot of money.  I don't just show my tats to anyone.  I have standards.

Well that is it.  The prostate cancer saga continues.  One cancer doctor lady said I probably have 2 to 5 years or so.  I liked her.  She went to school at Dallas Skyline and played the flute.  Band kids will be my saviors.

As I close, my little girl Sadie is sitting at my door giving me the eye.  We are close to supper time.  She has "that" stare.    "Look into my eyes.  Now!  Come into the kitchen. Find my bowl.  Fill the bowl.  Don't forget the good stuff.  NOW!!!  You will not be sorry."

mtz3

 

Urine or Ur-out

URINE OR UR-OUT  (of what?)   😀

WARNING:  THIS WILL BE A RATHER LONG POST TAKING SEVERAL DAYS TO COMPOSE.  It will not be humorous - funny - gagging - or even perhaps eye rolling. Instead it will be a running description of what has happened since the end of last year.  I am NOT looking for sympathy or hugs.  At age 81, hugs are rather an advanced stage of groping and propping up.  I have already heard all of the "doctors can do great things" comments.  I don't need those either.  Just need to move on..

As of this writing - May 5th, 10:45 a.m. - the weatherman on TV is showing a storm heading this way.  He is talking strong winds - potential for a tornado - HAIL - rain - we got it all.   There was a time in my life when I wouldn't say:  "Hail."  I thought it was too close to Hell -   I always said that we had "Heck."  When you get older, your mind seems to wander (or wonder) at times.  HAIL comes up later in this edition.  The worse thing about  a storm approaching at this earlier hour is:  you have to watch morning TV to see the weathermen.  They break in and out of the morning shows.  Meanwhile you must endure the morning personalities:  smiling faces, jabbering females, uninspired topics, asparagus recipes, 

So my introduction is complete.  I shall now go to our spacious kitchen and begin preparing a delightful lunch.  What will it be?  Certainly won't be asparagus and tofu fondue.

Let me add that I have been a quiet person all of my life when it pertains to my personal self.  There are just some subjects I never attack.  With this entry, all of that changes.  You will see.

========================= pause ===========================

Last December, I was starting to have problems going to the bathroom.  There are 2 types of bathroom:  as in my childhood, we have #1  and #2.   My problem was #1.  I had always heard that old guys have this type of problem.   Since I had a GP doctor appt after the first of the year, I figured I could hang on till then and start the new year with the new insurance deductible getting paid.    Financial reasons.

In January, I was scheduled for a doc visit (we diabetics tend to see doctors on a regular basis.).  By the time the appt. arrived I was having more problems and my lower abdomen was hurting some.   I talked about this problem with the doctor.  It didn't seem to be an emergency to me.  The doctor arranged an appt with a urologist in Temple - Baylor Scott & White Hospital area.  Fine with me - but about 2 months away.

That was on a Tuesday.  On the following Monday, I went back to the doctor.  My stomach was really starting to hurt, and I was visiting the bathroom on the average of once an hour - day and night.  I discussed that I thought I might be constipated.   He suggested a certain laxative.   We eventually went on our merry ways.

My daughter Christine was working at her hospital Fri-Sat-Sun.  When she came in from work late Sunday, I knew that I was in trouble.  We loaded me up with the spouse and headed for BSW  (Baylor S&W) emergency room.  I was hustled into a room -  discussions were had - a CT scan was done of my lower abdomen.  Now, comes my favorite part of the story.

The emergency room doc came in and introduced me to a "catheter."  If you are as dumb as I was, you should look that up...C-a-t-h-e-t-e-r.  It is a fact that I did not understand catheters - their use - or the overall process.  I got a quick education.  They took a tube and inserted it inside of me - and water began to flow.  They measured the water.  My bladder held 2 full liters plus about 15 more ounces.  Think about the two liter coke bottles at the store.  I could have the extra ounces number wrong by a bit.  When I was emptied, my stomach quit hurting.  It was a miracle; except now, I had a tube running out of me.

I was transferred to a hospital bed after some lengthy time. My family came and sat by my side.  The doctors felt like it was a good idea for me to stay a while.  The tube extended to a bag.  The nurses dutifully emptied my bag constantly.  I discussed with the staff if perhaps my 2+ liters was some type of a world record.  They thought, "maybe."  For a person who is very self-conscious about anything to do with that area of the anatomy, this was traumatic.  Little did I know it could get worse.

Just for the record:  by the time I was placed in the hospital bed, it was Valentine's Day.  Aside stone:  food in the hospital.  I saved all of my menus from the hospital.  It was my aim to reprint them here.  Now, that time has flown and this recitative has become lengthy, I will save them for later. Surprisingly, the food wasn't bad.  There never was enough to equal a trip to Rosa's Mexican Restaurant or the Golden Corral buffet - but it was adequate.

On the 17th, I went home - urine bag in hand - tube sticking out.  An appt. was made with urology for the future.  After a couple or more weeks at home carrying the bag, the urology appt approached.  Meanwhile, I had learned how to disconnect the tube from the big bag and attach to a smaller one which I strapped to my thigh.  Later, I learned these were to be attached to the calf of the leg.  I didn't know.  The leg bag was better than the big bag carried in hand.

Another CT scan was taken.   When I arrived for my urology appt, I was ushered into a room where a short discussion was had with staff.   Then on a table, I had the tube removed.  A female nurse had me stand & I was told to fill the jug.   Big Jug.  I tried.   I failed.  I could not make anything work.  

I paraphrase here:  She said something like FINE...or  OKAY .... or ALRIGHT THEN - You get the picture.  She waltzed out and back in carrying 2 large sacks.  The nurse handed me a catheter about 18 inches long.  I am standing there with my pants down and a catheter in my hand.  She told me to insert it.  Yes, my education continued.  I was able to insert the tube - it doesn't really hurt like a hammer hitting you in the head - but it is a quite uncomfortable experience.  Tube inserted, water started to flow.  She handed me a sack of new catheters.   I was told to insert a catheter 4 times a day to empty my self - then, pull it out and discard.  I went home with 2 large sacks of catheters.

I learned that Medicare pays for catheters.  The staff put in an order with an Oklahoma company for more catheters and sent me home.  I had no large bag - no leg bag - but a sack of catheters.   

When I got down to 2 days of catheters, I called the staff and asked about the replacement ones.   It seems that an error had been made and the order never placed.   There was all kinds of scurrying about.  A new order was placed and my order was "overnighted" to me.  They did arrive the next day.  I have learned much about this process.

I did figure out that 4 times a day was not good.  On many days, I needed 5 times a day because of  the long over-night hours. I called Staff - new RX was made and more catheters overnight arrived in order for me to do 5 times daily.   Me thinks I may drink too much tea and diet coke.

Life went on.  I was still waiting for my urology doctor appointment to arrive. One morning, I was unable to insert the tube.  No matter how I tried.  It would not work.  I tried another tube with extra lubrication (yes, they are pre-lubricated).  I tried and I tried.  My bladder began to fill.  I made a quick phone call to urology -  loaded the wife into the car - and headed for Temple.   Once there I laid on another table.  A nurse tried to insert the tube.  She couldn't.  A doctor was called in.  Nothing.   Finally a team of 5 or 6 doctors and nurse worked on me.  Imagine me on the table with my pants down during all of this.  On 2nd thought, don't try to imagine that.

One doctor inserted a camera inside me - they DO have a camera that small.  Diagnosis:  When I had inserted the tube, it had taken the route of least resistance, right into the Prostate.  The doctors tried to insert another tube.  A smaller tube was tried.  The eventual answer was a wire which was able to make the trip - then a tube was inserted over the wire -guiding its path.  Tube in - the water began to flush.  I filled another couple of liters.

The new catheter was attached to a leg bag - I was given extra bags - and I went home.  No more self-insertion ----- self mutilation if you will.  Meanwhile, my phone message to daughter C brought her flying from work up to rescue the both of us.  I am going to point out here that the date was March 17th ... St Patrick's Day.   First hospital on St. Valentine's - 2nd emergency problem on St. Patrick's.  This does not bode well for Halloween - All Saint's day???

Just in case any of you are as dumb about this as I was.  The prostate sometimes increases in size as a feller ages.  This presses against the tube coming out of the bladder.  Eventually, it increases enough to completely close off the tube.  That was my joy.

About a couple weeks or so later, I finally had my first visit with my urologist.  We sat and talked for a while.  He said that he needed to feel my prostate.  I dropped my pants.  When he was done with his 5 second feel, he returned to his chair and said: "You have prostate cancer."  5 seconds.  None of my other doctors since January had noticed that.  This doctor decided in 5 seconds.  We talked.  He explained things fairly well.   I am going to jump ahead here.

He has given me a hormone shot - actually an anti hormone shot.  Later, he performed a prostate biopsy.  This exam uses a device to remove 12 different small pieces of my prostate. I felt nothing. The 12 samples are examined and a determination is made.  It verified cancer.  Mine is called level (4+5) 9 - which means aggressive.  This is not the same as stage I or IV or V cancer.  It is different and can be found on line.  Once the cancer was verified, we moved on.  

I went in for a day surgery.  They performed what is called HoLEP.  You can look that up online.  He explained that I had two problems.  One was the cancer and the other was the catheter.  The HoLEP made it possible for the catheter to be removed.  I am going to simplify here.  A device is inserted.  It goes into the prostate gland and removes the inside leaving only the shell.  I don't know if everything is removed or just most of it.  At any rate, I slept through the procedure - happily.  I spent one night in the hospital.  I had to urinate 2 times on my own before being released.  I won't go into this gory detail or the description of my roommate, but I did my 2 jobs and went home - no bag - no catheter.

Meanwhile, being concerned about the spread of the cancer, the doctor had me go for a Nuclear Bone Scan.   This was on Tuesday of this week.   Arriving at 9:45, a tiny bit of radioactive material is put inside my veins.   Then, at 1 p.m. I laid down on a table while the big ole machine passed over me taking pictures.   I asked if I could get an 8 by 10.  Apparently not.  It looked at whether cancer had spread to the bones.

Three days later, I received the call that my bone scan was negative.  There is no cancer in the bones at this time.  Now we are in the process of heading towards radiation.   That's it. I don't believe they ever cure prostate cancer...prolong,  but not cure.  We'll see.

=====================================

Now in an effort to make you feel sorry for me.  Other things have happened during all of this.

#1  My little dachshund Sadie suddenly had back problems.  The day after I arrived home from the hospital.  I had problems moving.  Luckily daughter Laura was here - She and my wife rushed Sadie to a vet.  Pills and drugs were given.   The next day, I changed vets to go to one who offered Laser treatments.  About 3 weeks later, Sadie was moving again.  I'm not sure she is perfect, but we hope so.

#2  Our dryer quit.  Bang.  It was older.  I decided to buy new instead of  fixing.  It took a week to get a new washer/dryer ordered.  Now get this:  it will be delivered on May 31st.   It is taking over a month for the items to arrive and be delivered.  My wife is going crazy waiting.

#3  We had the Salado tornado and hail storm.  The tornado missed us.  We had 3 inch balls of ice pound the house.  The back window of the Marauder was broken out, and the car took damage.  When the adjuster arrived, he calculated that all was fixable but the car would be totaled.  It is a 2003 Mercury Marauder.   However, the next day he called.  It seems that the Marauder has an $11,000 value while a normal 2003 Mercury is only about $5000.  The car is covered and not totaled.   It has been to a shop and is home in the shed.   Aside:  when it arrived, the left back window had fallen out of its track.  That window is halfway down and won't move.  Next thing is another trip to a mechanic.

#4  Roof damage.  Adjuster said only the north and east side of room had any damage.  Insurance would pay for half a roof.  He assured me that roof was plenty stable without new shingles.  I would have no problems with roof.    There is more.  That will come later.  Mtz

Blog (entry) of all Blogs (length)

With forethought, I ask forgiveness.  This may be the longest written blog in my entire career -- and I use the "career" word with a obvious, small tongue-in-the-cheek.  I plan to work on this one for a while as the day wears down.  So much to do and say, and nothing of earth shaking importance.  You give up your time to read my missive.  I should give up my time to provide something of moral or educational context.  On the other hand, I have not done it much in the past, why should December 31st of 2020 be much different?

A while back, I started reading some guy's blog about who knows what.  It went on for page after page - "HE," delivering what he considered brilliance on his own chosen subject - "ME," giving my all to complete my self-assigned reading task with glazed-over eyes.   I gave it up.  Which brings me to question:  What is the purpose of this little bluggy O' mine?  That's right.  You got it.  No purpose except to write.

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I am reading a series of books loaned to me by my #1 daughter Christine.  {We call her #1 because she was born first.}  The books are part of a fantasy series written by David Eddings and his lovely wife Leigh.  Never met them; but, she must be lovely.  Mustn't - Isn't she?  The 1st five books were The Belariad and the 2nd series of five is The Malloreon.   Fantasy - made  up world - sword play - magic - sorcery - lots of Kings and evil evil evil people.   In addition to these 10 books, he wrote separate books about Belgarath and another about Polgara, their autobiographies. Finally, a 13th book called the Rivan Codex.  I suggest you save this latter book for a time in your life when nothing else is important.  It is a rehash of everything. He does dip into his writing methods - a bit of ancient history - his scholarly background - some of his autobiography - and his research methods.  So as he explains, that gives him 13 books on this subject.  There you go.  Idle time is the Devil's workshop.

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It rained yesterday - we got an inch and a half.  It started raining again last night (early morning).  The weatherman projected more water today.  So far, he is right.  Continual downpour.   My backyard, or as we call it after this amount of rain - Lake Metze - is swamped.  If I lived close to the water's edge, I would be fearful of being flooded out.  Luckily my house sets on a hill looking down upon the back yard.  Wear your boots if you plan to slide down the hill.

It is times like this with so much water - let's call it a rain event - I worry that my front yard will leak under my house, and we will all slide down the hill becoming a houseboat - albeit, a houseboat on the bottom of the lake.  Hey, it could happen.

When I arose this morning about  8:30, I looked out front at the rain gauge.  It was showing over three inches.  Next, a peek at the radar on the phone.  There is a column of water extending south of us for a few hundred miles, all leaking its way northeasterly (what a word) towards my back yard.  If indeed it continues as the weather guru says for the remainder of the day - Richland-Chambers lake will fill to the brim.   

Now, that is a sight.  When they open the gates up at the DARN  (I just can't write the other word, this is a family blog), when they open the gates, that is a sight watching the pillars of spilling flood.   Below the "Darn" is a swampy area which fills until the rains eventually filters into the Trinity river - a few miles east - down the way.

Even as I type at 10 a.m., the rain continues to pour upon our roof.  "Rain on my roof."   I see myself swamping out front to empty the rain gauge sometime in the near future as we near 5 inches.  We have rain events like this at times.  It rained over 14 inches a year ago at one time.   Another time the lake was down about 200 to 300 feet from the normal shoreline and the rains came.  It filled our lake to the brim in less than 24 hours.  That's a lot of water folks.  17 inches of rain as I remember it.    It would be nice if the rain god could figure this out and give us a sprinkle or two during July and August.

++++++++++++++++

The house is quiet.  The wife meddles with her I phone stuff.   I sits here doing this.  The dogs have curled up in three different locations waiting - yes, waiting for the rain to stop.  Oscar cannot go outside and chase balls in the rain.  Actually, he could.  His ball thrower (me) won't slush forth.   Sadie finds it uncomfortable to wade out back even to bark at the squirrels.  Apparently, squirrels do have some brains and stay concealed during rain events.   Bruno, my big boy, is unconcerned either way.  Give him a cookie and a cushion to caress.  His massive bladder can fill to over-flowing, and he'll wait.  Rain.  "Why me?" he asked.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

In the back yard over by the ancient wood pile lies a low area leading up to the "sea" wall  ("lake" wall if you are a purest).  This has filled with water in some places to over a foot high or more.  The water from the surrounding hill tops flow into Lake Metze caught momentarily by the piles of cut wood - a wall of wood hunks if you will.    We moved here in 2008.   Some trees were cut and stacked neatly.  They were never used.  Snakes, spiders, lizards, creatures of all kinds find refuge in that wood pile - now serving as a lake retention wall.   Lake Metze flourishes.

)))))))))))))))))))))))

I took a break to go get naked in the bathroom.  Now there is a sight many of you might wish you had never envisioned.  It is much like the picture of the 500 lb guy on the beautiful, sunny beach wearing a bright red Speedo.  You simply can't forget some things you have seen.  With my refreshing early morning break completed, I walked out of the bathroom to a chorus of dogs barking - at me - standing by the back door.  In the sprinkle we went out and added fluid to the saturated grass.  Bruno, the most insistent, provided a bit of fertilizer to the lawn.  He is such a good boy...considerate, warm, appreciative, and very loud when it is poo time and NOBODY IS PAYING ATTENTION!!!

((((((((((((((((((((((((

About 11  (that's a.m.), grabbing an umbrella I swam out front and emptied the rain gauge:   4 3/4"   And, the rains still come.  The 11 o'clock news shows snow out west - as much as 5 inches.  Sure, poor slobs in Michigan or New Hampshire or Canada or North Dakota - or wherever, they might make fun of 5 inches.  Down here, that is a major pile.  I pause now to say that our trash man has cometh.  The house is filled with the sound of screaming dogs.  

Boy, was I wrong.  It was two labs from down the street.  They have broken out of their invisible fence and are roaming the neighborhood.  They are nice dogs - big.  As far as I can tell, they do no wrong.  Perhaps they can kill a snake or two.  What's wrong with that?  The trash man is not here.  His barking festival awaits us.

====================

Christmas has come and gone.  My entire immediate family came.  This house gets busy with ten people and eleven dogs.  Luckily the weather was fairly nice, and the dogs went outside during meals. I do have relatives who just might feed a dog from the table.  That would have created a swarming mob of dogs awaiting their share of turkey.  Didn't happen.  All of our dogs are pretty small.  Seven are dachshunds, 3 are pekingese or a close imitation, 1 basset, and one doxie/bigger dog mix.    The fellowship was fine.  The food was plentiful.  And, I got to sit in my own comfy chair a few times.  That's fine.  I was happy.

My children three and my wife have ganged up on me in the past about Christmas presents.  I was forbidden to give presents.  "Nobody is giving presents at Christmas."  It is too expensive.  No presents.  We have tried drawing names at Christmas.  No, not anymore.  So in defiance, I looked for little things to give to each - one year I gave fire extinguishers - another, was the year of automatic nightlights which worked when the power goes out.  I crafted a couple of years.

So what happens this year?  I gave no presents as ordered.  However, in turn each child gave me presents.  They were quite valuable / good / thoughtful / etc.  I must be getting old and guilt is taking root in their houses.  Next Christmas, do I follow my instructions?  Woe is me.  If it is up to my wife, we will give nothing and ignore Christmas all together.  It can be a trying time.

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Instead of individual gifts, we have a tradition dating back to the 60s,  We have a grab-bag, as it is called locally.  Misc. gifts are loaded in a pile.  We draw numbers and select a present from the pile.  The next person can pick a present or steal from another person.  There are other rules.   Usually, there are enough presents in the pile to go several rounds, drawing a new number each round.   

This particular game was introduced to me at a teacher's Christmas party years ago.  At the time, we were having money problems - teachers are not rich.  So, I gathered many small things together and created a small pile.  There was a wrench, a hammer, a work light, misc. tools, candy, etc.  There was maybe one very small child in our family at the time (Christine).  We traveled to my parents house, and I introduced the rules to my 3 unmarried brothers and my parents.   It was well received.  I saved a bit of money.  I didn't have to select individual gifts for each person.  And, my father and brothers enjoyed stealing from each other.  A good time was had by all.

The game continued over the years as each brother married and brought children into the mix.  We never had major problems with the game - well, maybe when my oldest brother Marshall started stealing gifts to make his daughter Marion happy (not her idea by the way).  We've had gifts in the pile from a wilted bouquet of flowers up to unset jewels given by Marshall.  I can remember a grabbag a few years back at niece Sharla's house which had an enormous pile and 25 or more players.  It was nearly a riot.  Try it.  Start small.  Inexpensive gifts.  It will grow.

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We had Christmas on Christmas Eve.  Christine had to travel home for work on Christmas day.  I smoked a big turkey and 6 extra turkey legs.  Roger works for United Foods in Lubbock and gets a free turkey each year.  It was big and good.  Thank you United Foods.  Leftovers remain in my freezer.  Naturally, we had all the extras: cranberry junk, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, mashed potatoes with turkey gravy, etc.  

Since I joined my wife's family in 1962, my family was introduced to Czech cuisine.  Her mother was a Macha (from the Kahanek clan)  and spoke no English until starting school.

You see Kolaches all the time in Texas.  Kolaches are rolls with fruit on / in them.  Today, many stores call anything a Kolache if it is cooked and has something in it.   Klubasniks (spelling wrong) are rolls with meat.  We rarely have Kolaches.  We have Klubasniks  here.  My mother-in-law would make yeast dough early in the morning then wrap the rolls around German sausage.  There would be piles of these on the table.  Since it was before my diabetes struck, I would eat half the pile if possible.  No sense sharing.

Now, my wife is making the meat rolls (solved my spelling problem).  #2 daughter Laura has even made a few recently.  They are sooooovery  good.   With MUSTARD of course.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Just dawned on me.  I have a smart phone (sometimes too smart).  "Look it up turkey-face."  

It is spelled klobasnek.  Definition from smart phone:   "A klobasnek is a chiefly American Czech savory finger food.  Klobasneks are similar in style to pigs in a blanket or sausage rolls.  But the meat is wrapped in kolache dough.  Unlike kolaches, which came to the U.S.A. with Czech immigrants, klobasneks were first made by Czechs who settled in Texas."   (Wikipedia)     

So there you go.  Klobasneks may be better than the grabbag (with MUSTARD).

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It is time to stop.  I may return and talk more later.  May not.  Let me leave you with an email forward from my friend Jay:

y'all take care until next time

Mtz

MikeMetze

M3

Monetize Me

 This will probably get me banned in Seattle - or wherever Corporate is.

You may have noticed that I don't have advertisements on my site.  I had them originally - way back when.  Then, one day I was thinking - a dangerous occupation for the retired of mind and body - and I wrote about the advertisements on my site.  I was trying to make fun of the advertising concept on my blog.  A week later, the "company" told me that I had violated policy and would not have advertisements anymore.  Thus, I have no advertisements.

I don't have a billion readers, never will.  I had always heard that you earn about 1/2 cent when anyone visited one of your advertisements.  Considering, on a good day, I might have 10 readers - make that:  on a really really terrifically special good day, and, then, perchance / maybe / you never know - 1 person out of 100 visits might actually slip up and click on an advertisement.  Considering this possibility - how much money would I be expecting to put into my coffers during one month?.   I would guess a penny at most.

But, then, being a naturally born greedy person, I could get my wife to visit the site and click on every advertisement every day.  Ooooooo  You can't tell me that someone out there is not doing this.  Some person some where - Oooooooo Yeah!!  This could boost my monthly income to 10 cents or a quarter.  Well, it might.  It could.  You never know.  And, further considering, I would never be able to get my wife to do this - too ethical most times - I believe I am back to the penny earned per month.

So, I lost my right to have advertisements on my blog.  All gone - no warning - no finger shaking - just a curt note that I had violated policy.  I didn't even know there was a policy about making fun of advertisements and making big bucks.  Betcha anything, nobody read the actual posting - they just picked up a word or two, and the computer made a decision.

Now, a question.   How much money must you earn before they send you a check?  Surely, they don't send a penny check monthly.   $10?  $20?  My wife has a small holding in a very small oil well in Oklahoma ... inherited it, she did.  That company will not send a check until we get up to $30.   I have not seen a check in over 3 months.  Wealthy oil barons be we not.

I do have a savings account in a credit union.   For years, I kept less than a hundred dollars in that account.  My earnings would be about 1 penny per quarter (every 3 months).  The good thing is that I never had to pay income taxes on that figure.  That is a good thing?

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Today I clicked on the "make money" button, just to see.  They put out a bunch of hoops to jump over.  I'm not sure that I am smart enough to figure this out.  And, when I am through, will I have to beg for forgiveness from Google?  Right now, this very moment, I am down on one knee pleading for forgiveness.

"Please send me my penny." 

One of these days, son Roger will be here, and I'll see if he can figure out what I need to do.  Retirement is never easy.  I need more money.  

Yep, no doubt, Corporate will read this and I will be banned for another 10 years.  Maybe longer.

See ya guys.  Time to feed the dogs.

mtz3

Sensitivity

 Yesterday, my sensitivities were offended.  

My "Fancy-Dancy" electric smoker has died.  It has gone to see the great smoker in the sky.  Yes, a new smoker will be purchased - eventually.  On occasion I still would like some pork ribs.  I do love beef ribs as well.  As a matter of fact smoked brisket and chicken and ham and turkey and onions are fine as well.  We have never had smoked rabbit, squirrel, or giraffe.  

Yesterday, we baked pork ribs in the oven  I coated them with some goop, and let them set in the frig over night.  The ribs were put in the oven for 2 plus hours at about 275 degrees.   The broiler was turned on and the ribs soaked up that fire for another 7 minutes.  BBQ sauce was on the side.

I found that my sensitivities were offended when I discovered that we had no parsley.   I watch TV.  I see cooking shows.  I hear them talk.  They always have parsley somewhere even if they merely cache it under their arm pits.  But, we had no parsley.  None.  I discussed this with my wife.  We got serious.  She accurately pointed out that during our 58 years of marriage, we have never served parsley - ever.  So, no parsley.   I cut the ends off a green onion and sprinkled it among the smoking ribs.  I had to do something.  No Parsley. 

                                           -*-                   _*_                     -*-

To be frank (or Joe or Pete), our old "Fancy-Dancy" smoker had problems.  Plugged in on the back porch under my supervisory eye, that smoker would blow the house breaker every time.  I replaced the electric socket twice.  Didn't help.  I learned to plug the machine into a wall socket inside the house.  There is one just inside the back door which was within easy reach of the smoker.  This worked fine.   Well, it worked fine until the machine gave off that one enormous bright light and ceased to heat.  It was much like the fourth of July.

I searched high and low (and on the internet) for a replacement heating unit.  Miine seemed to be a special size.   All I got from the manufacturer was, "We cannot find this model number in our system.  It has been discontinued."  I jumped on that bandwagon and discontinued it from our back porch.  All Gone.  No More.   Need New One.

My next door neighbor was talking about how he wants a new pellet smoker.  Pellet Smoker.  You put pre-processed pellets into the bin and smoke away.  I cannot see how this is better than actual wood chips of different types of trees.   I would love to hear opinions from most anyone.  (It would seem that a vegetarian's opinion might not carry as much weight, even though I have seen some excellent smoked veggies in my lifetime.)

I wait.  No smoker.  No parsley.  

Say hello to somebody for me.  anybody.   well, most anybody.

Mtz, sweating on the back porch.

(Again, I would give credit to the photographer - if only I knew same's name.  This guy is sharp.  I bet he lives in Edwards County.  I betcha his wife lets him sit on his back proch and smoke big cigars and drink regular beer - or Coke, of course.)

A Good Friday 4-19-19

4-19-19
This has been a Good Friday - actually it has only been a pretty good Friday.  The church choir sang a program tonight for the services.  My legs got very tired standing up there.   Some services are full of symbolism.  This one seems to have the most.  People seem to enjoy it though.  No problem here.
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Bill Etheredge worked with me in Ardmore many years ago...late 70s / early 80s.  He was one of the directors that I enjoyed working with and knowing over the years.  Bill is in an Okla. City hospital in bad shape.   I hope they are able to fix him up.  It doesn't sound good though.
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A few evenings ago, I was in the dog pit just as the sun was going down.   It was peaceful.  Then  in a nearby tree I heard a "Who-Who Who"   (half note, 2 quarters) .  An owl was calling - from a distance, a reply - too complicated to explain here -  just imagine a bunch of "whos."  My owl gave his signal followed by the distant answer.  You might describe it as a question and answer series.  After listening for a while - I answered with my own whos.  They seemed unimpressed.   I never saw them in the trees; but, I know they are out there.
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Our housing development has an HOA website where people post stuff.  One of the gentlemen posted that he saw a real large cat entering our HOA tonight.  I assume this is either a bobcat or a cougar.  Either one is scary enough for me.   They are out searching for easy food supply.  I've noticed a lack of rabbits in the yard lately.   Sad.
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I think I mentioned in an earlier posting that I have the motorhome back.  $1500.  I was previously told it would be $1000.  Camping World in Tyler - service dept - someone needs to take over that department and clean house.  At the least, someone needs to go in there and set up rules that service writers and mechanics should follow - no, make that "shall" follow.  If there normal customer service is what I received, they won't have to have a service department.  Boo!!! Camping World Tyler.
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enough -  The Etheredge thing has really made me feel bad.   Time to do something else.
m

April 2nd

It's been a month since I visited here. Didja miss me?
Lots of water has passed under the bridge since last time.  I have mowed my lawn 3 times.  Now, that is worth mention.   3 times and it is only April 2nd.  It will be a long summer.
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Might mention that the water line to my water sprinkler has broken.  Imagine, close your eyes, hum, imagine, I have a dock 100 ft from the shoreline.  On the dock is a water pump pulling water from the lake.  I have a 100+ft pvc water line going from the pump to my sprinklers.  Winter destroyed part of this line.  It must be replace.
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Also, from the house to the dock, I have a fresh water line.  City water goes to the dock for drinking and washing hands and whatever is needed.  This is another 100+ pvc pipe exposed to the elements.  It has snapped during one of the winter storms.  The dock walkway and sea wall face into the north wind and waves.  it gets beat to death during a storm.
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So I have to go out and remove boards from the walkway, locate the broken PVC pipe and replace.  It is not really hard work - just time consuming and a bit back breaking leaning over the water like that.  I could pay a guy to do it...Prolly about 2 to 3 hundred bucks.  Think how many Big Gulps I could buy with that dough.  If the weather will just warm up a few more degrees, I'll start.  You may not realize that standing over the cold water is a bit colder than standing over land.
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When last we met, the check engine light was on for the Flex.  Ford couldn't figure it out since the light went away and then came back and then went away...you get the picture.  I saw that it would come back on after filling the gas tank.  The flex has no gas cap,  that's not it.  I filled the car up one day- boom, there's the light - the next morn, I drove the light to the Ford house and didn't shut off the engine.  Their computer found the problem - some vacuum switch was being affected by too much gas in the tank building up pressure.  New switch order, new switch installed, no more light.  Me Happy.
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Last week we took sister-in-law Earline and 2 of her retirement home facility ladies to the Dallas  Arboretum.  We ate at Panchos and made the park by 12:30ish.  The two ladies took off at a fast clip and we sauntered along at a  relaxed pace.   A couple of hours later, they had walked the entire facility, and we hadn't.  But, we were worn out anyway.  Met at the car and headed for our respective homes.  All-in-All a nice day with good company.
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Saw the puppies at Canton this past weekend.  I do love to see a happy puppy.  I wish I could take them all home.   Y'know, I do not believe I have met an unhappy puppy other than ones I see on TV advertising animal control problems.  Those are really sad.  There were 3 different guys with pit bulls at Canton.  We just happened to be at the right spot when all 3 met for the first time.  Why would anyone have a pit bull?  It just doesn't make sense especially when you could have a wire-hair dachshund.  No logic.

Met daughter Laura and husband Tom at the Chinese restaurant in Canton for lunch.  They went on to the dog park to look for a rabbit cage - we went to the flea market.  It was cold.  We only lasted about 2 hours before freezing.
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Granddaughter Kayla turned 14 this past week.  Two more years and she'll be driving.   That should cause somewhat of a panic in Lubbock.  Brother Pat turns  "secret" this coming weekend and daughter-in-law Penney follows suit a couple days later.  'Tis the season to age gracefully.
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Wife went to quilt guild yesterday leaving me at home to fix my own lunch.  I opened a can of cold Salmon, cut a fresh onion, opened a can of cold pork n beans, plus crackers.  A feast for a king.  We learned this meal as children.  I realize not everyone thinks this sounds good.  My wife carried the trash to the curb (containing the opened salmon can) as soon as she arrived home.  Add a little Tabasco to the beans - yum.  It use to better when I could actually find red salmon instead of this pink stuff.  But it works.
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I am sure that I have something else to add.  Can't think of it.  Maybe later.
m

Here's something:  April fool's jokes.  Airstream sent out an email yesterday showing their new model the Bearstream.   Be sure to follow the link to the next page to see the rest of the joke:

https://www.airstream.com/bearstream-travel-trailer-2019/?utm_campaign=April%20Fools%202019&utm_source=hs_email&utm_medium=email&utm_content=71316811&_hsenc=p2ANqtz-8o8oZHU0w1s_LUS_I8lWp3kvUPwjtWgGi7Nkh7AqZtvieJzNNgExA4OAImZcoC3OiACnjvvCC9g5I6Cz8QB5cQF1_cWA&_hsmi=71316575

And Yellowstone sent out a link to a job search for new positions being filled.   I thought it was funny.  Be sure to follow links to the end.   (aside note:  Yellowstone hires about 3000 people every summer to work).

https://www.yellowstonenationalparklodges.com/join-our-team/now-hiring-for-unique-yellowstone-jobs/?utm_source=RPI&utm_medium=email&utm_content=99730&utm_campaign=YNP_190401_TacOffer_Bday_Guest&PID=19173532&PN_email=NkQuUPb3qG2jkYqYNREwuXi50kgZ2eJOi63YloJ1xzI%2BvvR%2F9gUYnANHrfGVirTEIlpaWsdtYZTFotlsxyAsF0mVOMrFiq%2B7iikjqi3OOBI%3D

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If you are into band things, I saw where a M.S. band director handed out the 1812 Overture to his 6th grade beginners yesterday telling them to be prepared.....etc.

It took about 5 minutes before a student called his hand on it.   April Fools !!!!

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now over and out.

m

Sunday plus

Sunday - 6 days after the last post - March 3rd.   March comes in like a Lion and leaves like a Lamb - so they say - and it is true today.  The cold front is almost here and the wind is howling - make that - "uh-howling" - water is spraying over my seawall (big waves).
       We spent part of yesterday trying to wrap my one plum tree with appropriate blankets.  Who knows why it decided to bloom last week.  But, it did.  We have 3 of those weather blankets (10 x 20) wrapping it.  I have tried tying it down - where there gaps in the cloth, I wasted my time by stapling those together this morning.  Still it bellows in the wind.
     Thus - a trip to Dollar General where I bought 2 packages of 50ft. rope.  I only used one to criss-cross over the top and try to hold the blankets down in the wind.  Just considering the $4 worth of rope, these are going to be expensive plums if they survive the next 3 days.
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    Totally unrelated - why does the tab key work when I am using this program?   To make a paragraph, I have to "space" over 5 spaces.  No tab.  When I hit tab, the cursor goes away - I know not where - it just goes away - I guess maybe to Tab Heaven.
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I did not go to church today.  I am so tired of the weather and getting out in it - I just hate the thought of dressing up, driving into town, and sitting in the choir today.   (of course - AND YOU DON'T need to mention it - I did drive into Dollar General).  Our church has a very nice Flute Choir.  Lots of the ladies played flute in their youth.  The church even bought a bass flute to round out the sound.  The group is directed by Rodney - nice group.  A couple of ladies from across town come over and play the performances - one of which I believe use to be a band director somewhere.  The flute choir is playing today for the service, so the actual singing band was doing no special music - just hymns - which, at times, can be pretty special .... but not a featured bit on the program.
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Dressing up for church is another subject entirely.  I realize that many people are wearing jeans and cut-offs and flip-flops to church now-a-days.  That is not me.  I believe that church deserves a bit of respect.  Others can do what they want.  I don't fault them for that.  It is just not me.  And, yes, I agree that no deity judges you on your costume - probably.  It is just a touch of respect from me when I am losing much of my respect for the entire institution lately.
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Speaking of church - and memories - we were speaking of them, yes?  We moved to Levelland when I was in the 6th grade - South elementary.  Brother Jimmy was in the 7th grade at Jr. High.   Nobody did middle schools back then. 
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My father liked to read the Sunday Daily Oklahoman.  I enjoyed the comics.  On Sunday, we 3 boys would go to Sunday School and church ... Marshall had not gone away to college yet, a Senior at L.H.S. After a few Sundays of this, Jim & I tired of hearing the preacher preach.   All he did was tell us how bad we were and where we'd all end up eventually.  That's not true.  I never listened to his words back then.  He could have been praising Putin; I'd never know.  What 6th grade boy pays attention to a sermon?
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Our Methodist church had a balcony.  That is where the teenagers all sat.  I remember the hymnals up there were old. Kids would go through the hymnal - select a page - write "Go to page #?" - then, they'd go to page #? and write "go to page #??" - this process would continue until the final "go to" page would have something written on -  not dirty - just something - like maybe a Kilroy picture - or something equally obnoxious.  Every one of the hymnals in the balcony had these written maps to stupidity.  As I said, the teenagers and elementary kids sat up there with no supervision at all.
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After a period of time and when it was warmer, Marshall would go to church.  Jim & I would walk the 5 or 6 blocks to Upshaw drug store and buy the Daily Oklahoman.  I suppose we got some kind of a treat - other than missing the sermon.  Then, we'd walk back to the church and sit in the car and wait.  On one occasion, the car was locked.  So Jim & I sneaked into the back of the church and up the stairs to the balcony where we parked ourselves on the stairway waiting for it (the sermon) to end.  Marshall was embarrassed beyond words.  Only once did we climb the back stairs to wait.   Being the older brother to two "infants" was a trial for Marshall.
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My cousin Earl just had a birthday.  His parents, my Uncle Jack and Aunt Doris, had 5 boys and one girl.  When they got the girl, they stopped having children.  Vickie was a twin with Victor.   Jack & Doris' oldest boy was Danny  (now known as Jack Jr.).  He was Jim's age.  Earl was their 2nd oldest;  he was my age.  and on down the list.  (Earl was known as Lee back then).  In case you haven't figured it yet, Danny's full name was Jack Daniel...Jr.

Well, Earl just had a birthday.  One of the things that has been bothering me is whether Earl is older than me.  We both graduated high school in 1958.  Using the premise that you have to be 6 to start first grade, that meant that Earl is either 9 months older than me - or 3 months younger.  
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Follow this now. When I was 4, we were living in Dodge City, Kansas - a few blocks from boot hill.  My mom taught kindergarten.  There were half day classes for kindergarten kids.  Dodge City had an age cut-off date of November 1st for kids to start kindergarten.  My birthday was Nov. 4th (still is the 4th actually). My mom took Clorox and changed my birthday to Nov. 1st so I could start school early and she wouldn't have to hire a babysitter for me.  I still have this birth certificate with the changed date.  You can see the 4 under the yellowed splotch and black inked 1.
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I went to kindergarten in one school in the morning.  Then, in the afternoon, I went to my mom's classroom for afternoon kindergarten.  Yes, I attended class for the full day and loved it.  Nobody said anything - we saved babysitter money - I got to do a lot of extra coloring - and I suppose I had a great time.  How did I get from the one school to the other school?  I don't know.  don't care.  never did care.  probably won't care in the future.  
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So, I started school as a 4 year old.  I remember 2 things from then.  One is that I climbed stairs to get to my mom's classroom.  The other is that I got to pick out a rug for nap time.  I had a colorful one made of some type of hard yarn -  Once in a while I still see this same rug for sale in stores.  Rows of colorful yarn tied together to made a 2 x 3? ft area rug.  Sleeps one little kid.
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Back to Earl.  His age bothered me.  Was I older?  Was Earl older?  How did we both graduate h.s. in 1958.  Sent him an email finally and asked.    I was born 11-4-1940 in Tecumseh, Okla.  He was born 2-24-1941.  This means I have been 78 for 3 months longer than Earl  I don't show it though.

Remember this was back in 1945...school ....focus, remember what we are talking about here ....
Times were different back then.  We were just coming off the depression and W.W. II had been  raging.  My mom changed my birth certificate and everyone pretended not to notice the Clorox stain on my birth certificate.  Earl's family attended a small country school south of Yale, Oklahoma.  According to Earl, that school was having problems with enrollment numbers.  So, they let him start first grade as a 5 year old.  I'm sure Aunt Doris was happy to send him off for the day.   Earl was "ALL BOY."  You wouldn't see that type of manipulation today - I don't believe.

We both started a year early.  We both graduated h.s. a year early.  I studied music and taught school for years.   Earl eventually went to work in the oil fields, on oil rigs in the Gulf, worked on pipe lines, and became a very successful person in that world.  All these years, it has been my opinion that I suffered somewhat in school because I was younger than the others.  It may be true.  In some things it took me a while to mature properly.  It could be this is an excuse and I am still trying to mature in most areas.   Maybe I should find me another colorful rug and see if I can restart in kindergarten next fall.  Surely we would still get to take an afternoon nap.

Stop time.
I've put it off long enough.  I need to go send some money to www.Donkeyrescue.org to honor my wife's Uncle Bill.  (see previous bluggy)  Donkeys need love too.

In future editions, plan to see my unkind words about motorhome repair at Camping World -  loud noises in restaurants - loud noises in general - progress on the road up the hill - plum tree rescue results - Ash Wednesday - Methodism according to fruitcake(s)...
m3.