Rack, you are being a little furry idiot. Well, That is New.

In the 80's show Mad About You, Paul Reiser said that having a dog is all about saying "Well, that is new." when looking at his dog Murray standing on top of an empty dining area table looking pleased at himself.

It really is like that.  The latest thing is that Rack, my elderly McNab SuperDog (TM) wants out.  Every hour.  It wouldn't be so bad if he did something but, well this is new, he walks out to the yard and stops.  That's about all of it.  Just stops.  He notices that I am waving to him and telling him to go on about his business, and sometimes that works.

Mind you, I am doing this sort of thing all day long.  Up at 5AM, I walk out in boxer shorts and trying to get CBC radio working on Sirius. I look up and he's looking off into the distance.  I would rather be inside because this morning Your Weather Was Drunk On My Lawn at 44 degrees freakin' Fahrenheit.  That being the devil's temperature of 6.66 degrees Celsius for the imperially impaired.

I am a good 8 miles south of the freeze line.  It never gets cold enough to freeze here, and it will warm enough to be merely annoying later.

With him being elderly, I am never quite sure if he can hear me.  Some may say it is "Selective Hearing", so I get the idea to test it.  When my prior dog, Lettie, was still alive, she lost her hearing around 9 or 10.  She still had enough that I could bend down and talk in her ear and she might just get it.  At 14, that is where Rack is at, although there are exceptions like Chip Bags, and Refrigerator Doors. 

That selective hearing does extend to deliveries, so the dreaded truck driving by gets a pass if he doesn't notice.  Seeing that the front door is his job to watch through the glass, if he sees the evil brown truck, he will bark at it like he's auditioning for the Yodeling Society of South Florida.  

Well, that is new.

Since the other delivery companies come in all sorts of trucks and personal cars, Amazon gets a grumble like Fed(arrow)Ex, and he has to see them hit the porch to make any effect. 

Every dog gets to make themselves comfortable, I suppose, but digging a hole in the mat at the front door is a new thing.   It's been through the washer enough times that is getting a little frayed at the corners, so it's not terrible that he is helping things along.  In the evening the silence is broken by white footed paws dragging across the little gold rectangle there.  Scrape! Scrape! Scrape!

Well, that is new, as well.  Dogs don't normally dig to China through the doormat, do they?

That business with hearing though shows up at strange moments.  If I am watching TV, and it gets too loud, he will get up and go into the bedroom and put some distance between it and him.   If I laugh too loudly, same thing, he's off to the bedroom.  I'm big and loud anyway, so it happens frequently, sometimes more than once in a night.  I also possess access to his cookie jar so he comes back eventually, especially if I am in the kitchen looking through my own cookie jar.

Well, that is new, Hi Rack!

I have been told that hearing loss is a gradual muting of sounds until the tinnitus and ringing gets louder than what you really want to hear.  The Crickets are Loud Tonight might be something he would say.

The way to get around that is to talk at him in a high and squeaky voice.  I try not to do that in public because the sight of a fit 6 foot 4 inch tall man talking like a cartoon character might be a bit too much for others to handle.

Right now, the furry little idiot is sitting near the back room staring me down.  That wouldn't be the first time that happened this morning, so I have to let someone out.  Yet again.  But staring at the sky is new as well.  

Coming back into the house after being there long enough to stare at the back door, sometimes he will just sit down and stare as if to say that he wants out.  Immediately after coming in.  I've taken to ignoring that and putting a 90 minute time limit on all of that nonsense.

I guess that's part of the charm of having an elderly dog.  Scratching your head and saying to yourself "Well, that is new."

Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.

Here's the thing.  An "Evangelical" type said once to me "Why aren't you in church, it's Sunday".  

I responded "You say God is everywhere, so therefore I say everywhere is God.".

"So I'm going to my church, the park, and do a marathon.".

That came to mind because at 530AM I was listening to a "New Yorker Radio Hour" discussion on CBC about comparative religion while dodging a police action a quarter mile from the house.  

They left before I got to the spot and we walked safely, I'm hardly ever a target.  I "look like a helper" as Mr Rogers would say.  I'm someone in an emergency you would expect to know what to do to make it safer for all.

Even if I'm just a smart azz regular guy with no more input on general things than you do.





 A few minutes before the services started, the townspeople were sitting in their pews and talking.

Suddenly, Satan appeared at the front of the church. Everyone started screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in a frantic effort to get away from evil incarnate.

Soon everyone had exited the church except for one elderly gentleman who sat calmly in his pew without moving, seeming oblivious to the fact that God's ultimate enemy was in his presence.

So Satan walked up to the old man and said, "Don't you know who I am?" The man replied, "Yep, sure do."

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Satan asked.

"Nope, sure ain't," said the man.

"Don't you realize I can kill you with a word?" asked Satan.

"Don't doubt it for a minute," returned the old man, in an even tone.

"Did you know that I could cause you profound, horrifying, physical AGONY... for all eternity?" persisted Satan.

"Yep," was the calm reply.

"And you're still not afraid?" asked Satan.

"Nope."

More than a little perturbed, Satan asked, "Well, why aren't you afraid of me?!"

The man calmly replied, "Been married to your sister for the last 48 years."

I have a photography joke, but it's not getting enough exposure due to a lack of focus.

On my property, I have a couple of security cameras.  We are working on the placement, and one of them imperfectly views the porch.  

Rack, the McNab SuperDog (TM) that I have shared the last 13 and a bit years with at 14 years old is getting a bit deaf.  

The other morning before dawn, we got to the house and on the porch, I leaned over and said into his ear "Show me what you want, do you want to go in, or go for a walk?".  

He looked at the door, then me, then smiled and took me out for another mile walk.

Good boy.  If you could see it clearly on the cameras, I'd put it here.  Got to work on that, don't we?



 Just because you can teach a good dog just about anything, it doesn't mean it's a good idea.

 There's a traveling salesman who loves to play poker. Every town he visits, he tries to find a game.

One night he's led to the back of a saloon, and seated among the locals is a German Shepherd. The salesman is surprised to see a dog at a poker table, but the dog appears to be very well behaved, so the guy sits down to play.

Well, after a couple of hours the salesman and the dog are in a showdown. The salesman raises, the dog raises back, the salesman raises again, and the dog calls.

The salesman shows his hand: three queens.

The dog turns over his hand: a flush.

The salesman is so impressed, he isn't even mad that he lost the hand.

"You know," he says to the one of the locals, "Not only can that dog play, but he's really pretty good."

"I guess he plays okay," says the local, "but we usually beat him."

"Is that right?" says the salesman.

"Yeah," says the local. "Whenever he has a good hand, he wags his tail."

Happy Holiday You Choose To Celebrate! From Ramblingmoose!

I know it sounds like ThA CuLtUrE WaRZ! but not really.  I have friends of all races and religions.  Some are not of any religion. 

Happy Holidays.  "Whichever Holiday you choose to celebrate" is what a friend of mine has been saying lately, and I'm amused at it.  The complexity you have to go through in order not to offend these days.

Meh!  I even had a Festivus pole in the yard and I find the show it came from at best, tiresome.  The story is amusing at least.

Anyone who wants to celebrate whatever holiday, and I'm in.  Tell me the rules, it's all about making others and yourself happy.

Personally, I'm looking forward to January 2 so we can all stand down.

My kitchen is chock full of cookies, candy, chocolate.  At 4:45AM I was beginning to wake and was debating what to do with the day.  It is an "off" day for me.  Non Workout day, if I can keep the schedule going.  I thought it a good day to bake some cookies like the ones I sent off to my Sister the other day.

Walked out to that full kitchen to feed Mr Dog, and nope, that idea flew right through the Hurricane Glass.  Making more cookies would be pointless, I stopped myself from setting out some butter.

On the other hand, I'll get some bread made since if I do it today, I won't have to do it tomorrow when we settle down to make some Boeuf Bourgignon.  That's our own holiday ritual here.  I don't know how we got into that particular recipe and dish, but for the holidays, it's warming and rich of flavor.  There will be plenty for the week and extra for the freezer.  It makes a lot and uses the pressure cooker well.

Oops, that Pork that I barbecued earlier went into the freezer.

There is a neighbor who may be home alone, so we will check in on him, perhaps with a bit of the Boeuf.  I'll have to see how the cook feels about that particular idea.

Tomorrow is Xmas, can't really go to the park then, and Friday is a Vet appointment so I'm off the workouts for the week.  Can't really eat more cookies, can I.

That seems to be my plans for the holiday.  My feet are up on the coffee table, and I have my "Save The Manuals" bumper stickers for the 23 year old Jeep.  I vastly prefer driving a stick shift, much to everyone's disdain around me.  It keeps me honest, can't have a four course dinner driving a stick shift, can we?

So do have a good holiday.  However you choose to celebrate, whichever you choose to celebrate.

I have an accountancy joke but it doesn't add up.

Frankly, every rich man or woman I have ever met ... I would not give you a plug nickel for.  They tend to be "grumpy" on a good day.

So coming from that, well you can see where I am headed with this.




 Rich men and upbringing

So a billionaire and a working man are sitting at a bar. After some heavy drinking, the conversation veers philosophical, with each of them trying to prove that his upbringing made life harder for him.

"I was born in a very wealthy family, but my father never gave me anything. I started from scratch", says the billionaire, "and people constantly demean my achievements because my parents were billionaires"

"Well I came from a working family" says the working man, "and everything I own, I worked for. Nothing was given to me, no connections, no money, nothing !"

A poor man passing by interrupts them:

"Well I came from a poor family. I didn't do great schools. The little I own, I work for. I have to do anything to get by"

"Well I came from a family that had lost everything when they moved here", says a man across from them. "We had to work everyday to get to where you started off in life".

After an hour of debating, the poor man says : "God only knows who among us has had the hardest life".

Suddenly a booming voice resonates in the sky :

"Well, I came from nothing..."

I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not so sure.

 This probably would be better if the word "heck" was replaced with something stronger.   Go ahead, I won't judge.



 An older gentleman man driving an old beat up truck gets into a fender bender with CEO's Ferrari.


The CEO gets out of the car, examines the damage and decides to bully the old man.

"Hey old geezer that damage is gonna cost $50k to fix. Either you give me the money or I'll beat the heck out of you".

The old man apologizes.

"I'm so sorry sir but I don't have that kind of money. But I'll tell you what, let me call my son. He maybe able to help me out. He trains dolphins."

The old man calls his son and explains the situation then hands the phone to the CEO.

"Your father ran into my new Ferrari and if he doesn't give me the money to fix it, I'm going to beat the heck out of him. " said the CEO.

"Please don't do that. I'll be there in 10 minutes." Replied the son.

10 minutes later two military vehicles pulled up, 6 large guys came out of them and beat the heck out of the CEO.

The son goes to his dad and says "Dad I don't train dolphins. I train SEALS. Navy SEALS".

Coffee Is Subjective. It Also Can Help My Performance.

I am one of those people who when I get into something, I tend to go "deep".  

I was having a conversation with someone saying how I wanted a second cup of coffee and I joked "The World Does Not Need Me On Caffeine".

The strength of the response of "No the World certainly does not!" surprised me.  

I think it is how I make coffee and how I "use" the stuff.

I purposely don't drink a lot of caffeine.  Coffee, Tea, and Cola all have caffeine in it.  If you moderate your caffeine and then have a burst of it just before doing something physical, I have noticed, that there is a definite feedback loop happening.

I always train with sport watch and software.  I know exactly how fast I am going in either of my two sports.  Both how fast I am propelling myself on inline skates or on a bicycle, as well as my metabolism as reported by heart rate.  There is about a 10 percent boost in my speed and/or distance if I have my mug of coffee before the workout.

Yes, it is significant, and yes, I have measured it.

Otherwise, it's a lot of half caff and decaf and so forth.

The thing is that while I have friends who know that I roast my coffee at home, they also bring me some coffees that I can't readily get here.  Since the raw "Green Coffee" that I need is uncommon, these gifts are always roasted.

It gives me an opportunity to critique roasters and commercially available coffees from many places.  

I will say that I have never had a coffee as good as the stuff I roast at home, in a 15 year old, well used, popcorn popper in my own kitchen.

Obviously, that is subjective.  It's my experience.  I get beans from a very specific part of Guatemala, and roast them in a fashion to my own liking.  I have had others who have had my own roast and truly enjoyed them.  And some have not necessarily.  

Their loss, more for me, right?

That whole process of Co-Evolution is why it is subjective.  I am very particular of how it tastes.  The brew is very specific.  I place the French Press Mug on the digital scale, add 21 grams of espresso grind, 3 packets of saccharine (Sweet N Low), and no more than 10 grams of non dairy creamer to the mug.  Add 430 grams/14.5 Oz. of filtered water at 200F/93C, and stir.  Allow to steep for about a minute, stir again.  Add an ounce/30 grams of ice to cool it down.  Push the plunger into the mug and enjoy.

Others will clutch their pearls and screech about the creamer, the saccharine, or the ice.  I do all of that so I get the same mug, every time.  I know precisely what to expect.  Even with Half-Caff on the sports recovery days, it is excellent.

Oh, and it is better than that giant corporate coffee shop that sometimes is on two corners of the same block in Manhattan or London.

But since I love a challenge, don't be afraid to bring me a new coffee.  I will enjoy the thought and the brew.  

Especially if it is something that I can't find here.  Freshly roasted and ground coffee has a flavor profile much different than something shipped in a vacuum packed bag or can that was roasted weeks or even months ago no matter how expertly done it was.

Right now, my own blend of coffee is in a bright yellow can from Selfridge's Department Store in London even though I have never been there.  It looks like a wonderful place, both from pictures, and from the dramatic TV show produced about the founding of the place.

So tomorrow, an hour before sunrise, I will be back in the kitchen.  Repeating my ritual.  I have a training session scheduled.  The intent is to be on the bicycle for at least 26.2 miles, a marathon.  42.16 km in New Money.  The caffeine will be coursing through my veins because I will have had that full caff coffee, my own roast of course.  

Oh and it does make me a bit more of an, ahem, Assertive Driver, as well, in the car as on the trails.

If you hear "On Yer Left!", that blur might just be me.

On the other hand, since today is not a training day, I'll stick to half decaf.  The world might appreciate it.

Some people hear voices. Some see invisible people. Others have no imagination whatsoever.

Got to be careful with this new fangled slang there, bud!




 New Year’s Eve 1961

Karen is getting ready to go on a date, when Ralph stops by to pick her up, but she’s not ready yet, so he sits in the living room with Karen’s father and waits.

Just to make conversation, Karen’s dad asks Ralph, “so, are you kids going to be screwing at the party tonight?”

Completely blindsided by the question, Ralph stammers, “E-excuse me, sir.  Did you just say ‘screw’.”

“Oh sure.  You know, Karen learned how to screw over the summer, and she just loves it.  She turns on that rock’n’roll music and screws all day.  Heck, she’d screw all night if we let her.  I’ll betcha all the kids at the party will be screwing tonight.” 

Ralph turns a beet-red while he’s trying to process all of this, but before he can reply, Karen comes downstairs looking absolutely gorgeous: perfect hair, beautiful dress, the works.    

“OK you two kids drive carefully and have a great time!”  And they drive off.

Ten minutes later, Karen stomps into the house, her makeup schmeared, her hair and dress disheveled. 

“Damnit Daddy-o, IT’S CALLED ‘THE TWIST’”

I have a time travel joke, but I already told it to you.

 Time Travel.  Yes, I have read way too many Science Fiction novels.  And I have plans for when I finally get that Time Machine.

Or do I have it already?  Do you remember when Freddy The White Rabbit was ruler of the world?

Hmmm, just think about that one for a bit...





 Winter Boots

One December morning, a man walks up to the front desk of a hotel, and complains to the concierge that he couldn't sleep last night thanks to his upstairs neighbor.

They both decide to visit the room above to investigate. 

After some knocking, the concierge opens the door to find a guest who looked a bit groggy; some explanation from the concierge later, the guest apologized and explained that he just flopped on his bed after a long exhausting day, and took off his winter boot which landed heavily on the floor. 

Realizing how noisy it was, he decided to carefully take his other winter boot off and gently place it on the floor.

The manager, confused about the first guest's intent, asks him, "You're telling me you couldn't sleep from that one thud?" The man replies, "I was waiting for the other boot to drop!"

If You Require An App To Use Your Gadget, I Will Reject Your Product.

I would say that having dry eye issues pushed me this way but really I'm finding it hard to say I am missing anything.

There are a few, a very scant few, apps I use on the phone.  If your product requires me to use an app to use it, thanks but no thanks.

How I do things is a bit old school.  I use a browser.  On a laptop.  A rather nice 15 inch screen.  It keeps my lap warm.  

I have a love hate relationship with the pharmacy.  I won't name and shame them but the nearest one to me.  That one with three letters.  They try to pretend they care by slapping a valentines heart on everything.

Yeah, that one.

They text me frequently.  I groan and wait until I get home.  Then I type that Random Scrabble Tile nonsense into the browser and hope I got it right.  The message tells me that I have to go to the store and pick up a bottle of something and so forth.

Blah. You should see what I go through with Doctors Offices.  Three Hospital networks with their coterie of doctors.

Sure I could click on the link and try to see it but the Lasik I had years ago means that I am learning my own limitations.  My eyesight is better than 20/20.  That is down from where it was shortly after the operation.  I was the guy in the car who was reading street signs for miles down the road.

Yeah, I am amazed at that too.

Not any more, I'm like everyone else.  I got Lasik because my astigmatism got so bad that I could not get stronger contacts and as active as I am I did not want to wear "Coke Bottle Glasses".  I mean, come on, can you imagine getting on inline skates and skating 30 miles in a workout with those things balancing on your nose?

Me either.

My training in IT and computers taught me how to limit my exposure to ads and other waste of time things on the web.  My laptop is so locked down that when I see an ad on a website, I laugh and do a search and destroy.

My next step is to block certain large websites and surf in a virtual machine but that is a long term goal.  Remember, Fellow Babies, a well tuned Hosts File is your friend as well as a strong ad blocker.

When I look at videos of electric cars with an app to get a refueling I cringe.  One for each network.  Multiple networks both here and in Europe.  The car has it's own app.  

I'll stick with my 23 year old Jeep Wrangler for now, thanks.  It's not perfect, and the check engine light has been on since before 2010, but I know what the code is and... Meh.  Not worried.  Gas Cap, indeed!

Each of those apps has a part that runs in background and almost all of you leave that part running.  The app is phoning home and telling them what you are doing but I really have to ask Why?  Getting served ads for what you were talking about "in private"?  CBC is doing a podcast about that one, the presenter was talking about "Pickleball" and later getting served all sorts of ads about Pickles, Balls, and Pickleball.

It seems like spyware is not too picky.  

Yes, this is what I listen to at 5 AM staring at the dog across the pool wearing nothing more than my boxer shorts, shivering in the pre-dawn coolness.  

"Come on, Rack!  Get your business done and water the Mango Tree!"

So for now, keep your apps.  The one that I have that controls my headphones wants an update that I think I will ignore.  A-Couple-Hundred-Megs so I can translate speech into English.  

Yeah, so how do you do that without listening in on what I am doing here?  No wonder why they want you to use Bluetooth for headphones.

No. Thank. You.   I turned off auto-update on the phone ages ago and my laptop is Linux so it only updates when I tell it to. Remember what that was like, Windows users?  Did your Mac take a powder last time you did an update?  I don't.

Yes. I do enjoy controlling my own experiences.  Don't you?  Since I can't limit my exposure to that sort of spyware and nasty program by removing it from the phone, I limit my time using the phone.  They are hard for me to read anyway even on the "big boy" sized phone I am using.

Being as big as I am, even using the app is problematic.  Don't get me started with trying to use a touch screen with the tiny little buttons on a glass screen.  Just does not work well.  Like typing with your elbow.

Since I have problems using the touch screen in every case, even on my oven to set the timer, I think I'll skip it all.  Give me physical buttons and skip the app.  

Yes, all of this is a bit of a rant.  It takes a significant amount of discipline.  But every journey begins with a single step.  Strap on your Big Boy shoes and begin your own trip.

I Just sold my Homing Pigeon on Ebay for the 22nd time.

So it's a solid hour before dawn.  Dark out and comfortably cool.  I'm preparing for a trip around the giant gas bag and hopefully over 26.2 miles on the bike.  I think that's an intermediate workout, but if the "tourists" can keep right except to pass, all will be well. 

ON YER LEFT!



A shark can swim faster than me, but I can run faster than a shark. 
So in a triathlon, it would all come down to who is the better cyclist.


I think with the next one, I'll have to admit I'm proving the doctor's point!


 
 Deficiency...

A noted psychiatrist was a guest at a gathering, and his hostess naturally broached the subject in which the doctor was most at ease.

"Would you mind telling me, Doctor," she asked, "how you detect a mental deficiency in somebody who appears completely normal?"

"That's easy," he replied. "You ask them a simple question which everyone should be able to answer with no trouble. If they hesitate, that puts you on the right track."

"What sort of question would you ask Doctor?"

"Well, you might ask them..."

"Captain Cook made three trips around the world and died during one of them.

Which one?"

She thought a moment, then said with a nervous laugh:

"You wouldn't happen to have another example, would you?"

"I have to confess I don't know much about history."

I found a stone in the shape of a guitar pick. I used it to play rock music!

One of the nice things about living in a small town, or a city with "neighborhoods" is you can be helpful and pass on info when you see a need.  Or just be a gossip.  

It's all in how you define things, isn't it?




 How to stop a gossip

Mildred, the church gossip, and self-appointed monitor of the church's morals, kept sticking her nose into other people's business.  Several members did not approve of her extra-curricular activities, but feared her enough to maintain their silence.

She made a mistake, however, when she accused Frank, a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his old pickup parked in front of the town's only bar one afternoon.

She emphatically told Frank (and several others) that every one seeing it there would "know" what he was doing there!

Frank, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment and just turned and walked away. He didn't explain, defend, or deny.  He said nothing.

Later that evening, Frank quietly parked his pickup in front of Mildred's house ... walked home, and left it there all night.

Sunrise Over The Shed

Old Dog New Trick.  I mutter frequently, lately.  Rack, The McNab SuperDog (TM) is getting old.  People tell me 14 years old is "quite old". 

I don't want to believe that.

But he's starting to act oddly.  Granted, the long walks that we take with him are helping to keep him alive, and it helps to give me something to do on a day I am not going to the park to beat myself up.  6 laps are a marathon, 3 in under an hour.

My own workout schedule not withstanding.  

He's a handful, always has been.  The latest trick is the backyard.  Frequently.  

The bells on a string jingle softly, and sometimes I even hear them.  He does it so frequently that I have begun to disregard them in favor of letting him out whenever I go out to the kitchen.

My own fast metabolism means I'm out there grazing frequently so he gets to water the light pole back behind the house as much as he needs to.

He's even taking breaks during feedings which bothers me more.  A few nibbles out of the bowl, then to the door.  I let him out.  He decides if he wants to do anything productive and is back at the door.  If I go out with him, he will be more circumspect and sniff the air.  

That illusion of doing something must be important the little furry knucklehead.

I have my own agenda.  He gets walked once he gets fed.  I am up at 5am to be able to get to the park for my workout.  That's a requirement because the Furnace that is Florida gets spicy hot after about 10AM in summer.   It is easier for me to maintain that schedule all year around so even in winter, I beat the sunrise by a couple hours.

Stuffing the earbuds in my ears, I find CBC Radio One for the international news.  I'm typically standing by the pool in my boxer shorts staring at the dog or looking for shooting stars or the moon or some such.

"Go on, Rack, It's cold out here".  I say waving my hands at him.  Cold is relative.  If it ever snows here, it's a disaster scenario Up North.

Eventually we get done, fed, and Walk One done.  That journey finishes before dawn and the distance can be up to two miles depending if he wants the experience.  I cut the walks shorter on days I have workouts, and he does not seem to like that.  

Herding Dogs know the routine, learn the land, and will tell you when they are done.  In his case, Rack usually knows that he can cut things short if he's not up to it.

Walk Two happens at 7AM.  That is when the irrigation system comes on to water the orchids and the other plant pots.  

At this time of year, sunrise is just before then.  It takes a little bit for the sun to get over the tree line.  I noticed the sun just below the peak of the roof.  

I'm standing there, looking East over the pool towards the beach and The Bahamas, thinking.  Saying "You know, this does look quite nice out here".  

Rack hears me, which is a surprise in itself because Selective Deafness is a thing in older dogs, and comes to me.

"It's time for the second walk." I say and we go in.  The moment was broken and it's time to greet the world.