I never knew a nuclear reactor joke would cause so much fallout

I'm reading this thinking I have not been in a bar in about 2 or 3 years.  On the other hand, I did rescue a little "Half Dollar" sized turtle from my porch this morning.  Silly critter is now in my front garden doing "turtle things".  

I think Splinter will approve.



Con Man, Conned

I was heading toward my usual bar on a freezing afternoon. The kind of cold that makes most people curl into themselves and grip their coats tight. I didn’t mind. When you’ve spent twenty years running cons, you learn how to read a room before you ever walk inside it. I was already thinking about who I’d charm first, who looked loose with their money, who might be good for a drink or two and a story I could use against them later.

Then I saw him.

An old man sat hunched beside a pothole full of cloudy rainwater. His jacket looked thinner than the wind itself, and his hands trembled around a fishing rod with its line hanging into that miserable puddle. The whole scene felt so lonesome and cold that it made something in me slow down.

I walked over and softened my voice. I may be a con man, but I’m not heartless. I told him he’d freeze out there and invited him inside, offering a drink to warm him up. He nodded and followed me in without a word.

We found a small table with worn edges and a bit of wobble. The heat from the bar softened the sting of the cold. I ordered two double whiskeys, leaned back, and let myself settle into that familiar confidence. The old man wasn’t a mark. Just someone I’d helped on my way to the real work.

Still, curiosity got the better of me.

I asked him gently how the fishing was going, how many he’d caught after sitting out there so long. He lifted his glass, took a slow sip, and in that moment I noticed something subtle shift in his face. His eyes. They weren’t foggy or lost. They were clear. Sharp. Focused in a way that made the back of my neck tighten.

He set the glass down with a small tap on the table, looked directly at me, and in a tone so calm it almost felt like a whisper, said:

"You're the eighth."

Honeybells in the Driveway. A Very Florida Way To Have An Orange

Once upon a time, I was a Snowbird.  

Yes, I am sorry, one of those people.  I would fly to Florida and bask in the sun for a few weeks.  Then I would fly back and have stories to tell about a vacation.

I did that for years before I moved here.  I never really did like the cold weather.  Cold Weather went from being something that happened, to something that I dreaded.  The day I left Pennsylvania, April 11 2006, there was still snow on the ground.  A late snow for Philadelphia, but still snow.

I hope never to live in a place with snow on the ground.

My preferred way of getting there was driving the car.  It gave me freedom of motion, and freedom from planning.

Plus flying meant airports, airports and the whole ritual of getting in the air is about as close to hell on earth as I can conceive of.  Even being in rush hour traffic is preferable.

It also allowed me to stop and look around.  After all, the drive for me was a two day affair.  I'm good with long drives, but you do have to get out from time to time.

Stopping midway down the coast one time I discovered a distinctly Florida fruit.  Honeybells.  Specifically Honeybell Oranges.  They were similar to a Tangelo, but those were nowhere near as sweet.  A leathery skin, very moist, very sweet.  Candy like, the name Honeybell fit well.  

The locals turned me onto the things.  They would speak in loving terms about these with pride.  Good Years they were everywhere.  There was a farmer's market on the way that I would always stop at and get a big bag of them.  Both directions actually, one for while I was in Florida, one for home.  

My family and friends got wind of them and insisted on my getting them some when I could.

One of the first things I did when I moved here, and into my house, was to find a Honeybell tree and plant it in a bad spot near the car port.  It's too hot there, too dry, and the tree struggled to put any fruit out, usually giving up at about 3 oranges.

A couple years back, news came out that Florida Citrus had Canker.  I didn't know it, but that was the end of finding these fruit widely.  My own tree did not have the canker, as that picture is about as perfect an Orange as I could find at any point.

But the days of wedging a heavy half bushel bag on each side of the Jeep's wheel well was done.  I wasn't driving, and the fruit just wasn't available.

This year's three little oranges was about as much as I could find.  I have had two of three and they were wonderful.  Since Citrus does not ripen off the trees, as my Mangoes do, I am allowing the last one a little more time.

My mistreated tree was doing me well.  I picked the first, and walked to the driveway.  Peeling the leathery skin and setting bits on the bumper of the Jeep, I was able to taste that same wonderful taste from days gone by.

They just are not available, you just won't be able to have one unless you know someone with a tree.  When canker swept Florida, "They" - the state or the USDA or both, paid the owners to cut down their trees.  Mine was planted after the canker.  

There is just one orange left.  I'll have it sitting on the bumper of the Jeep, leaving a sloppy puddle of juice on the cement behind the car.  Or maybe, better, indoors on a plate.  That way I can catch that sweet nectar.

They really are that good.  Too bad you will probably never have one.
You see, I used to have a place I could go.  I knew a guy who could get me "B" fruit.  Oh it ate well but was not "Gift" quality.

But no longer.  That is quite the shame.  A bit of old Florida sweetness gone by the wayside.

Let me tell you, one year, I made the trip on a big old motorcycle.  Honda Goldwing Interstate.  When you get to middle of the coast, say Indian River county, and the trees were in bloom, your ride would be perfumed by millions of Orange Blossoms.  Having a big bag of oranges strapped to the back of that bike added some weight but the pay off of the snack on the road was worth it.

Sorry I'm Late, I was stuck at an Acupuncture conference.

Three NHL coaches are waiting outside the delivery unit as their wives are all in labor.

After many hours, a nurse comes out to see the first coach.

"Your wife just finished giving birth! Both she and the baby are fine! A healthy baby boy!" the nurse said. "But... I've never seen a baby like yours..."

"What do you mean?" the coach asked.

"Well," the nurse replied, "your son growled and clawed at us like a... like a wild cat..."

When the coach heard this, they chuckled before replying,

"Well, that makes sense! After all, I work for the Florida Panthers!"

The husband then follows the nurse to see their wife and son, and after a while they come out to see the second coach.

"I'm so happy to tell you that your wife had a beautiful daughter! Yet her behaviour is also... very peculiar..."

"How so?" the coach asked.

"Well, you see," the nurse became hesitant to reply, "they started... quacking... almost like they were-"

"A duck?" the coach interrupted.

"Well... Yes..." the nurse confirmed.

The coach could only laugh in response.

"Well what do you know?!" they beamed. "She really is the daughter of the coach of the Anaheim Ducks!"

But while the second coach was gleeful, the third coach was white in the face, and immediately began to rush out of the delivery unit.

"Where you do think you're going?" the nurse asked.

"To call an exorcist!" the third coach yelled out. "I'm the coach of the New Jersey Devils!"

What do you call a pig that knows karate? A pork chop!

I have to say that no matter how healthy you are, there are always reasons why things might be a bit odd.  I have had two visits with doctors this week and while they are all amazed at the level of fitness through cardio I have achieved, there is always something that they want to tweak.

One said "Get More Protein".  
I am already at 90g per day.  1g per ideal body weight in Kg.
More.  You will be fine, just get more.
Ok Doc!  I'll find a cow to gnaw on before the next check up!



 A man and his wife visited their doctor for a checkup.

The doctor wanted to examine the old man first. After examining him, the doctor said, "I'm surprised—you're in such excellent health!"

The old man replied, "I attribute it to my good and clean life." "Your good and clean life?" "Yes," said the old man. "I have lived such a good and clean life, the Lord Himself turns the light on for me when I use the bathroom—and the Lord Himself turns the light off for me when I leave."

"The Lord Himself did this?" the doctor asked. "Yes," insisted the old man.

The doctor nodded politely and said, "I will need to examine your wife next." The old man nodded and left the room.

The doctor then examined the wife. After completing his examination, he said, "You are in excellent health." "How is my husband?" the wife asked.

"Physically, he's fine," the doctor replied, "but I'm worried about his mental health." "Why?" the wife asked.

"He insists the Lord Himself turns the light on for him when he uses the bathroom—and the Lord Himself turns the light off when he leaves.

"The wife shouted, "My God! The damn fool is peeing in the fridge!"

Testing The New Bike Computer Means You Are Never Sure

Athletes.  Once you get to a certain level, you get quite a bit of OCD.

I found that I am always trying to compare where I am today to where I was yesterday.  Or the last workout, at the very least.

The problem is the old saying:  The man with one clock knows the time, the man with two never is really sure.

Or woman.  I know plenty of woman athletes that are serious about their chosen sport.  

At any rate, I got into that OCD problem a long time back.  I have always, always counted my distance on inline skates.  If I ever get to the point where I am no longer scared about being on the contraptions, I will finish my lifetime goal of approximately the distance of once around the world on skates at the equator.  Adding a few miles for "sloppy accounting", I figure that 25,000 miles will be hit soon.

If I ever get back on them.  The problem is that I fell on my skates twice, hard.  I don't have any more Clavicles to give for the sport.

The fall I took on the bike when a "tourist" came into my lane and knocked me off convinced me that Sports are really just a matter of finding a level of pain you can tolerate and staying just below that.

My Orthopedic Surgeon attributes my falls to his being able to get a new luxury car.

I have always been into Biometrics - the practice of measuring performance in a way that you can compare your current ability to your prior ability.

You know, "How well did I do today?"

On a bike, it's done through a gadget you mount on the bike and measure distance.  

Once you have distance, you have speed since a clock is easy to bring along.  

GPS plotting on a map gives you where you were.

There are now a whole host of things you can add to the process.  I measure heart rate from start to finish.  My software reads my monitor and talks to me verbally.  I try for a specific heart rate and can tell when I am in need of a rest.  I get an average speed and instantaneous speed.  I know that at my break on the bike, I expect to have an average of 14 MPH plus a little bit, an average heart rate of 150 plus BPM.  Peak speed is usually in the high teens but it has gone over 20 MPH.  If I am feeling feisty, all of those numbers increase.  Winds in the wrong direction and all bets are off.

But this disposable electronics mindset we have means I strive for redundancy.  Best two-out-of-three to determine what the "real" distance is.

It can be frustrating.  You can't take a scientific approach to something that is being measured by consumer grade electronics.

The old bike computer agreed completely with the sport watch, both this watch and the one before it.  They all run GPS.

The software on the iphone is wildly inaccurate so I use it as a verbal report of running Heart Rate, only.  

Distance on the phone at the end of a workout can be off by one mile with a basis of 27 miles.

The watch and the bike computer are within feet of each other.

Throw in the new bike computer and now we're never really sure.

The problem with all of this is that the bike computer is about as accurate as it will get for distance.  The new one is a little off from the distance.

New bike computer has a new processor so it gets more accurate readings from GPS so all the math is thrown off.  It is faster, so speed changes more frequently on the display.

If I could replace the battery in the old bike computer I would have been happy to crack the thing open and solder in a new battery.  Lithium "Pillow" Batteries are sold based on physical size. "Length, Width, Height."  My own electronics skills would be sufficient to repair and replace, but the little white bike computer is so tightly welded together that ... "E Waste" would result.

Why I am going to put up with the inaccuracy of the new bike computer is that I am not competition class on the bike, and do not intend to be.  Having records of my performance are great, but do not need to be perfect for anyone but myself.

Sorry, Guinness Book Of Records, I won't be inviting myself in.  My spreadsheet is sufficient for my purposes of record keeping.

All of this is to say that if you are depending on what the little box on the handlebars of your bike, or what your sport watch is reporting back to you, you are going to be frustrated. It just is not that accurate.

At least the case of the new bike computer can be opened with a tiny screwdriver.  I have those.  I have taken many things apart that I should not.  

With varied results.  When things break here, E Waste is the kindest thing you can call it.

Any pan can be non-stick if you non-cook in it.

 I know way too many people with that attitude.  Come on, explore the kitchen, after all you are paying a lot of money to have one!





A cat dies and goes to heaven

When she gets there, she gets met at the Pearly Gates by God. God says to the cat "You have been a good, faithful, loyal cat, all of your life. I wish to reward this...is there anything you would like to make heaven more comfortable for you?

The cat thinks for one minute, then says "Well, I know it isn't much, but I spent all of my life on a farm. When it came time to sleep, I had to curl up on a hard wooden floor. A comfortable pillow would be nice." God looks at the cat, and says "So you shall have a pillow. A nice, comfortable, fluffy pillow."

Several days go by, and a group of 6 mice die in a horrible accident. God, again meeting them at the Pearly Gates, decides to offer them the same deal as the cat. When asked what they would like, the mice respond "Well, we have spent all of our lives, running. Running from cats, running from dogs, running from humans with brooms. A little pair of roller skates would be so nice, as we wouldn't have to run anymore." God thinks about it, and says "So you shall have your roller skates."

It has been a week, so God decides to check in on the cat. He finds the cat all curled up, fast asleep, on a nice big fluffy pillow. God gently wakes the cat, and asks the cat how everything is. The cat responds "Oh, everything has been perfect. This pillow is so soft and fluffy, I have been so comfortable...oh, and I especially like the meals on wheels that you have been sending me. 

The worst part about being sober is knowing what is going on.

 I'm waiting on a delivery of some Oolong Tea.  I have had a very strong preference for this particular brew since I was a child and was introduced to it.

Diane, you are gone but you taught me years ago to appreciate good Chinese Cuisine and this Tea is a part of it.

Besides, getting a good price on a half kilo of Ti Guan Yin Iron Goddess of Mercy is well worth the wait.  $14.50 delivered for a 500g bag?  Yoink!

Don't you  just love the names they put on that stuff?  Sea Dyke Brand?  Iron Goddess of Mercy?

Since I am talking about shopping, I have to make a list!




 
I was just heading out to the shops when my wife asked if I could do one or two things.

"Sure," I said, "what do you need?"

"We're all out of canned soup, and I want a cauliflower to go with the roast tonight. Oh, and can you drop into Curry's and confirm the delivery time on the new refrigerator?"

"Yes, no problem. Anything else?"

"Oh, and I need a reel of elastic for the mending I was going to do. The supermarket stuff is good enough. And while you're there, I need eggs for baking -- oh, peas. I want peas as well as cauliflower. All OK?"

"Yes, sure."

"And," she added, "you're running low on those chlorophyll tablets for your bad breath. You'd better stop by the pharmacy."

"Right," I said, "so that's... Soup, a cauli, fridge, elastic, eggs, peas, halitosis."

Bees In The Milkweed - Settle Down Ladies, There Is Enough For All!

 

I always have to remember to take my camera with me where I go.

For some reason, Winter probably, the Monarchs have left one particular pot of Milkweed alone.

I grow the stuff constantly.  The Monarchs never allow it to get to this stage.  It is usually eaten down to sticks by caterpillars.

This is a surprise.  But there is a good chance that some little black and yellow thread will show up and my entertainment will vanish in a flurry of crunches.

In South Florida you generally don't want to have indoor plants.   It just creates an environment for you to have indoor bugs.  I had a lot of plants inside when I was in Pennsylvania, but I could get away with it.  Here, I have to have the house turned into a circus tent and pumped full of evil deadly gas periodically to get rid of termites.  

You either have termites or you will have them.  It is just a matter of time.

So far we have not seen any.

This is all a rather nice surprise.  I have milkweed that I plant specifically for my Monarchs to munch.  But having the flowers is a rare treat.

Have at them Ladies, plenty for you.

I will say that I never got over my childhood fear of bees so I took the photo feeling brave and from a bit of a distance.

I’m not a scientist, but I’m sitting on an Ottoman joke.

Getting prepared an hour before dawn to go to the park for a 2 hour bike ride.  I get to get in the big iron thing and drive the Jeep past various places chock full of caffeine which makes me a bit more "aggro" than I should but hey, at least I get to see the pretty buildings and churches along the way.

Oh and it made me think of this one that someone sent to me.  ;-)


  

A man dies and is sent to hell

Once there, he can‘t believe his eyes.

It’s way different than expected, it looks like a Wellness-Oasis in a beautiful landscape.

While exploring, he hears music playing, sees people having fun, dacing with each other, some are relaxing at a pool…

There‘s a casino, alcohol, nudity- it seems like everyone here is having a great time.

As he walks a bit further into hell, he sees a massive wall with a small window in it. He looks through it and in horror, sees what he thought hell would actually be like.

Tormented souls burning up in a lake of lava, screams of agony. Ugly, colossal demons sadistically and gleefully ripping bodies apart.

The man, now deeply disturbed and afraid seeks out the devil.

Once found, he asks him: Satan, I appreciate how comfortable and beautiful it is here but what about those poor people behind that wall there?

“Oh, those are the catholics, they wanted it that way.“

If I was a superhero I'd be known as Typo Man. I write all the wrongs.

 It's a quiet morning.  I'm watching the sunrise paint the tops of the palm trees.  There was a little extra time so the Biscuits are in the oven before the second dog walk.

Meanwhile, here's a gem for you to start your Saturday Morning.





 A blind man walks into a bar and says to the bartender “Give me a shot of your finest 30 year old single malt !”

The bartender says, “You know, that will cost you 100 bucks – it’s pretty expensive”. The blind man says “Not a problem, I have the money and I know what I like !”. So the bartender, knowing the man is unable to see what he’s pouring, serves him his cheapest single malt – a Glen Garioch 5 year old.

The blind man takes a sip, makes a face and spits it out, exclaiming “That’s 5 year old whisky ! I said a 30 year old single malt !”

The bartender apologizes and pours the man a shot of 12 year old Macallan. The blind man takes a sip of that, and spits it out again, and says “That’s 12 year old whisky ! I said 30 year old !”

The bartender, still wanting to maximize his profit, pours another shot, this time a 21 year old Glenlivit, and sets it in front of the blind man. Again, the man takes a sip, spits it out, and says “That’s 21 year old whisky ! Give me what I ordered, or I am out of here !”

At this point, the bartender has resigned himself to the fact that the man won’t accept anything less than the real thing, and pours him his best 30 year old Balvenie. The blind man takes a sip, and sighs “Now THAT’s 30 year old whisky !”

An old drunk down at the end of the bar who has been watching this whole exchange, walks over to the blind man, sets a glass down in front of him, and says. “Excuse me sir, I’d like you to try this.”

The blind man says “Happy to!” and takes a sip.

Immediately, the blind man spits it out and shouts “My god man, that tastes like PISS!”

The old drunk replies “It is – tell me how old I am”

Happy Birthday, Old Man, Here's Your Cake

Since I am the baker in the friend group, I was elected to make a birthday cake.

I have a bullet proof recipe.  It is from the Great Depression and I have featured it on my blog before.  The Buttercream frosting is, again, bullet proof.  They both are on the same link.

Who knows who is using this in a commercial environment since it is so simple that you could hand the ingredients and the recipe to a child and they would make it work.  It tasted like the dark chocolate cakes you can pick up in many places from The Big Boy bakeries all over the US, and I would wager elsewhere.

Weird recipe list since there are no eggs and it uses vinegar.  It's actually a vegan cake but it is one of the best cakes I have come across.

On the other hand, since it used my dark cocoa that I happened to have on hand, it was a thirsty beast.  I added extra milk to that Buttercream recipe to get it soft and smooth like we like it.  In fact instead of using two tablespoons of milk on the icing, which was above the original recipe, I used three tablespoons and it came out creamy and fudgy.

So the frosting is not vegan but "vegetarian", I the butter in the Buttercream was the real stuff.  I'm not vegan or vegetarian, so I'd say you can always figure out a substitute.  Margerine?  Coconut Oil?  Dunno.  The icing faithfully following the recipe was amazing!

But it was on the small size since I used a single amount of the recipe.  

When I made it later for the person's party, it was doubled.  My Bundt Cake Pan is rather large.

After all, he joins the rest of them.  Senior Citizen.  Dead Flowers and Black Balloons.  Sort of suits since that cocoa was the Ghirardelli's Extra Dark and tasted wonderful.

If you really want to try this, and you should, get the good cocoa.  The stuff that we are all used to just does not have the flavor you want. 

Oh and double the recipe.  You will get two layers for the cake.  You will thank me later!

What did the ocean say to the shore? Nothing, it just waved.

 Remember, in the Northern Hemisphere, the statistically coldest weeks are the first two weeks of February.  Here in South Florida, it isn't a Beach Day either.  35F, 1C?  

Come and get your weather, it's drunk on my lawn.



An old man goes to the doctor, he says, "Doc, I need a fertility test." The doctor hands him a plastic tub and says, "Take this home, fill it up, and bring it back." So he goes home, and the next day returns with an empty tub.

The doctor says, "Why haven't you filled it?"

The old man says, "Doc, I tried it with my right hand, tried it with my left hand, tried it with both hands. My wife tried it with her right hand, tried it with her left hand, tried it with both hands. Neighbor lady upstairs tried it with her right hand, tried it with her left hand, tried it with both hands. We can't get the lid off."




(Personally, the first thing I do when I get one of those child proof caps is wonder where is a child to open the thing.  The next thing I do is find a way to defeat the cap so I don't have to fuss with the damn thing.)



My wife going deaf?

An elderly man goes to the doctor, very worried because he thinks his wife is going deaf, but he doesn't know how to bring it up without offending her.
The doctor says, "Let's try a simple test. Stand far away from her and ask a question. If she doesn't respond, take one step closer until she hears you. Then, you can tell me the distance, and we can determine if she has a hearing problem." 

The man returns home and sees his wife cooking dinner. He stands in the doorway, about 30 feet away, and says, "My love, what are you cooking?" Nothing. 
He steps 10 feet closer, now about 20 feet away, and asks again, "My love, what are you cooking?" 
Nothing. He steps right behind her, about 3 feet away, and shouts, "MY LOVE! WHAT ARE YOU COOKING?" 
The wife spins around angrily and shouts back, "For the third time, HARICOT BEANS!"


(Sometimes you aren't the solution.)