A work in progress....bear with me

The fun begins...

And I'm sorry that this post won't have any gratuitous sex.  No, I'm going to discuss quant. As in quantitative analysis.  Today on my doorstep was a routine brown UPS box. I figured it was my new Gideon's Bible. But, not to be. It was this stuff. I'm going to be tested on my quantitative skills before I start class in January. I'm already stuck on the first problem, "Calculate the percentage increase from 12 to 33"  !!

wtf!!   I knew that in 5th grade, but not now. If anyone knows, please help me out.

The end.

Gardening is sexy

Maybe it's me, but let me explain. Perhaps it has something to do with my mindest, and the dearth of acceptable receptacles here, but the weather today reminded me of Spring, and everyone knows that's what makes a man's mind fancy. Nevertheless, today started with optimism. I planned to plant tulip bulbs. (I'll digress here and say that bulbs reminds me of bulbous, which reminds me of boobs..but like I said, I digress). Anyway, I researched the topic vigorously, and determined that November 8 was the ideal day to proceed. Not to mention that the forecast was for 70 degree weather.

I was quickly disappointed. Blackburn's Nursery, that little oasis of wonderful flora amidst the grotesque yard sales and billboards which line Hwy 23 in Appalachia, was closed. Perhaps because my enthusiasm got me there before noon and I was too early. Blackburn's is where I go to stock up on various plantings, mulches, and other things I don't really need. It's also where I got the bulb for the beautiful plant shown in this picture. This past spring I picked out the bulb with the help of an enthusiastic and wonderful helper. I don't think she's there anymore. I wish she could see what grew out of our too brief connection; I think she'd be pleased.

Not to be dissuaded however, I made the 40 minute drive back home, re-did my fantasy line-ups, and went straight to Lowe's. Unfortunately, no tulips there either. However, I did run across this interesting make-believe green house (2nd picture) and calls attention once again to things earthy and sensual. As I placed gently the prescribed 2 or 3 seeds (or maybe 8-10) into each little receptacle, my mind pondered how this seed planting is not nearly as fun as how humans do it. I trust that next spring the fruits of my labors will bring forth chives, basil, brussell sprouts, and some other fun stuff. (hopefully not of the 2-legged variety..just sayin).

To sleep, perchance to dream....

Chicago in the Fall is the perfect place to be. Unless you're stuck at the Westin O'Hare. I can look out my window and see planes landing, but can't see the skyline. That's OK though, because I'm here to learn about sleep medicine. If I stay awake during class I learn some fun things, ie about parasomnias and night terrors. ("From ghoulies and ghosties, and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night....").

I thought this picture of shorty and my granddog was perfect timing. Alycia calls her the Tattoo-Princess.

I miss them both.   

26 Things...Stepping up to the varsity team.

It's been awhile and I've been waiting to purchase a photo box to have some fun with lighting. However my friend Jeff brought me a gift to the office today. As  he can do, he's sucking up for my business. He brought an invitation for a trip to Portland, candies for the girls, and this little gem in a halloween bag. The labelled proof is 140, double-distilled in 1992. Released this month. Tastes of toffee, molasses, vanilla, & coffee. Although my house bourbon is Maker's, and when I go out I get stuffy and order Woodford, and when I really want to show off I ask for Old Pogue, this elixir is uber-special. Even you know who might like it (you maybe?). Poured over ice, with hardly a splash, it makes for a very sublime evening.

Hence, I made my own light-box: 2 white garbage bags sitting on the stove-top. If you ever get the chance ask for a couple fingers of Stagg. If you can't find it, my door's always open, and if the stars align just right, you might be able to enjoy a sublime evening with me.

Apple Festival

The temptation was great to portray the annual event in Appalachia through my eyes. Almost everything that I deem despicable  is on view there: grotesque obesity, tobacco smoking in my face, accents that sound like dirty fingernails on chalkboard, hideous dress, foul body odors, bad tattoos and hair, laughable "crafts", and on and on. It's a bad county fair on steroids; it's uber-Walmarting.

But, my shorty's didn't see any of that. They could care less that bad teeth and low IQ's are a direct descendent of a shallow gene pool. They don't know that my (and their future) tax dollars support the "disabled" walking down Main Street  eating corn dogs while high on Lortabs. They could care less.

They do know that they rode the tilt-a-whirl, that I bought them $2 pocket knives, that  a half Mountain Dew on a hot day is dreamy, and they got face paint. Those memories will stay with them a long time. There will be enough time in their lives to form their own prejudices and opinions.

Apple Day was not that time though.T