LETTING FANTASIES BECOME OUR REALITY

Blog number 426 **** 29 September, 2010

One of the little innocent joys in my life is to walk to the mailbox a block away, listening to the radio on my headphones. I usually go sometime after Judge Judy is over. There is some really good music on the radio at that time of day and later. Sometimes I'm walking in the dark, listening to some Pink Floyd or Bob Seegar, looking at the moon and clouds, if there are any, feeling the warm air. Ah. Very nice.

We went to Walmart today, and before we left, I checked the battery in my radio and it was charged. Tonight, when I got ready for my walk to the mailbox, I plugged in my earphones, turned on my radio and it turned off. I checked the battery and it was dead. Why? I dunno.

I was going to wait until the battery charged to go to the mailbox, but then I decided, "what the hell." I decided to go anyhow, see what that was like - going without my music.

What happened was that I began thinking about things. It took me back to a time when one of my greatest joys was not listening to music, but just walking and thinking on my way to Weatherstones or downtown, or just sitting on my front porch, thinking. I had forgotten how much fun that was.

I was also reminded of the time I was with the Moonies for the weekend. They didn't like to be called that, they wanted to be called, the "Unification Church." But everybody except them called them, "Moonies," after their leader, Reverend Moon.

I really liked being there. It was fun. However, it was one of those cults that don't like you to ever be by yourself. I had two young cuties assigned to me so that I would never be alone. Even when I had to go to the bathroom, they waited outside for me.

They were very attentive to me, but when I no longer hung out with the Moonies, they cut me cold. They called what they had been doing, "love bombing." Females of course, got male attendants.

I wanted to come back the next weekend, but I had a reservation I tried to resolve by talking to the guy that was in charge of our group. I told him I would really like to come back another day, but I needed some time alone to think every once in awhile while I was there - that I could not stand not having some "me" time now and then. He said that wasn't possible, so that was that. Too bad. Ah, well.

I understood from this that all those people there - two or three hundred? never had time alone to think. Busy, busy busy.

It didn't seem to bother them, that they had no time to just think about things. Of course if they ever did, they wouldn't stay with the Moonies very long and that was the whole point of the exercise of never being alone or not busy. Too easy to lose followers if they started thinking about what they were doing. That's true also of any group that relies upon desciples for its existence - not just religious groups like the Moonies, but also political parties, and of course, my biggest bone of contention, people who are unconsciously under the sway of cultural conditioning.

TO PEE OR NOT TO PEE

Blog number 425 **** 29 September, 2010

I read the paper this morn. Saw an advertisement for a company seeking volunteers for an OAB study. You don't know what medical condition OAB is? Are you kidding me! It's an acronym for overactive bladder, silly. You should know that.

You HAVE heard of RLS, haven't you? Restless Leg Syndrome? I thought so.

It seems that some people, when they get a little older begin to notice that they have to urinate more frequently than they did when they were in their mid-twenties. Go figure.

The ad lists the qualifications you must have - age 65 or older, noticing frequent desires to urinate, pee the bed occasionally, and have health problems relating to aging. Health problems relating to aging? Are you kidding me again! But wait. You have to hear the goodies you get for accepting the position of an OAB study volunteer.

You "receive study-related care at no cost." That means you don't have to pay for any water you may drink, you don't have to pay for the chair you may have to sit on, you don't have to rent the floor you walk on, you don't have to pay for any drugs they may inject in you. Things like that.

You will "receive study medication or placebo (inactive substance) at no cost." Let's see. YOU want to study my reaction to a drug you put into my old body, and I don't have to pay for it. Generous to a fault, you be.

You "may be compensated for time and travel for the required 5 doctor visits over 14 weeks." Now, this doesn't say you WILL be compensated. It says you MAY be, which insinuates very strongly - at least to me, that you may not be. And if you DO get compensated, you'll come out even, moneywise. It's a "come out even - lose" situation.

14 weeks out of my time, 5 doctor visits on top of the visits I already make to a doctor due to my incontinence, and I may just have to pay for my own travel expenses. And that's all the benefits I will ever receive for this. With all those benefits, it's no wonder they can't give out any money for this study that may cause me to die a few years earlier from the untested drugs they want to give me.

I read a few weeks ago that this proliferation of medical studies that is now going on - where you see an ad seeking study volunteers in the paper almost every week, that the drugs they give you is not meant to help your particular disease in any way. No, what they are looking for is to see if it will harm you. THAT'S the study. "Will this kill you?" I sure hope not, but let's see, shall we?

...AND MAYBE NOT.

Blog number 424 **** 28 September, 2010

You will be pleased to know that I am becoming clairvoyant. Obviously. Not obviously that you will be pleased that I am becoming clairvoyant, but that I am obviously becoming clairvoyant. However, there is a drawback. It is seems that it is not the kind of clairvoyancy that does anybody any good.

For the first time ever, about a week ago, I strongly felt the need to put my name and address in my glass case in case I ever lost my reading glasses. I just KNEW I was going to lose them soon.

The very next day, we went to our favorite restaurant in Chandler. While waiting for our food, I showed my wife what I had done to the inside of my glass case. We left the restaurant and drove several miles to Barnes and Noble. When I checked for my glasses to make sure I had them so I could look through various books, I couldn't find them. I must have left them in the restaurant. We called the restaurant, but they couldn't be found. Fast forward to today, a week later.

When we walked in, the hostess said that a customer had found my glass case on the floor under the table. She said that they had looked there when we called, but since it was dark under there and my case was dark, they couldn't discern it. Evidently the customer kept feeling something strange with her foot and reached under and pulled it out.

The hostess said they didn't have a phone number for us and when I told her it was inside the glass case, she said they never thought to look for it there. So I guess maybe besides getting clairvoyant, I better work on my telepathic abilities. I have reached the stage where I am a work in progress, I guess.

Hah! I have been sitting here studying this entry for several moments now. I don't really like it, but it also really ain't that bad. Good enough to keep, or bad enough to throw away? Who knows? I don't. I'll probably keep it. Maybe treat it like an entry in my diary. Diary entries can be innocuous. And this Blog entry qualifies as innocuous, that's for sure. Maybe even insipid.

Here goes.

Enjoy.

AN APOLOGY AND AN EXPLANATION

Blog number 423 **** 26 September, 2010

I just went back to the very beginning of my foray into Blog writing and started editing the entries until they are where I am comfortable with them. I deleted a few - some excerpts from books, some that were nonsense, things like that.

I realized it took me a while when I first started writing in my Blog, never having done such a thing before, to get into the swing of things. I am now at the point where I am comfortable with the entries.

One thing I noticed was that I used some fairly raw language back then. It didn't seem raw at the time to me, but since coming here to Casa Grande to live, I have had frequent contact with a person who has become my language moral guide. He has made me a little more civilized, I guess. The only real problem I have with any of his no-nos is the one about taking the Lord's name in vain. Two things about that. Well, three, actually.

One, I cannot imagine that anything as powerful and complete and loving as God would have a problem with whatever His creations would call Him, or say about Him. Or anything we might do or say about anything. All this seems kinda petty of Him to me.

Two, "in vain" means doing something which doesn't work. Somehow, down through the ages, it got twisted into nonsense. "In vain" now means, "don't call Me that." But only in relation to God. Otherwise it still means the same thing it has always meant.

And three, censoring common sayings in the language which is being used in writing severely interferes with the poetic sense of the writing. It's like typing with a sore finger.

This is true also of the spoken word. I guess though, it would be more like speaking with a sore tongue rather than a sore finger.

I would really like to have my entries read like anything you might find in a newspaper. In the beginning, I didn't care much about what words I used, wishing only to produce interesting and/or funny pieces. When I went back and edited those old entries, I tried to delete any words that a newspaper would not allow. I don't think I got them all, but I tried. I am not as perfect as I used to be.

So don't be afraid to look into the archives. I've cleaned it up especially for you. Smells like Pine Sol in there now.

POT POUR EEE

Blog number 422 **** 24 September, 2010

I was born on a farm in northern Iowa, moved to Des Moines when I was four, spent the summers on my grandparent's farm, lived there again from age twelve to fifteen, when we moved to Emmetsburg, Iowa - a small town about twelve miles from our old farm.

My Grandmother raised a flock of chickens. The money she got from selling the eggs was hers. One of the things she fed her chickens was skim milk. One of my jobs was to pour the milk into their trough, so I was often able to watch chickens drink. They loved milk.

I was also able to watch various birds drink from standing water after a rain. I grew up seeing birds drink. And yet, only today, reading a book, I learned that birds cannot swallow and that's why they have to tip their heads up when they drink, so that the fluid will run down their throats.

I don't know how that tidbit affects you, but for me, I was kind of stunned. It never occurred to me to wonder why birds drank like that. In retrospect, I should have asked someone the first time I saw it. And surely I should have wondered by the time I was a teenager. I really thought they were swallowing. Tilting their head back and swallowing. But why the head tilting? That should have been a clue that something was amiss.

The only excuse I can think of for accepting what now appears odd, was that it was so common that I never thought it odd, and therefore never wondered about it. If my first view of a bird drinking had been when I was middle aged, I think I would have wondered about it. Maybe not.
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We went to Mimi's today and a Bruce Springsteen song was playing. When we first started going to Mimi's, they played old thirties and forties songs - Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, swing bands, etc. I hate that stuff. I hated it when I was a teenager and that was our music.

So Mimi's threw out old Blue Eyes and brought in "The Boss." Thank you, Mimi's! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

There WAS good music back then in the old days. Good melody, and sometimes even good lyrics. I often fantasize, when I happen to hear one of those old songs, that if I had a band, I would play some of them - with a rock arrangement, of course. "Peg O My Heart," "Whispering," Damn, there are a lot more, but my mind is drawing a blank.
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Overheard in the dentist waiting room yesterday;

Three year old girl, holding a picture in a magazine up for her mother to see, "mom, is this nasty?"

"What is it?"

Little girl, "I don't know."

MEA CULPA, DARN IT!

Blog number 421 **** 21 September, 2010

This Blog is directed to a particular young lady who might not ever read it, but there you go.

Mine wife and I went to Chandler Mall this morning, and she, wanting to get a battery for a watch, made us go to Ben Bridge's Jewelry to get one put in said watch. While there, we met this charming lady who helped my wife look for a replacement ring for a later date. I happened to ask her if she knew the history of black pearls, figuring it was not that far a stretch for someone working in a jewelry store to either know the background of certain types of jewelry, or at least be interested in finding out about them.

I told her that at one time they were rather worthless until a PR man did his PR magic and made them valuable. I had read this in some book not too long ago, but I couldn't remember too much of the story, so I told the lady that I would get the book from where I had read the story, and put it in my Blog and I then handed her one of my "business" cards with the address to the Blog.

I went to the library, found the book where I thought the story for the black pearls would be found, but the story was not in there. I searched the Internet to no avail, so now I am faced with the embarrassing prospect of looking like an idiot. You would think that I would be used to that feeling by now, but I ain't.

Explanation for Blog entry completed.

Over and out.

IT'S NOT LIKE THE ONE IN SPACE

Blog number 420 **** 19 September, 2010

I happen to be this household's househusband. I have done a lot of carpet vacuuming over the years, and my greatest frustration with that job is running the vacuum over a small piece of paper or lint and having the damn thing just lie there, laughing at me. Many a time I have bent over, picked up the speck and dropped it in a different place and tried vacuuming it again. Sometimes this worked and sometimes it didn't. What goes on in the mind of a piece of inanimate clutter, I really don't know.

I once saw a standup comedian do a bit on this very problem with vacuuming. So it's not just me.

Yesterday I was reading an article in the New Yorker about this genius engineer who also got frustrated with poor results from his vacuum cleaner and this guy, unlike me, looked into the problem. Right off he went to the source of the perplexity and discovered that when a vacuum cleaner sucks up dust, lint, and pieces of dead skin, the first place it goes is to the sides of the bag and sticks there, thus plugging up the air flow and destroying the vacuum ability of the machine. It is such a simple and obvious solution to the conundrum that I am very surprised that I didn't figure it out. Yeah, yeah. I know. Hubris. Get over it.

So this engineering genius, what he did was to invent a vacuum cleaner that doesn't use a bag, but instead uses centrifugal force in some magical way.

We have already ordered one. They are expensive, but then so is everything else. This is America, after all.

This guy also invented a fan with no blades, just a hole. No moving parts as far as I know. I haven't a clue as to how that works. Magic, probably.

AN EPIPHANY A DAY KEEPS THE THERAPIST AWAY

Blog number 419 **** 18 September, 2010

I have been writing in the Blog for several years now - how many, I really don't know and it's a lot of trouble for me to mouse-click back to the beginning to find out, so let's just go with "several years," ok?. It's really not important anyhow. The number of years I've been doing this is not important, I mean. The entries themselves are important, of course. That goes without saying.

Where was I? Oh, yes. For all of those years up until a week or so ago, I just wrote and let whoever happened upon the Blog entries, read them. This consisted mostly of my immediate family. I never pushed them upon the innocent. I was comfortable with what I wrote, knowing full well that I would be forgiven for lapses of interesting or humorous entries. I am a close relative, after all. I am supposed to be forgiven such things.

I had some "business" cards made up with my Blog address and my e-mail address upon them, along with an instruction sentence on the back, and my occupation as "writer." I have started passing these out to some people I have met - waitresses, librarians and such. I also gave to my two sons stacks of them to pass out to their friends and I appropriated the Internet addresses of my wife's friends and sent them a link to my Blog. In other words, I have offered of myself the obvious belief that what I write has value.

Back in the days of "you can read it if you want to," I wrote excitedly for the most part, because I love to share interesting and humorous happenings, writings, and thoughts - all with no fear of condemnation, shame, or imprisonment. Now that I am in the "would you read this, please?" mode, I find myself being tentative about what I write. It's almost like getting up in front of an audience at a club and trying to be both funny and interesting. Before, writing was relaxing. Now it's scary.

Why am I telling you this? Because I learned a long time ago that if I tell the truth about what "is," I won't have to tell that truth with signals from my body. It's like if I find myself embarrassed, I can either say, "I am embarrassed," or I can say nothing and blush and stammer and sweat, and let my body tell the story. So this entry is my truth about what "is," and hopefully I can return to that golden yesterday of contented and satisfying writing.

I feel better already.

THIS PAGE USED TO BE EMPTY.

Blog number 418 **** 16 September, 2010

I just finished reading a little more in my David Sedaris' book, and I realized anew that THAT GUY IS FUNNY! It might be me, and probably it is, since my discovery that different people have a different idea about what is funny and what is not. But since this is my reality alone, David Sedaris remains the top funny writer in the world.

An entry or so ago I told how I thought that maybe this was the first time I was reading the whole of "Me Talk Pretty One Day," but every time I mentioned this to my lovely and loving wife, she would say, "No, I remember you raving about how funny the guy was while you were reading it before - just like you're doing now."

David Sedaris for humorous writing, Van Gogh for beautiful painting, Mother Teresa for compassion, Maharijii for excellent humanity, Trader Joe's for good groceries, Ace hardware for good service and available items, and me, my constant companion. It doesn't get any better than that. As far as I know.

...BUT THERE IS NO HOMEWORK

Blog number 417 **** 15 September, 2010

I am doing a very interesting jigsaw puzzle now. It is a beach scene, but the picture shown on the cover is not the one that is the puzzle. Instead, it is a view from the eyes of a lifeguard who, along with everyone else, is running in panic away from the ocean. Coming at them from the ocean is a crowd of boats, submarines, rafts, ship wreaks, inner tubes, giant squid and other random and unusual flotsam and jetsam, all heading onto the beach.

The unusual thing about this puzzle is that the cover is useless as a guide. Nothing in the puzzle appears on the picture on the cover. 1000 pieces, no guide. Neat!

For most of my early jigsaw-puzzle-putting-together days, I toyed with the idea of trying to do a puzzle with every piece showing only the backside. I never got to do it because the pictures were so interesting. But this puzzle is kinda close to that. Yes? Ballpark anyhow?

The guy that painted this picture really had fun doing it. You can tell. I've done three of his puzzle paintings before. He has weird and funny things happening and the cartoon characters and the happenings are very strange. Two of the three paintings you could tell he really got a kick out of doing them. One ice skating scene, one parade, he had fun. A boat scene he painted, to me it looked like he was doing something he really wasn't interested in doing, but had to get done in order to sell it.

Another thing about this one I'm doing now - he painted an elaborate beach scene and then he painted an elaborate ocean scene. Two paintings that took a lot of time, talent and effort, for only one puzzle? Or does he have another that is the beach scene as seen from a captain on one of the boats? If so, I'd sure like to find that one. I'm gonna look.

Before this one, I did a 2000 piece puzzle of one of Van Gogh's paintings that I had never seen before. Doing it, I could almost get into Van Gogh's head and see how much joy and excitement he had doing the painting. It was like he couldn't wait to dip his brush into his palette and splash it onto his canvas. Faster! Faster! Faster! What a guy.

I once saw a movie about him and at the end of the movie, hundreds of his paintings were flashed upon the scene. I had no idea he painted so many paintings. You ordinarily see only a few selected pieces, ad infinitum.

He used objects, not to show them, but as carriers for color. He wasn't interested in how a chair or a person really looked. He just wanted something that he could color. I look upon him now as an abstract artist before there were abstract artists.

An abstract artist is interested in color or form, but they don't need an object, they just splash on the color wherever they feel it belongs. This is much better. This Van Gogh way. My artist hero.

ROW ROW ROW YOUR BOAT

Blog number 416 **** 14 September, 2010

So my wife is watching a Si Fi program called, "Warehouse Thirteen." I'm working on my jigsaw puzzle. I hear one of the characters in my wife's program say, "We'll enter a world vastly more mysterious than anyone of us can understand."

Like this one is understandable.

Cows eat grass and water and out of that they make flesh, blood, milk, calfs, eyeballs, teeth, hair, hooves. They are extremely efficient chemical factories.

It is very easy to understand how they do this, is it not?

And if that doesn't grind your wheels, how about the fact that the cow eats what has been created using sunlight and water?

So beef, sight, smell, hair, blood, all have been built using sunlight and water for ingredients.

Understand?

DAVID SEDARIS DAVID SEDARIS DAVID SEDARIS

Blog number 415 **** 13 September, 2010

This then, is an ode to David Sedaris. "Who is David Sedaris?" You ask. "A very funny writer," I answer.

I first read one of his books - "Me Talk Pretty One Day," several years ago. He also every once in awhile appears in the New Yorker. He is funny. Very funny. I like funny. I adore funny. I bought my granddaughter a copy 'cause she likes funny too and I like to share funny.

A couple of weeks ago I somehow got it into my head to read the book again, so I ordered a copy from the library, and I remembered the first story, about his having to attend speech classes that were designed to get rid of his lisp (Yes, he's one of those. Unashamedly so) but every story from then on was absolutely new to me.

I was convinced that I had only read that first story and then somehow stopped reading and forever after thought I had read the whole book. I do things like that pretty often nowadays. That and losing important items has made my life pretty darn interesting, let me tell you. But then the rest of the stories were familiar again. So what happened? Was it me or did I get a different copy of the same book? Who knows? I don't.

I thought I had more to write. I fooled myself, I guess. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me again, umm. well, just don't do it." I paraphrased because I forget how Bush actually said it. I could probably Google it, but I'm a little lazy today. I'm old.

I think that Bush malapropism and the one that the South Carolina beauty queen did about "The Iraq" are two of my very favorite stumbles.

You know, I saw that girl on a news program a day or two after her gaff - could have been "Good Morning America" or something like that, and they had her read an item off the prompter - could have been a weather report. When she was done, the two talking heads praised her in a very condescending manner. Like she was a two year old that had jut drank her milk from a cup without spilling for the very first time. "That was good! Really, really good!"

She just read writing. Even I could do that and I've never been a beauty contest winner. Not lately anyhow.

FEED THE GIVER OF DREAMS

Blog number 414 **** 09 September, 2010

My wife and I went to Phoenix this morning, to Chandler Mall. Chandler Mall has an outdoor fountain where people throw coins in the fountain. When we walked upon this fountain, two little boys and a grandma were there. The boys were looking at the water squirting in the air and falling back into the pond while the grandma stayed back watching.

We asked the grandma if it would be all right if we gave the boys a penny each to throw into the water. She thought that a great idea. She proceeded to tell the boys to throw their pennies into the water and "make a wish for a good job."

"Throw the penny in. Make a wish for a good job," she exhorted several times. The first kid threw his in and the grandma thrilled, "Good job."

I told my wife I had never before seen a wish come true so fast.

THERE ARE MANY MYSTERIES IN THE DESERT

Blog number 414 **** 08 September, 2010

I went to Lowe's this morning. For those of you who don't know, Lowe's is a chain store like Home Depot. I went to get some fiberboard for a large jigsaw puzzle I am doing, and while there I thought I would pick up some garden hose washers. One of our hose connections has been leaking for some time now. I looked for these washers in Lowe's two weeks ago. I found the garden hoses, but couldn't find the washers and I didn't want to ask, so I left without them. But today I was determined to buy some.

I got my fiberboard and asked the lumber lady where the garden hose washers would be. She directed me to the hose section. On the way there, this guy asked if I needed help. I told him I needed garden hose washers. He said, "What?" So I repeated. He seemed puzzled and asked me a few more questions, so I explained about garden hoses and garden hose washers and it was like he had never heard of such a thing. This is in the middle of a desert, right? Water is essential. One of the ways we move water from here to there is with hoses.

We walked to where the garden hoses were. Couldn't find any washers. He asked me a few more questions about what I was looking for, so I picked up a roll of garden hose, fully expecting to find a washer tied to one of the bands holding the coiled hose - like is always there, so I could show him what they looked like. No washer. I picked up another coiled hose, same thing, And another. Nothing.

"That's weird," I thought, " This is the middle of a desert. We need water hoses and water hoses need washers. I am in lowe's. This is a huge hardware store carrying many hardware items. Where are the lowly hose washers, huh?"

I even explained to the guy at one time that no washer, big leak. Can't use hose without washer. Never. Must use hose in desert. Often.

My helper calls for help, we are directed to plumbing section. I told him they shouldn't be there. The only place these washers are ever used is in garden hoses. They should be in the garden hose section, not plumbing section. And we can't find them there. He calls for help. HIS helper comes over. He points to section of washers. They are not there. I told him about they should be in the hose section anyhow. I also have to explain to him what garden hose washers are and what they do. I finally tell them I will go to Ace Hardware and get them. And I did.

I am now curious as to the result of my experience on Garden-Hose-Washers-In-Lowe's. I'll check back in a couple of weeks and let you know.

Maybe.

IS THIS SOME KIND OF A CRUEL JOKE?

Blog number 412 **** 07 September, 2010

I'm reading this book see, and I learn that a steam engine doesn't get its power from the pressure of the steam like we've always been told, but rather from the vacuum created by squirting cold water into a chamber of steam, condensing the steam. The use of a vacuum rather than pressure was discovered quite by accident, due to a leak in a faulty soldering that let cold water into a chamber filed with steam.

Two Englishmen - Newcomen and Calley, had a working steam engine and while trying to get the cylinder down to room temperature after the steam had been used, water was accidentally sprayed into the chamber, causing the steam to condense, creating a vacuum that caused such an increase in power that it broke the chain attached to the piston, broke the bottom of the chamber and even broke the top of the furnace used for heating the steam.

The author then goes on to describe when Watt got the idea to improve upon this method of using steam (I was taught that Watt was the inventor of the steam engine, but evidently he was not, yes?) The author even mentions that the old story about Watt watching the lid of a tea kettle bobble must be a false urban story because see, Watt was interested in the vacuum side of steam power, not the pushing side.

So this morning I look up Steam Engines, Operation Of, on the Internet because I wanted to see how they actually put this idea to work on a locomotive and I find that not only do they use steam pressure, but a double steam pressure so that the piston is PUSHED by steam both ways. No vacuum. None. Nil.

"Whaaaaa!" I thought, "I've just been convinced that a vacuum is the most powerful source of steam power, I've also been convinced that Watt was only interested in improving the vacuum side of the steam engine dialog, and now I find out that all that has been thrown away in favor of the lowly pressure side. Are you kidding me?"

By the way, if you're interested, the title of this fascinating book is,"The Most Powerful Idea In the World."

I'm still a little bummed about the whole thing.