Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Enough of this…

For the pass half decade I have been posting stuff here. Some of it was important for me to record and a bunch of it was just silly nonsense. There have been several interesting comments and a possible interested reader or two, but it is not time to move on.
I have written about losing a job, losing a wife, trying to adjust to the new reality, riding my bike, communication, holidays, emotions and lack there of, strange stories and real tales that could not be believed unless you were there. A soundtrack of the past five years has been written in words.
A book has been written, another blog started and another writer’s site have accepted my futile messages that I write freely for others to view. I seek no monetary reward, but only the occasional comment as in any conversation is required.
My goal was to write 1000 post and this is it. I’ve actually written more than that on other sites, but on “Just Another Life” I’ve reached my end.
I may continue to write, for I have another project “When The Band Broke Up” that I have started years ago. Yet the daily details of life in ‘Puppywoods’ are becoming repetitive and no reader wants to continue to bore themselves with the details of a “Just Another Life”.
I may return, but for now, that’s all folks.

Making Ends Meet

This may be the biggest challenge of every life. Everyone wants to follow his or her dreams, but you got to pay for it. You got to put food on the table, buy a table to put the food on, a place to store the food, something to cook the food, a place to sleep, something to wear, a method of transportation to go get the food and all of this takes money. How much money does it take to live?
Part of the answer asks another question “How well do you want to live?” If you seek abundance and opulence with all the luxuries of celebrity, then you know you have to become a basketball player or a rock star or a movie idol with a greedy agent who will get you lots of cash.  The bank account may be bulging if your accountants are good and not correct, but you must also keep up with the facade to continue making large sums of money.
The common slob on the streets must live within their means. Whatever income can be scraped up decides how the family will live. Economists study the levels of what people can and will earn to signify wealth versus poverty.
Many people live by whatever money they can gather. Livelihood means survival rather than monetary income. Spend anything they can trade, sell, scrounge or steal and then adjust their lives for everything else.
I try to live by my means. I only spend what I have and I keep track of every penny. I make sure there is a reserve in the piggybank and all the major expenses have been paid (I hope). Even had enough to buy some toys last year.
So a new year is starting and hopefully I’ve found a pattern to control the bucks and have enough to enjoy life, for that is the real reward.
And it don’t cost much.

Monday, December 30, 2013

You Think You Got It Bad?

She just got out of prison. She shot a cop in the back. The cop was in the hospital room of her ex-husband. Her ex-husband was also a cop. She shot a bad cop who was on the payroll of the evil richest man in town.
Before getting beat up her ex-husband was having a fling with the evil richest man ex-wife. Her ex-husband has a sister. She got knocked-up by her ex-boyfriend. Then her ex-boyfriend came out of the closet.  The ex-husband’s sister had a baby. She then moved in with her ex-boyfriend (the babies father) and his lover.
His lover turned a coffee shop into a bar. The woman who shot the bad cop in the hospital trying to cut of her ex-husband’s wee-wee is getting married to the evil richest man’s son. The woman and the evil richest man’s son were having a party at the new gay bar when the bad cop’s wife came in and shot at her.
Unfortunately the evil richest man’s youngest son got in the way of the bullet. He had been involved with the ex-husbands sister when she was trying to kill his girlfriend who has left town. The girlfriend’s dad was the doctor who took care of his gunshot in the hospital.
The doctor has the hots for this blond chick. She also works at the hospital. Her husband just died in an elevator accident after an earthquake that also killed the other richest man’s son’s girlfriend.
The other richest man’s son was about to get married when she died. In his trauma he turned to drugs. The other richest man became involved and then married the doctor’s mother.
Then the evil richest man’s daughter comes home, makes whoopee with the other richest man’s son and they plan on getting married. But the evil richest man’s daughter doesn’t like the mother of the woman who shot the bad cop and makes a video of the woman who shot the bad cop’s brother. The woman who shot the bad cop’s brother is a priest.
The doctor thinks the priest was drugged. The video was shown at the other richest man’s son’s wedding and the evil richest man disappeared in a car crash.
After the evil richest man’s elder son who is going to marry the woman who shot the bad cop tried to take away control of the family company only to fail, the evil richest man comes back to town. The other richest man breaks up with his wife, the mother of the doctor, but they make up.
Meanwhile the blond chick’s daughter is getting it on with a black doctor and the evil richest man’s son (before he gets shot). The black doctor takes the high ground and leaves and the evil richest man’s son deflowers the blond chick’s daughter.
The blond chick’s son comes home from a far away school. The blond chick’s son is having drug problems. He is also jealous of the blond chick’s new boyfriend, the doctor. He wrecks the doctor’s car, sells drugs to the blond chick’s assistant, and gets arrested for being a public nuisance.
The doctor finds the blond chick’s son and her assistant overdosed on drugs but he and the blond chick are on a break. The blond chick’s son says he is turning over a new leaf but the blond chick’s assistant has a video of them making whoopee.
Just to make things more interesting the ex-husband’s sister is attacked by her ex-husband.  Her ex-husband has been stalking her since she moved in with the gay guys with her baby. Her ex-husband tries to get to cozy and she bops him in the head with a rock.
Then the woman who shot the bad cop and the evil richest man’s ex-wife come across the scene and helped drag the ex-husband’s sister’s ex-husband dead body into the river. Don’t be too concern. Before the ex-husband’s sister’s ex-husband’s body sank he showed up in a beer commercial.
You think you got a lot of stuff going on in your family. Well these are just days of our lives.

Sunday, December 29, 2013

What have you been listening to for the past year?

What music has caught your ear? Have you purchased any new music?
For me it is pretty simple. I’ve listened to a bunch of old favorites because they are comfortable. I’ve also listened or studied some homemade sounds trying to inspire myself to start recording again. New music?  
Tim Minchin” has become a popular favorite. Also listening to “David Gilmore” more and “Crosby, Stills, and Nash” harmonies. “Gotye” song ‘somebody that you use to know’ caught my ear. ‘Call Me Maybe’ also caught my ear but I enjoyed the covers as much or more than the originals. A group called “Foxes and Fossils” doing covers also interesting but only for a short period of tie. “Tuneola” song ‘No Leaving Today’ seems to be a repeat listen. “Kimbra” an offshoot of “Gotye” I thought was interesting but never went anywhere. “The Hold Steady” I liked for the energy and the hooks. “The Duhks” version of Bob Dylan was interesting, but again, couldn’t find any other tunes that kept me listening. “The Rolling Stones” ‘doom and gloom’ was the best of there last repeat of repeat favorite hits CD. I guess I did buy a CD this year. “The ABC&D of Boogie Woogie” caught my ear, and even with Charlie being so sly, that music is in my DNA. “The London Symphony Orchestra” version of ‘Gimme Shelter’ is still a fave. “Richard Aven Cornwell” did a cover of ‘Tommy Tunes: 867-5309’ that caught my attention but I am partial. Heard a few things on NPR but didn’t track it.
Don’t know what will appear as a new trend on the music scene but I’m ready for it. Just remember, if it doesn’t catch me in the first two minutes, I move on.  

Wrapping Up Another Year

Seems like only 365 days ago it was last year. Who could imagine it would go so fast?
Seems a bunch of people who were born a lot closer to my birth date have died. There was a storm and another storm and some tornados and some crazy people with guns shot up the place. The government shut down for a while because they could not figure out a budget and stuff. Some people went to work and some people didn’t. Our armed forces shot and bombed a bunch of people and they got shot and bombed. I think they call that war. It must be popular because a lot of other countries were doing the same thing.  There were bad movies made, a bunch of young dressed up dudes and dudettes walked around drinking wine before getting bad stories in the tabloids and a lot of books winded up on electronic readers. Scientist watched some meteor go by and invited 3-D plastic guns. The pope got pooped and a new pope became popular. Bombs were going off at races making people wondered if they should run marathons or go to school or work in a factory making t-shirts. Some guy in the government spilled the beans that everyone was being spied on – big surprise. Cute puppies were saved at least on social media and taxi drivers charged too much. Television didn’t get any better and good music was hard to find.
And Miley Cyrus was twerking.
Closer to home one neighbor moved and another moved in and they are still strangers. The seasons were fairly mild and time was wasted. Several houses became mansions. Had a nice long walk and conversation with a friend after his mom passed. Seems like more of my friends are passing. And I don’t just mean wind.
Bought too many toys without rewarding myself for accomplishments. It must be time for a new year’s resolution. Didn’t travel or go to a movie or buy a video or book, but did buy some new long johns. Oh, that is probably too much information.
The budget seemed to withstand all the analysis wrangling on the economy. Some others have crossed over to the dark side and a few more next year. Kids begetting kids started to take off and they are popping out everywhere. The construction look of last year continues gathering spider webs and piles of dust bunnies.
I’ve spent too much time writing as a therapy and a release and just to clear my head. Wrote about talking, riding, watching, eating, sleeping and the most mundane features of life. Holidays, emotional turns, philosophical thoughts and psychological reflections have all been written about. Technology, friends, history, death, education, television, haircut, age, dating, food, laughter, faerie doors, shopping, heaven, news, nipples, dancing, bunnies, monsters, money, sleeping and variations there of have churned from my head to the keyboard. Maybe I’ve run out of ink.
So come Tuesday night, I’ll fill a glass with the bubbly and toast another year passing and more adventures coming. I’ll buy a new calendar and start up a new excel spreadsheet to track my every move and expense. I’ll wash my cloths and ride my bike and eat whatever I can come up with. I’ll sleep the restless sleep and maybe follow some of my resolutions.
Time will tell if I get in another’s face at midnight.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

The Lazarus Sign

Before we start, let me explain this subject is from one genders viewpoint and may not be suitable for every reader. If easily offended, look away.

As defined a boner also known as erection, a stiff, chubby, hard-on when an erect blood filled penis is brought on my sexual arousal.
A boner could be described as:
1. An erect penis
2. What your boyfriend ‘has’ when you are ‘making out’ with him
3. How big you wish his penis was all the time

The bane of an adolescent young man's existence is the boner. A boner usually happens during class, normally after eyeing an attractive girl. Extremely embarrassing the boner is. When a boner happens, you'll stick your hand in your pocket to tuck it into your boxers in a futile attempt to avoid discomfort or embarrassment. The worst case causes ejaculation in the pants.
Spontaneous erection, also known as involuntary, random or unwanted erection, is commonplace and a normal part of male physiology. Socially, such erections can be embarrassing if they happen in public or when undesired. Erections can occur spontaneously at any time of day, and if clothed may cause a bulge which (if required) can be disguised or hidden by wearing close-fitting underwear, a long shirt, or baggier clothes.

If this is getting too uncomfortable, let me get technical.

Parasympathetic branches extend from the sacral plexus into the arteries supplying the erectile tissue; upon stimulation, these nerve branches release acetylcholine, which, in turn causes release of nitric oxide from endothelial cells in the trabecular arteries. Nitric oxide diffuses to the smooth muscle of the arteries (called trabecular smooth muscle), acting as a vasodilating agent. The arteries dilate, filling the corpora spongiosum and cavernosa with blood. The ischiocavernosus and bulbospongiosus muscles also compress the veins of the corpora cavernosa, limiting the venous drainage of blood.
Erection subsides when parasympathetic stimulation is discontinued; baseline stimulation from the sympathetic division of the ANS causes constriction of the penile arteries, forcing blood out of the erectile tissue.
After ejaculation or cessation of stimulation, erection usually subsides, but the time taken may vary depending on the length and thickness of the penis.
A death erection, angel lust, or terminal erection is a post-mortem erection, technically a priapism, observed in the corpses of men who have been executed, particularly by hanging.

That is enough of the science. You can look back now. I’ll stop talking about the awkwardness of boy’s reactions to girls at that tender age when mating starts taking place.
My point here, excuse the pun, is during the time when ‘making out’ takes place there are voluntary and involuntary signs of attraction to each other.

Then again we often pull a ‘boner’. No, it is not what you are thinking. Get your minds out of the gutter.

When we do something really stupid. We buy the wrong present or forget an anniversary or run a red light or wake up with a stranger in a hotel. That is a ‘boner’.

Maybe it was the Lazarus sign

In ‘The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion’, art historian and critic Leo Steinberg notes that a number of Renaissance era artists depicted Jesus Christ after the crucifixion with a post-mortem erection. The Roman Catholic Church suppressed this artwork for several centuries.

Where Are You Going To When You Go Home?

Again, a morbid thought, but I just saw a program about mountain people going back to be buried in their family plot. I guess that continues the history of the family, but like all families we split and go our own separate ways.
It just seems when we all lived down in the hollows with brothers and sisters and grandparents close by to gather for dinners and celebrations of holidays and enjoy in the music and dancing, we should all be buried close to each other. Then on family gatherings, the children could be introduced to their forefathers lying under the ground.
There might be names and dates etched in stone to identify the beloved family member. There may be symbols or a statement trying to describe the dead. “Best Cook In Four Counties” or “Good Knitter” or “Walked Miles in the Marathon” could be the statements that tell the tale of the departed.
If you have ever looked up your family tree, you can find names and locations and birth records (sometimes) but there is very little about the hobbies, favorite drinks, best friends, broken hearts, faith or political persuasion. With only an etched stone the names and the memories will fade with the generations.
In far away vacant lots, behind the trees and overgrown with vines there are lost relatives in ancient family plots. Where will you go when it’s time for you to go?

and the question goes, why do they put a fence around a graveyard?

Have You Ever Noticed?

Have You Ever Noticed?
When you watch a movie
No one pays attention
to you now.
When the movie starts up
And the lights go down dark
No one pays attention
to you now
Have you ever noticed?
When you watch a movie
There is no companion
by your side
You may share the popcorn
While you watch the movie
There is no connection
To the room of friends
There is a title
There is a trailer
There is a setup
By the movie screen
But now you’re captured
Inside this movie
It doesn’t matter
What the story means
And when the movie
Is gone and finished
Does anybody
Remember the name
Of the leading character
Who save the village
Or the leading lady
Who was put to shame
Sit in the dark room
And eat your popcorn
It doesn’t matter
Who wins or lose
Back in the daylight
You don’t remember
But life goes on
with the second reel

 These words are to be sung

Friday, December 27, 2013


Around this time of year of gathering with family and friends, some people are invisible to the outside world. They lurk in the shadows but do not join in the festivities.
Those people we shun and put away and shut the door to reality. Sure we feed them some crumbs of society that makes us feel better like giving to the local orchestra or SPCA.
Idiot, simple minded, disable, imbecile, retard, feeble minded, dumb, mental deficiency… all names used through the ages to describe people who are sons and daughters of some parents who could not adjust beyond the normal.
These are the people we do not want to see at the country club. These are the people we do not want dating our daughter. These are the people who take longer to do the job or finish the schoolwork. Society declares that these are the different people. 
With all the other painful words we use to describe what we don’t understand; these words are also used as a social deterrent. Kids on the schoolyard are called these words to shame them. If he or her missed a foursquare bounce they are an “idiot”. If he or her misses a arithmetic answer they are “simple minded”. If he or her strikes out they are a “retard” or if he or she makes a bad move in Monopoly it is called a “dumb” move.
As we grow up; these words are replaced by (what is called) “curse words”. In proper conversation; none of these words are used but somehow we pick them up. Each gets a reaction so we keep using them.
Some grow out of the use of these words to express themselves and some make it part of our daily communication. Some are still expressions to emphasize a point and some are just used when a hammer hits our finger.
With all the veterans coming home wounded with sorts of ailment, do we describe them as “feeble”? Instead, we call them “heroes”.
And as we get older and our bodies do not respond the way they used to, we become what is called “feeble”. Weakness of body brings us new challenges. Old age also brings us whole new sets of harmful words.
Old, aged, decrepit, weak, weakly, weakened, frail, infirm, delicate, sickly, ailing, unwell, poorly, enfeebled, enervated, debilitated, incapacitated, decrepit, etiolated, challenged, disabled, incapacitated, invalid, paralyzed, broken-down, decrepit; impotent, powerless; breakable, flimsy, fragile, dizzy, groggy, rocky, rickety, unsteady, woozy, drained, exhausted, flagging, tired, weary, worn-out, damaged, harmed, hurt, impaired, injured, lame, unsound, resistless, susceptible, vulnerable, yielding… call your grandmother one of these.

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Making Out

I loved ‘making out’. It was the exploratory innocence between two strangers. It was beyond the kiss under the mistletoe and less than going all the way.
Once you pass that point of just being giggling around each other and longing for the kiss to continue
Sometime just called kissing, petting, or necking it was the method for each other to express their passion and investigate their curiosity for hours.
Why stop at a kiss? Certainly one gets further when one adopts "pawing" as well, which, after all, doesn't make a baby. And then bolder ones will come along who will go further.
Studies indicate that at the beginning of the 20th century, premarital sex increased, and with it, petting behavior in the 1920s.
The sexual connotations of the phrase ‘make out’ appear to have developed in the 1930s and 1940s from the phrase's other meanings of ‘to succeed’. Originally, it meant ‘to seduce’ or ‘to have sexual intercourse with’.
By the postwar period, necking and petting became accepted behavior in mainstream American culture, as long as the partners were seriously dating.
‘Making out’ is usually considered an expression of affection or sexual attraction. An episode of making out is frequently refers to kissing, including prolonged, passionate, open-mouth kissing (also known as French kissing), and intimate skin-to-skin contact.
 The term can also refer to other forms of foreplay such as heavy petting, which typically involves some genital stimulation, but usually not the direct act of penetrative sexual intercourse.
The perceived significance of ‘making out’ may be affected by the age and relative sexual experience of the participants. Teenagers sometimes play party games in which making out is the main activity as an act of exploration. Games in this category include ‘seven minutes in heaven’ and ‘spin the bottle’.
Teenagers may have had social gatherings in which ‘making out’ was the predominant event. These make-out parties were generally not regarded as sex parties, though heavy petting may have been involved, depending on the group.
Maybe I just liked the adventure instead of the prize.

What Are You Returning?

Sure it was fun opening all those gifts, but did you really want them. Now it is the day after Christmas and you need to work off some of those pounds, so why not take them all back?
That wonderful bathrobe you got from your husband who doesn’t have a clue, drop it back in the box rather than in the back of the closet. That tie given to you by your kids, maybe as a prank, needs to hang around someone else’s neck. Those headphones that are all the rage except for grandma go back to the store.
Think of it as another present or cash. Get what you really asked Santa for. Maybe that wide screen television was wide enough. Maybe you can trade in that goofy sweater for two goofy sweaters with the double dip drastic after season discounts.
If the gift had a special meaning or a wonderful card showing the giver really thought it was perfect for you, you got to keep it. You can say it was the thought that counted but they might want to see that ancient urn on your dining room table the next time they visit.
A gift from someone special you got to keep it. It may be an ugly piece of jewelry or that sports team t-shirt or an apron because you cook on the grill. None of these gifts can be returned. They cannot even be hidden. They must be shown and appreciated. As bad as it may seem to appear now, think of how the stories will go with your children and their children.
Remember that goofy sweater dad us to wear every Christmas? It must have been given to him years before we were born. Then your grandmother will smile. Smile a goofy smile.

What a difference a day makes

December 26: Just another day in just another life.
Wake up to sunshine and classics. Coffee and more Christmas photos on social network but there is something different. No Christmas Songs! Phew.
Not hungry from eating all that Christmas dinner, I could just stay in my comfy clothes or I could go to the gym? Being so stuffed I should go to the gym. It is still cold outside so I should stay in my comfy.
Naturally I break somewhere in the middle and ride to the store. Rational is that I do get a little exercise and fresh air and I get out of my sweats until I get back.
The traffic is mild and the sunshine feels good. Not too cold and not to windy. Lock up and find a cart. The little ones are missing so I expect another crowd. Instead I find the store almost empty.
Without the cranky Christmas craziness, there are a few wandering around like myself. There is the pizza I was looking for the other day but couldn’t find. I’m tired of pizza. Maybe some meat to go with the one roll I have left? Maybe a salad?
I wheel over to the deli section and notice there is not a big staff in the kitchen area. Then I notice there are no salads. Not even leftovers. No one had prepared a salad for me today. Not even a sandwich. Stinky cold fried chicken, NO!
There is a salad bar I could load, but I had my mind set on a pre-pared salad.
I could even get a head of lettuce, some tomatoes, a pepper or two and make my own salad. Naw, that is too much work.
So the quick trip is over and I’m back in my comfy sweats. I feed the yard and enjoy their antics. Thankfully the carols are over and the cowboys are back on the air. The trash is put out. Filled up on microwave red beans and rice. Phew! What a day.
Tomorrow is supposed to be a little warmer and still sunny. Will I do anything more exciting? We’ll see what motivates me.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013


Yes, I know it is a pattern, yet family and friends do not surround some on this over-popularized holiday. It is a wonderful celebration for all and I don’t mind the decorations and songs and even the attempts to gather money for funds that are there all year round but no one noticed.
The day starts with the children awake before dawn trying to get downstairs to the lighted tree with all the wonders soon to be realized under it. Sleepy parents who have spent the evening wrapping the surprises that wait hold them back.
The rush for greedy consummation attacks the paper with passionate tears as if panic for some unexplainable want. Piles of rumpled colored paper reveal watches and socks and sweaters and a toothbrush and perhaps a book that will never be read or some unforgettable toy. Breathless at the end of the attack, the booty is arranged for a camera shoot and then put under the tree for all visitors to view.
And they will come around. For Christmas is a time to invite all to view the wealth under the tree. Everyone will come by to enjoy the food and drink spread out but are not impressed by the packages under the tree because they did not get the same booty.
Maybe Christmas is for pirates? Maybe we are just so self-absorbed with greed that whatever the wrapped box holds is never enough?
Now Christmas-for-one makes a level playing field. There is no one else around to put up the lights and purchase a tree and decorate with old family memories and buy cards for people you don’t remember and buy tubes of badly designed paper that runs out too fast or makes eggnog because it is too much trouble so you just drink it straight out of the bottle and forget about the egg and don’t wake up early because it is just another day.
Christmas, the twenty-fifth of December, will come no matter what. The entire town is shut down and the morning is pretty quiet as families gather together to enjoy their rewards for being nice. By the afternoon, if the weather is right, they vacate their abodes to show off their abundance.
A Christmas-for-one is different. At least it is at my house.
I had thought about going back to Williamsburg for a solstice celebration. I checked online and ‘the’ hotel where we stayed was no longer open. I could go to another hotel because they all are alike, but decided I had done that trip and could close the book.
Instead, I settled into my December 25th routine. The day is sunny and bright and cold. A cup of coffee, strange text message from who-knows-where and a journey through other’s Christmas mornings on social media prepares me for my next assignment. Gathering my bag of goodies and putting on another layer, I venture the empty streets to the local park. The geese and birds greet me with wonder of seeing someone else up. Then again they might recognize me from last year. I spread out their treats and step back. As I stand in silence watching them consume a buffet of nuts and berries and seed and bread. Within a few quiet minutes they are back to their usual routine and I’m on my way home.
Warming back up with another cup of coffee, I update the happenings on Facebook. Everyone post cute pictures and warm wishes but I know those guys working today or standing in line at the food kitchen are not in the same mood.
So I download some Christmas pass pictures and search unsuccessfully for a CD of Christmas guitar, and then wander out to my yard babies. Today, being Christmas, there are some more treats that only happen for the holiday. The expensive seed that is already cracked and blended with nuts and corn and whatever goes into that bag is spread out in various locations. Of course sunflower seeds are provided for the oils against the cold. What would Christmas be without peanuts and today’s treats are hazelnuts. They will figure it out. And they do.
Now that all my Santa chores are taken care of, I take a look at Christmas past and find some unique items I had not noticed before.
According to the date, this picture was developed two months after Christmas in 1964, so it must have been the 1963 Christmas. A president has just been assassinated; the equal rights for all humans’ movements were starting, and Santa was very abundant to our family. The tree was kind of scrawny but it was a small living room. I believe the bag on the archway held a fur coat. I also see we started getting the World Book series that were out of date as soon as they were printed. There are three stockings on the mantle so one of them must have been for dad or I had another brother that I don’t remember. It is strange looking into the dining room because I don’t remember that weird 50’s wallpaper. Something’s you don’t remember and some you do. I still have that picture on the wall. It was a print by some famous guy of doves. It is around here somewhere. And I got my first guitar. Well, actually it was a baritone ukulele with a string cord as a strap.
This second image of Christmas past has the wallpaper in the dinning room I remember. There are now two stockings on the mantle and the tree is a live tree. Well, not really live because we cut it down. One year I even tried to plant a live tree in front of the house. I’m weird that way. The bike, I believe was constructed downstairs while I was waiting for Santa. It was a replacement for a stolen or broken or something happened to my old bike. It was a single speed, big fat seat and had this funky light in the front. I think this is after my brother graduated from college because it looks like some kind of NASA jacket there. It looks like the tradition of hanging all the Christmas cards we had been mailed had started to impress everyone who entered. Looks like I was fairly young because there is a Fort Apache box and some sort of rifle. I don’t remember having a rifle, not like the real ones my brother had, but maybe I just broke it and it went into the trash.
This may have been 1962 but I’m not sure. There are pictures of my brother’s class ring and probably his diploma next to the tree. Has to be his because I never got a class ring. The empty fireplace has a gas heater that I don’t remember ever using. Mom must have been playing golf then because I see a pull cart and golf balls. She also got a coffee pop. That pretty wraps up my mom for that time period. There is a jigsaw puzzle, probably for dad, a white shirt and an atlas, and a big stuffed dog. I had asked Santa for a dog that year and this is what I got. It looks like a basketball in the pile. This must have been around the time my dad built a basketball hoop in the yard on the cement slab where the cars were parked. I never found any interest in basset ball so that was a waste of time and money. Little did my family know how the tinsel would be so important to another Christmas night.
I can’t tell you what we ate or what happened after the presents were open. We never went to church on Christmas so we probably just went up to our rooms and watched television. That was the usual ritual.
Christmas has some fond memories and some not, but that is Christmas-for-One. Now should I make a turkey dinner for Christmas with Spanish rice, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and fried apples? Or maybe I’ll just order in Chinese. I know they are open.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013


You know how to whistle? No, I’m not going to get into that. My point her is a compromise in a relationship.
Whistling was something my wife didn’t like. There was some history I never figured out but anyone whistling would set her off.
I never thought that I was whistling. I was never much of a pucker up and blow whistler. I normally whistle through my teeth but it is not very loud.
After seeing her reaction to our neighbor’s whistling, I decided to stop the habit. It was a minor compromise.
Now I notice the habit that I never knew I had is coming back. Pushing my cart through the store or even sitting on my bike, I whistle along with the song in my head. It is not really a whistle, more like a low volume hum. I just dance around humming or whistling along to these songs that I hear over the Muzak or whatever pops into my head. Who needs headphones when you are blessed with a jukebox between your ears?


Breeding as defined is: 1. One's line of descent; ancestry: a person of noble breeding. 2. Training in the proper forms of social and personal conduct. 3. Production of offspring or young. 4. The propagation of animals or plants.
I sort of understand a farm breeding livestock and I sort of understand the production of offspring, but I guess I don’t understand it well it enough. For I never thought marriage was the legal requirement for breeding.
I understand the science of breeding plants to produce stronger more resilient strain, but I am curious about taking an animal that we either kill and eat or cherish as our favorite companions and force them into copulating.
Now as a normal human male, I don’t need to be forced into the act, but to have a farm for breeding? Is that called prostitution? And those farms that can extend the stock yet inbreeding takes place and the breed is compromised. Perhaps that is my problem?
Then on the other side of this propagating process, there is the breeding of humans.
If you are worth some large sum of cash or have a prominent family name, you can be classified as ‘well bred’. Does that mean when you mom and dad got to breeding, you were going to come out better than everyone else?  Of course human breeding takes some time and work and lessons on what fork to use or how to tie a bow tie. I guess good genes and checking the ancestry bloodline adds to the prestige of being ‘well bred’.
Now I just have to find my pedigree papers.