Things that go Bump

Flirtatious: Why don't you come over to my place and I'll fry up some pollywogs? My toe nail chips are to die for.

Real Mood: Creepy

Prediction: Tonight no one will be swallowed up by the earth in our front yard, and we'll be saluted for it. (WHAT is he blabbering about now?)

Happy Halloween. Seen any apparitions? Just as I arrived in here I hear this tightly clustered, "puh, puh, puh,puh,puh,puh."

I quickly look around, and you know there is almost always a simple explanation for life's mysteries?  It was just this old boom box that some "ghost" had set off by moving the selector button from "Off" to "CD." I just said "BOO!," and she took off.  I think her name is Millie. She's a pretty good ol' gal. (or would that be guy?) For the most part we leave her alone? She leaves us alone.

You know what really  scares me the most? A Sixteen year old boy who dresses up like Zorro and "Trick or Treats" with a gunny sack...that scares me big time.  There always seems to be one.

Something else is scary around here.  We had to dig up a tree that just wasn't making it. I think we yanked it up from Earth in early Spring. We tried to fill up the resultant abyss by tossing big rocks into the void. You know rocks are heavier than dirt? Ultimately the granite heavy weights form a whole new hole.  Then grass arrives as a camouflage. Pretty scary huh?

What's really scary is that Peggy thinks some toddler is going to stray away from the "ghoul pack" and get sucked into this five inch deep pit. Some 16 year old sibling to the child (dressed up like Zorro), will bear witness to his attorney father, and we'll get sued. We'll spend the rest of our days doing penance on a "chain gang" in Barstow. Wow! Pretty scary, huh?

NO, what's really scary is what Peggy had me do about this pending threat to our peaceful existence.  As the little gobblins draw nigh to our front door, they'll look through the little peep holes in their costumes, and see something soooooo strange. It will be an American Flag on a stick sitting in the middle of the "old tree" hole.   You know I'm just going to refer all questions to Peggy.

We've already got adults in the neighborhood staring incredulously at our display.  They've all spent a month concocting tombstones and giant bats that fly around in their yards for "All Hallow's Eve." WE put up a flag.

"Ya think maybe their long term memories finally snapped, and they think it's the Fourth of July?"

"All I know is when we take the kids around tonight let's not stop at the Reinertsons. Their stuff is never very good anyway. One year HE  was handing out marshmellows. And besides, they're old."

"That's okay, I guess. Maybe we'll just sell the house and go live some place where leaf raking is a crime."

"Did you hear that? The Reinertsons might move!"

"Ha!Ha! Fat Chance. Trick or Treat, April Fools, Happy 4th of July."

I really love this pagan celebration.

Bringing scary home to reality? This will be my friend Mindy's first full day in New Orleans. It's also her first full day as a journalist visiting a major disaster site. She'd love to have you follow along.

mediamindy.com

It just can't be...!"

Flirtatious: Have I ever shown you how I can take my Eyeball out of it's socket and shoot pool with it?

Real Mood? Linguistically Apocalyptic

 

Prediction: Witches and Warlocks will never resort to calling each other "guys."

Oh, horror of horrors. God save us. I am so dismayed. I feel so let down. I'm not sure whether to background you on this, or just jump right into the horror. Well, maybe I'll just start in the middle, jump back to the beginning, and then slide in for the kill.

I do the syndicated National Education Association crossword puzzle almost every day.  It's no super challenge, but like my prescription medicine it's supposed to help keep me on the planet for a while. It's meant to lubricate enough brain synapses so we can relate. It's not meant, I believe, to send a person of my number of birthday candles, into shock.  Okay that's the middle.  Let's jump back.

For those of you who were around in the Spring you may remember my May 22nd, entry, "Something to Drink?" ( I apologize. I hate when news copy is written that way. YOU MAY REMEMBER! But I need it this time to get to the point.) The point was then and is now that it's just not right for restaurant "Wait Persons" to call us all "Guys." Put it on a sexism plane and let me tell you if you called me a "Gal" I'd make a slow motion attempt at punching you in the nose. ( For the GenX and younger, slow motion is where things don't go so fast.)

Now when I made my first complaint I did not exactly get overwhelming support. Even my baby sister Brenda turned against me. She told me I was over reacting. She was not offended by being called a guy. But I had hoped some of you were joining me in the protest. ( I think even Brenda agreed that the new restaurant plural of guy, guyses, was maybe a bit much.)

Well I didn't keep the pressure on, and apparently neither did any of you. That's why we are all (anybody doing today's NEA crossword puzzle) facing this HORROR two days before Halloween.

I'm doing the puzzle pretty much top to bottom. I still haven't even looked at the clue for 55 across. Everything seems to be falling into place without the clue. But at the last minute something told me to go there. They want a four letter word for...Oh, I'm not sure I can say it.  They want a four letter word that starts with G that defines "People Informally."  That's right People Informally.  Not men informally. People!

This is an NEA puzzle. That means this new definition of guys is likely in a dictionary somewhere. It probably has the endorsement of  the AFT, the ASSA, the NCAA, the NBA. It's probably already in the A.P. style book.We're dead. Don't tell me 'enry 'iggins condones it?

Why this dirty trick when I've been quite generous with my treats. I don't get it. So what do you "guys" think?

Here's one more thing I think. I think you should stop by my former student Mindy's BLOG site. She works for ABC and is being sent down to New Orleans for a week. This is a new experience for Mindy, traveling to a disaster area. She will offer a fresh look.  It should be an eye opener for all of us. It's easy to get there.

mediamindy.com

I'm so upset I almost forgot. More leaves fell off the Maple.

Please fight "GUYSES."

If you guys don't mind, I'm going to get back to my puzzle. I need a four letter word starting with 'F' that means "supporters." Really!

Things to Sip

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She's out of control!

Flirtatious: That's some Fig LEAF you're sportin' there Eve.

Real Mood: Meanderous

Prediction: The day after thanksgiving will not be the busiest shopping day of the year. (Urban Myth. Never has been.)

Maple's topless tonight.  And she is showing off her Robin's nest.  She was so fully dressed this summer we didn't even know she had a nest. She stripped a good 20 thousand leaves off this time. Peggy and I ran around and raked up most of them. That may not seem to make sense from a man who defies the orderliness of leaf raking.  But I also like to think we're good neighbors. A little wind? Our leaves become their leaves to have and to rake.

I went through periods in radio and TV where I bordered on being an environmental reporter. On a few occasions I did some stories on passive energy saving home construction.

One thought never fully developed by the construction industry is to put all your windows on the south side of the house. Then you get warmth from the Sun in the winter, and block the rays in the summer.

It's always made me wish we'd built our own home with energy saving in mind.  My energy!  What you want to do is situate your house based on the prevailing wind. Find spots up wind to plant all your LEAF bearing trees. Aim your lot downhill and your front yard in the wind direction of the neighbors you don't like.

Invariably, fall comes around, and all the leaves land on their yard. Let them try and prove they came from your place. Since you didn't even lay a hand or rake on a single leaf they'll never get ya.  I've not yet heard of DNA testing on leaves. (I'm sure it's coming.)

Our problem here is we like all our neighbors. I just wish they liked leaves as much as I do.

Someone has already asked me how I was going to be able to write so many stories about leaves? Believe me that's nothing.

One year under a newly arrived news director we failed to cover the auto show when it came to town.  Well auto ad buyers have long memories. Next year the station did not get it's piece of the auto industry ad revenue pie. So to get back into Detroit's good graces, the station decides to do massive penance. It's one of the few times I honestly went into a closet and screamed, "WHY ME?"

I was hand selected to go to the auto show every day of it's run and do live shots and stories at least three times a day. Let's see. I did one on the show models being brighter than one would think. I did one on no one under 60 showing up at the Buick exhibit. I did one on no women getting near the Hummer display. I did one on trying to find the best "pick up," not pickup, vehicle of the year. I did one on Caddillac, in a market panic, getting into the SUV business. I did one on "what's cheap?"   I could go to my file and get them all for you. But you got the idea. 

The point is, as I often tell my students, if you can tell a story there will always be a story to tell. Leaves are pretty easy by comparison. And you don't feel like you need to go home and take a shower when you are done telling leaf stories.

Let's see, we could do something on homonyms, homophones and homographs of leaf. There is, "what a sexy LEAF?" There is " I must LEAF through the LEAF book." There is Hamlet instructing an acting troupe, "... I had as LIEF the town crier spoke my lines." There is that Viking marauder LIEF Erickson who may have said, " let's go south for the winter.We can watch a LEAF fall." " You mean Maine?" "Yeah." "When would you like to LEAF? I'm going to stop. I may need some of these before Maple finishes her act.  Oh, "you coming for Thanksgiving? Let me know. I'll have to put another LEAF in the table. Maple says, Hi!.

"Piling it On"

Flirtatious: Like to come up to my place and read my slide rule?

Real Mood: Cryptic

Prediction: The coyote will bay at the moon even in June after devouring a loon.

In an ideal journalistic world a story of any merit should be followed to it's logical conclusion. Truth is it seldom happens. Even in print, priorties change. The resultant story triage may leave your favorite yarn hanging in the wind. There are many internal and external pressures that must be brought to bear to keep your story alive. Well, that's what's great about blogging. It's just you and me baby. 

I know you are going to want to follow the story of my leaves falling off the Maple tree. Rest assured I'm going to keep you in the loop until every leaf is either raked up, bagged or demolished by the mower.

Of course to keep a story alive you need a fresh angle every day. See how you like this lead.

[Anchor Rock Solid]

Thousands of leaves have fallen to their death at the hands of nature. Paul Reinertson joins us live at the site of the annual carnage.

[Paul Live]

Thanks Rock. No matter how many time's I've covered this tragedy, I'm always gobsmacked at the enormity of it all. I'm going to ask photo journalist  Billy Bob, if he'll just pan over to show folks at home what I'm talking about. 

As you can see we're not just dealing with just a few wispy leaves yanked from their moorings by the wind.  No, here before us we are looking at appoximately 13 thousand five hundred ten wisps of nature meeting their annual demise.

Mary Quitecontrary lives right next door and witnessed the GRAVITY of it all:

[Mary Quitecontrary]

It's just awful. My kids used to play in the shade of those leaves. My dog relieved itself repeatedly on the very spot where they've all been raked up. I don't know what I'm going to tell my family.

[Paul Live]

And that's just one neighbor Rock. This is going to impact the whole block. We're going to try and get more reaction and get back to you. Rock?

[Anchor Rock Solid]

Thanks Paul. Let me ask you one question before you go. Do you think we've seen the worst of it?

[Paul]

Fraid not Rock. I don't think we've seen even a tenth of the leaves fall off this big burly Maple. I'm guessing we'll be here all week keeping everybody at home up to speed.

[Rock]

Just one more more (not a typo) question Paul. You estimated  the current number of leaves in the pile at 13 thousand five hundred ten. Is that an official estimate.

[Paul]

No Rock. That's just my personal estimate. And when you've covered as many dying leaf stories as I have, you get pretty good at it. I actually think I'm probably a few leaves short of the real number.  But I think people are upset enough so I rounded down.

[Rock]

Paul just one more, more, more (not a typo) question. I'm fascinated and I'm sure the folks at home join me in wanting to know how you do these estimates.

[Paul]

Well I've always kind of thought of it as a trade secret. But I guess it's time to share. See how the pile is shaped in a circle, sort of like a pie. Well using my eye sort of like a knife I cut that circle into ten angular pieces.  I count the number of leaves in one slice in a one inch layer.  Now remember the pie is in ten pieces. So I simply multiply my count by ten. 

[Rock]

And that's it?

[Paul]

Not by your chinny chin chin Rock. Now we've just got a number representing a one inch layer.  As you can see this pile is 3 feet, 7 inchs tall. If we break that down we get a total of 43 inches.

[Rock]

Ah, I get it. You just mulitply the number you got for the one inch layer and multiply it by 43 and you've got your estimate.

[Paul]

I wish it were that easy Rock. You see you have to allow for the slope of the pile. So for each of those 43 inches you need to do an indepedant count along the line of each angle. You need to subtract the number of leaves from the inner arc of each slice of the pie from the outer most layer.

[Rock]

Just one more, more, more, more, more (not a typo) question Paul. Wouldn't that be subtract the number of leaves in the outer arc from the inner arc?

[Paul]

You know Rock I think you're right.  It's been a long day.

[Rock]

Well just let me speak for everybody at home and here at the station.  You are doing one heck of a job out there. You are giving us all a perspective on falling leaves we couldn't get anywhere else.   Reporters like you are what make this such a special place to work. Thanks again Paul.

Before we go there was a 200 car crash on the interstate, the mayor has announced he's resigning to join the Peace Corps, the Governor has broken off his affair with the stripper, and the price of milk just went up to ten dollars  a half gallon.  That's The News here at KJOY and You Know It. ( I actually did have to say that at the end of every newscast at a station with different call letters a long time ago)Be back at ten when Paul turns over a new leaf. You all Rock on, and I'll Rock Out.

It's not easy you know.

 

"Turning over a nude leaf"

Flirtatious: It's true I'm flirting with you. My name's Disaster. What's yours?

Real Mood: Insane

Prediction: It will snow this year before Halloween. "Didn't that already happen?" "So! What's your point?"

Don't know what it says about us, but toilets out drew sex. The margin was narrow.

Today our Ash tree in the back yard does what is always does sometime in October. It sheds all it's leaves in one day. I'm making note of it because I want to see if it happens on the same day next year. Don't know what I'll do with that information. Maybe drop a note to Farmer's Almanac? Maybe forge a pithy weather theory for posterity. "PAUL'S BARE ASH MEANS SNOW WILL BE SEEN ERE WE MEET HALLOWEEN. ESPECIALLY IF THE PRARIE DOG SEES IT'S SHADOW REFLECTED ON THE EMPTY BEER CAN.?" (now there are several levels of meaning here. I'd like you to spend a few milliseconds of your time trying to FERRET them out. Or not.)

I'm also keeping an eye on the Maple out front. It's started it's shedding, and typically takes about a week to complete it's strip tease. It's a real "BABE" with it's gold leaves. We get a lot of Maple envy leers this time of year.   But the thing looks absolutely anorexic naked. Good timing this year. If it sticks to schedule it'll be ready to freak everybody out just before  "All Hallows Eve."  I should put some old skeletons hanging from nooses on it's branches. But I probably won't.

Closer to the house out front we have a plant commonly known as a "Burning Bush" (see photo). When I see it in it's full fall regalia I fantasize that Moses, after spending all that time  wandering around in the sand, comes upon the growth in October. He has this heat stroke vision, and actually thinks the thing is on fire. A whole bunch of his gang come out from under a strip of palm tree shade and see Moses freaking out.

He's saying, "The bush is on fire, the bush is on fire!"

One of his followers quickly admonishes the others not to laugh at him. In fact the diciple utters, "let's humor him."

"Wow Moses! That's freaky, a burning bush. We must be gettin' close to the promised land, eh guys?"

Don't write Reverand Dobson. It's just a thought, not a theory.

Some people think I've been floatin' around in the wildnerness for a few decades myself..  It does something to your brain.

Every time I try to turn a stick into a snake it bites me in the Ash.. 

I doubt this Essay will rise to the Pulitzer level. I'm thinking the Nobel literature committee is looking for a protaganist with a higher sesnse of purpose.   But I think it's a better subject than toilets. And while it's content may result in a trip to a place where the mattresses are on the walls? I still won't be raking any leaves. It fact I might be so unstable, the HOA committee member in charge of leaves might be too frightened to come up on my porch to leave the notice. He (or she) shouldn't make anything of those skeletons hanging from the branches of the Maple tree. BOO! heh,heh,heh,heh.

LOOK OUT! THAT BUSH IS ON FIRE!  heh, heh, heh.

" All around the Mulberry Bush, the monkey chased the weasle. heh, heh, heh."

"Oh, my goodness, Maple's out on the street naked again! heh, heh, heh."

"We got us some skeletons hangin' from an ol' Maple tree. Better get CSI out here quick. heh, heh, heh. "

You know what? If I read any of this I wouldn't come anywhere near me.

"Okay, I'm comin'. How do you expect me to type with my hands tied like this. Can I start the siren with my nose? Ah, come on guys? Let's have some fun. heh, heh, heh. How long till we get there?"

"Did you guys see my Bare Ash in the backyard? Know what that means? You got any Ashes where we're goin'?"

"I know you can't make Ash Syrup. What kind of SAP do you think I am. heh, heh, heh."

"If we're going 60 why is that person with the HOA sign on it's back running faster than we can drive?"

Be happy we're already past toilets and sex. I know I am.  If I can break out of here can I come stay with one of you? No? Why for golly sake?

"Blowhard"

Flirtatious: "How'd ya like to get some popcorn and go watch them pull that statue of Saddam Hussein down?"

Real Mood: Perilously Pompous

Prediction: "The South Will Rise Again!" Tara won't And Clark Gable still won't give a Dang!"

 

Why is it I mention toilet and everybody shows up? What happens when I mention SEX,  AKA the Society for Enigmatic Xenophobes? This will be a fun test.

But I'm here to talk about what? Hurricanes of course. The wind kind, not the football kind. I might get a bigger audience if I stick to football, and toss in a sidebar about the SEX (Social Engineering Xanthippi) habits of the cheerleaders. But back to reality, kinda, heh?

My Intro class and I watch a half hour of coverage of Hurricane Wilma today. I let them vote and they choose CNN to analyse. I toss out some unfair leading questions for them to ponder while watching.

Are the anchors and reporters providing  useful information or just getting face time?

I think they agree with me that it is about split. There are a few nice show and tell pieces that focus on the video and real people involved. There are of course really embarrassing promos of John Zarella and Anderson Cooper hugging each other like they are about to meet their maker. I was ready to say "guys, get a room."

I have to pause here to talk about two of the dumber live shot performances I've seen in a while.

One is a reporter standing live in the wind at a 45 degree angle for I'm thinking maybe 10 minutes? He starts putting on a little low physical humor performance. At one point he gets hit by some flying tin, stumbles, and then quickly rolls right back into his 45 degree posture. He'd have been great in a Moliere play. Understudy to Harpo Marx might fit his talent. It's in the middle of the night and I have  the volume down. There is no way I can  hear what he is saying. That's a good thing. I can not take him seriously.   I don't know what network he is affiliated with,  and I'm pretty sure that network doesn't want us to get that information.

The other one is some guy on a different network hanging on to a flapping pole at a similar angle. I can't hear him either, but he's hanging on to this pole casually giving his rendition of Hurricane 101.  But he looks like he is about to break into song...or wait a minute. I think he's just warming up for the maypole dance. (There I go with the SEX reference again.) I know which network he is with, but in fairness I'll keep my mouth shut. But I'm going to tell you right now it's not worth going to jail over.

Okay that's out of my system.

Do the students really care to know the scientific makeup and behavior of hurricanes? Do they want or need to know that a MILLIBAR is a unit of atmospheric pressure?

Most agree with me that all they really want to know is "where is Wilma?  What is she going to do? How is she going to affect me?"  Or, as I like to put it, "how should I dress today?" Septupal Doppler Radar will not get me to watch TV. 

Surprisingly there are quite a few who feel  knowing enough about the science to do some future planning on their own is helpful.  This impresses me but does not recruit me. Being in the business for 30 years I can tell you all about a striated lintincular cloud. But I sure as heck don't want to be held responsible for telling you what its about to do to you. This is no science for amateurs.

Do the students think the cameras or video are supporting the news reports?

This leads into one of my pet peeves, the edited video loop. It's a time saver in times of crisis but it violates one of the major tenets of TV news. "Say it! See it!"

The words and the video need to match. The students agree with me, but only after I lead them to the conclusion with a persuasive speech. I know the loop is critical to 24 hour news operations. There is no way they can produce enough video to match up with every word uttered. But I'd almost rather see graphics (which I'm no fan of) than a reporter talking about Alan Greenspan, while we are all looking at his heir apparent. How many times can we see the statue of Saddam Hussein come down before we drift into a desensitized collective yawn. 

Why is there more early coverage of Wilma than for Katrina and Rita?

The students and you might want to say it's because, like FEMA, they've learned so much from the other hurricanes. Maybe a little bit, but that's not it.  Wilma cooperated. She hit an area used to televising hurricane mayhem.

I can bet CNN reporter John Zarella (he grew up in Florida) can name a hundred special places to get a live shot out where winds are blowing, docks are crumbling, idiots are swimming, etc. (I  tell the class I can point you to a whole bunch of places where cars will always run into each other in a snow storm.)   Zarella doesn't have to look for this "stuff."  He just has to go there. And the live trucks and satellite trucks don't have to leave home. And CNN gets a break on out of town dinnner expenses. Most of these people can sleep in their own beds if  they are not floating in the Atlantic.

We discuss some other issues but I don't think we should go there without a video loop. And besides if I keep up with all this SEX talk its going to affect my PG-13 rating. ( Polygon Gladiolus, variety 13) Later Gator. Don't you love that Florida jargon?

 

 

 

 

 

Toilet Training

Flirtatious: "You know I can't hear you when the waters running!"

Real Mood: Cantankerous (not really. I just like to say cantankerous)

Prediction: John Crapper will roll over in his grave if he ever finds out what we've done to his device.

 

I am being harrassed by my big sister, Theda. I've just finished humilitating myself by going into detail about the breaking of my toe. Well, to bring you up to date, I broke my toe trying to retrieve a pipe wrench to fix our toilet.  Well Theda reads my soul searching digital confession,  and  now she wants to know what happened to the toilet. She could care less about my toe.

Well, for the record, ( but not necessarily the truth) the toilet is fixed. We stopped the external flow, but not before destroying a piece of tubing and a plastic nut that you're only supposed to hand tighten. What's one little extra turn with a pipe wrench, huh? I'm pretty sure the people at Lowes were snickering as we stopped in on several occassions in a rather short period of time.

Points for Peggy. It was not leaking where I thought it was leaking. It was probably leaking where Peggy thought it was leaking.  I say probably because every once in a while we sense there is some unaccounted for moisture on the floor. I operate on the old plumbing theory that if you just leave a small leak alone it will seal itself with rust, eventually.

You'd think I'd want to get as far away ,and as fast as I could,  from anything having to do with toilets? Yeah, but I can not resist this editorial opportunity to comment on the archetectual design of the modern water closet in master bedrooms.

Why are we going to such great lengths to isolate the commode? Aren't we usually in the bathroom alone?  If not, aren't we more typically in the shower or tub. I've never heard of a toilet tryst. ( If I'm wrong about this, please be kind and don't try to educate me.)

Is there an adult on the planet who believes there are odorless humans? Isn't it worse when the odor can't disperse? Why would we want to enclose ourselves in these tiny little rooms where we might dislocate a shoulder flushing our unmentionables down the porcelain convenience?  ( would I get sympathy with a shoulder seperation sling?)

Tear down the walls I say. Free the water closet. Okay, I'm done. Can we go on to something else, Theda?

Toe Tips

Flirtatious: "I used to laugh at the idea of a foot fetish until I got a look at those beauties."

Real Mood: Chastened

Prediction: Evolution will ultimately select out the human toe.  

My sister Theda wrote to ask how my foot was doing. To get you up to date?  I broke my little toe a week ago. It's still black and blue, hurts some, and its still swollen enough that I can't get into a regular shoe.  I mention all this because I've discovered it's nigh impossible to get any sympathy breaking your toe.

I mean here I am walking around campus with my foot in this "silly shoe" and people don't even notice. I try limping slightly and still nothing. The insult of the emergency room doctor saying, "Yeah, it's broken, nothin' we can do about it," is nothing compared to this campus slight.

I walk into the department office and run into the Department Chair.  She says, "how's it going Paul?" (did you notice she got both g's into going? Impressive!)

"Pretty good," I say. And then as an after thought I add, "except for having broken my toe."

She says, "I'm pretty short and close to the ground,  but you know I didn't even notice."

She proceeds to tell me she's broken most of her toes at different times, and reminds me there's not a lot you can do about it. So I'm left thinking I may need to hyperbolize my limp if I'm going to get any recognition.

So I take the stairs down to the first floor instead of the elevator (which is right next to the stairs). I try to really favor the leg with the unbroken toe, lifting the "silly shoe" high in the air.  I get to the bottom of the stairs and there's a woman going up them on crutches.  I clearly need to get away from the competition.

Outside the classroom building, I once again opt for the stairs rather than the handicap ramp. Once on the flat asphalt walkway,  I start turning the offended foot perpendicular to the normal one. I'm pretty much sliding the bad foot in the "silly shoe" along the ground. I feign this tortured expression and I'm thinking I see some eyes moving in my direction.  And I was. They were the eyes of a young coed smiling, and practically skipping her way from class to class. 

The notice I got was not what  I expected or hoped for. This slender little coed was laughing at me.  And with good cause, I might add. She had two of those "silly shoes" on (one on each foot). She'd broken a whole bunch of toes and was getting along just fine.

You know the old expression, "Watch your toes?"

I get it now.  And I just got the co-pay bill from the emergency room.   I won't get specific, but the amount is a lot more than a pair of steel toed shoes would have been..

Whoops!

Flirtatious: "I don't care what other people say about your toes. I think they're beautiful."

Real Mood: Anti-Embarrassed

Prediction: Some day there will be a reality show about doctors who work on feet.

I refuse to be embarrassed about doing "stupid" things. I think we are all destined to perform some deeds that don't conform to what we might agree is good sense. And I think many (if not most) of the stupid actions we take come from reasonably logical starting points.

I know I've made it clear many times I'm no fan of plumbing. But we all know its a fairly lucrative life persuit. And for that reason I slip back into the trap of saying,   "Why should I pay that guy two hundred dollars an hour to come out here and fix something I can fix for nothing?"

Well we've been having some trouble with a toilet. Peggy and I disagree on what might be wrong with it. We even got on the Net and looked up some free toilet trouble shooting sites. It's leaking and I think it's the wax ring, and peggy thinks its the little chain valve in the tank. 

Anyway, we go get replacement part kits. We pretty much get the whole thing taken apart when we come upon an equipment crisis. We've got this big old nut that needs unscrewing that is bigger than any of the wrenches we brought into the house. So I volunteer to make the trek out to the cluttered garage in search of the biggest pipe wrench I can find.  Well, here goes.

I open the door to the garage and to my delight I espy the wrench on a wall dead ahead. In my glee over the knowledge that my search will be a short one I forget something.  I forget the two steps between me and the garage floor. Stepping off into thin air I imagine in retrospect to resemble uknowingly stepping into a bottomless chasm. However, a clear difference is that this garage clearly has a bottom.  And it's a bottom made of concrete.

When my right foot hits that concrete it does so at an angle that sends my whole body in a direction perpendicular to the desired wrench, and parallel to the concrete floor. It (the wrench) is going to have to wait a while to be retrieved and employed. I am now prone on the concrete floor and wondering if I should move. I survey my entire torso and it's looking pretty good until I get to that right foot. It's all here but something's funny.   

If there are beauty contests for feet?  I will never be recruited to compete. My toes look a little like they've been bound from birth. They all curl in towards each other like they are huddling up for mutual protection. And that's why it's clear something is wrong. My baby toe on that right foot is attached but pointing in the opposite direction.  Surely this is not normal.

What to do?  I know from football days there's not much you can do with a broken digit. But surely I can't just sit here on a Sunday with my baby toe sticking out in the wrong direction. As futile as I know it might be I instruct Peggy to take me to emergency.

Well, they do their triage and I think you can guess where I am on the priority list.

"Can you describe your pain on a scale from one to ten?"

I so wanted  to lie and say, "TEN." But the truth comes screaming out.

"ONE," I said.

So, sure I'm put in this room pretty quick. But I'm no dummy. The good news? This room has a TV set on a Sunday afternoon when there is a really good football game on. I get to watch the whole first half before they finally get to doing the xrays.

One of the techs says, "didn't you used to be on TV?"

This is another one of those questions you don't want to be too quick to answer. But I did.

"Yeah. Does this mean I get special attention?"

"No, but we might come back in and watch the second half with you."

Instead the Doc pops in with a revelation.

"You have a broken toe."

Duh! Someone pays him for this diagnosis?

"Sooo I guess then you will.....?"

"We'll pretty much do nothing. I'll send a nurse in to finish up some paper work and give a funny shoe to wear. See ya."

The nurse does tie my two toes together which is something Peggy and I both thought about doing at home. And next time I might. But you know what just dawned on me? I just got to sit back in a comfortable bed with my feet up watching a football game.  I could have been home plumbing. Maybe I wasn't so stupid afterall.

 

Falling for Fall

Flirtatious: "You look good in Gold!" (Yeah, that's Peggy!)

Real Mood? Comforted

Prediction: Some officious neighborhood committee member will sneak around leaving notices that say, "you must rake your leaves immediately or face the consequences."

Our snow melted this past week.  While the snow storm broke off a lot of limbs, and even snapped some trees in half, it miraculously left most of the dying leaves in tact.  We're going to have a fall after all.

I think I've said before that I'm really attached to this season. The changes are so dramatic. I love the full range of colors and textures of the falling leaves. I love the crunch as you walk through piles of them. I love the shadows of the season. I love Halloween and Thanksgiving. I love the temperature. I love the clear night skies and the harvest moon. 

I was looking through some of the poetry and short stories I've written over the years, and noticed that most of them were written or at least started in the Fall. Something always creeps out of my soul in the Fall. And I'm going to share an example with you. It's become sadly clear to me that not everyone shares my sense that Fall is a comforting time.

Thoughts of Leaves

Leaves fall like rain,

dipped in food coloring,

revealing what's above,

masking what's below.

 

Leaf sounds are made

to match all moods,

a frilly skirt,

 a snake, an army?

 

We put it there,

leaves cover it.

What was it?

Just can't remember.

 

Kids and Dogs love

piles of color,

romping securely

in a rustling womb.

 

Some of us fear

what's underneath.

Sharp stick or nail,

in Nature's sheath?

 

We watch intently

the reckless play.

Was it FEAR or ENVY

that found the RAKE.

You know if it was up to me I'd have everybody with a leaf blower aim their leaves at me. Bring it on!

A Heavy Load

Flirtatious: "Can I shovel that walk for you maam?"

Real Mood: Sore (double entendre)

Prediction: Some one this week will do a story on what to do with your broken tree branches.

If there are two times of the year when you don't want lots of wet snow around here, they are Fall and
Spring. That's when all the lovely leaves are coming and going.  The problem is the leaves in combination with branches act as nice little baskets to collect that snow.  The baskets get heavy and down those branches come.  It doesn't happen that often, but when it does it's devastating to the flora.

But it does remind of me Catfish, a trim trimmer I've known for 30 years. He is also an entertainer who sings and plays anything with strings on it. He has  always been good at the entertaining bit, but never very ambitious. He occasionally sings at book stores these days, but mostly trims trees. I've been able to do stories with him a few times during these rare branch slaughter events. He makes good TV because he sings while he trims.

This is also a good time for someone who invested in a wood chipper but has been saving it to rent out for several years.

We got about a foot of snow here at the house, which brings back other memories. We had some real beauties here in the early 80s. A Christmas Eve storm in '82 (24 inches in 24 hours) just about shut the town down for several days.  I got to work at a radio station with they help of a cop friend who had borrowed his neighbors four wheel drive. It had very high wheel clearance or we wouldn't have made it.  And he'd already added chains for traction before he picked me up. I you had to work it was not fun.  My mother was visiting from Southern California and didn't have to work. She thought it was just wonderful. 

We had so much snow that year the City's mayor Bill McNichols is said to have lost the election because he couldn't handle getting rid of the snow. He was beaten by a guy named Federico Pena who went on to run energy and transportation in Washington.  A bit of irony here. Another key issue in the campaign was Pena's insistance that Denver didn't need a new airport.

Ironically  he gets elected, changes his mind, and gets the ball rolling building one. He leaves before the airport is finished, and then gets a highway connecting the city and the airport named after him. Bill Mc Nichols gets retirement. Another fun thing to know is that one of them (Paul'sHeimers set in) one of them (Mc Nichols or Pena) got a lot of bad media for using garbage trucks to pack down the snow on the unplowed streets. 

We use these snow storms, that are really quite rare, for population control. If you knew what the weather was really like, you'd all live here.

I gotta go pick up some more branches. See ya.

Oral Surgery

 

Flirtatious: "Howdy! Can I show you around the "nuculus" of our ranch here!"

Read Mood: Fun seeking

Prediction: `George W will never give in and say nuclear correctly.

 

 

Some quick, yet deep meaningful thoughts for your cerebral consideration.

On our President's pronunciation of NUCLEAR: I can't imagine there is one of us who hasn't uttered, "Why can't he say that right? It's not NOOK CUE LEHR."

But I would also venture that very few of us stop to cogitate on the anomoly, nor be able to determine it's etiology, and/or have a deep desire to correct what in some contexts may be a malaprop. In other normal world words, "That's weird how he says nuclear. I wonder why? Oh, well. I really don't care that much."  

But I'm going to attack all of those challenges.  You would think that if any Chief Executive of the Free World would stoop to a mispronunciation of the word "nuclear," it would be Jimmy Carter. He still employees that rich Georgian dialect in public speech. But let's remember that Jimmy had a degree in Nuclear Physics which no doubt included some remedial work on identifying his field. He also commanded a Nuclear submarine. The motivation to say it right was there.

George, on the other hand, faces not just a Texas influence, but the New England overtones from time spent in Maine. And the lax academic standards at Yale may have had an influence. And you don't want to walk about sounding fancy if you are in the reserves. And let's face it. He comes from the seed of a man who often bumped his head getting in and out of Air Force one.  And dad is the President who to this day calls "SUH DAHM HOO SEHN" "SUH DAMN HOO SEHN." Some days I think it's on purpose. Some days I don't.

These are all potential reasons for this oral malfeasance, but I've recently noticed what I believe to be the real issue. Last night I heard our President pronounce the word REMNANT. I only know that's the word he was pronouncing because of the context of his sentence. Think about it and this will not surprise you. George can not say REHM NAHNT.  He needs to put something in the middle of the two middle consonant sounds. So to President Bush the word is said, REHM UH NUHNT. I'm going to make an educated guess and say that all that time spent with cattle (ruminants) may have had an influence.  But if we take the words "Nuclear and Remnant" and place them next to each other we see a clear trend. This man, conscious or unconscious, does not believe you can blurt out two consonant sounds together in the middle of a word, without putting a vowel sound in between. Could it be that simple?

If so I know of  two possible solutions. One we allow the President to drop down into street English and use the word "Nuke," or the prhase "left over" to express himself. Or, as in the tradition  of Castillian Spanish lets all just start being politely respectful and follow his lead. Let's all start saying, "NOOK CUE LEHR," and "REHM UH NUNT."

Barbara would be very proud of her boy if we did.

It's never, ever, ever TOO LATE!

Flirtatious: You don't look a day over 39.

Real Mood: Overloaded

Prediction: Inspired by this BLOG entry, the prices on tie dye tee shirts, and levis with holes in the knees, will come way down in the coming year.

That's Tom Livingston in the picture being honored on his 40th birthday. Tom is an ex-student who came back to school because he'd finally decided he really did want to be a TV anchor. And now he is one in Wyoming.

Well Peggy and I responded to the directions on the invitation to dress in the fashion of 1965. As often happens at "dress like this" events, we were one of just two couples to comply.

The other couple clearly had to do some research.  I'm guessing they were both a little under 40. One of the other guests commented he went into shock when he saw a store nearby was selling tie dye tee shirts for 60 dollars.  Peggy and I just had to go to the back of the closet. There were a ton of memories hiding back there and they were free.

The 60's and 70's were terrible, yet wonderful decades to be sauntering into adult hood. Vietnam made it terrible. Everything was being challenged, everything was being experimented with. No one was being trusted.  I don't think most of us really cared where it would all end. We were just along for the ride in the middle of the confusion. Unlike the lives of our parents and their parents before them, there didn't seem to be any solid guidelines.

 I still remember being on campus at Long Beach State when about ten students were staging a sit-in at the administration building. Me and about 500 other students had stopped to watch and  be amused. On the news that night me and the other 500 were counted among the one thousand students reported to have stormed the adminstration building.

(I get a kick out of people telling me News ought to be reported like it used to be. IT IS!)

Incredible transitions were taking place in music. Protest brought Folk music to the fore front.  Little coffee houses (small nightclubs) were popping up. I remember two of them in Manhattan Beach, one of which is where I first heard Joe and Eddie. There was the Hungry Eye up in San Francisco where the Limelighters were often the headliners, and the New Christie Minstrals at Disney Land. Everyone owned a guitar and knew the 'c', 'f', 'g', 'g-7', 'd', 'a', 'e' and 'e minor' chords.

There were totally new sounds like the Righteous Brothers, The Carpenters, and The Association.

At the same time Jazz was coming out of the closet. It was 'hip' to know about Louis Armstrong,  Lionel Hampton and that new guy B.B. King.  My old friend Larry Ramos with "The Association" remembers the day when B.B. King was the opening act for them at the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles. Rock was jumping all over the place, including the Gospel Rock of Joe and Eddie. (One of them died in a car accident ending their run and their special sound) 

According to our parents, the 'dress' of the day had pretty much gone to "HECK!" Surfers put us all in tee shirts and cutoffs. Hippie's got rid of bras and gave us tie dye shirts and blouses and ragged jeans with flowers sewn all over them. They also gave us long hair (male and female) and head bands. Vietnam vets would often come home, let their hair grow, and sew flowers on to their camouflage gear. In case you are called upon to dress up for the 60's, I'll let you in on  a secret. Tie dying is cheap and easy to do. Old 60's jeans can be had by letting your new ones get old. You can give them character by climbing over a few barbed wire fences, and painting a few walls while wearing them.  

 I think I'm getting into this because I've just had a double shot  of "Remember the 60's." My old college room mate Rich Case called out of the blue. Rich was the guy who was supposed to take his engineering degree and go out and build highways. Instead life's circumstances took him to Europe where he became a ski instructor. He did some of that instructin' back here in the U.S. in New Mexico and Oregon. Then out of the blue circumstances bite Rich in the derrier and he takes a left turn.  Rich gets hold of the "Whole Earth Catalog." It was the epitome statement of the anti-establishment way to live.  Part of it taught you how to build your own home out of logs after you'd dropped out of society.  Most of us  just owned a copy to be cool.  We never really read it. Rich did.  He moved up into the middle of a forest in British Columbia and built that home, and taught himself to live off the land. I knew all that because I was working in radio in the 70's and got a call in the news room. I hear this very soft voice saying, "I'm a voice out of your past."

I might have recognized it right away had he employed his vocal chords to say it. But the whisper had me a little tense. We all have a little bit of our pasts we don't want to catch up with us. Well once the mystery is solved I invite Rich up to the newsroom where he begins to behave very strange.  He is looking around like a trapped animal.  It finally dawned on me. Here is a guy who had been living alone in a forest for some number of years standing in the middle of a newsroom with wire machine clanging, police scanners blaring, music pounding out of studio speakers. Whoa! Stop and think about it.

We head out to what I believe is a quiet little bar south of town to share a drink and some memories.  It was a quiet place to me but I don't think Rich ever agreed with the assessment.

We've since caught up with each other at a class re-union about 15 years ago, and then this recent phone call. He still has the log cabin which is still a 13 mile trip in a canoe to reach. But he came back to the U.S. for a while to get an Oregon State Master's degree in Ecology.  Now he's back up in Canada but has another place with some acreage near a town of about 1,000 people. And guess what he's doing?  He's up there working for "The Man," AKA "The Establishment,"  building roads and managing forests as a consultant. Rich  are you using "The Whole Earth Catalog" again.

It's kinda funny. I've had quite a few people lately express fear they aren't far enough along in their careers yet at let's see, ages 21, 26, 30, 35...and yes,  now Tom at 40. I know ironically our generation now often says to youth. "Make up your mind. You need to decide what you're going to do with your life and stick to it. "

Well now Tom and Michelle can join me and Rich in a chorus of "NO YOU DON"T."  It's never too late to do anything. You just need to care and try. Try it ALL if it feels right. That's what we learned but sometimes forget from growing up in the 60's and 70's.  Happy Birthday Tom.