Wednesday, August 12, 2020

No, Rack, Walk ON the Grass. Cutting Corners Is Not Allowed.

I am convinced that this is being done for my entertainment.

That or my dog's entertainment.

Mind you, I know that Lettie, my departed dog used to do similar things.  She'd sit down or sniff the grass very slowly in front of one house in particular that had barky dogs in it.  The dogs would go insane and when I told her that it was time to go, she merely looked up at me, smiled, and went back to her sniff.

Trust In Dog.

Rack is a much more interactive dog than Lettie was.  He is all about the play, and while he will do things for you, he will expect to have a bit of fun while he does it.

This car thing, for example.  

You see, Rack has terrible aim.

He is one of a very few Yellow Footed Collies that I have heard about.  Yellow Footed as when he goes to lift his leg on that rock at the foot of the driveway, he misses.  More often than not, he will spray all over the place.

Like on his feet.

Now you would expect a misfire from time to time, but this is the rule and not the exception for my boy.  

I got tired of this game very quickly after we got Rack.  I solved it by putting a hose and a spray gun on the porch.  The water is turned on all of the time and I would simply spray his feet heavily to wash the misfire off his legs.

"Come on, time to wash your feet" I would say while bent double behind the fence on the patio.

Great, but now we have 45 pounds of dog with wet feet that have not completely drained off.  My solution was to have him walk through the grass and around the car before letting him inside.

As time went on, I realized that I could simply tell him to "Walk in the Grass" and he would do the lap around the car without my tromping the lawn down into a path.  He would continue around the car and up the grass on the other side until he got back to me.   It was our little routine, a trick.

Then he realized that he could cut corners.  

He must prefer to walk on hot black asphalt because he would come closer to the car while he is walking instead of letting the grass clean between the toes.

Mind you, if the car was not on the driveway, he would estimate the car's length and walk a loop around it.  Sometimes he would actually walk it in the grass.

So my passive-aggressive smiling dog would be tracing paths around the yard, smiling, and ignoring the grass.

"No, Rack, ON the grass!" I would instruct as he would cut corners.

They do have their own minds, even if you can't figure out where that mind was.  

We would repeat it until I tired of the game or he did. 

Repeat and repeat and repeat.

Standing at the front of the car but out of sight of little low to the ground furballs, I would make my preferences known and send him around the car again in another orbit.

When he got it right, he would get his release from this dizzying routine and go inside.

I just think he thinks he's getting away with something by walking on asphalt while scurrying around the yard three times a day.

And I am a bit too stubborn to allow all that to happen so there I am bending over to one side of the car, then to the other to watch his progress.

Who knows?  On a day he's not feeling quite so playful, we might actually get it done right first time out.  Another and he is smiling and sneaking around the bumper cutting corners.

Sunday, August 9, 2020

My friend’s bakery burned down last night. Now his business is toast.

The thing about the roads pretty much everywhere is that in this day and age, people are trying to convince us to take mass transport or to, gasp, walk.  Roads are more crowded, people are more hurried, and it just adds to the general chaos we have in society.  


A man was driving home from work when he got a call from his wife...

“Be careful, honey,” she said. “I saw on the news that there’s some idiot going the wrong way on the highway that you take to get home.”

The man was confused.

“What do you mean?” he said. “There isn’t one person going the wrong way, there are hundreds of them!”

 

 

And since it is sunday and I am feeling a bit generous, before I go into the kitchen and see what I have around to make for lunch, here's a story about a fish and an ant.

 



Once upon a time a lonely ant met a handsome fish. Despite everyone telling them it was wrong, they fell in love.

One day they eloped and moved into a cottage by a pond. Their only neighbor was Mr. Frog

They lived many happy years together and then something unexpected happened; they had a baby.

They were so happy and their child grew up to be most peculiar. It seemed he could do anything he put his mind to.

He got straight A's in school. He had two part time jobs. He was the star player on three sports teams. And he volunteered around the community.

Mr. Toad was amazed at him. One day he pulled the child aside and asked, "How do you have time for everything you do?"

And the child said, "Well, I guess its because I'm a fish-ant."

 

Saturday, August 8, 2020

An onion just told me a joke. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

 I usually don't lean towards blond jokes.  The presumption that someone's hair color turns them into a mental houseplant is a strange one, and most of the people I have met who are ... slow, have had dark hair.

However since I have been laying low since I pulled a back muscle last week, this one fits.

Not to worry, I'm on the mend and expect to be back on skates this week.

But...




Visiting the doctor.

A brunette walks in to see her doctor and explains that she has a very serious problem.

“You see doctor, my entire body hurts”

She then proceeds to touch all over her body saying ouch every time.

The doctor sits back on his chair, rubs his chin for a few moments and then says..

“You’re not naturally a brunette are you”

“Well no, I’m naturally blonde - I dyed it because of it the stereotyping that goes with. Why do you ask?” She replies

“You’ve got a broken finger” replies the doctor.



And as my British Friends would say, In for a Penny, In for a Pound...





A woman goes to buy a tv

She goes to the salesman and says, “I’d like to buy this tv good sir.” He says, “I’m sorry ma’am but I cannot sell to blondes.” Upset the woman leaves

It is the next day and she wears a different outfit with a wig. The woman is sure the salesman won’t recognize her. She says, “I’d like to buy this tv good sir.” He says, “I’m sorry ma’am but I cannot sell to blondes.” Upset she leaves.

The day after that she decided to dye her hair, use makeup to change her facial appearance, and wear a completely different set of clothes.
She goes the same store and tells the salesman, “I’d like to buy this tv good sir.”

The same salesman once again tells her, “I cannot sell to blondes.”
Upset she finally asks him how he knows it is her.
He tells her his reasoning and says, “I know because that tv you want to buy is a microwave.”

Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Post Storm Grass and Dragonfly Squadrons

Among the weirdness that has been 2020, I now have a squadron of Dragonflies.

Mind you, I rather like these creatures.  They have been around much longer than have been mankind. 

I am fairly certain why I have them here as well.   We do not treat the grass like most people do to keep the grubs away.

While many areas do this sort of thing, maintaining your lawn with pesticides in some strange recollection of a British Past, this is the tropics.  My little community is built upon a sandbar that was once a swamp and before that most likely a part of a beach.  I expect that within 100 years, it will be a beach again since we've managed to ruin the environment for "Profit!".

That this is the tropics means if you spray things on the ground, they soak quickly into the aquifer through all that sand that we pretend is our soil and you end up soaking your neighbor's pesticides onto your own grass when watering day happens, twice a month here in Broward county.

We have little signs on our yards stating that here there are poisons, stay off until dry.  You end up wondering if there really is anything there, or will your bare feet end up sprouting cloven hooves and glow in the dark as a result.

Not spraying my own yard allows these grubs to become whatever they were, in my case a squadron of dragonflies.

I also have quite a few white Snowy Egrets march across my front yard on a regular basis trying to find what they will for brunch.  They do so in their own entertaining herky-jerky motion, dipping their rapier like beaks into the sandy loam and moving onward like a drinking glass bird.

Don't break those, I've been told that the glass drinking glass birds are filled with a poisonous liquid.  Just a suggestion...

In the weirdness we have all had, we were just brushed by what was Tropical Storm Isaias (or however it is spelled and said).  It didn't create too much damage, here, and left regrowing into a category one hurricane by the time it made it to North Carolina.

Before it had even completely left South Florida, the dragonflies had begun to hatch.  They always come after a rain, and we had just had a week or so of daily soakers.

I welcome them, no matter how many we get.  The dragonflies eat the evil mosquitoes that have a nasty habit of finding me, personally, and dining on my ankles and legs.  That would be why I am always in long pants, preferably Jeans.  Never stand long in one place and always wear protective clothing.


We had so many dragonflies dive bombing the yard, that standing on the corner of my property you could hear their wings flapping in a soft clapping as they dodged through.  It wasn't quite a Locust Swarm event, but it was markedly more than I had ever seen. 

Stepping off of my porch for the evening dog walk, surprised, we left the property with Rack our Faithful McNab Dog.  Getting further down the block, there were fewer dragonflies and noticeably more mosquitoes.  You can thank me later.

Coming back I had grabbed this small section of a picture of my lawn.  A few leaves and there are three dragonflies in that small square.  One is looking right at you, just above the website address.

Finally getting back into the house, we were stopped.  There was one last dragonfly that wanted to come in with us.  It landed next to the door and tried to gain entry.  I did manage to change its mind by squirting it with the hose on gentle mist long enough for us to dart into the house.   It hovered at the door watching us like it belonged in our party.

Strange creatures sometimes appear when you least expect it.  Then they eat your mosquitoes and move on. 

We are seeing the numbers decrease in balance with the numbers of mosquitoes, but since it is in day nine of rain I don't think we will ever see the end of them.

Sunday, August 2, 2020

Random Hurricane Thoughts on Isiais

This is one of those things that you do if you are a blogger.  You have a self imposed schedule and you put in place holder articles so that you may maintain it.
On the other hand, Nothing really happened here because of the storm.  We're safe here, my friends, my town, my neighbors are all safe.  I understand it's weakening so I believe that the Bahamas should be fine, although I have not seen anything crop up on the news services.

Never mind, I wrote this blather, and I shall let it go live!  Live on!  Live on, little blog posting that few shall ever read!!!!

First off, "ain't nobody" can say that damn name.  Two years down the line, people will still be saying it wrong.

So here it is Saturday Morning, and the storm is working it's way up through the Bahamas.  I expected it to be here, and to be in My Chair By The Window watching the weather but only two feeder bands.

Now they are expecting the thing to skitter along the coast and never quite make landfall here in Florida.  It's already hit the Bahamas, and I haven't heard any reports from there yet.

The joke in my family is that it's going to Clint Moore Road in Boca Raton.  That is the apparent southernmost limit of where the freezing weather can get.  I'm about 8 miles south of that, and that it is just someone at the Weather Service playing around with me and the rest of us here.

Ok, so I am stretching the point and have a bit of OCD about that particular place.  Besides, it is August, and the warmest week of the year starts on August 7th so no worries about freezes.

So far so good.  Here in Wilton Manors, we expect nothing worse than tropical storm force winds.  I have stowed the Orchids that haven't grown the roots to the fence, the Lean-To shade is stored, and I have thrown the plastic yard furniture into the pool.

That furniture bleaches up real nicely in the salt system that we have back there and will be clean for the next one.

This isn't to say that a Tropical Storm can not hurt you.  Please take appropriate care.

If you see this either my power went out or I decided on Sunday Morning that it's better than putting a joke out there.

But since you expect that out of me on a weekend, this is appropriate so it just may stay!


A woman brings her son to the beach

She fusses over him and tells him to be careful when he goes in the water.
Suddenly she sees a wave hit him and the ocean pulls him under.
The woman screams and runs to the water.
Falling to her knees she begs God, “dear lord, please bring my only son back to me. Please lord, he’s all I have in my life.”
Moments later the sun shines down from beyond the clouds and the boy, coughing but alive, steps out of the water.
The mother looks up at the sky and yells “he had a hat!”

Saturday, August 1, 2020

I started a new diet, All I had was toast this morning. I had 2 glasses of wine and congratulated myself on the progress.

One of my web wierdnesses is looking at the point where lines of latitude converge.  The Degree Confluence Project says that 26 Degrees North by 80 Degrees East is just offshore of Hollywood Florida Beach.  The stories can be quite informative if a bit "esoteric".

75 Degrees West by 40 Degrees North is on a golf course in Riverton NJ, near where I grew up.  The people there know of it and are very helpful to tell people who want to stand there.

I wonder if there's a convergence point near this little old lady?



A little old lady was walking down the street dragging two large plastic garbage bags behind her.

One of the bags was ripped and every once in a while a £20 fell out onto the sidewalk.
Noticing this, a policeman stopped her, and said, “Ma’am, there are £20 notes falling out of that bag.”

“Oh, really? Darn it!” said the little old lady.
“I’d better go back and see if I can find them. Thanks for telling me officer.

“Well, now, not so fast,” said the cop.
“Where did you get all that money? You didn’t steal it, did you?”
“Oh, no, no”, said the old lady. “You see, my back garden is right next to a Golf course.
A lot of Golfers come and pee through a knot hole in my fence, right into my flower Garden.
It used to really tick me off.
Kills the flowers, you know.

Then I thought, ‘why not make the best of it? So, now, I stand behind the fence by the knot hole, real quiet, with my hedge clippers.

Every time some guy sticks his thing through my fence, I surprise him, grab hold of it and say, ‘O.K., mate! Give me £20, or off it comes.’

“Well, that seems only fair,” said the cop, laughing. “OK. Good luck!

Oh, by the way, what’s in the other bag?”
“Not everybody pays.

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Man that was a good Oatmeal Raisin Cookie with Pecans recipe

Man that was a good Oatmeal Raisin Cookie!

Don't let a recipe that you really want to try sit around!
Go and explore! 
Enjoy your own creativity!

I was told:

Don't use That Recipe. 
Don't use the Regular "Quick" Oats.
Don't add Raisins.
Don't add Pecans or any other nut.

Shut Up.

Baking is a personal skill.  You do things different than I do.  Recipes drift over the years and you adapt things to available ingredients, equipment, and tastes.

I'm glad I made this recipe the way I did.  I have had the recipe for so long I forget how I got it, the recipe doesn't say, it's on a scrap of paper and I present it here with ingredients and process.

I actually did it so I would have something after workouts to get me back in balance, but man! that was the best cookie I've had in a long time.

Next time I make them this way. 
I give you permission to make these anyway you want to!

Enough of that...



Yield was 36 cookies using a tablespoon sized scoop, rounded.  That's about 1.4 ounces per cookie (40g) so they are really more like an oatmeal raisin bar.

Ingredients (as I made them):
  • 2 Sticks or 1/2 pound of unsalted butter (room temp)
  • 1 cup of Dark Brown Sugar, packed
  • 1/2 cup of white or granulated Sugar
  • 2 Eggs (room temp)
  • 1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract
  • 1 1/2 cups All Purpose Flour
  • 1 teaspoon Baking Soda
  • 1 teaspoon ground Cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon Salt (can be omitted)
  • 3 cups Oats (quick oats, or old fashioned, not cooked)
  • 1 cup Raisins (I used Baking Raisins, you may used wet or soaked)
  • 1/2 cup unsalted Pecans or other unsalted nut

Process:

  • Preheat your oven to 350F
  • Cream together your Sugars and Unsalted Butter
  • Add in Eggs and Vanilla and beat well.
  • Separately, Combine Flour, Baking Soda, Cinnamon, and Salt.  
  • Add to batter and mix well.
  • Add in Oats, Raisins, and Nuts and mix well.
  • Drop rounded tablespoon sized balls onto un-greased cookie sheet, or line with foil or bakers parchment.
  • Bake 10 to 12 minutes until golden.

Yield was 36.

Sunday, July 26, 2020

Did you know that before the crowbar was invented Crows would just drink at home alone.




I have a whole bunch of Animal Themed Jokes today.  I'm feeling generous, basically because Spanish was being annoying, my electronics are being stroppy, and I needed a couple jokes before the bread goes into the oven.

Yes, again, I'm stocking the freezer.  ;)




The goat

Two hunters are walking through the woods and one of them says " whoa whoa! Watch out for that hole!"

So the other guy says " I wonder how deep it is" and picks up a rusty anvil laying on the ground and throws it down the hole.

They don't hear a sound and three seconds later, they see a goat running really fast at them and jump down the hole.

So then they see a farmer calling out
"Becky! Becky" and approaches the hunters and ask " Have you seen a goat around here?"

The hunters reply " yeah it was running real fast and jumped down that hole "

The farmer replies " that's impossible! I had it tied to an anvil"



God and the animals

God is handing out characteristics to all of the animals, and he's getting close to the end of the list.

All the animals have picked except the lions, the beavers, and the pigs.

God looks up from the list and says "Who wants courage?"

One of the pigs says to another, "Ooh, we should get that!" the other one says, "Naw, who wants to be courageous? You have to strut around, humans will start hunting you, it's a huge pain. Let's wait."

The lions speak up and take the courage.

"Next up, industrious! Who wants to be known for being industrious?" The pig says, "Hey, we could definitely be that. Make stuff, stay busy, it sounds good!"

The other pig says, "Are you crazy? Get up at dawn, work all day, who wants that? I'm sure God saved the best for last."

The beavers pipe up and take industriousness, so God goes back to his list. "Let's see, claws are taken, flight went to the birds, the cheetah got speed . . . Okay, here we go. Who wants to be delicious?"




(especially with a BBQ Sauce and slow roasted.)




Two cows are standing in a field.

The first cow says to the second, “have you heard about this mad cow disease? It makes cows go crazy and then they die”.

The second cow replies, “good thing I‘m a helicopter.”



So all the animals gathered and having a party,

Everybody is drinking and talking and having a good time, suddenly a chameleon get to the middle of the room, say "check this out" and start changing color of his skin for a minute straight.

Once he done he say "Lets see any of you do the same".

Suddenly octopus appear from the crowd and says: hold my beer, hold my beer, hold my beer, hold my beer, hold my beer, hold my beer, hold my beer, hold my beer.

Saturday, July 25, 2020

You know what is the loudest bone in the body called? A trombone.

So today, in all its glory, is a twofer.  There's usually a connection between the two, but in this case, I'm trying to remember why I batched them together.  See if you can figure out why?



So an old guy is walking in the woods

He hears a voice "Hey mister!". He looks down and there's a frog on the ground.
"Hey mister" says the frog "kiss me and I'll turn into a beautiful princess and make love to you all night long!"

The old guy picks the frog up and puts it in his pocket and walks on. The frog says
"Hey mister, maybe you didn't understand me. I said I'm a beautiful princess, kiss me and I'll make love to you all night long."

The old man shrugs, says "Eh, at my age I'd rather have a talking frog." and walks on.



A failed wake up call...

In San Diego to work with military linguists, my colleague and I checked into a hotel and ordered a 5 a.m. wake-up call.

The next morning, the phone didn’t ring until 5:30. “You were supposed to call us at 5 a.m.!”
I admonished the desk clerk on the other end of the line.

“What if I had to close a ­million-dollar contract this morning? Your oversight would have cost me the deal!”
“Sir,” he said calmly, “if you had to close that type of deal, I doubt you’d be staying in this type of hotel.”

Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Thunder And Lightning, Very Very Frightening To Rack, The McNab Dog

By this time in the day, it should be sunny.

I mean, it is supposed to be the Sunshine State.

But heck, it is also the Rainy Season.

Oh and the dog is missing.   Figuratively. 

You see it just turned to "night" again.  The yellow blob floated over me, my neighbors, and all the way to the park.  It got difficult to see across the street.  The house got dark, the security lights came up full, briefly.

Meh.  I don't have a problem with that, although I really was hoping to get to skate today. 

Nah!

As for the dog, he's an interesting beast.  You see, Rack the SuperDog (TM) is an incredibly
expressive and incredibly intelligent dog.  With Great Intelligence comes Great ... Quirks.

He's been a fearful boy since he was a puppy.  Absolutely hates noise, which is to say a loud noise will send him scurrying off.

I've noticed that his reactions have gotten less severe.  Of course they have, he's being worn down.

Like the Grand Canyon.  Constant noises.  Two months worth of fireworks leading into the Rainy Season setting up.

Fireworks?  What the heck are you people celebrating, knock it off!

We do have a routine here to deal with some of the noise, to take the edge off. 

The Rain Cookie.

Rain Cookies are a ritual.  They look like chocolate fudge, and have some weird holistic herbal things in them that should calm him down. 

I think it's partly the act of getting the cookie.  I won't walk it over to him and give it to him.  He likes the things and he has to come out of hiding to get them. 

Rattle the bag, announce "Do you want a Rain Cookie (TM)?".
He looks.
"Well?"
Stand up, stretch, slink over.
I cup his face under the muzzle.
"Rack, you are a good boy!  Remember that, Good Boy!"
Stroke his head.
He seemed to relax a wee bit as I hand him the little fudge ball looking thing.
Back in his corner.

You have to meet them half way.  It seems to help.

I did a similar thing with Lettie.  She had fear of thunder and a very strong play/prey drive.  I
can work with that.

You see "Make Rain Time Play Time" was the theory and it worked well.  I had tennis balls all over the house.  I'd hear a boom, she'd hear it first actually, and would bark at the sky.

That was my cue to have a tennis ball bounce indoors.   She eventually worked through it.  She never actually brought the ball to me for it but she did expect the play. 

But she got to the point where she'd just handle it while trotting all over the house yipping at the thunder and the sky.

So since I just had a lightning strike on my block, that's it for today.

Seriously.  When you hear a quiet "snick" before the lightning flash and then the house
shakes from the storm, it's time to boogie.

I mean Seriously.  This house is built to withstand a hurricane, and I have seen it go through one but that's a story for another day.

When you feel the percussion of the thunder in your socks while you are sitting...

Sunday, July 19, 2020

I was gonna tell a time traveling joke but you guys didn't like it.




So I don't know about you, but when I read this, I read it in Hank Hill's Voice.  You know, the guy from King of the Hill?

I tell ya whut.  PROPANE!  PROPANE!  Propane is god's own gas!

The idea of Hank Hill almost tripping running up stairs... 

I really do have to get more current references!




Joan, who was rather well-proportioned, spent almost all of her vacation sunbathing on the roof of her hotel.

She wore a bathing suit the first day, but on the second, she decided that no one could see her way up there, and she slipped out of it for an overall tan.

She'd hardly begun when she heard someone running up the stairs.
She was lying on her stomach, so she just pulled a towel over her rear.

"Excuse me, miss," said the flustered assistant manager of the hotel, out of breath from running up the stairs.

"The Hilton doesn't mind your sunbathing on the roof, but we would very much appreciate your wearing a bathing suit as you did yesterday."

"What difference does it make?" Joan asked rather calmly. "No one can see me up here, and besides, I'm covered with a towel."

"Not exactly," said the embarrassed man. "You're resting on the dining room skylight."

Saturday, July 18, 2020

Today I learned humans eat more bananas than monkeys. I can’t remember the last time I ate a monkey.

I have been debating whether or not to post this one. 

It's a little edgy, however, last time I was out skating I kept thinking about this when I went past the golfers at Pompano Beach Airpark Golf Course.





Two women were playing golf


The first woman teed off and watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole.

The ball hit one of the men. He immediately clasped his hands together at his groin, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in agony.

The woman rushed down to the man, and immediately began to apologize. 'Please allow me to help. I'm a Physical Therapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you'd allow me,' she told him.

'Oh, no, I'll be all right. I'll be fine in a few minutes,' the man replied. He was in obvious agony, lying in the fetal position, still clasping his hands at his groin.

At her persistence, however, he finally allowed her to help. She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, loosened his pants and put her hands slowly and carefully inside.

She then administered a tender and skillful massage for several long moments and softly asked 'How does that feel'?

Feels wonderful, he replied; but I still think my thumb's broken!

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

How About a Non Poisonous Weed Killer Instead Of Round-Up

That picture is the whole recipe.  Borrowed from Facebook, so, thank you whoever you were!

I do however mix mine in a gallon jug so I cut it by half and then pour it into my sprayer.

It works, in fact it works well.

The Con is that it does not persist - it doesn't kill the weeds "permanently" like Round-Up Does.

Or rather that is the Pro in my view.

Ok, so here's the deal.  If you own a property and you get weeds, you have used Round-Up or a similar product.  Spray it once, it kills the weeds effectively.  They stay dead for a long time, months.

There is a lot of controversy about that stuff.  Some Say it is carcinogenic.  Some say that it remains in the environment for years.  Some Say it causes mutations.

I am not certain whether any of the negatives that Some Say about Round-up are valid, I'm just uncomfortable with using something on my soil that I don't want on my body that works quite that well.

This stuff kills MOST weeds.
It seems to work for a bit then the weeds come back or perhaps it is different weeds that come back in its place.

Not sure but I will say that I feel a lot more comfortable treating the soil with this stuff.

It is Vinegar, Epsom Salt, and Soap.

If you use it constantly on the same spot, it will damage the soil just like any "waste water" would.

In reality, you aren't going to use it that frequently or in that concentration.

So lets call this "Safe-Ish".

Safe is water, only, on your plants and your land.

I have used it very close to some food crops I have here.  Some Basil and some Green Onion I have in the front garden were close to where I spray and I won't have any personal issues with eating those when I feel they are ready.

The picture is after treatment, so you can see that it is effective.

Sunday, July 12, 2020

What's the difference between a divorce and a tornado? Nothing. Someone's losing a trailer.


Thump... Thump... Thump...

A man is walking home one foggy night, When behind him he hears:

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

He looks back, but the source of the sound is obscured by the fog. He continues walking.

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

He begins to walk faster, and looks back over his shoulder as he hurries along. He sees the faint outline of a coffin standing upright, hopping along after him.

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

Terrified, the man begins to run, cutting through an alley in hopes of losing his pursuer, but the coffin follows quickly.

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

Faster and faster he goes, until he finally reaches his house. Out of breath, he lets himself in and slams the door shut behind him, locking the deadbolt. He backs away from the door as he hears banging on the other side:

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

CRASH!

The coffin bursts through the door, unhinging its lid. The lid swings wildly as it hops after him, and he screams and runs up the stairs.

Clappity-thump…

Clappity-thump…

Clappity-thump…

He runs into the bathroom and shuts the door, cowering against the back wall. Again, it rams into the door, smashing it open. The man searches frantically for something to defend himself with. He sees a bottle of cough syrup on the counter and snatches it up.

Desperately, he throws it at the coffin, and............The coffin stops.

Saturday, July 11, 2020

I had a great idea for a belt made completely out of watches. I gave up once I realized it would be a waist of time.


Border patrol stops a man on a bike


One day a bicycle rider stops at a border control.

On top of the man’s bike are two bags of powder like substances.

The border control Police demand that he open the bags so they can see what’s inside. When the man did cut the bags open, inside was nothing but sand.

The border control police work and confused but let the man go.

This continued for several weeks with each day, the man rides his bike through border control with two bags of sand which are checked every single time.

After seven weeks, one of the police officers walks up to the man. The police officer tells him “listen, every time we check your bags, there’s nothing in them. Now you seem like a pretty suspicious guy, so come on tell me what you were smuggling”.

The rider leans over...

“bikes”.

Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Why Does The World Smell Like Onions?

I will be celebrating my 22,000th mile on inline skates next week, it's safe to say that this is my sport.

It was a workout day.

I gathered my things together and tossed them into the Jeep.

Skates.  Three bottles of water.  Skate pads.  Sun Block.

I am in South Florida after all.

All the rest.

These days, it includes extra water because it is high summer.  90 Degrees F, 32 C in sun that is literally less than three degrees from vertical at its highest can be punishing.

I have racing stripes on my wrists, elbows, and knees from the pads blocking the sun.

Getting to the park, I put my skates on, and step down allowing the grass to stop my free rolling down hill.

Not much of a hill here, Florida "Below I-4" is flatter than anywhere else I have been.  Flatter than Kansas.

I distractedly put on the mask that has to go on after headphones and helmet, and step onto the pavement.

Heart rate monitor is on. I check to see that I am below my personal speed limit of 165 BPM.  I can easily get myself going faster than that simply by pushing a little harder, getting a little more air into my lungs, getting a little more exercise, but I don't.

I don't want to "overdrive" the trails and leave a large smear after a bounce.

The Emergency Rooms down here are filling up again with COVID-19 cases, and having me come in on a gurney because I landed badly and sprained or broke something would end worse.

Lets not.  Slower heart rate means slower skater.  I'll get enough of a burn anyway.

I get going, and push.

I noticed it.  Someone is cooking Onions, early.

Fair enough, I'm right by the restaurant, Galuppi's, at the golf course.  The wind usually comes off the ocean though and I am just to its east side.

Mentally shrugging, I enjoy burning off another sweaty 1600 calories on a short workout. 

Getting back to the Jeep, I get on my way back home.

The Jeep doesn't smell as strongly of onions.  I'm not going to crave a cheesesteak with fried onions here.  But it is just about lunch time and I have a very empty stomach to fill once I pull into the house.

Strangely, now, I put things together as I enter the house.

You see, these confounded Masks that we all wear?  I pull mine up and down when I am approaching someone on the trails.  My mask protects you.  It is a statement that I respect your humanity, or something less self aggrandizing.

If I had "it" and I cough inside of that mask, your chance of getting "it" drops significantly.  In this case, "it" is frighteningly transmissible.

Unlocking the door, I step in.

The house smells like onions.

I look at my right hand.  Keys and Mask.

I realize what it was.  Sloppy Joes.  We cook from scratch here.   The house is sealed tight here to keep the air conditioning inside.  All that onion that we needed to get into that Sloppy Joe let out a lot of scent into the air.  The synthetic fabrics...

THAT IS IT!

Ok, time to toss that mask into the hamper.  I was breathing Onion from the Mask, not the atmosphere. 

Still and all, Galuppi's is a pretty good restaurant even if the Sous Chefs weren't grilling onions at 9 in the morning.

But while you should wear your mask, wash the thing.

Even if it is your Workout Mask.  They get kind of stinky and sweaty too!

Sloppy Joe anyone?  Ok, I'll make beefy mac with the leftovers!  CYA!

Sunday, July 5, 2020

What do you call an American parallelogram? A parallelo-ounce.

Strictly speaking, that would be a paralelo-28th-of-an-ounce.

Since I insist on putting Dad Jokes up here on the weekends, whether I should or not, here is a joke purported to have been shared by an Actual Dad!

Yeah, I know, but here ya go!



This is a joke my dad told me a long time ago. I hope I don't offend anyone.


A young man was inspired to help out with his church's fundraiser. He asked the preacher if he could participate. The preacher, knowing the young man had a bad stutter, only gave him 3 bibles to sell.

The following day the young man returned asking for more. The preacher gave him 5. The following day the preacher gave him 10. By the end of the week, the young man broke the church's all time record for the highest sale of bibles.

The preacher believed that divine intervention had occured. He was dumbfounded and had to know the young man's secret.

So the preacher asked the man how he was able to sell so many bibles in such a short amount of time.

The young man smiled and said,"I asked th-th-them if th-th-they wanted to b-b-buy a bible or have m-m-me read it to th-th-them."

Saturday, July 4, 2020

Who is married to Antarctica? Uncle-Arctica






So this one here?  It's a two fer. 


As I like to try to find some connection, no matter how distant or thin that connection could be... this one reminds me of fathers.  

Or at least older guys.







A man gets in the hotel elevator

He hears a voice say "going up" and looks around, weirded out that he can't see anyone nearby who would have said that.
But when he chooses his floor, the voice says "door closing" and he realizes it was the elevator talking.

So, after his vacation has ended, he gets into the elevator with his suitcase.
When he pressed the ground floor button, the elevator says "goodbye son".
The man says "how can I be your son? You're just a machine."
And the elevator says "I brought you up, didn't I?"

----


There was an eighty year old man who went to the doctor for his annual checkup, and when the doctor finished checking him over, he was amazed and said


“Sir, you have the body of a 40 year old, and the physique of a 20 year old; tell me, what’s your secret.”

The old man replies “Well I have a very good relationship with the lord, so much so, that when I go to the bathroom at night he turns the light on for me.”

Now the doctor was just as shocked as you, and as shocked as me, so he went into the waiting room to tell this mans wife the news.

“Ma’am your husband is in great shape; he has the body of a 40 year old and the physique of a 20 year old, and I asked him how he kept in such good shape and he told me that he has a very relationship with the Lord, so much so that when he goes to the bathroom He turns the light on for him. So I was wondering if you knew anything about that.

The wife replied, “Well that would explain whose been peeing in the refrigerator every night!”

Wednesday, July 1, 2020

When Deleting Your Spare, Whether Jeep or Inline Skate, You Just May Need Them

Ok, so it's a weird collision of things that happened. 

I was thinking of how My Sport was back in the 90's.  Inline Skating was one of those things that grew rapidly and massively, and I mused often about how fun it would be to open up a Pro Shop for Skating. 

Then, the market changed, people left the sport, that dream vanished like the team that I was friendly with over the years. 

I still skate, and people are coming back but not like before.  The meets are gone, the teams are terminated, but still I roll on. 

I was out skating at the Pompano Airpark the other day.  I looked at the car, and leaned against the spare while trying to get all the crap set up to be able to "Skate At My Level" in this day and age.  A pint of ice water per 4 or 5 miles of South Florida Heat.  Two spools of surgical tape.  Scissors.  Allen Key.  Phone, headphones, padding to be able to listen to music.
Spare axles and bolts wrapped in plastic sit under the water in the "fanny pack" to carry all this nonsense.

I need to find another one that large.  While Fanny Packs are ludicrously out of style for most people, if you're on a trail working out, they can be a requirement.  You don't have enough hands to carry three sport bottles of water, and a Camelback Bladder gets "spoiled" after a couple uses.

When I was competitive back in Philadelphia through to the mid 2000s, I would skate 33 
miles, three times a week during season.  100 Miles.  162 Kms.  April to November.

That is why I have all that equipment.  I used to carry spare wheels in case I threw an axle or a wheel or...

"SNAP!".

What is going on?  I'm only two miles out. This is nothing of a distance. 

Vibration transmitted from the back wheel of my right skate boot.

"Something is going on with the push wheel, got to check at Three Mile Bench".


I was in limp along mode until then.  Vibration got really bad.  I was worried that push wheel would lock up and I'd be 100 KG of Moose Meat slamming onto the pavement.   Slowed down and sat.

I was presented with a wheel that had literally shattered and the hub had disintegrated into trail dust.

"Ho Lee CRAP! and no SPARE!".

Yes, I deleted the spare.  Just like the people who like to mod their Jeeps to go with those
tires that resemble donuts.  I was stuck on the trail and no spare to roll on.

8 wheels is now down to 7.  I removed that push wheel and moved a similar one on that boot to that spot.  I was using up my leftover wheels from the competitive era.  Down to the last of the 20 year old wheels, I was now using something I removed from a pair of cheap skates, literally.  They were set on top of a trash bin on bulk trash here.  While those boots were shredded, I was able to rescue the bearings and the wheels and use them both.

But that was years back.  I ran through all my "trash skates" and back catalog of old wheels.  They were from so long ago that the rigid plastic hubs turned into magic trail pixie dust that would trip some other poor soul if the hit it.

"Sorry!  On Yer Left!"

Got back on the trail and went a half mile.  Vibration started up again.  My Right Leg was vibrating enough to be an annoyance and looking down I saw I was back into that same problem again.

Sat down at Kevin's bench.  Wheel 2 is now shattered.  I had to scavenge a wheel from the
left boot and do a trail repair to be able to roll back to the jeep to get the spare skates.  Now down to Three Wheels On Each Boot.

Yes, I thought that having a spare pair of skates two and a half miles away was a good idea.  Usually when an inline skate wheel dies, it's due to the Urethane pulling away from the hub.  Not ancient plastic shattering away from the bearings.

Got back on the trails again and you guessed it.  I replaced that shattered push wheel again with a wheel from the left boot, and moved things around.  The Two Front Wheels were from an older set of wheels that strangely were holding up.

My last mile was in Limp Along Mode.   I had two wheels out of four on the right leg, three on the left.   Speed was shot, I was hot and tired from sitting in the sun repairing skate trucks and moving wheels around.

I rolled back to the Jeep and thought about that deleted spare.  That's why when you rework your skates, and remove one from the Truck, Rails or Frames to you noobs, you save two of them. 
In my own experience, you rest on your heels, push from them and sweep the leg so that the foot leaves the ground from the toe. 

The Push Wheel ends up being the back wheel on an inline skate and wears out fastest. 

Save that one in case of emergency...

Like this.

I won't delete my Spare again.  More crap to carry but it's worth it.

Now that I am home, I have work to do.  Each boot needs two wheels each.


Sunday, June 28, 2020

Who shaves 10 times a day and still has a beard? The barber.

There's a sign behind a bar in Alaska...


"Your tab paid if you drink a toe whisky, fight a bear and make love to a Lumber-Jane"

A guy has been drinking all day and realises his tab might be bigger than his wallet so he asks the bartender about the sign.

"Sure, you just drink a big glass of that whisky with the toe in it, giving the toe a nice kiss.
 Then we got a bear that come round back and messes with the trash and you gotta send her packing. Finally, Mary-Jane is the girl with arms like Popeye. Seduce her and you tab is paid"

The guy agrees and gets poured the whisky with the toe. In two gulps he manages to drink it all, then fishes out the toe and gives it a kiss.

Dropping the toe back in the bottle, the bartender says "well that's the first one done. Go see if that bear is around"

Wobbling outside, the man goes round to the trash bins and finds a huge grizzly sniffing around.

"I ain't watching this" says the barman and heads back inside. Through the window there is the sound of growling, shouting, roaring, screaming, clawing and gnashing for about 30 minutes.

Finally the door opens and the man crawls in.  "Alright, where's this woman I've got to fight?"

Saturday, June 27, 2020

What's black and white and goes "oom! oom!"? A cow walking backwards.

I have a habit of playing a game with names.  Not with people's names, they tend to get attached to them.  This is with dogs.  If I hear a strange word, I consider how it would sound if I was trying to call my dog back to me. 

It's strange enough calling "Rack" back, but he seems to like to be called, regardless.

There was Ubu who used to sit on TV.  Things like that.

Then there is this particular guy.



A robber breaks into a house while the residents are away one dark night.
Eager to see what he can loot, he quickly starts searching through cupboards and dressers, grabbing valuables with a trained eye.

Suddenly, he hears a voice come out of nowhere. “Jesus is watching you.”
The criminal jumps, scared the residents are back, and freezes.
After a few minutes of silence however, he assumes it was his imagination, and goes back to robbing.
A couple minutes pass, before once again, the voice returns. “Jesus is watching you.”
Quite confused, the thief searches the house and checks the front door, but nothing pops out as unusual.
He finally decides to move rooms, and finds a parrot, but ignores it.

Before he can begin to do anything, someone speaks again, “Jesus is watching you.”
The robber realized it was the parrot talking! Going to the parrot, he asks it, “Are you the one who’s been talking to me?”
The parrot responds, “Yes.” The thief couldn’t believe it. So, he asks another question. “What is your name?” “Ismael.” the parrot replies.
The man scoffed. “What type of idiot names a parrot Ismael?”
The parrot speaks yet again, “The same type of idiot that names a Rottweiler Jesus.”

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

What Are Fridge Bread And Butter Pickles And Why Haven't I Tried This Before Now?

I am on Day Three of letting this brew in the fridge.  Opened one jar up and started nibbling.

I finished the Jar.

They Were THAT Good!

I think the answer to that is my father.

Being from a German family in Easton Pennsylvania, he always loved to have Pickles. 

One day I tried them.  YUCK!  His pickles were salty and strong, garlicky and overly peppery and spicy.  No thank you!

I got well past that, never willingly had another one until I was well past my teens.  I then tried what they called a "Bread and Butter" pickle.  

"Hmm, I rather like this!"

They are called that because people during The Depression had plain bread with butter on it, put pickles on it, and called that a sandwich. 

Luckily we have better these days since that is just carbs and fat.

Even though we do, these pickles are well worth the hour it took for me to make five jars of them. 

This is from the gift that keeps giving.  Ann, down the block, asked me to help her clear out her fridge and gave me a big ol' bag of fruit and vegetables.  The Apples were made into an Apple Pie.  The Carrots I snacked on.  The Oranges are split between me and Oscar.  

And two Cucumbers.   I was low on pickles, and remembered my Cousin in Nebraska makes these all the time because "These are so darn easy!".   I think he added a "Go Big Red" after it, not sure.

So I tried.  It's basically Mc Cormick's recipe, so if you can't understand me, try there.   I did add a teaspoon of Celery Seed, a half teaspoon of Ground Cloves, and a teaspoon of Turmeric.  Consider that last bit optional.  I subbed in a whole white onion instead of using the 1/2 cup of dried onions because I had the onion.  I rather liked that pickled too!


Ingredients:

  • 2 Pounds (1 Kilo) of Cucumbers, sliced and cleaned
  • 1 Pound (one medium where I shop) Whole Sweet Onion  (White, Vidalia, or similar)
  • 2 Cups White Distilled Vinegar (5% acidity)
  • 2 Tablespoons of Non Iodized Salt (Don't really know why not iodized, it worked for me)
  • 2 Teaspoons Pickling Spice
  • 2 Teaspoons Whole Mustard Seed
  • 1 Teaspoon Ground Turmeric (for color)
  • 1 Teaspoon Celery Seed
  • 1/2 Teaspoon Ground Cloves

Process:

  • Clean and cut your Cucumbers and Onions into at least 1/8 inch thick slices.
  • Fill sterilized jars with Cucumber and Onion pieces allowing 1/2 inch of room at the top.
  • To a 3 quart/liter sauce pan, add Vinegar and all of the spices.
  • Bring the mixture to boil and reduce heat to Simmer and stir constantly.
  • Cook the mixture for 5 Minutes minimum until all the sugar has dissolved
  • Ladle the mixture into the jars to cover the Cucumbers and onions.
  • Seal jars and allow to cool before placing in refrigerator.
  • Shake the jars daily.
  • Allow the jars to "steep" in the mixture a minimum of 3 days before enjoying.
  • Shake the pickles every third day.
  • Enjoy your pickles within 2 months and store in refrigerator.

Sunday, June 21, 2020

Some guys will stand 5’8” away from you and call it 6’.

Wow, A Joke in Metric and you don't even need to know that a Meter is 10 Percent more than a Yard!



Frenchman in Morocco

A Frenchman seeking some thrills travels to Morocco and decides to go bungee jumping off the top of mosques. As he bounces back into the air, all of the passerby in Morocco are in awe and one Moroccan passerby decides that he wants to try it himself.

He finds the Frenchman at a nearby cafe and sits down and remarks, “Wow, that looked really fun! Can you tell me about your stunts?”

Yeah, of course!” The Frenchman replies. “It’s called bungee jumping- all you need is 10 meters of sturdy rope and you’re set. ”

The Moroccan is delighted to know that he doesn’t need any qualifications and goes to buy some a sturdy rope from a nearby store. After his purchase, he climbs to the top of a mosque, tethers the rope to a secure fastener and jumps. But instead of bouncing up and down, he hits the ground at full speed and dies instantly.

The Moroccan police launch an investigation and detain the Frenchman and the store clerk. The police ask the Frenchman what he taught the Moroccan and the Frenchman says that he was precise in his measurements and doesn’t know how he could have died. “I swear, I told him to get only 10 meters of rope!” he exclaims.

“Oh, Merde!” the clerk suddenly exclaims. “He did ask me for 8 meters of rope, but because I know his cousins, I gave him 5 extra meters for free!”

Saturday, June 20, 2020

A friend of mine claims he can throw a stick 5 miles and his pet dog will retrieve it but I think that's a bit far fetched.

I guess I am feeling generous because here you have a triple play.  Three short jokes.

Ba dum bum bum... er bum?



Heavy carry-on

A businessman was having a tough time lugging his lumpy, oversized travel bag onto the plane.
Helped by a flight attendant, he finally managed to stuff it in the overhead bin.
“Do you always carry such heavy luggage?” she sighed.
“No more,” the man said. “Next time, I’m riding in the bag, and my partner can buy the ticket!”



Divorce

A salesman was testifying in his divorce proceedings against his wife."Please describe," said his attorney, "the incident that first caused you to entertain suspicions as to your wife's infidelity."

"Well, I'm pretty much on the road all week," the man testified. "So naturally when I am home, I'm attentive to the wife."

One Sunday morning," he continued, "we were in the midst of some pretty heavy lovemaking when the old lady in the apartment next door pounded on the wall and yelled,

'Can't you at least stop all that racket on the weekends?'"




Mr Carrot was out riding his motorcycle on a beautiful day.


Suddenly a car cuts in front of him and he goes flying off his bike. A few hours later Mrs Carrot gets a call from the hospital. “Mrs. Carrot, this is Dr. Carrot, and I’m calling you to let you know that your husband got into a terrible accident.”

“Oh my gosh, no! Is he ok?” she asks

“Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news” the good doctor says.

“What’s the good news?” she asks.

“He’ll live” the doctor replies.

“So, what’s the bad news” she inquired.

“Well, he wasn’t wearing a helmet and he’s going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life”

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

It's a McNab Dog's Life With Rack

All my dogs have been Rescues.

They have both been McNab Dogs or a cross.

Not that there is anything wrong with a Golden Retriever, they are a living hug.  German Shepherds are great dogs, but I'm a big guy and people shy away from me already.  There are a lot of Greyhounds around that need homes, and if you ever want something on your couch sleeping, they are a good bet since they are mellow and regal in their bearing.

But I have a McNab.  They're not well known outside of their native California, except with cowboys and ranchers and farmers.  I am none of that, I did IT in my career.

Not being well known is a good thing.  The breed hasn't been wrecked by overbreeding.

Rack is an interesting character though.

You see, there seem to be two different kinds of McNabs.  The kinds that have to be heavily and independently occupied are working dogs with a Capital W.  They're the ones that you send out to the back 40 to round up the cows and expect them to work those beasts to better than your best expectation.

Rack is, well he's different.

He got off to a bad start.  I expect that it was because he's allergic to chicken and grain.  They probably fed him that and it might be why I ended up with him in the first place.

Having to pick up something that looks like Melted Soft Serve Ice Cream from the living room
rug twice a day until I found out what caused it was uncomfortable to say the least.

Also he has a strong fear of Diesel Trucks and Loud Noises.  I'm guessing the first owner was either a hunter or a truck driver and fed him some KFC one too many times in the cab of the truck.

No matter what breed, an intelligent dog needs a job.  It's true for Rack, as well as it is true for any Border Collie, Kelpie, Poodle, or Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.

That last one is the only small dog I would consider.  They are in the "Top Ten" intelligent dog lists.  If I ever need to slow down who knows what will happen.

I am his job.

You see, while those ranchers won't sell a City Person a McNab, many of these same dogs
are smart enough to know that life on the farm is not for them.  They simply "up and leave".  The dog goes missing and needs a home.

Shelters in Northern California, Reno Nevada, Fresno, and similar places are chock full of these amazing dogs.  I've said I want to just drive my Jeep around those areas with the doors off of the car and the roof down and if a dog chooses to jump in, I'll have my next one.

That would take a four day drive so it isn't going to happen.  Some nice ideas are just best being ideas only.

Those dogs were on a farm because a person thought they knew best.  Usually they do, sometimes not.

All day long, I am home.  I'm up before dawn.  We go for our first mile walk and by the end I'm being towed home so he can get water and food.  Then off to his corner where he guards against the evil delivery trucks.

He can spot a UPS truck before that thing gets onto my block.

If I get out of my desk and walk somewhere, I usually will hear paws on the pavement, toes on the tiles.  Turn around and the white tip of a tail is heading back to His Place In The Corner.

My fault, I keep half of the house blocked off because I would rather have a wet nose on my elbow once an hour than be alone here to my music on the noise-canceling headphones.

When I am finished, my rocker is next to His Spot.  I'll entertain myself while he's there sleeping.  Next to me, I'll look down at the DogBall (TM) that is resting there.

Whoever said "it's a dog's life" never met us.


He knows the neighborhood, and will choose our routes.   I make it a point to do more than two miles a day, and a true farm dog will walk many times that.

I'm more like a greyhound anyway.  If I am not on my skates burning 2000 calories a workout, or weightlifting on off days, I'll lounge around.

Can't use the Bowflex with a dog nosing your toe lifts so he's excluded.

Ironically I got Lettie, my first McNab Dog Of A Lifetime to be a companion on my own skate workouts.  She could not keep up so we didn't take her on my trips.  I would skate 100 miles a week in peak season and we thought it best not to do that to a dog, even if I would have shortened my distances for her.

The thing is that if you include a dog in most of your activities, you will find a balance, and you will find peace.

Isn't that why our species have grown together all these centuries?

Sunday, June 14, 2020

I tried giving a giant a pedicure. It was no small feat.

Any time I find a good story I like it.  The more Double Entendres, double meanings, I can find, the better.




A female class teacher was having a problem with a boy in her 3rd grade class.

The boy said, "Madam, I should be in Grade 4. I am smarter than my sister & she's in Grade 4".

The Madam had heard enough and took the boy to the principal. The principal decided to test the boy with some questions from Grade 4.

Principal: What is 3+3?

Boy: 6.

Principal: 6+6.

Boy: 12.

The boy got all the questions right. The principal told the Madam to send the boy to Grade 4 immediately. The Madam decided to ask her own questions and the principal agreed.

Madam: What does a cow have 4 of that I have only 2?

Boy: Legs.

Madam: What is in your trousers that I don't have?

Boy: Pockets.

Madam: What starts wit a C and ends with T, is hairy, oval, delicious and contains thin, whitish liquid?

Boy: Coconut.

Madam: What goes in hard & then comes out soft & sticky?

The principal's eyes opened really wide, but before he could stop the answer, the boy was taking charge

Boy: Bubble gum.

Madam: You stick your pole inside me. You tie me down to get me up, I get wet before you do.

Boy: Tent.

The principal was looking restless.

Madam: A finger goes in me. You fiddle with me when you are bored. The best man always has me first?.

Boy: Wedding ring.

Madam: I come in many sizes. When I'm not well, I drip. When you blow me, you feel good?

Boy: Nose.

Madam: I have a stiff shaft. My tip penetrates, I come with a quiver.

Boy: Arrow.

Principal: OH MY GOD.

Madam: What starts with 'F' and ends wit a 'K' and if you don't get it, you have to use your hand?

Boy: Fork.

Madam: What is it that all men have, it's longer in some men than others, the Pope doesn't use his and a man gives it to his wife after marriage?

Boy: Surname.

Principal: Ohooo!

Madam: What part of the man has no bone but has muscles with a lot of veins like pumpkin and is responsible for making love?

Boy: Heart.

Principal: Eeeeeh!

The principal breathed a sigh of relief and said to the Madam, "Send this bloody boy to the university. I myself got all the answers wrong!"

Saturday, June 13, 2020

An aspiring thief entered a play. He stole the spotlight.

I remember when I was very small there were a lot of programs on the TV about crime.  I guess the lingering memories about the Mob Era in Chicago kept those pot boilers simmering along. 



On the other hand, everybody loves laughing at someone who is a bit clueless.




A Mafia Godfather finds out that his bookkeeper, Guido, has cheated him out of $10,000,000.

His bookkeeper is deaf and mute . When the Godfather goes to confront Guido about his missing $10 million, he takes along his lawyer who knows sign language.

The Godfather tells the lawyer, "Ask him where the money is!"

The lawyer, using sign language, asks Guido, "Where's the money?"

Guido signs back, "I don't know what you are talking about."

The lawyer tells the Godfather, "He says he doesn't know what you're talking about."

The Godfather pulls out a pistol, puts it to Guido's head and says, "Ask him again or I'll kill him!"

The lawyer signs to Guido, "He'll kill you if you don't tell him."

Guido trembles and signs, "OK! You win! The money is in a brown briefcase, buried behind the shed at my cousin Bruno's house."

The Godfather asks the lawyer, "What did he say?"

The lawyer replies, "He says you don't have the guts to pull the trigger!"

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Is It Time To Resume Your Moderate to Extreme Workouts?

Think of this as a Sports Medicine Question: Is it time to go back to working out?


The short answer is probably.

The longer one is a bit more complex.

Although I really could use a proper gym, complete with free weights, universal, and nautilus stations, I personally truly won't consider setting foot inside of a gym until I have that vaccine in my arm for COVID-19.

My own experiences as a client in a gym and as a trainer prove to me that "All Y'all are Nasty". 

Meaning that if you creatures won't wipe down a bench after you use it, you certainly won't take the time to wear a mask to workout and then wipe down that bench with a pandemic brewing.

No, seriously.  There was this Professor Emeritus at Temple University who worked out in the faculty gym at the same time as me who we called "Sweaty Betty" because her nasty ass left puddles of sweat and got actually violent if you called her on that.

But that is besides the point.

Now, in the concept of outdoor workouts, this is a lot safer to do the areas that COVID is in decline.

Huh?

The Hospitals in South Florida are beginning to do elective surgeries, and that is what is more important than some idiot sitting in the Governor's Chair making Politically Influenced decisions that are not necessarily appropriate to you personally retaining your own life.

Bottom Line is "If The Emergency Room Of Your Hospital Is Not Available For You If You Injure Yourself Do Not Workout In A Sport That Can Cause Injury". 

This applies anywhere else in the world - you have to be aware of how to get help if your own first aid skills are not sufficient to get you safely home. 

While I historically maintained First Aid Certification to assist myself and others, I'm neither a doctor, nor an EMT. 

However, I am an Expert or Elite Inline Skater (Speed, Distance, and Marathon), and a Trainer.  I have skated 21,900 plus miles since 1992 and counting.

... and I have injured myself a number of times, thankfully no breaks.

However, I recognize that is a possibility. 

Secondly, Wear A Mask, No Excuses.

I was out on the trails and it showed an interesting pattern. 

Casual exercisers such as casual walkers and strollers, and short distance exercisers did not wear masks.

Serious exercisers such as Skaters (Yo!  Represent!), Distance Runners, and Distance Bikers were wearing masks and other face coverings.

The difference is that once you get past a certain point, mere Social Distancing is worthless, and you need to protect yourself. 

Third, As You Go Faster, You Are More Exposed To Airborne Contagions.

The reason is that you are pulling a lot of air into your lungs if you are doing any kind of aerobic sports training.  A lot more than normal if sitting at a bench or walking from point A to point B at a normal pace.

I can illustrate that with my own workouts.

Before the world shut down here in March, I was skating 14 miles (22 Km or so) in a 90 minute workout with rest and water stops.  My pace was a heart rate of 165bpm average.  I was doing a 5 minute mile, predictably.  This was without a mask.

The other day I skated with a mask.  Granted, I had sat out two months so my fitness level was down from March, but that does not explain away the results I saw.

I skated shorter distances and slower that day, with a mask and my heart rate illustrated starkly what my body tried to do with less oxygen at sea level.

I ended up skating in sprints.  I was purposely seeking my normal pace of 165 bpm.  However when I approached someone, I pulled the mask up to cover nose and mouth as you see up in the picture.

"Ain't he pretty?" as Bugs Bunny would say.

It would give me a couple hundred feet of being with limited air flow while struggling to maintain speed.

Maintaining speed is not possible, and heart rate climbed significantly.

While I can maintain a higher heart rate than most at my own fitness level, my heart rate went from 165 to 180-185 bpm almost immediately with mask covering my nose.  Since I was pulling in more air, the mask formed a seal around nose and mouth and filtered that air, but breathing took much more effort.  My speed dropped noticeably. 

The conclusion would be in my own opinion...
  • Workout Outdoors is best.
  • Wear your mask
  • Drink plenty of water - hydrate!  You really don't need those electrolytes, for a moderate workout.
  • Cover up when you are approaching someone.
  • Judge for yourself when it is safe for you to open your mask to get the air you need to succeed in your training.
Oh, and don't fall!  You don't want to have to go to an ER - they are way too busy for your own clumsy self!

Sunday, June 7, 2020

Know what really grinds my gears? Poor use of the clutch!

So it's a good story, told well twice.  I guess Vermont and New England could be described as the Yorkshire of the US, or vice versa.  Both places have reputations for people who tend to be brief and thrifty with their words.

Unlike me.




Vermont farmer

A texas cattle rancher came to visit a Vermont dairy farm.

He gets a tour of the 10 acre farm, and says to the Vermont farmer "This farm aint nothin, my ranch back in texas is so big, it would take us 3 days just to drive my truck around the whole property".

The Vermont farmer responds "yup I had a truck like that once"



A Texan ranch owner

A Texan ranch owner was visiting UK and visited a local pub in a sheep farming area of Yorkshire. He struck up a conversation with a sheep farmer in the pub. After a bit of chit chat, the Texan asked the Yorkshireman a question. The conversation went thus:

Texan - “So, how long does it take you to go from one end of your farm to the other”.

Yorkshireman – “about 3 hours to walk from one end to the other”

Texan – “If I get in my car to drive from one end of my ranch to the other, it’ll take me a day”

Yorkshireman, after some pause for thought – “Aye, I used to have a car like that.”

Saturday, June 6, 2020

What do you call someone who takes care of chickens? A chicken tender.





Since I am getting ready to make a home made, from scratch, pizza... Chicken tenders came to mind.  But really it's all about being broken in a car which is something I am happy to say has not happened to me in a very long time.



A man was driving a rental car along a old mountain road in Eastern Europe at night when he started having engine problems

Unable to get a signal on his mobile phone, he saw a lit building not far off and made it there just as the car stalled. Getting out of the car, he knocked on the door. A monk in a brown habit opened the door.

"Good evening, brother!" greeted the monk. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm very sorry to bother, but I'm having trouble with my car and can't seem to get my phone to work. Would you have a landline I could borrow to call for help?" asked the man.

The monastery did have a phone. The man managed to get the car company to send a replacement but it would take a couple of hours to reach. When the monk heard this, he invited the man to stay for dinner.

"Please have a rest." assured the monk. "We're having fish and chips tonight."

The man accepted the offer with thanks and sat down to the best fish and chips he had eaten. Grateful, he asked if he could thank the cook in person. The monk obliged and went into the kitchen to convey his request. Shortly after, another monk walked out.

"Thank you so much for the fantastic meal!" exclaimed the man. "You must be the chip monk."
"You're most welcome but no, that would be him." explained the monk pointing at a third monk who was walking over. "I'm the fish friar."

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

Orchids Against The Fence

The thing is that here in South Florida, natural beauty is all around us.

Remember the place is named after Flowers after all .

Given the right conditions, a seed dropped on the ground will grow, flourish, and eventually bloom and bare fruit.   It's fairly easy here to grow plants that people in London need to build a whole infrastructure around.

That Greenhouse is a bit of a trial to maintain, isn't it?

Here, my orchids grow in a mundane spot.  They please me from my window in the kitchen.  They flower against the fence or the shed in the back.  I don't do anything more than give them water every day.  I suppose I should fertilize them but I forget.

Every day at 7:30 in the Morning, I am outside inspecting my plants.  Inspecting them, fussing over them, tweaking their irrigation, getting myself soaked when I pull a sprinkler head, and generally enjoying the experience.

I was that "weird kid" that had set up tables in his pre-teen bedroom so that I could grow plants.  From the mundane to the exotic, simply because they pleased me.  I once had a thimble sized terracotta pot once that I managed to grow a Marigold that bloomed a little flower about the size of your thumbnail. 

Now that I am in Florida, I can simply put a box with a little bit of mulch tied to my fence, drip feed watered daily for fifteen minutes, and wait for beauty to occur in different spots in different times of the year.

It is now June.  We are all here waiting for Hurricane Season to get started.  Doing our Hurricane Shopping for Hurricane Food and Hurricane Water (beer).  This season means that while I can enjoy those flowers, I will be looking over my shoulder and seeing if things are quite right to survive a tropical storm force wind. 

Once in place, these plants and the others, do not like to be moved.  They grow their roots between the fence boards and become happy in their place.

They bloom where they are planted.  Hopefully we all can say that of ourselves.

May you bloom where you are planted.  After all, you can grow into the sunshine as well.  Now check your place and make sure it will survive a storm.  May as well, you just might find some beauty in a forgotten corner.

Sunday, May 31, 2020

The inventor of sliced bread is likely the one that cut the cheese.

Here in South Florida, we take Hurricane Season very seriously.  It starts tomorrow, so we will all be trying to shop, hopefully with our masks, to make sure that we have enough Room Temperature Stable Food and Water in the house in case of a disaster for two weeks.

Every year I go shopping, and treat myself to a case of Special Hurricane Water.  Last year it was a case of Corona Extra.  I wonder what that will be this year?



Two Nuns

While shopping in a food store, two nuns happened to pass by the beer, wine, and liquor section.  One asked the other if she would like a beer.

The second nun answered that, indeed, it would be very nice to have one, but that she would feel uncomfortable about purchasing it.

The first nun replied that she would handle that without a problem.  She picked up a six-pack and took it to the cashier.

The cashier had a surprised look, so the nun said,

'This is for washing our hair.'  Without blinking an eye, the cashier reached under the counter and put a package of pretzel sticks in the bag with the beer.

'The curlers are on me.'