Guerilla Art or Putting Your Best Foot Forward? Did One Of You Kiddies Lose A Shoe?

This all happened, like everything does around here for me, on a dog walk.

Mind you, when you walk between 11,000 and 20,000 steps a day, you tend to see everything.  I have a bit of a reputation here in town as being That Guy Walking Around.

I'm also lately doing circuits or laps up and down the main drag, Wilton Drive, on a bike. 

2.4 miles each lap, 6 laps, 18.17 miles today.

It can get repetitive.  I keep my eyes open for entertainment and I do see it.

We were walking on a street near the house.  On the ground there was a shoe.  A wee little kid's slip on. 

There are not too many children here in town, so picking up the shoe was on order.  It ended up on the fence hoping that the original owner would find it.

I mean... what can you do with a shoe?

It sat there overnight. 

I did notice that the next morning, it had gotten knocked into the yard with the rather boisterous Labradoodles.  They're both young, under 3 years old.  The shoe was quite out of reach and I could not rescue it.  The shoe being on the wrong side of the fence and closed gate, there it would stay.

Except.  The next walk, I do four per day, it had made it from the grass to the fence post.  The owner of the property placed it on a fence post hoping the original owner would find it on their pass through and put it on their kid's foot.

Except.  Yes, there is a theme here.

It was on the side of the sidewalk.  A Bit Redundant, but it did not belong there.

My own walking partner, Kevin, has a bit of a joker in him.  He laughed and had a big smile on his face.

"Ok!  What's going on?" I asked.
"Just wait!" He responded.

There are quite a few art installations here in town.  Next to the Labradoodles is a property with two brass statues of kids playing.  The one near has a child laying under the palm tree reading, a second child over him climbing a ladder to nowhere.

Kevin put the shoe on the exposed foot.

Laughing.

I thought it was amusing.  "How did you ... never mind!"

We continued walking and laughing at the scene.

The next day we thought it was over and done but...

Except.  A note appeared.  The donor of the shoe was thanked and was asked where was the other shoe?

I had a great laugh at that.  I knew how it all got there.  Since the house was quiet, we went on our way.

Except.  A Block away we ran into the owners of the house on the way back with Rack to the house.

It was time to come clean and let the owners in on the whole story.  They thought it great fun and thanked us for the mystery and clearing up the question.

We still don't know who owned the second shoe or the first one and it has not disappeared from the statue.

I guess we'll see once we walk past.   For now, Rack knows not to water the statue and we'll all keep an eye for future developments!

I made a belt out of watches once. It was a waist of time

 One of those little gems that teaches us about perspective.  Yeah, that's what I am seeing, nothing evil here, is there?



Little Johnny Likes His Teacher

In kindergarten class one day Little Johnny's teacher is wanting to test her class on their ability to think and reason. She decides to describe an object on her desk and have the children tell her what it is.

The teacher starts with the first item as being a spherical shape that is orange and has some dark coloration. Little Johnny is excited to provide the answer, busting at the seams, with his hand in the air to be called upon. The teacher is fully aware of Johnny's somewhat crude behavior and is reluctant to call on him for the answer. The teacher calls on little Billy for the answer. Little Billy says "teacher it is a basketball" to which the teacher replied "oh Billy, I'm sorry, it is an orange. But that shows what you are thinking, and I like that."

The teacher starts to describe the second item on her desk as being a rectangular shape that is black and has some white on it. Little Johnny's hand immediately shoots into the air. The reluctant teacher calls on little Mary. Mary says "teacher, the item is a domino." The teacher replied "oh Mary, I'm so sorry, the item is a chalkboard eraser. But that shows what you are thinking, and I like that."

Little Johnny's hand is still in the air. The teacher is wondering if maybe he needs to be excused to go to the bathroom or something like that. She calls on him "Johnny what is it." Johnny stands up and puts his hand in his pocket. He says "teacher I have my hand in my pocket and in my hand is something that is round, is hard, and has a head on it, what is it?"

The teacher is flabbergasted knowing of his crude behavior, immediately exclaimed"Johnny, you dirty little boy." To which, Johnny pulls something out of his pocket. Johnny says "Teacher, I have a nickel in my hand. From your reaction I can tell what you are thinking, and I like that."

Today I saw a 2000 year old oil stain. It’s from Ancient Greece.

Ahh spoonerisms.  They can be so fun, can't they?

The first definition of Spoonerism that I had found is:

A transposition of sounds of two or more words, especially a ludicrous one, such as Let me sew you to your sheet for Let me show you to your seat.

See, I can be edumacational too! :)




  Three priests in a train station

There were three priests in a railroad station, all wanting to go home to Pittsburgh.

Behind the ticket counter was a shapely, well- endowed, gorgeous, amazing woman.

The priests were all embarrassed and in new territory, so they drew straws to determine who would get the tickets.

The first priest approached the window. "Young lady," he began, "I would like three pickets to titsburg,” whereupon he completely lost his composure and fled.

The second priest went to the window and said, “Young lady, I would like three tickets to Pittsburgh and I would like the change in nipples and dimes." Of course he also fled.

Then came the third priest. “Young lady, I would like three tickets to Pittsburgh, and I would like the change in nickels and dimes. And I must say if you insist on dressing like that when you get to the pearly gates, St. Finger's going to shake his peter at you."

Guerilla Art in Wilton Manors. The Story of the Little Ceramic Faces

I am very used to being around Art.  The rule of thumb in Philadelphia is that you had to spend 1% of building cost in public art for a commercial or industrial building.

Or thereabouts.   My memory may have drifted and I left Philly in 2006.

So Philly has some world class art floating around for you to enjoy simply by walking around.  The "LOVE" installation in Love Park in Center City, or that Rocky Statue that was at one point at the Art Museum come to mind.

Little bitty Wilton Manors is doing its best.  We've got the orange slices on Wilton Drive, and there are other installations like the Thunderbunny there as well.  I find it quite enjoyable.

But Guerilla Art?  Here in sleepy little Wilton?  You bet.

I don't mean the graffiti morons with stickers and spray paint.  I walk around the Central Business District four times a day.   Rack the McNab SuperDog(TM) requires the exercise and I get between 10,000 and 19,000 steps a day myself as a result.

I see the art.  Guerilla art.

Guerilla Art is not the Gorilla statue that was here for years.  I rather miss the thing, it was as tall as I am, and I am not a small man.  People used to crawl into its lap and take pictures.

Guerilla Art is unofficial art.  Think of "Yarn Bombing" where some dear person knitted a sweater.  For a mail box.  It's random and makes you pause and think.

So what is happening here?  Little Ceramic Faces.  Lately they are all over the place in a very specific neighborhood.  South side of Wilton Drive, and in the immediate blocks south of the Drive.  The faces are well done, and brightly colored.  Ceramic faces are left in places that are designed to be spotted.  For a while it was the painted stones that were done in many places where you find a palm sized stone painted with maybe a Daisy or other flower.

It later shifted to these faces. 

Some have magnets on the back, others are simply the face.  They are about as large as my thumbnail and I don't have tiny doll hands.

I will say that if I spot one with a magnet and it is in a public place I place it as high up on the pole where it is.  It makes it more discreet and hopefully it will remain there longer.

This isn't the graffiti stickers.  If you walk Wilton Drive, you will notice the south side of the drive has markedly fewer stickers.  (Raises hand) That is because I use my scraper knife to remove them when they are not "official" stickers like from the city/state. 

I probably should shift to the other side of the drive, there are an obscene amount of these stickers everywhere.

On the other hand, the little faces are easy to move around and I can only think of one that is glued to a spot.  The person chose this spot because it was an orange face on an orange post.

Discrete, not loud.  Smiling into the sunrise every morning, on guard at the corner.

I have asked Everyone's Big Sister here if she saw them and she did not even know of them.  I don't believe they are on Constance's side of the drive.

So whoever you are, thank you.  You have given me a smile.  Others will as well, because I am not the only person who is moving them around. 

In fact, someone came onto the property and stuck one to the front bumper of my Jeep.  I was amused when I spotted it.

I'll put it in a spot that has Pride Of Place in the cabin of the Jeep.  Since nobody has ever left me a duck, that is.

Thank you!

Expert, n.: Someone who comes from out of town and shows slides.

 Ya know... I sat through way too many of those meetings.  I said it then and I will say it now, "This should have been handled with an email". 


As for this wee little gem... I know I would probably do exactly the same thing!



 The Watergate Hotel

A couple stayed on their honeymoon at the Watergate Hotel in Washington. The bride was worried that the hotel might still be bugged, so of course her new husband started searching the room.

Not to upset his new wife, the man did a thorough job of it. He moved every bit of furniture and checked it, even disassembling and reassembling the TV to check for odd components. Finally, under the rug, he found an odd, thick metal disc screwed into the floor, set into a hollow in the floor. He immediately unscrewed it and out the window it went. His wife, satisfied, hugged him and they had a lovely first night of being wedded.

The morning brought some confusion, though. When they went to check out, the manager was there, asking them many, many questions about their stay and wringing his hands almost pathologically. "How was your stay? Was anything wrong with your stay? Do you have any complaints about the room? Was the breakfast to your liking? How was your service?" The list of questions was mind boggling.

Finally, the husband was beginning to get a little uncomfortable. "What's going on?" he asked. "Why so many questions?"

"Well, sir...." the manager hesitated. "The room below yours complained their chandelier fell on them!"

I'm willing to bet someone's mom used me as a bad example when I was younger!

Truthfully in this era of nickle and diming air passengers to death, this reminds me of taking a flight.  If I have to go anywhere, I'll take the Jeep.



  A blonde woman, tired of the stereotypes about blondes, decides one day to prove her intelligence to her husband...


Tired of the constant blonde jokes and the stereotype that blondes are not smart, a blonde woman decides to prove her intelligence to her husband.

While he is at work, she takes it upon herself to paint a couple of rooms in their house.

The next day, as soon as her husband leaves, she dives into the project. When he returns home at 5:30, he immediately notices the strong smell of paint.

Concerned, he walks into the living room and finds his wife lying on the floor, drenched in sweat. To his surprise, she’s wearing both a ski jacket and a fur coat.

Worried, he asks if she’s okay. She assures him she is fine.

Curious, he inquires about her outfit. She explains that she wanted to prove that blondes can be smart by painting the house. When he asks why she's wearing both coats, she confidently explains, "I read the instructions on the paint can, and it said, 'For best results, put on two coats.'"

Is it Really 10000 Steps A Day Or Can I Change That Number?

 

I was discharged yesterday. 

Drove all the way up to Boca Raton, and had a chat with the Orthopedic Surgeon who pasted my shoulder together.  I'm 99.5% human with 1/2 percent titanium thrown in.

Math should just about be right.

All those miles on the bike, all those miles on the skates have their drawbacks.

I'm also on a scheme with the health insurance company where if I do 10000 steps a day, I get a couple pennies.  Those pennies add up.  I'm just about ready to pass $1000 since last fall. 

Will I stop?  Nope, but I can relax with my record keeping.

See the thing is that I rather like being active.  I strongly think that this "10K per Day" mantra that trainers give you is a benchmark.  And just like every other benchmark you have been forced to follow, it's arbitrary.

I can say having a low resting heart rate is very nice.

For some it is unattainable.  Life gets in the way.  You can't do the steps because of reasons.  Bad knees, and trust me I know about those, can slow you down.  Work hours.  Weather.

But it is a goal, not a requirement. 

I truly believe that like all arbitrary goals, it should be more of a rolling average.  70000 steps over the last 7 days is more likely but anyone who is not as rigid as I am with math and record keeping will roll their eyes at that comment.

The Doctor and I had a conversation.  "Lets see your range of motion, Lift your arms". 

I had him step aside and I picked the rolling chair off the ground and held it over my head.

Doctor said "Holy crap you're good, you're done".

We got into a discussion about just how active I was.  I pulled out the phone and the step count and said "It's 9am, Most days I am around 7000 steps by now, yesterday was a total of 16000 steps.

I was wrong, it was 18000 by bedtime but that's irrelevant.  I hit the goal.

Thing is though, that's me.  It's not enough to do that kind of activity to maintain the fitness level I require to do two sports.  I am feeling the difference between where I feel I should be in both of my sports' performance and where I am now due to being Benched since October.

And the "Get out of Jail Card" to have that second cupcake is real nice.

"How do you do all that?"
"Left foot, Right foot, you eventually get somewhere."

I ended the conversation with "Training sessions are available by appointment" with a smile.

As a trainer, I could tell he'd benefit from "a little more cardio".

The thing is that if you just jump into something you will get frustrated and quit.  It took you "Your Age" number of years to get where you are, you won't turn the battleship around over night.  Do what you can and live knowing that tomorrow you will do just a little bit more. 

Compound Interest is a wonderful thing in financing, and it works just as well in Fitness.  I have a set course that I walk.  At the end I tack on just a little bit more by walking behind an "Executive Center".  It adds about 180 steps.  I do that every walk and I do four walks a day.  There, that's 720 steps a day.

Having a dog helps.  Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM) requires long walks every day.  Any herding breed will benefit from that sort of activity.  As smart as he is, he has learned my routes and tells me that he's done by turning toward the house.

Trust in Dog.  They won't steer you wrong.

Be patient.  But get out of the chair, now, and get started.

That's what I am about to do.  It's a beautiful day and I am going to do my hour on the bike outside.  I'm planning on a half marathon.  It's time to graduate to the big park next week, and if I am lucky I will see the Goodyear Blimp.

People say a dog is like one of the family but I disagree, I like the dog.

 Hmm.... Interesting one liner, I'd say.





Stand up to be honored!


The preacher fashioned his sermon around the evils of sex, and stated that providential wrath was positioned to destroy anyone who had sex outside of marriage.

So, on this day, he leveled a challenge to his congregation- “I wish to recognize those women of this congregation who have preserved their chastity in line with the words of our loving savior.

So, I ask all of the women here today who are virgins to stand up and be honored.”

An awkward silence stilled the church. After a few more moments, a young lady stood up in the back carrying a small baby.

“You,” barked the preacher, “aren’t you an unwed mother?”

“Yes, preacher,” she said, “but did you expect my 6-month old daughter to stand up all by herself?”



And since that may not please everyone, here's a short for you.


I've just been to the market to do some shopping, when i got to the checkout i said, "Can i pay by card"...

The woman said, "No problem, what card do you have?"...

I replied, "The six of spades"...

I stayed up all night wondering where the sun had gone. Then it dawned on me.

It is one of those mornings where you feel a little restless and want to get a move on things.  I'm feeling like I am going to lean into the athletics today.  Mile three walked before 9am, then out for an hour on the bike. 

I've never been into team sports, I just can't see the point.  But I do know some of you like baseball, and we all have to learn the rules from time to time.




 Learning Baseball

Conor had just arrived in New York from Ireland and was invited by one of his American cousins to go to his first baseball game.

At Yankee Stadium he watched as a man swung a stick, hit a ball and started toward a white bag down the line.  Everyone stood up and yelled, “Run, run!"

Then a second guy came up to the plate, whacked the ball and started down toward the line.

Everyone stood up again and yelled, “Run, run!

A third batter came up, but this one didn't hit the ball. He didn't even swing. Four times the pitcher pitched. Four times the catcher caught. Conor was completely confused when the batter dropped the stick and started strolling toward the white bag.

“Run, run!" Conor shouted.

"No, he doesn't have to run' his cousin told him. "He's got four balls."

Conor’s eyes widened and he stood up, shouting, “Walk with pride, man!” Walk with pride!"

I Am Making Two Batches of Soap and Sending Them Off To Their Eventual Home

I have an audience.  For Soap.

Actually I got started making the stuff about 5 years ago because I got tired of my skin being dried out.

In South Florida.

I have always been careful at what I use to wash up with.  Someone suggested Dr Bronner's and I tried it.  It's Ok but pricey.

Then I noticed a random youtube video on how to make soap.  It used things I had at the house.  A couple different oils and some lye along with water.  It made soap alright, and a pretty darn good one.

After researching it further, I found many websites with recipes.  There are quite a few soap making sites.  As well as one where you point and click to select your own oils and scents and it would calculate out the recipe for you.  

I kept playing around and settled on a specific recipe.  65% olive oil, 30% coconut oil, 5% shea butter or cocoa.  Either is great, they both work as well.

The soap I made I dropped samples in boxes to be sent off.  Some enjoyed them, some were disturbed by my sending them soaps.

Their loss.  It works great with my skin. 

Mind you, I am making custom soap for a small audience.  I have a recipe that works, and for those who want customization I have been adding in various levels of essential oils and add ins such as Cinnamon or Coffee Grounds for a scrub.

It is kind of fun.  I was that weird kid in High School who "did Chemistry labs at 99.5% accuracy or better".  Hey, the teacher was a stoner and came into class high as a kite and smelling like Pot.  Someone had to take charge, and this was in a Catholic High School!

February is the end of the road for this particular soap making session.  I am waiting on some Cedar Oil for myself and that promises to be a strong scent for the soap.  I want it to smell like a Cedar box from the Jersey shore.  I'm feeling nostalgic and I will have enough to make quite a few batches out of the 8 ounces of oil I find.  Usually it is an ounce of essential oil per batch of 50 ounces of soap but this will probably be a stronger oil than an E-Oil.

That picture is two batches of soap.  About 100 Ounces or 284 Grams by the recipe.  As it cures, it loses weight.

Just make sure it is done in the following order.  Mix oils.  Separately, add lye to water and ice (50/50 mix) in a well ventilated area.  When the Lye is mixed in completely, slowly add it to the oils then stir with a stick blender.  The process is done quickly and cures overnight.  

Two weeks later or more, you have soap.  Hopefully it smells like cedar.

Unlike the essential oil I got from Temu that smelled of flowers.  It "Said" it was cedar... it wasn't.  It smelled like roses and something else undefinable.

Oh well, just make sure your ingredients are pure if you are going down this road.  I do, and the results speak for themselves.

And that liquid soap craze?  You are paying for a LOT of water and a LOT of waste.

I enjoyed eating a kid's meal at McDonald's this evening. His mom was furious.

If you ever had a bad day at work, think of this poor soul.




 Tough day at the shop

Upon arriving home, a husband was met at the door by his sobbing wife.
Tearfully she explained, "It's the pharmacist. He insulted me terribly this morning on the phone. I had to call multiple times before he would even answer the phone."

Immediately, the husband drove downtown to confront the pharmacist and demand an apology.

Before he could say more than a word or two, the pharmacist told him, "Now, just a minute, listen to my side of it”.

“This morning the alarm failed to go off, so I was late getting up. I went without breakfast and hurried out to the car, just to realize that I'd locked the house with both house and car keys inside and had to break a window to get my keys."

"Then, driving a little too fast, I got a speeding ticket. Later, when I was about three blocks from the store, I had a flat tire."

"When I finally got to the store a bunch of people were waiting for me to open up. I got the store opened and started waiting on these people, all the time the darn phone was ringing off the hook."

He continued, "Then I had to break a roll of pennies against the cash register drawer to make change, and they spilled all over the floor. I had to get down on my hands and knees to pick up the coins and the phone was still ringing.”

“When I came up I cracked my head on the open cash drawer, which made me stagger back against a showcase with a bunch of perfume bottles on it. Half of them hit the floor and broke."

"Meanwhile, the phone is still ringing with no let up, and I finally got back to answer it. It was your wife. She wanted to know how to use a rectal thermometer.”

“And believe me mister, all I did was tell her!”

I wear memory foam insoles to remember why I walked into the next room.

Somehow I get the punch line here.  I'll have the PBJ too!


  An old lady dies and goes to Heaven

She is overjoyed as she was a devoted Catholic and going to Heaven was her life's dream. Once there she is firstly greeted by God and then she sets off to explore the Heaven (which is to be honest, based on how people are, quiet empty - think tumbleweeds in the prairie).

When the old lady gets hungry she finds God and asks where can she get some food. God takes her to a table where she finds bread, peanut butter, jelly and a toaster. So God and the old lady sit and eat PBJ sandwiches.

As she looks down, past the edge of the Heaven, she sees that below in Hell they have a massive feast with many different barbecue meats on the table. Nevertheless she is glad to be in Heaven and doesn't say anything and finishes her PBJ.

Next time she gets hungry a similar thing happens; God invites her in, this time for butter and honey on toast, and as she looks down she sees those in hell having a seafood feast with fish, scampi, prawns, oysters etc. Nevertheless she is just glad to be in Heaven and keeps her thoughts to herself.

However, when a similar thing happens the third time she simply cannot keep quiet anymore and says to God: "I don't want to be ungrateful and I'm very thankful to be in Heaven, but why are we here having toast, while in Hell they have a different feast everytime I look down??"

"Well," says God, "it's not really worth the time to cook just for two."