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It occurred to me last night that it's not the choices you make in life that determine your happiness. It's the number of choices you have left after you've made them.

Things I Learned From Hurrican Ike

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Sep 27, 2008.

Things I learned from Hurricane Ike

• When the electricity goes off you will still flip the light switch every time you enter the room, even if it's been off for days. And each time you do it you will be surprised when the lights don't come on.
• There are an amazing number of people who have no idea of how to negotiate a four way stop at a busy intersection.
• There is darkness ... and then there is the absolute absence of light. There's a huge difference.
• Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches can taste pretty good when that's all you have to eat.
• It is actually possible to go more than twenty-four hours without watching television and survive.
• Running into / tripping over things in the dark is painful.
• There are an amazing number of things you cannot cook without eggs, butter, and/or milk.
• As far as the local news is concerned, a natural disaster trumps a financial disaster every time.
• Ice can be used to barter for goods and services.
• If terrorists really wanted to strike fear and panic into the hearts of Americans, they would just create a gas shortage.
• People will get into a ridiculously long line without having any idea of what the line is for... and the closer to the front of the line they are, the longer they are willing to wait to find out why they're in line.
• It doesn't matter if FEMA does a thousand things right, the news people are still going to find the two or three people who think they were ignored by the government and put them on TV.
• I stink at finding ways to entertain myself without electricity.
• Rocks (and other dense, non-aerodynamic objects) can fly.
• If the wind and water don't get you, that tree in your front yard will.
• Living in a hot, humid climate with no air conditioning makes people really crabby.
• No matter how good your 'hurricane' story is, someone in the office will have a better one.
• Hurricanes suck.

Memo to the Houston Texans

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Sep 7, 2008.

Memo to the Houston Texans:

The 2008-2009 NFL season officially started for you today. That game against Pittsburg was not... i repeat, WAS NOT a pre-season game. Please feel free to show up and play for real anytime. Okay?

Thanks,
Dave

In My Opinion

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Aug 9, 2008.

Watching Sara Palin's speech tonight ...

---

Me: "She's hot."

The Wife: lowers the news paper she's reading, peeks over the top for a moment at the television, raises the paper back to it's previous position and returns to the article she was reading without comment

.... significant pause while listening to speech ...

Me: "I guess McCain will pull a lot of the female votes now."

TW: from behind her paper... "Hmff"

... another pause...more speech....

Me: "She seems a little arrogant."

TW: carefully folding her paper, placing it on the floor, then fixing her gaze squarely on me... "She's mean, I can't stand her voice and she gets on my nerves."

..... blink.....

Me: I pick up the paper and hide behind it.

---

Conclusions:

I guess I have been given my new opinion of Sara Palin.
I guess McCain won't be pulling the female vote so much.
I bet he pulls a lot of the Dem Men votes .

My Hero

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Aug 16, 2008.

Michael Phelps is my new hero. But it has nothing to do with his heroics at the Olympics.



Oh sure, winning a fist full of gold medals is impressive if you're into that sort of thing.


And being a World Record holder for just about every swimming event in existence is nice i suppose.

And I guess the fact that he's genuine, and humble and polite and just generally a nice guy makes him every mother's dream son or son-in-law.

But what REALLY impresses me is the way the boy eats.

Have you seen his diet?

Let me spell it out for you.

Breakfast:
For breakfast Michael begins with three fried-egg sandwiches loaded with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions and, of course, mayonnaise. And that's just the appetizer. He follows that with a five egg omlet, a bowl of grits, three pieces of french toast coated in powdered sugar and then finishes with three chocolate chip pancakes. Oh, and don't forget the two cups of coffee to wash it all down.
(Somewhere there is one pissed off chicken praying that Michael retires soon)


Lunch:
By lunch time Phelps stomach is demanding more so he pounds down a pound of pasta along with two large ham and cheese sandwiches on white bread with mayo. Just to be sure he can make it to dinner he consumes a 1,000 calorie energy drink to boot.


Dinner:
At dinner Michael adds to his caloric orgy. He has another pound of pasta, followed by a pizza (not a slice.. the whole pizza) and again he drinks the 1,000 calorie energy drink.


That all adds up to a whopping 12,000 calories .... per day. There are entire elementry schools that don't consume that much food in a day.

I wonder if he has a snack before bedtime? A gallon of ice cream maybe?

Oh, and for you ladies busy scribbling out love notes and marriage proposals to Michael? Do yourself a favor. Put down the pen and back away slowly. Unless you're Rachel Ray or you taught her how to cook, I don't think you want to have to fuel that machine on a daily basis.

Yea, I know. Speedo has promised him a million dollars for his efforts but that will barely pay his grocery bill for a year.

If you're looking to marry rich you might want to just take your chances with the lottery.

Solid Gold

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Aug 9, 2008.

The 29th Olympiad is here. The games have begun. Hopefully you got to see at least part of the opening ceremonies. They were beyond spectacular.

As I sat watching in anticipation of the torch being lit, I couldn't help but imagine what it must be like to be a member of the planning committee for the 30th Olympiad to be held in London. As one amazing act after another played out in the visual crescendo leading up to the lighting of the torch, there could only be one thought by those responsible for the next opening ceremonies.

Shit! I wonder if it's too late to resign?

Haha.. good luck guys. You're going to have to pull an Olympic sized miracle out of your ass to top this one. Better you than me.

It's all relative...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Aug 9, 2008.

When I got home from the gym today i sat down and turned on the TV to see what was going on with the Olympics. Double skulling (rowing) was on and the camera shot was in tight on the leader. The two men were focused, rowing in perfect unison and cutting effortlessly through the water. Watching the water zip past their boat as it moved along gave the impression they were practically flying along the smooth surface of the water.



Then the camera panned out so that the second place team might be included in the shot. In the background a dozen or more children were leisurely riding bicycles along the opposite bank and were having no trouble at all keeping pace with the leaders as they 'zipped' through the water.

Yet another reminder that speed is relative. As are wealth, beauty and all the other things we measure in this life. lol

It's Official

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Aug 5, 2008.

It's not an official hurricane until you've seen one of the local news people wearing their storm gear and broadcasting outside in the middle of the storm as wind, rain and the occasional loose stop sign fly past them.



Idiots

It's Heeere!

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Aug 3, 2008.

Everyone say hi to Edouard.

Edouard is our newest tropical disturbance in the Gulf and the local weathermen could not be happier. Right now it's a tropical storm but they're quite sure it will be a Category 1 hurricane by the time it rumbles ashore. The news people are giddy with excitement and are already staging their gear on Galveston Island where most computer models (which are almost always wrong) have Edouard headed. They've been watching this area of low pressure ease its way out into the Gulf from southern Louisiana and praying it would develop.

It did.




So what happens now?

Now we wait and see... and we prepare... and we watch the news people make complete asses of themselves.

The waiting part won't take long. Estimated time of arrival is Tuesday morning.

Preparation basically involves buying some batteries, some canned goods, water and maybe a little plywood. Electricity will almost certainly be lost for at least three or four days... possibly a week or two so no lights, no TV, no laptop. (that last one is unacceptable.. i may have to go purchase a generator tomorrow). Cell phones may be out temporarily depending on how much damage the cell towers receive. The hot water heater, stove and dryer are all natural gas so we should be okay there unless there's a break somewhere in the line and the gas gets shut off. I hate cold showers and that will really piss me off.

But the worst part of all is no air conditioning. If you've ever lived along or visited the Texas Gulf Coast in August you know exactly what I'm talking about. Temperatures have been hovering near the 100 degree mark recently. Throw 10 to 12 inches of rain on top of that, mix in the near 100% humidity that follows when the sun returns and you've got one of the most effective sauna's nature can provide. And it's not just during the day. Oh no, it's a 24/7 delight. I just can't wait for that one. Fans would help but since there's no electricity then that is not even an option. No, you just try to sit as still as possible, expend the least amount of energy you can, wonder what in the hell people did before there was electricity and pray for it to come back on.

Bet no one is bitching about their $400 electric bill this time next week. lol

And so we wait. I'll try to keep you guys up to date over the next 24 - 36 hours. There's not a lot to worry about. It's mostly just going to annoy the crap out of a lot of people.

Stay tuned.

Sticky Business

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Jun 28, 2008.

Have you seen the price of stuff in the grocery store? The price of a gallon of gas is a fart in a hurricane compared to the price of groceries these days. Seriously! When did the price of a twelve pack of beer go to almost eleven bucks? I'm seriously considering switching to crack. It would be a cheaper high.

Lately, it's nothing to come out of the store with a couple of small plastic bags not quite full and a bank account thats sixty dollars lighter than when you went in. When Starbucks is the best bargin in the store something is seriously wrong my friends.

I think I might have uncovered part of the problem though. Its the fruit. Yea, it looks all innocent and shit, laying in it's bins over in the produce section but don't be fooled. There's something dark and sinister going on with that fruit. It's stickered.

What? Yeah, no kidding. There is a tiny sticker on each and every piece of fruit. Every apple, orange, plum, pear, tomato (technically fruit you know), cantelope and watermelon.


I see a couple of real problems with those stickers. One, it is no longer possible to just rinse the fruit and eat it. Oh, no. You have to peel that little sticker off first. Good luck with that though. You might as well be trying to peel the paint off your car. That little baby is on there and it's not coming off without the assistance of a sharp knife (which, by the way, according to the terms of my parole, I am not allowed to be in possession of ...).

And second, who's job is it to put that sticker on there in the first place? I mean really, where do you go to apply for that job? Does it require training? Do you need a resume and two references not related to you? How much are we paying these people to put those damned stickers on the fruit? No wonder fruit is so expensive.

And what do you tell people when they ask you what you do for a living? "Me? Oh, nothing really. I mostly identify various agicultural products which are destined for distribution through retail dealers."

Is there a job title associated with that job?

And while we're on the subject of grocery stores... I've noticed that frequently, while shopping, a very mechanical female voice will flatly announce "Sevice Desk, two zero one".

What in the hell is THAT all about? Is it really necessary to interrupt Barry Manilow's "Mandy" to broadcast some ominous sounding cryptic code to everyone inside? Are there armed gunmen in the store? Is there another outbreak of salmonella? Is the gouda cheese about to pass beyond the 'Sell By' date? WTF???

Hell, the Service Desk probably doesn't even know what it means. So knock it off already.

Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on May 31, 2008.

I stopped at the local Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of things today. I noticed there were an unusually large number of skanky, sleazy, inappropriately dressed women shopping there as well.



I need to remember to shop there more often.

Note: I am, in no way, implying that BS is skanky, sleazy or that she dresses inappropriately. This picture is simply an example of the type of dress I witnessed.

Okay, maybe I am implying that she dresses inappropriately, but the rest of that stuff? No way.

June 1

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on May 31, 2008.

June 1st. Anyone know what June 1st is? Anyone? Anyone?

If you live along the Gulf Coast, especially the Texas Gulf Coast, you know the answer to that question is that June 1st marks the beginning of hurricane season.

I bring this up because hurricane season is special. It's so special that people around here start gearing up for it in March. It's so special that weathermen (and women) get downright giddy. They are as excited and nervous as a virgin bride on her wedding night. They can't wait to report that first 'disturbance in the Gulf'.

Home Depot and Lowes start stockpiling plywood, generators, and extension cords. Radio Shack fills the shelves with weather radios, flashlights, and batteries. Grocery stores stack cases of water and canned goods anywhere they can find the space for them. And the news people? Well, they do what they do best... and that is try to instill unnecessary panic in as many people as possible.

And what other natural disaster has it's own season? It's like it's a sport or something.

Yep, the party starts tomorrow. But apparently someone forgot to tell the hurricanes. The first named storm, Arthur, has already formed in the Carribean, a day early. Don't worry though, the news people were all over it. They've been flashing those annoying 'Breaking News' things on my television all day.

So if you'll excuse me I have to go get my hurricane tracking chart and all my supplies. I can't have a hurricane showing up here and finding me unprepared.

Oh, and in case you're wondering. The Katrina/Rita victims (remember them?) are still mostly living in temporary housing. Somehow, I doubt that they are in a party mood.

Party poopers!

We need a reason.

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on May 9, 2008.

One day he woke up and decided to run. No particular reason. He had never done it before. But it seemed like the thing to do. So he ran.

It wasn't particularly satisfying, it was actually a little painful. But something inside him said he should do it. So he continued to run. He ran every day.

His family and friends thought this odd. They questioned him. 'Why do you run? You never ran before.'

He had no answer. He had no idea why he did it. He just knew he needed to do it.

It bothered them that he ran. It bothered them that he had no reason for running. They told him, 'You should stop.' But he didn't. He couldn't.

They needed a reason for his running. Since he would not, or could not give them one, they made one up for him. 'He must be crazy.'

Now they had a reason for his running. It wasn't his reason for running. He didn't have one. But it didn't matter. It was a reason. They left him alone and let him run.

---

One day he woke up and decided he no longer wanted to run. So he didn't.

His family and friends thought this odd. They asked him, 'Why did you stop running? You always run.'

He had no answer...

And in the news...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on May 7, 2008.

And in the local Florida news:

The suspect killed in an exchange of gunfire at the St. Pete Courthouse was identified today as 30 year old Glen Lee Powell of Brandon.

A suspect is being sought in the murder of 51 year old Land-O-Lakes resident Diane Yeager-Lombard.

A recorded sex call between teacher Stephanie Ragusa and one of her underage students was ordered released by a Hillsborough County Judge.

Seven people were arrested in a prostitution sting in Clearwater.

Land-O-Lakes substitute teacher Jim Piculas was fired today for wizardry.

and a good samaritan was killed while chasing robbers in...

---

WOAH!!! Back up!

Did you just say Jim Piculas was fired for WIZARDRY?

WTF is THAT?

---

Yea, it's true. It seems that substitute teacher Jim Piculas made a toothpick disappear, then re-appear in front of his class.

Outrageous right?



So now he's fired for wizardry. Wow!


Memo to the Supervisor of Substitute Teachers:

Dude, making a toothpick disappear and re-appear is not wizardry. It's a trick. Slight of hand. It didn't really go anywhere. It was in his hand the whole time, hidden from view. He distracted you with one hand and simply hid it from you with the other. No magic here. No wizardry. Trust me, no 'Toe of Frog' or 'Eye of Newt' was harmed in the making of this trick.

Wizardry? Seriously. You might want to check your calender, genius. This is 2008. Not 1692. We don't burn witches at the stake anymore. Oh, and guess what Einstein? The world isn't flat. Yea, no shit... it's round! Who knew, right?

And don't bother applying to be a contestant on "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?". You're not.

Lucky for you public displays of Stupidity are not cause for termination although they should be.

Sincerely,
Me.

No wonder we can't get anyone except the pedophiles and deviants to teach our children these days.

Please forward this to everyone in your inbox...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on May 4, 2008.

As a public service to you, my loyal readers, I feel it necessary to point out that you probably missed a very important anniversary yesterday.

SPAM turned 30 years old yesterday.



No... not that spam...

The other spam. The one that fills you mailbox with 100 billion pieces of worthless crap every single day. The one that clogs the internet worse than a tub full of lard will clog your arteries. Happy Fucking Birthday! (try to control your excitement)

The good news is that the original SPAM (the one made up of pork shoulder, ham, salt, water, and enough preservatives to be the envy of any self respecting mummy) is celebrating a milestone anniversary this year as well. Yep, 70 years ago someone decided it would be a good idea to combine those disgusting ingredients, shape them to look like a ham, seal it all in a can and cleverly disguise it as a food product. I'm pretty sure I have one of the original cans of that crap in my pantry.

Since then a movie, a musical, an untold number of comedy skits and even a game have been produced in it's honor.

And just because I'm a nice guy here are a couple of links to help you celebrate:

SPAM Homepage

Spamalot - The Game

And last but not least...



Oh and if you're the guy that invented the internet version of SPAM.... I hope you choke on a SPAM sandwich.

If It Were My Job To Give Out Karma.

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Apr 30, 2008.

Every once in a while someone truly gets it right. They nail what life is supposed to be about so spot on that they should be made to teach the entire world how they did it. They take a situation that the rest of us would overlook and turn it into something so spectacular that if I were the giver of Karma I would make sure that good Karma would follow them the rest of their natural lives.

I'm talking, of course, about Mallory Holtman and Liz Wallace.

If you don't know who these two ladies are let me give you the Reader's Digest version of who they are and what they did. Then you can go read the whole story later if you want.

Mallory and Liz play softball for Central Washington University. During a playoff game a member of their arch rival school, Western Oregon University, hit a home run with two runners already on base. She missed first base and as she turned to go back and touch the base she blew out her knee and could not continue running the bases.

The rules state that the person who hit the home run must touch all the bases. The rules also state that that person may not be assisted by members of her own team. The only recourse according to the umpires was for her coach to replace her with a substitute runner, but that runner would be placed on the last base touched (first) and the homerun would become a single. (turns out that was not actually the rule but no one, including the umpires, knew that at the time)

While everyone was trying to figure out what to do, Mallory asked the umpire if there were any rule against members of the opposing team assisting her. When the umpire said no, Mallory and her teammate cradled the injured girl and carried her to each base, gently putting her down enough at each one so that she could touch it with her good foot. The girl, Sara Tucholsky, was awarded the home run and her team went on to win the game due in large part to that home run.



Mallory and Liz's team lost and was eliminated from the playoffs.

And as if that weren't enough, it was Sara's first and only career home run. But Mallory and Liz didn't know that at the time.

Good job ladies. You have my utmost respect and admiration forever.

The full story.

My Dad - An Update

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Apr 17, 2008.

My dad's struggle is over. Tonight he begins a new journey and my journey through this life now takes a new direction. To everyone who has ever traveled with us or provided a sense of direction or a word of encouragement along the way, my sincerest and most heartfelt thanks. I love you all. May God Bless.

Allergies my ass!! I'm dying here.

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Apr 16, 2008.

For three days I've suffered. Headaches, runny nose, itchy watery eyes, aches and pains... you know the feeling. But, being male, I loaded up on Tylenol and Sudafed (the real shit, not that candy assed stuff they put out on the shelf now) and pressed on. Going to see a doctor was not really an option.

Now don't get me wrong. I didn't say I was being the strong silent type and suffering in silence. Oh hell no. When I'm sick I'm the biggest baby there is and trust me...EVERYONE knows I don't feel well. But as I stated before, seeing a doctor was not an option.

Last night however, that changed. Sneezing, coughing (i'm still looking for one of my lungs) and fever were thrown into the mix and I was pretty sure I was going to die.

Obviously I didn't and when I got up this morning I agreed to make an appointment to see the doc.

I won't bore you with the details but bottom line is the doc says I have allergies which created drainage which got infected which made me sick.

WHAT? ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME?

There is no way I felt that bad because of some stupid allergies. Surely I have some sort of horrible, unknown to mankind, disease! Do you have any idea how badly I felt last night?????? Come on doc... I took off work today. How can I go back and face my co-workers with tales of my sickness when it was just allergies??? That's lame! How am I supposed to get maximum pity from allergies???? Sheesh!

Oh well, on the bright side... the nurse that gave me a shot in the ass was hot and I have some pretty impressive looking meds to take for the next few days.

And now you know why I don't go see the doc. He's no help at all.

If I had wanted to be a doctor...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Mar 3, 2008.

228.

That's the number of days my dad had been in some type of medical care facility ranging from intensive care to skilled nursing.

Follow the bouncing ball.

He gets better, he gets worse. The only constant has been his attitude. It's been good the entire time. Amazingly good. His nurses love him. He's mentally alert and he teases with them constantly. I suppose it's rare to have a patient be that sick and still be that chipper.

I doubt I could have remained positive for so long. In fact, if I had had to deal with some of the stupidity he's had to deal with, i'd have probably killed someone by now.

I've learned so much in the last 228 days.

I know medical terms a non-medical person shouldn't know. I've filled out their forms so many times that now I have to show the nurses where I'm supposed to sign. They seldom get it right. I know about medications and their side effects. I know what a Level of Care form is. I know all the possible outcomes of at least a dozen different procedures, good and bad. I know the Texas Medical Center like the back of my hand. I know that as long as you act like you know what you're doing that you can go just about anywhere at any time and no one will even give you a second look. I know that the chairs in a hospital are incredibly uncomfortable. I know that there are good and bad nurses and there are good and bad doctors. I know what CHF is. I know an amazing amount of medical supplies get wasted every day. I know that i'm sick of washing my hands every time i go into and out of my dad's room. I know that certain pain meds make my dad halucinate, and not in a good way.

I know that the care you receive depends on your ability to pay. It depends on how many 'Medicare' days you have left. It depends on whether Medicare or your insurance company deems it 'necessary'. It depends on how badly the hospital needs the bed you're laying in. It depends on how risky a procedure is and what the chances are that the doctor will be sued if it goes badly. It seldom depends on you or your condition.

I know that I know more than I ever wanted to know about what goes on inside a hospital. I know that I'm tired of having to make decisions that I'm not even close to being qualified to make. I know that if I had wanted to be a doctor I'd have gone to fucking medical school.

Get well dad. Come home.

Into each life...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Feb 2, 2008.

"It's the things I might have said that fester." - Clemence Dane

I went to a funeral this morning.

Seems I've been doing a lot of that lately. Far too much for my liking.

The service this morning was for a friend of my father. A very dear friend. A friend who goes back to before I was born. My dad is still in the hospital so I felt I should go and represent him. He didn't ask me to, no one really expected me to, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

It was a beautiful service. My dad's friend had been a volunteer fireman for 27 years before he retired from the department so there were many men and women in uniform. There were his friends and of course his kids, grandkids and even great-grandkids. The mayor was even there.

Toward the end, the chaplain recounted some funny storys that the family had told him. We all laughed. Then he asked if anyone there wanted to relate anything to the family about their dearly departed.

I should have stood up. I should have told them how I believe that people come into our lives to fill a need. To help us in some way. And when that need is filled they move on. I should have told his kids that if it were not for their dad being in my dad's life at a very critical time, that my dad's life would have surely turned out very differently, and by extension, so too would have mine. I should have told them that their dad, in is own way, had made a difference in not only my life but the lives of the hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people who he had helped. As a fireman, as a friend, as a father he did so much and he only asked for respect in return. I should have told them his life mattered to me.

And in the end isn't that all we can really hope for. To know we have made a difference in someone else's life. To matter to someone.

But I said none of those things. I waited until it was over, then I hugged each of his children and told them how sorry I was for their loss. We cried together and I left.

I suck.

Is it wrong?

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Jan 15, 2008.

Is it wrong that I love this commercial?

I laugh my ass off every time I see it.





I know... I know... (shaking head)
I'm going straight to hell.

There were instructions???

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Jan 12, 2008.

South Beach Breakfast Wraps

Microwave Cooking Instructions

Tear open one end of plastic pouch.
Place one wrap (in pouch) folded side down on microwave-safe plate or paper towel.
Microwave on High for 1 minute 45 seconds.
Remove from pouch before eating.

---

Does anyone know approximately how long it takes to digest plastic?

Just asking...

Thanks Ben (Franklin)

I'm reposting some of my old blog material, mostly to get it all in one place again. This was originally posted on My Space on Jan 5, 2008.

Somehow, I forget how much I enjoy going to the public library. I've loved going there since I was a child. (Yes, smartass! They had libraries when I was a kid.) It has always been a magical place... quiet, cool, relaxing.



There are comfy chairs to lounge in or tables to sit at if you prefer a more structured environment. There's computers attached to the internet if you feel the need to connect to the outside world and everywhere people are securely locked away in their own personal space. Some are reading, some studying, some carrying on whispered conversations but they are all being respectful of everyone else's need and or desire for peace and quiet. Time seems to stand still.



You know, if you think about it, time actually does stand still. All that knowledge, all that information, all that passion frozen in time on the pages of books and magazines. It's awesome.

As you might have guessed, I stopped by the library on my way to the gym this afternoon. There were a few things that caught my attention while I was there.

First, there were an amazing number of people there today. It was actually a bit crowded. Not like at a baseball game or a concert, but crowded none the less. Even more surprising to me was the disproportionate number of young people there (under 20). I don't know why this stood out for me but it did. I guess with the proliferation of the internet and video games I had assumed that libraries had gone out of style for kids, only visited by those who attached sentimental value to them like myself. Granted, some of the younger teens were there socially, (what better place could there be for fourteen year olds to sit and make doe eyes at each other for hours at a time??) But even factoring out those few, there were a large number of teens there. Maybe there's hope for the future after all.



And the librarians and volunteers were incredibly nice and helpful. Why is it that people who get paid to help you (store clerks, etc?) mostly treat you like you're an annoying piece of shit on the bottom of their shoe, but the volunteers (or woefully underpaid employees) at the library bend over backwards to make sure you're finding what you need and having no problems checking out? Doesn't make sense to me.

Well, actually, it does but that's another blog entirely.

Anyway, it was a refreshing stop on my way to the gym. I have to remember to do that more often.

Oh, and in case you're wondering.... A Child Called "It" by Dave Pelzer (recommended by a close friend) and a hand full of books about drawing and sketching were the treasures I left with.



I'll let you know how it turns out. :-)

Sometimes Life Is...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material, mostly to get it all in one place again. This was originally posted on My Space on Dec 11, 2007.

My daughter is an RN at Texas Childrens Hospital. She works in the Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit. Other than that I don't really know a lot about what she does. I know she does amazing things and I suspect saving kids lives is a matter of routine for her. So is taking crap from parents who are scared to death and don't know who else to blame. I'm sure it can frequently be very overwhelming. She calls me when it gets to be too much and lets me help her carry her burden. I love that about her.

Like the time she had to remove one of her babies from life support. The parents were 14 and 16 years old. They could not bear to watch so they said their goodbyes and left, leaving my daughter to gently unplug all the tubes and wires and wait for the inevitable. It was definitely one of her lowest moments professionally. She called and cried and I listened. She didn't know it but I cried too. Some days life just sucks.

I got another call today. It was her day off. She said, 'Guess what?'

I could tell she had been crying but I could also tell it wasn't the "I've got bad news." kind of crying.

"What?", I said gently.

"My baby got a heart." she said, the tears starting again.

Since she has no childred of her own I knew she meant one of the kids she takes care of at the hospital had received a heart. A transplant.

Again I listened. Again I cried.

Some days life is good beyond description.

How do you say..... ??

I got out of my car at the gym tonight and the first thing I noticed was a bundle of roses wrapped in cheap cellophane laying on the windshield of the car across from me.

This of course raised many questions (and a few red flags) in my mind.

1. Is this the work of a secret admirer, romantic partner, or somebody that screwed up?
   
2. If it's that last one, what sort of transgression equals one dozen cheap roses?
   
3. Is the person driving that car going to be happy to see those on the windshield? (i'm guessing no)
   
4. Is a restraining order somehow involved?
   
5. Would it have killed the cheap bastard to have spent another 50 cents for some green tissue and a matching ribbon to wrap those in?
   
6. Was that a price tag I saw on the cellophane?
   
7. Will someone else take them before the intended recepient arrives to claim them? (I mean, this IS Houston. Right?)
   
8. Do I have time to hang around and see who's driving that car?

Personally, I think the guy (if it was a guy) should have carried them proudly into the gym and delivered them straight to the object of his affection, unless of course she might be carrying a pistol, a restraining order, or working out with her 250 lb 'roided up boyfriend. Then maybe leaving them on the windshield was a better idea.

So my real question is this. What would your reaction be if you walked out and found cheap roses, still wrapped in the clear cellophane they sell them in at the grocery store, laying on your car? Is that at all romantic? Or just creepy?

Anyone? Anyone?