tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37606871293265510902024-03-04T21:18:01.976-08:00Are We Having Fun Yet?Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-12088266876190713842009-06-11T18:30:00.000-07:002009-06-11T20:16:25.672-07:00<div><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC0HQ53jz7pLXYyHokt-4ZBVvQ4ssql_2kQemylaElXJ5UP5kbiJwVbqeGriQWoqI82LHQmgycyZBiLaFar5pAkVUlplgNLl49z8V4sv24rdvcZR3TFwwn2FeHDqj1Aze7QRzIc3LUvYpk/s1600-h/niagara+falls.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 177px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC0HQ53jz7pLXYyHokt-4ZBVvQ4ssql_2kQemylaElXJ5UP5kbiJwVbqeGriQWoqI82LHQmgycyZBiLaFar5pAkVUlplgNLl49z8V4sv24rdvcZR3TFwwn2FeHDqj1Aze7QRzIc3LUvYpk/s400/niagara+falls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346268027489616786" border="0" /></a></span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">This was the N</span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">i</span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">agara Falls of plumbing snafus. The frightening details spilled out yesterday morning, when Trina showed me our monthly water bill. I'm not a big fan of bills to begin with and I rarely get too exci</span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">t</span>ed about a water bill. </span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">We're probably a lot like you. Typically, we shell out around 30 dollars a month to keep the H20 coming. It beats taking showers out of the downspouts. But there was something different about this month's bill. I couldn't be quite sure why.... unless... the... oh... there it is... the balance due! It came right out of the Atlantic Ocean at a whale-sized $658. Yes, it's a new, "This Could Only Happen To Steve" world's record.<br />While we wait for the good folks at The Guinness Book to confirm this astounding feat, I shall explain what happened. We have a toilet secreted away in the basement. It's only used for extreme emergencies. By that I mean Trina uses it when there's some mysterious noxious, and possibly toxic odor in the main bathroom upstairs. Hmmmm. I wonder where that odor comes from? Possibly a topic for another blog....<br />Someone who shall remain nameless, Trina, used the downstairs toilet, being sure to flush! Flushing is almost always key. Sadly, you can have too much of a good thing. (See Joan Rivers' latest face lift) Our basement bathroom suddenly turned into the little commode that could. It flushed. (I think I can!) And flushed. (I think I can!) And it flushed. I think I'll smash that little toilet with a sledge hammer. (I think I can!) It flushed continuously for some period of time. Perhaps days. Maybe weeks. However long it took to rack up a $658 bill. And here's what you buy for $658. </span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">77,500 gallons of nothing.</span></div> <div><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;"><br />That comes out to:<br />2,672 gallons every day for a month<br /></span></div> <div><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">that's 111 gallons every hour.</span></div> <div><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">or 1.85 every minute for 30 long days</span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">That's more water than our dog Mika could have drunk out of the toilet bowl for her entire lifetime. </span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">We never noticed because we just don't spend a lot of time in the dark, dank corner of our basement where this Damian Dumpster lurks. </span><span class="359232721-10062009" style="font-size:130%;">I had an Eureka moment, thinking I'd made a tremendous (although wasteful) discovery! Maybe I could charge admission to see my toilet. But sadly, as it turns out that there's very little market for a perpetual motion flusher.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Next time: Clash of The Water Warlords<br />(or, Steve "negotiates" with the utility company)<br /></span><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-85705596989293639272009-05-31T18:28:00.000-07:002009-06-11T20:12:42.810-07:00Mika & Me<span style="font-size:130%;">Mika toppled over like a drunken sailor after two days shore leave. But it wasn't because she'd been drinking. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2FeFpN2-H39I5GuJik7b2MIA3RdF-qruO1pWHKF9F4Z1-aZNhlyTpbzVyCkv-h82itWiS57q4uCdinGvbboIE0OXw9gZln2r-nsf5EK7w2bXOPUKrlv12MbLmG7xd5FHoJSvDI84RO-4d/s1600-h/Mika+Beauty+Shot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 353px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2FeFpN2-H39I5GuJik7b2MIA3RdF-qruO1pWHKF9F4Z1-aZNhlyTpbzVyCkv-h82itWiS57q4uCdinGvbboIE0OXw9gZln2r-nsf5EK7w2bXOPUKrlv12MbLmG7xd5FHoJSvDI84RO-4d/s400/Mika+Beauty+Shot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345016644977864354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Mika hadn't been acting quite right for a couple of days and we weren't sure what to think. But on the morning she passed out, we knew we had a problem. By the time we got her into the car</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Mik</span><span style="font-size:130%;">a seemed better. But we took her to an emergency clinic just to be safe. We thought maybe she'd p</span><span style="font-size:130%;">icked up a case of Lyme Disease because we'd seen some deer ticks recently. We figured the clinic would probably giv</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e us some antibiotics and send us on our way.<br /> Not long after we arrrived the doctor told us i</span><span style="font-size:130%;">t wasn't Lyme Disease. Antibiotics wouldn't help. She showed us a syringe filled with blood that had come from Mika's abdomen. The fluid should have been clear. Mika needed emergency surgery. The doctor thought her spleen had ruptured causing</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> internal bleeding. And the reason for the spleen problem was almost certainly Hemangiosarcoma- cancer. Just like that, </span><span style="font-size:130%;">it was life and death. The doctor warned us that if the cancer had spread, the prognosis was grim. Without surgery, she might have two months. But even with surgery, mayb</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e only six.<br />Trina and I sat in the operating room for hours, twisting tissues and trying not to cry. We reminded ourselves that no news is good news. After a seemingly endless wait the surgeon marched out, smiled and told us that Mika had pulled through. A biopsy confirmed the cancer diagnosis. But there was no sign the malignancy had spread.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgTmRyF8Y3GakdXu2LrMjS6NnyomxNzVpF5LQuXmLTWmOQqej49-MwH9f1J-8pvzPF8jySUDkOY9c3JoqUgoorwaNmPNVtlR_rZNck-ssQN6czOZ80exwKoDJia9_2PMRmSD4Ft9XEDEx/s1600-h/Trina+Mika+%26+Steve.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgTmRyF8Y3GakdXu2LrMjS6NnyomxNzVpF5LQuXmLTWmOQqej49-MwH9f1J-8pvzPF8jySUDkOY9c3JoqUgoorwaNmPNVtlR_rZNck-ssQN6czOZ80exwKoDJia9_2PMRmSD4Ft9XEDEx/s400/Trina+Mika+%26+Steve.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345017053783036066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Not counting my wife, Mika is my all-time favorite blond. Call it an animal attraction</span><span style="font-size:130%;">. Mika is Marilyn Monroe of Golden Retrievers. I've never had a dog that listened. Heel, sit or stay, my dogs always beg at the table, pee on the floor or get amorous with a visitor's leg. But Mika actually does what we ask her to </span><span style="font-size:130%;">do. She's a top dog at Agility shows- flying through obstacle courses filled with tunnels, teeter-totters and weave poles. She's always happy and eager to please and incredibly affectionate. Sh</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e even gives us doggie hugs. Trina picked out Mika when she was just a puppie. They were instant BFF's and spent countless hours together. Mika soaked in many of Trina's qualities- they're both so sweet, patient, loving, (and mostly) quiet. When I wandered onto the scene five years ago, she was already four years old. That's Mika, not my wife. I teasingly tell everyone that I married Trina for her dog. Trina tells everyone, she's not sure why she married me.<br /> These days we're up to our armpits in chemotherapy, antibiotics, anti-nausea drugs and blood cell counts etc. Mika is part of a clinical trial at the University of Pennsylvania. They're trying a more agressive form of chemo than they've used in the past. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKP8cKm3miq0r3QmlmG-evyyEqcdsE9vwu2yPxpSPtRw6DFoUq6iqzI-M9QnWCTFYyBiiDQwe-kxhcscCOjaJp-QwaOXeWujNSXe1CScuYBpcsjhUEZCRlCZCnPWkp1PQ1d2Moe9tYqGIb/s1600-h/Mika+%26+Me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKP8cKm3miq0r3QmlmG-evyyEqcdsE9vwu2yPxpSPtRw6DFoUq6iqzI-M9QnWCTFYyBiiDQwe-kxhcscCOjaJp-QwaOXeWujNSXe1CScuYBpcsjhUEZCRlCZCnPWkp1PQ1d2Moe9tYqGIb/s400/Mika+%26+Me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345017809589561874" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Mika's a little anemic, but she's responding well, so far. We've heard from other people whose dogs had cancer and are stil</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0k5GRVVdrCy1GfnCoHcf0TCxGoYkVlK0KmNvAD6QVNsDq6il18vubC0Aty2Tw5OvsCYWMLTOnHmSCOPuumiDbCEnk4xDScc66-AWXjOspGgQ8wiSwpr3J46ycpqAjskhJ0vFcGQzfi8zF/s1600-h/Mika+%26+Trina.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0k5GRVVdrCy1GfnCoHcf0TCxGoYkVlK0KmNvAD6QVNsDq6il18vubC0Aty2Tw5OvsCYWMLTOnHmSCOPuumiDbCEnk4xDScc66-AWXjOspGgQ8wiSwpr3J46ycpqAjskhJ0vFcGQzfi8zF/s400/Mika+%26+Trina.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345151628345791458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">l alive 2-3 years later. We're hoping we'll be that lucky too. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The vet says dogs don't generally get sick from the drugs and they mostly don't lose their hair. And blissfully, dogs don't seem to know they have cancer. If you saw Mika, </span><span style="font-size:130%;">you wouldn't think she's in the fight of her life. She's still happy and eager to please and incredibly affectionate. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Good thing too because these days we need all the doggie hugs we can get.<br /></span><h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size: 130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-72539162405001786762009-04-28T21:32:00.000-07:002009-06-11T20:13:02.528-07:00Supersize This!<span style="font-size:130%;">I think the last straw was the one sticking out of my soda. That's pop for those of you living in the Midwest. We stopped on the Pennsylvania turnpike a couple of days ago for a coke. The greasy kid behind the Burger King counter charged me $1.99. And with tax it was $2.11. For a coke... I could have brought one from home for less than 50 cents.<br /> Have you noticed that a lot of manufacturers are keeping prices the same, but they're ever-so-slightly reducing the size of their products? Cereal, toothpaste, canned corn- you name it. These corporate crooks may be greedy but they're not stupid. You have to take a close look to notice the difference. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_cZgMbjI69ylHWKHGuifV_yNFn8VTRa0ypXMiXioIEB491bwOAwvt7B45AeQq74j4bG9AkJB51nXSUVp2xJiUkviL4cnvV4PuddrJU3MMsPXxkI2Lqk89tyOaLQzLD3Gxp1ELznLdbJa/s1600-h/supermarket+shelves.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_cZgMbjI69ylHWKHGuifV_yNFn8VTRa0ypXMiXioIEB491bwOAwvt7B45AeQq74j4bG9AkJB51nXSUVp2xJiUkviL4cnvV4PuddrJU3MMsPXxkI2Lqk89tyOaLQzLD3Gxp1ELznLdbJa/s400/supermarket+shelves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326952269431880322" border="0" /></a>Pringles reduced the weight of its chips from 200 grams to 170 grams. Bryers Ice Cream- was 1.75 quarts. Now 1.5 quarts. Wrigley's gum cut the number of sticks from 17 to 15. That's getting the short end of the stick. Boxes of Cheerios went from 10 ounces to 8.9 ounces. This is all such a dirty business. Dial soap shaved its bars from 4.5 ounces to 4 ounces. The maker of Quilted Northern toilet tissue reduced the amount of paper in it's rolls. That's really hitting below the belt. Hershey's famous 8-ounce chocolate bar is now an infamous 6.8 ounces. That's 15% less. I can't be sure, but the Egg McMuffin I ate the other day sure looked smaller than what I remember getting before. It's just not fair. And I'll tell you what's even worse. With all of these food products getting smaller how come I keep getting bigger? I should be losing weight like crazy! And where does this corporate cutback spree end? I heard one guy complain there are fewer ribs in his condoms! I hope that's the only piece of his equipage that's been reduced. And somebody else thinks his size 10 shoes are really 9 1/2. I just looked at my last bank statement, and it's smaller than ever. Somebody call a cop. Looks like we've been robbed!<br /></span><h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size: 130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-53547263215300728992009-04-20T18:37:00.000-07:002009-04-20T19:53:02.835-07:00Back to the Future<span style="font-size:130%;">I just back from a reunion. Nope, not high school or even college. This was a working reunion. I got together with a bunch of co-</span><span style="font-size:130%;">workers from my first real job. And contrary to popular opinion that did not happen during the Eisenhower administration. So many memories come rushing back.<br />My first job was in a television newsroom in New York City. I was paid the astonishing sum of $164 a week. I was so broke, renting an apartment was out of the question. I had to live with my parents in New Je</span><span style="font-size:130%;">rsey and ride the train to work. My monthly commuter pass cost $180. I remember going to a bar after work for some drinks. I went because I wanted to be part of the gang. I ordered a Bud and choked on my peanuts when the waitress charged me $5!!! For one beer!!! But it was worth it. I was a wor</span><span style="font-size:130%;">king journalist! Even if my Grandma Helen kept telling me she was praying for me to find "honorable" work. When you consider that most Americans rate Journalists a step below pickpockets, it appears that Grandma Helen was ahead of her time. Most of my co-workers were just out of college. And we were going to set the world on fire. Once, when U.S. troops invaded the mighty republic of Grenada, my TV station aired the first video from the war zone. It wasn't because we were smarter or harder working than the other journalists. There was only one satellite transmitter. They held a lottery to see who could send out their video first. We won. And we celebrated our mighty journalistic coup as if we'd conquered </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Grenada ourselves. We had some real characters in our shop. One old timer used to chase police calls with Walter Winchell. We smoked in the newsroom. I even had a bottle of scotch in the bottom drawer of my desk. These days I don't even have my own desk! There were all-night parties, all-da</span><span style="font-size:130%;">y hangovers, and in our spare time, we learned the tricks of the trade. After hours, a bunch of us would always hang out together, drinking too much and then drinking a little more. If we left the bars and the sun wasn't up, there was still more drinking to be done. There were late night visits to speakeasies, illicit gambling halls, and even the occasional go go bar. New York is the city that never sleeps. And we rarely did. Maybe I should explain that we worked the evening shift. That meant getting to the office at 2:30 in the afternoon and leaving a</span><span style="font-size:130%;">t 10:30, in time to enjoy the "shank of the evening". Despite the missed deadlines, mangled copy and garbled transmissions, eventually we all got promoted and began making a little bit of money. That generally meant we could afford better quality booze. But it also meant the beginning of the end. Our close knit group began unraveling. I took a reporting job in Gainesvill</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e, chasing fire calls and rabid armadillos. Some took higher paying positions in New York. Others headed for Chicago and LA. Amazingly, we were a fairly successful bunch. In our old gang you'll find a fair number of Video Editors, News Writers, Producers, Executive Producers, Senior Producers, Field Producers, (in TV Journalism we have a lot of "producers", but not so many people doing actual work) Reporters, Directors and even a Network N</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ews President.<br />Back to the reunion. We met at a New York City bar, (imagine that) not sure who or what we might find inside. It was amazing to see those familiar faces. For a night, we shared hugs, war stories, lots of laughs and a drink or two. The wrinkles disappeared and the memories came flooding back. We </span><span style="font-size:130%;">toasted a few who had passed away. And we remembered friends who couldn't get away to join us. It was intoxicating to relive our youth for a few hours. But in the sober light of day I know that we've all changed. I'm not talking about expanding waistlines or receding hairlines. We're different people now. We talked about kids, 401-K's, real estate and college tuition. The party broke up early. People had to get home to relieve babysitters, or be up early </span><span style="font-size:130%;">for Little League. But for a night, we were all 20-something and ready to take on the world again. We all promised to have more reunions. And we just might. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ECC5yJfGG_EQEypQ8Z47mh4i-NdMYqgEPnPNgeYZi-FlwUBZhCB5581DjZH6Fb_5ihHG_W_nFxs0JhBHEPQs4-caXmuyuf0RN49ZXzQsrkClSjsEWZByFwOpMEhwaLVEwB0RIowqcPxw/s1600-h/nyc+sunrise.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ECC5yJfGG_EQEypQ8Z47mh4i-NdMYqgEPnPNgeYZi-FlwUBZhCB5581DjZH6Fb_5ihHG_W_nFxs0JhBHEPQs4-caXmuyuf0RN49ZXzQsrkClSjsEWZByFwOpMEhwaLVEwB0RIowqcPxw/s400/nyc+sunrise.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326971719899887714" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I was among the last to leave around 10:30pm. As I made my way outside I couldn't help but think, sunrise was a long time away.<br /></span><h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size: 130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-68134957037601686142009-04-08T19:11:00.000-07:002009-04-20T18:32:05.576-07:00Jay Walking<span style="font-size:130%;"> Perhaps you've never heard of </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-6kX8L9ZBQlgDETN8Y0N_EzpLmmHYpiLiq5cUMwkIzPnWyBbKj5wRlJ5P02whAtbS6gGsgPR_hbve-KSCQHQ1iYhRGHph1c6Z7JhK-8rOSjne6ZA_oFyivZxGSVg5WCZfxWDsKqJBVea7/s1600-h/DSC_0331correctedscrubjaycloseup+%281%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-6kX8L9ZBQlgDETN8Y0N_EzpLmmHYpiLiq5cUMwkIzPnWyBbKj5wRlJ5P02whAtbS6gGsgPR_hbve-KSCQHQ1iYhRGHph1c6Z7JhK-8rOSjne6ZA_oFyivZxGSVg5WCZfxWDsKqJBVea7/s400/DSC_0331correctedscrubjaycloseup+%281%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325464312332106930" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Scrub Jays. Contrary to what you may think, Scrub Jays are not some revolutionary cleaning product. I'd assume they are related to Blue Jays. No, not the baseball team- I mean birds with feathers, beady eyes and bony legs.<br />We recently visited a wildlife preserve in Florida that's home to a S</span><span style="font-size:130%;">crub Jay colony. Yes, they live in areas with lots of "scrub"- stubby bushes- hence their name. And no, there are not a lot of them left. They're endangered.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfG_Tc66rXjneoDKhyphenhyphenaJsa3eLpg9e7LYOL7i1C4bo4qqlEpJ3ytJww9GSXYRfCwBfBIqd85hOpthN6XibGtxhn9h0ch1ARhVsS4M3fhAnt28eDZX0N-zIqeEENZW8ar6d6u858TpYMahvu/s1600-h/DSC_0216scrubjayonStevehand.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfG_Tc66rXjneoDKhyphenhyphenaJsa3eLpg9e7LYOL7i1C4bo4qqlEpJ3ytJww9GSXYRfCwBfBIqd85hOpthN6XibGtxhn9h0ch1ARhVsS4M3fhAnt28eDZX0N-zIqeEENZW8ar6d6u858TpYMahvu/s400/DSC_0216scrubjayonStevehand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325467565143092082" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Interestingly, Scrub Jays have no natural fear of people. They will fly right up and land on you. I am not making this up. Just look at Trina's photos. They seem especially anxious to interact if they somehow get the idea you have food. We have no idea what might have given the Scrub Jays that impression. The Snickers Bar I was eating was certainly not a factor.<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZc7mcDptDRsDHKDSRTTr0yinToaVIKWcHyjMmKf2ryoq0LK51xLDrpEAF4UrVB7Jge59iTfdsqFf4cPJlgN8QLHBSEQrmd9V8vPHAo93c5TxkFoMqGnVbGlx7S3DIN09QyMyTdjfzK-lX/s1600-h/DSC_0269scrubjayonStevehead.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZc7mcDptDRsDHKDSRTTr0yinToaVIKWcHyjMmKf2ryoq0LK51xLDrpEAF4UrVB7Jge59iTfdsqFf4cPJlgN8QLHBSEQrmd9V8vPHAo93c5TxkFoMqGnVbGlx7S3DIN09QyMyTdjfzK-lX/s400/DSC_0269scrubjayonStevehead.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325464308564055042" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Our face-to-beak meeting resembled a scene out </span><span style="font-size:130%;">of The Birds. The Hitchcock movie, not the rock band. These little blue bombers were flying in all directions, landing on various body parts. Trina was snapping photos</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> like a demon</span><span style="font-size:130%;">. Sh</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTf4vr4jvRgbxwo594Qo2hCfkSbxfMMPkHK5cmGkf-a1bdJ1jT6xcd7kqSCUfBprv-2ZQdRx3CeWDeyZp-eG9rcxnWoFGh-1TS9lj0tEcTgjdQja2dSzYlmkpQrYLXRoRmDJVZwAA8nEQ/s1600-h/Trina+Scrub+Jay0001.bmp"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 175px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsTf4vr4jvRgbxwo594Qo2hCfkSbxfMMPkHK5cmGkf-a1bdJ1jT6xcd7kqSCUfBprv-2ZQdRx3CeWDeyZp-eG9rcxnWoFGh-1TS9lj0tEcTgjdQja2dSzYlmkpQrYLXRoRmDJVZwAA8nEQ/s400/Trina+Scrub+Jay0001.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325481305608654754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">e's trying to capture the blue blurs on film, while these cheeky (and sneaky) sky chicks were perching on her head.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> One even fluttered down on Shirley, my Mom. But nothing ruffles her feathers!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_biAOWOdltgWQCl1dtgcecmsQqsQrsyhBEJ1DrNwDY0VvKrOiOk-KJ90aJdnW8ug5Y3i_M7cK3zlQ0NNiHQHzeTJ4ykW9F1-AdOoV76dyXIQV-8jZwlzfHO6JNFLZzi5x92mqrHSZI-f/s1600-h/DSC_0246shirley.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_biAOWOdltgWQCl1dtgcecmsQqsQrsyhBEJ1DrNwDY0VvKrOiOk-KJ90aJdnW8ug5Y3i_M7cK3zlQ0NNiHQHzeTJ4ykW9F1-AdOoV76dyXIQV-8jZwlzfHO6JNFLZzi5x92mqrHSZI-f/s400/DSC_0246shirley.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325464308537737698" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Watching these trusting birds in action, I think I see why they're endangered. I'm thinking of all the denizens of the animal kingdom that might enjoy a nice self-serve Scrub Jay snack. But as luck would have it these Scrub Jays do have one sneaky defensive system. Anyone know how to get bird poop out of a cotton shirt?<br /><br /></span><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>.Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-88582944434842509852009-02-16T17:51:00.000-08:002009-04-16T19:32:28.501-07:00Can You Hear Me Now?<span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Welcome to the cellular complaint</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> hotline!<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Today’s first question comes from Tammy in <st1:city><st1:place>Tampico</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Tammy says, </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTsSujEexBE-PPouGyZ3M4DfnRbVvq1y_d4VjtYkKe0B3YPBsNQ2wggQT0Ly-XKqSdoFWmUghIjHyJT_siL-rl2Sf5PahRIdDi-xPXg6MbIjtD511FHmKXVnksDN8guIkwcpg0aZid4rWz/s1600-h/73033637.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTsSujEexBE-PPouGyZ3M4DfnRbVvq1y_d4VjtYkKe0B3YPBsNQ2wggQT0Ly-XKqSdoFWmUghIjHyJT_siL-rl2Sf5PahRIdDi-xPXg6MbIjtD511FHmKXVnksDN8guIkwcpg0aZid4rWz/s400/73033637.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303587272944405074" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“My cell phone service stinks.<span style=""> </span>I have to stand out in the front lawn to make a call.<span style=""> </span>Wha</span><span style="font-size:130%;">t should I do?</span><span style="font-size:130%;">”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Well Tammy, it’s funny you should ask because the cellular complaint hotline had that very same problem. <span style=""> </span>At the time we were an AT&T customer.<span style=""> </span>Our phones simply wouldn’t w</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ork inside the office.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style="">Step A</b></span><span style="font-size:130%;">: Being polite but firm is always a good idea.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;">But in this day and age, get real.<span style=""> </span>When dealing with cellular provide</span><span style="font-size:130%;">rs, you should quickly move on to;
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style=""><o:p> </o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style="">Step B</b></span><span style="font-size:130%;">: become a </span><span style="font-size:130%;">relentless psychotic.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The cellular complaint hotline called AT&T repeatedly, and we even threatened to cancel our cell phone service.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWtjq1MPBwA47Bm76peqP4qk8EOdWJgbC-pgp7LyYRKVsgx8ZmQTleERVHQsOHyR-0-GZutVyu5nvel3cP6ReugpBm9nAs8sfGkixJYMHOOT_ZdJtmCqDFVW2AAAM2ydTm_5vG7RMPDWC/s1600-h/74421617.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWtjq1MPBwA47Bm76peqP4qk8EOdWJgbC-pgp7LyYRKVsgx8ZmQTleERVHQsOHyR-0-GZutVyu5nvel3cP6ReugpBm9nAs8sfGkixJYMHOOT_ZdJtmCqDFVW2AAAM2ydTm_5vG7RMPDWC/s400/74421617.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303587278707010818" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">We m</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ay also have inadvertently cursed out some of the representatives.<span style=""> </span>And of course, when that didn’t work, we insisted</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> on speaking to supervisors!<span style=""> </span>Eventually, after we yelled ourselves hoarse, AT&T gave us a brand new phone.<span style=""> </span>We did this twice because the new p</span><span style="font-size:130%;">hones didn’t worked either.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style=""><o:p> </o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style="">Step C</b></span><span style="font-size:130%;">: change your cellular carrier.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The consumer complaint hotline switched to Verizon.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Wouldn’t you know it; with our new Verizon phone we still couldn’t make calls from inside of the office.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And on top of that, the phone wouldn’t hold a charge.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">After repeating </span></span><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Step B several times a supervisor finally explained the problem.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">In areas with poor reception, cell phones sometimes use up extra energy trying to pull i</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMXs-e17qBb9yLMr_yjkbXXiyLBk2X49DezGzEK36OHAn7Fy7eFLqukIHIsEWfde0F5avOtsqhRZWcxUgDhIMXQl3WJmwa96JQJ7FYfm-iYQKA8gKih8kiYyW-5Vb2iyO0Pxhvu3nfWli/s1600-h/sea+of+people+with+cell+phones.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMXs-e17qBb9yLMr_yjkbXXiyLBk2X49DezGzEK36OHAn7Fy7eFLqukIHIsEWfde0F5avOtsqhRZWcxUgDhIMXQl3WJmwa96JQJ7FYfm-iYQKA8gKih8kiYyW-5Vb2iyO0Pxhvu3nfWli/s400/sea+of+people+with+cell+phones.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303589472518604210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;">n a signal.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And that’s why our battery kept dying!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The good folks here at the consumer complaint hotline felt kind of guilty about getting those free phones</span></span><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> when the real problem was the fact that the consumer complaint hotline is located at the bottom of a gully no cell phone signal could ever reach.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Excuse me.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I have to go out on the front lawn to repeat Step B and probably Step C.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I hear Sprint is offering special rates on new phones!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></p><h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size: 130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>. Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-80727653412546238492009-02-05T18:07:00.000-08:002009-04-16T19:33:24.835-07:00You Lucky #%@&^%$<span style="font-size:130%;"> I’ve been thinking about luck. Our society is obsessed with luck or the lack of it. Luck pervades our language. There's a Lucky Magazine, Lucky Brand Jeans, and Lucky Charms Cereal. We thank our lucky stars. Some people have all the luck! </span><span style="font-size:130%;">There’s even the luck of the Irish. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">You can smoke Lucky Strikes.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiYHdASW_-sA3HnRk7zQprCkBSGoZTjtrYIzQVoimZXgaoZA8__WHz9mmRpepdBWQYnuHvUcGN5RQTPf24pgHmc5ae1WRRXKtL_SMkxPnX0Iu-moPOtCh8uQkg8JHJJRrVocSLSprP6w9/s1600-h/lucky+strike+cigarettes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiYHdASW_-sA3HnRk7zQprCkBSGoZTjtrYIzQVoimZXgaoZA8__WHz9mmRpepdBWQYnuHvUcGN5RQTPf24pgHmc5ae1WRRXKtL_SMkxPnX0Iu-moPOtCh8uQkg8JHJJRrVocSLSprP6w9/s400/lucky+strike+cigarettes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299513526865257170" border="0" /></a> In China, they sell “Double Lucky” cigarettes. All those Chinese lung cancer patients must think they’re double lucky. Some people would rather be lucky than good. I'll bet most of those people just aren’t very good.<br />There’s Lady Luck. Of course, it’s mostly us guys who are always dreaming about getting “lucky”. And when your buddy scores, what do you say? “You lucky dog!” “Luck” is the phrase that pays in many social settings. When somebody gets fired you wish them "good luck" in the future. When somebody gets married: what do you say? “Good luck!” Today a friend e-mailed me a photo titled “one lucky dude”. My computer wouldn’t open the attachment. I never get a lucky break.<br />I played some of those scratch off lottery games and actually won. The prize was two more scratch off lottery tickets. Yep, they were both losers. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTjrbxsIdyW4tEoTvilXMuJIkUQq5cYmk1wjfQxeJqcmj4lewtBr-V8xnBLDYjCESq-AEPbGcypMBXP0b3ulNGT0-aolbgX4U7bSzlDmDpUSznpVseMjvOS4Q_O7GeO4wz-JlDThmes1Po/s1600-h/lottery+tickets.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTjrbxsIdyW4tEoTvilXMuJIkUQq5cYmk1wjfQxeJqcmj4lewtBr-V8xnBLDYjCESq-AEPbGcypMBXP0b3ulNGT0-aolbgX4U7bSzlDmDpUSznpVseMjvOS4Q_O7GeO4wz-JlDThmes1Po/s400/lottery+tickets.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299514553877491890" border="0" /></a>Lotteries are scurrilous because they somehow seem winnable. Nobody notices those 4-bazzilion to one odds. Almost everybody knows somebody whose cousin’s ex-girlfriend’s hairdresser won a bundle. It’s that six degrees of separation that makes winning seem possible—except if you play the lottery, you’ll be separated from your money.<br />Most people know this. My wife Trina is always telling me that lotteries are a tax on stupid people. But every time that jackpot gets up around 230 million, I get stupid. Again. I just gotta buy a couple of those Power Ball tickets. All you need is a dollar and a dream! Yeehaw. Easy Street here I come…<br />And what about the lucky few who really do win the lottery? In 2002, Andrew Jackson Whittaker Jr. won the largest single-payout jackpot of all time. Andy took home a cool $114 million after taxes. Lucky stiff. They say money doesn’t buy happiness, but you can pick your own kind of misery. It appears Andy did just that. Since winning that jackpot he’s been plagued by personal and legal troubles. DUI arrests, deaths in the family, an ugly divorce.<br />According to the Associated Press, a man named Michel Horton is a study in dumb luck. In the span of 10 days, Horton won two new cars. After reading that I started feeling lucky myself. Just this morning, I found a dime and four pennies lying on the street. One of the pennies is a 1948 wheat sheaf design. Trina is pretty excited. She thinks it’s probably worth a penny and a h<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNQeOS3Mo1wyDGKO64qERN58WoPWhbZVdjToWU3B3TuWAGxUJ3mE6rTgwUzNxS4hyphenhyphenO6szwHBu9VxEdsEEBYl9YKrMe8cVUTqryyibNIsk8wykLLmNlqwBj5vV-eobg8CYNAtAoxqQ1nGC/s1600-h/huge+rabbit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNQeOS3Mo1wyDGKO64qERN58WoPWhbZVdjToWU3B3TuWAGxUJ3mE6rTgwUzNxS4hyphenhyphenO6szwHBu9VxEdsEEBYl9YKrMe8cVUTqryyibNIsk8wykLLmNlqwBj5vV-eobg8CYNAtAoxqQ1nGC/s400/huge+rabbit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299514026600957682" border="0" /></a>alf.<br />Some people are convinced they can actually change their luck. They carry rabbit’s feet. (Those rabbits sure weren’t very lucky.) People collect charms, magical amulets and even pay good money for “lucky numbers”. Some travel to Vegas and bet the ranch on Lucky 7. Me, I think I’ll settle for happy go lucky. Yeah, I know… Good luck with that.</span><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>.Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-22953569003990674652009-01-29T18:31:00.000-08:002009-04-16T19:33:57.329-07:00The View From Outside<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C05%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C06%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} p {mso-margin-top-alt:auto; margin-right:0in; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >So here I am standing on the side of a </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Pennsylvania</span></st1:place></st1:state></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > superhighway in a snowstorm, with 18-wheeler’s whizzing by just inches from my car. Sure, it sounds fun, but actually it’s a little nerve-wracking.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAUjWKrKeAfJCMjM5tOjM0tfoTT3zy4qpTvgbuhULq6Ly10CCQv2ddRsr4-DO_Ry51lxtry__DNyJjkfNMZuVFiDlVMcn9mqU_OOHSiUtyScarHwKwstgFB36BNafklv40A1UNV6PQlB8/s1600-h/windshield+wipers+in+snow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAUjWKrKeAfJCMjM5tOjM0tfoTT3zy4qpTvgbuhULq6Ly10CCQv2ddRsr4-DO_Ry51lxtry__DNyJjkfNMZuVFiDlVMcn9mqU_OOHSiUtyScarHwKwstgFB36BNafklv40A1UNV6PQlB8/s400/windshield+wipers+in+snow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296912674316916450" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span>I’m out here parked on the apron because my windshield wiper is falling off.<span style=""> </span>My fingers are showing signs of frostbite as I fumble with a broken "refill".<span style=""> </span>Snow turns to sleet, then freezing rain, as I frantically try to shove those limp rubber sleeves back into the wiper arm.<span style=""> </span>It’s a losing effort, and those tractor trailers are getting closer by the minute.</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>Bet you didn’t know that when cars were first invented, drivers had to crank the wipers by hand. Either that or they just drove along, blindly, hoping they would somehow get to their destination safely. If they were lucky, they’d hit something non-vital; a cow, a moose or perhaps a member of Congress.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >Ah, but progress came quickly. Car travel became much safer with the advent of automatic windshield wipers. An unfortunate side effect: the number of Congress members began to rebound. Automatic windshield wipers were invented in 1921. They were originally called "Folberths". No joke.<span style=""> </span>Many people believe the device was named after its inventors, Fred and William Folberth. But in fact, the term "Folberth" is derived from the ancient Moldavian “Fol-broke-ee”. This term was used to describe something that frequently went haywire. "Folberth's" were not especially reliable.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >Inventor Robert Kearns patented intermittent wipers in 1967. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Kearns</span></st1:place></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > later sued some of the major carmakers for using his device and won a bazillion dollar settlement. This eventually led to financial ruin for the Big Three, GM, Ford, and Delta. <span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Kearns</span></st1:place></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >’ financial windfall was such a tremendous financial blow to corporate </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">America</span></st1:place></st1:country-region></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > it eventually triggered the present day "Wall Street Meltdown". So when you look at your dwindling 401k you can thank Robert Kearns. And who can blame you for feeling a little "Fol-broke-ee" when you see your plunging bottom line.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >Modern windshield wipers work very well. On the rare occasion they would wear out, you just bought “refill blades" at any auto parts store for a couple of dollars. What a money saver for consumers!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >But those bankrupt Automakers were having none of it. They started selling a bewildering variety of windshield "refills". There were so many different sizes and shapes that consumers would often buy two or three pairs before finding the right ones. This produced some impressive financial gains. But it wasn’t enough. The Automakers needed more. And they got it, thanks to Automotive Engineer, Stanley Imgwanna Robbublind. <span style=""> </span>Robbublind designed an entirely new windshield wiper arm pre-loaded with the "refill" wiper blade. So now, when you, Joe Driver, go to the store to buy refills, it ain't gonna happen. Instead of buying a couple of "refills", now you gotta buy the entire windshield wiper apparatus.<span style=""> </span>The whole mushugana! And it costs like $5 to $10 per Wiper Arm! <span style=""> </span>Even more if you drive a luxury car.<span style=""> </span>You Lexus and Mercedes owners might want to bring some collateral and a loan officer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >I resisted buying the entire pre-loaded windshield wiper arm assembly for a couple of years. I'd been sneaking around, buying wiper "refills" on the black market. But it's getting harder and harder to find wiper "refills" that work.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:14;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">All of this information was pinballing through my subconscious as I stood next to that highway, in the snow, desperately trying to re-install my ruptured wiper refills. That's when I caved in like the stock market. I went to the store, ponied up $4.63 and bought the entire wiper arm complete with the pre-loaded "refill" blade. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Now, can somebody please explain how to attach this thing to my car?</span></span></p><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>.<p></p> Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-61244787600382531712009-01-22T16:46:00.000-08:002009-02-05T19:15:45.193-08:00Christmas Memories, Call the Vet!<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="time"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:18;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18;"><span style=""> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Our </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">big surprise this</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> past Christmas was chocolate flavored dog poop.<span style=""> </span>There’s a mental image that’ll </span><span style="font-size:130%;">put some Ho Ho in your <st1:place>Holiday</st1:place></span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<span style=""> </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2f50aabfn1PkoiPstqKXQUD6e5sYMuQS3Xb__KJ0hta7uxegE7fpcB6wxXACG3CtePng45GNDLJcOCU4iF0vUF5duLt0lh1S5oCIRP7mHnUBDhQfs7_FdFTxxli9Yb5FBvpibgWmN3BO/s1600-h/Mika+bow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2f50aabfn1PkoiPstqKXQUD6e5sYMuQS3Xb__KJ0hta7uxegE7fpcB6wxXACG3CtePng45GNDLJcOCU4iF0vUF5duLt0lh1S5oCIRP7mHnUBDhQfs7_FdFTxxli9Yb5FBvpibgWmN3BO/s400/Mika+bow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294288078738009922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> As you may recall, m</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">y wife Trina & I own a golden retriever named Mika.<span style=""> </span>And this time, Mika did a l</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ittle foraging after everyone finished opening their presents.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">When nobody was looking, she cleaned out a tray</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> filled with mixed nuts.<span style=""> </span>Not good but tolerable.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Then she downed an entire bowl of trail mix, including glazed bananas, rais</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ins and other assorted fruit products.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">That’s probably bad.<span style=""> </span>Emboldened, our precious pooch pounced again, devou</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ring a whole bag of H</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ershey’s Kisses.<span style=""> </span>That’s an explosive combination for anyone, man, dog, or even one of the Olsen twins.<span style=""> </span>Did you know th</span><span style="font-size:130%;">at googling “Olsen Twins” gets like four million hits?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>When I was a kid we</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> had a German Schnauzer named Heidi.<span style=""> </span>She was a chow h</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ound with a legendary appetite.<span style=""> </span>And just like Mika, Heidi always went to work at Christ</span><span style="font-size:130%;">mas time.<span style=""> </span>Whenever we trimmed the tree, Heidi would start prospecting for preci</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ous metals.<span style=""> </span>We always knew what she’d been up to.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>Eventually, long silver strands of tinsel would emerge from her backs</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ide, a semaphore signal of yuletide greetings we could’ve done without.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>For pets, Christmas ‘tis the season for feasting’ on stuf</span><span style="font-size:130%;">f they’re just not supposed to eat.<span style=""> </span>We can’t put any ribbons on the gifts.<span style=""> </span>That’s because our cat Barney will chew them up and swallow them.<span style=""> </span>It’s like Lays Potato Chips.<span style=""> </span>He can’t eat just one.<span style=""> </span>Barney will gobble ribbons until he erupts, a Vesuvius-like blast of gaily-colored bits of gooey fluff.<span style=""> </span>Speaking of erupting…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>When we realized that Mika had eaten a boatload of snacks we went through all five stages of emotional response.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Denial:<span style=""> </span>“No way my angel would eat that crap.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Bargaining:<span style=""> </span>“Mika, if you give it back we’ll let you drive the car home with the top down.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Anger:<span style=""> </span>Trina, this is all your fault!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Despair: “It’s hopeless, we’re horrible dog poisoners.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>And finally, Acceptance: “Hey, It could be worse.<span style=""> </span>It’s not like she’s shaved her head and joined a cult.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Five stages or not, OMG!<span style=""> </span>Chocolate can be poisonous for dogs!<span style=""> </span>Do we give her the heimlich?<span style=""> </span>Maybe we should stick a finger down her throat?<span style=""> </span>Ewww!<span style=""> </span>Is there such a thing as a Doggy Stomach Pump?<span style=""> </span>Trina, who always travels with a pet emergency book, does some quick research.<span style=""> </span>She says Mika should be okay.<span style=""> </span>But Mika may display some minor symptoms in the next 12 to 18 hours.<span style=""> </span>So all Christmas day, we hover over our dog.<span style=""> </span>“Maybe we should give her some ginger ale?”, I offer.<span style=""> </span>Trina goes back to stage three and tells me what I can do with that idea.<span style=""> </span>At bed time Mika is perfectly fine.<span style=""> </span>I awake at <st1:time minute="0" hour="4">4:00am</st1:time></span><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> to the sound of</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">heavy breathing.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">No, it’s not Trina.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It’s Mika, disgorging her stash of ill-gotten goodies all over the</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">rug.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">In the dark, I slosh across the floor, stumbling to the door with a heaving dog in tow.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Outside, Mika triumphantly finishes the job.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Happily, we return to our beds, disaster averted.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The next morning, under the Christmas tree, we find one last holiday gift.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It’s a great big pile of dog poop, festively decorated with foil candy wrappers. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Thank God Barney only eats ribbon.</span></span></p><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2009</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-size:14;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-58253596174031070972009-01-19T19:26:00.000-08:002009-01-19T20:35:19.459-08:00The Promise of the Presidency<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzInbj-KsCr15LfvqzI9jEngD5m-8mAqXJ9XBWBMmDhHbO2WEOBozlOVrE2DWU9LcmeDh4L_BP7TC72uuEv7gQCaaqhK8qbeiHtLa-q5y1NSoH7PhmiEdc4Z279J2e-qOJjB3aSdRXgd2B/s1600-h/Obama+with+Dogs.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 311px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzInbj-KsCr15LfvqzI9jEngD5m-8mAqXJ9XBWBMmDhHbO2WEOBozlOVrE2DWU9LcmeDh4L_BP7TC72uuEv7gQCaaqhK8qbeiHtLa-q5y1NSoH7PhmiEdc4Z279J2e-qOJjB3aSdRXgd2B/s400/Obama+with+Dogs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293221027136094130" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Tomorrow, Barack Obama becomes the nation’s 44<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> President. It will be an historic moment. But I find myself looking to the future and the daunting challenge Obama is about to face. An economy that’s cratered like George W’s approval ratings? No, more daunting than that. An unemployment rate that’s billowing up like Britney’s mini skirt? Not that either. Could it be simultaneous wars in Iraq and Afghanistan that threaten to crush world stability like a swift kick to the groin? Nope. And it’s not the nuclear nut cakes in charge of North Korea and Iran. The Palestinians and the Israelis? Get real.<br />The leader of the free world, the upholder of American Ideals, the Grand <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Poohbah</span> of all us Poohs, has made a solemn promise. He’s promised his two girls, they’re getting a puppy. Good work, Barack. Up until the puppy promise, your future was looking pretty good. But now, on top of all those other problems, you're going to the dogs.<br />I think most of us would like to see an All-American dog as the Presidential pooch. Something regal. But there’s a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">doggie</span> dilemma heading for the White House. Obama says their family dog has to come from a shelter. And it has to be a non-shedding variety because one of the girl’s has allergies. Suddenly, we’re looking at a Mexican Hairless. We Americans like our Chief Executives to be decisive. But after weeks of dithering, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">doggie</span> debate rages on. So far, Obama says finding a dog has been tougher than naming a commerce secretary. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SuUzKXXozhyphenhyphenxo4WxQ3RPq8qigoltxNhhj6hkcxE7QBiSgswhCPgSq9Aj2fIMNqHkAjt_xsVkJiTg5usfPOoH1-U_5NM0tzfgf-mwJLNQ46y5AhPXFNg9F-gYq9BeKRm-NhIjViAbSg3f/s1600-h/81650435.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SuUzKXXozhyphenhyphenxo4WxQ3RPq8qigoltxNhhj6hkcxE7QBiSgswhCPgSq9Aj2fIMNqHkAjt_xsVkJiTg5usfPOoH1-U_5NM0tzfgf-mwJLNQ46y5AhPXFNg9F-gYq9BeKRm-NhIjViAbSg3f/s400/81650435.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293219963656825890" border="0" /></a>That’s gotta make his cabinet members proud. In his defense, the incoming President has narrowed it down to either a Portuguese Water dog or a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Labradoodle</span>.<br />Joe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Biden</span> kept his dog ambitions to himself. He just drove up to a kennel and picked out a German Shepard. Joe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">doesn</span>’t even have little girls at home. Maybe he’s just trying to show his boss that he's a decision-maker. The saying goes, In Washington, if you want a friend, buy a dog. George Bush had two friends, a pair of Scottish Terriers. Clinton had a dog too. Clinton’s best friend was a Yellow Labrador Retriever named Buddy.<br />So, let’s imagine that President Obama finally gets a dog. Who’s gonna housebreak him? Here’s a hint. It won’t be Michelle. The Commander-In-Chief is gonna look damned Presidential chasing some mutt around the South lawn waving a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">pooper</span> scooper.<br />And then there’s the obedience issue. Bill Clinton hired a famous dog trainer to keep Buddy from acting out with visiting dignitaries. I can’t describe Buddy’s talent exactly, but it rhymes with thumping. Hard to believe Bill Clinton’s dog had that sort of problem…<br />My parents had a difficult dog, a Welsh Terrier named Teddy. By difficult I mean the damned dog would bite. And he refused to follow orders. ‘Sit’, ‘stay’, ‘for the love of god, let go of my hand!’ He ignored everything we said. So we took him to the same trainer who handled Buddy. True story! After a two week stay the train</span><span style="font-size:130%;">er told us Teddy was “too smart” to train. And our uneducated Teddy lived to be a very old dog.<br />Mr. Obama needs to be very careful. He needs to choose a dog that </span><span style="font-size:130%;">will make his girls happy, and one that will make America proud. He’ll be done </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWutbi4yfxxB9YlTwE7DMSN-4Drr4YhKbw_-a2k3qel5NJrRoP3OK5ly9i9DygYfXKkdWiNoWFYjH5tvzbsdg6IVmtOymg4n5lurF5-HYKFwNjCh-RPyIxHSRs2HaJEQArVJaBKf-aDgl/s1600-h/Ugly+Dog+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWutbi4yfxxB9YlTwE7DMSN-4Drr4YhKbw_-a2k3qel5NJrRoP3OK5ly9i9DygYfXKkdWiNoWFYjH5tvzbsdg6IVmtOymg4n5lurF5-HYKFwNjCh-RPyIxHSRs2HaJEQArVJaBKf-aDgl/s400/Ugly+Dog+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293221028577446002" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">with the economy, the North Koreans, and even the Iraqis in eight short years at th</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e most. B</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">ut</span> whatever dog he picks may be around a lot longer. There's no presidential </span><span style="font-size:130%;">pardon on this </span><span style="font-size:130%;">one. It could be a very Ruff choice.<br /><br /></span><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-69094778963506625082008-12-21T12:44:00.001-08:002008-12-21T13:01:11.504-08:00And To All A Good Night...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAUWoXmQTFJiMoRzc_q86MMXgGblR5hEbGTCNMeFxTLn75rcKIPM1ZfooiUAuwMGvziAN9e71kNCSh3RJC9Z4Qifk-y8I20dYpCP3RPid3TNp73zhhUeitZFAM_RmZEewRa0FLSbZlFLHe/s1600-h/angel+with+cross.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 339px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAUWoXmQTFJiMoRzc_q86MMXgGblR5hEbGTCNMeFxTLn75rcKIPM1ZfooiUAuwMGvziAN9e71kNCSh3RJC9Z4Qifk-y8I20dYpCP3RPid3TNp73zhhUeitZFAM_RmZEewRa0FLSbZlFLHe/s400/angel+with+cross.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282349784205819362" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Blackadder ITC"; panose-1:4 2 5 5 5 16 7 2 13 2; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:decorative; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa"; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:script; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147459005 0 128 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Lucida Console"; panose-1:2 11 6 9 4 5 4 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:modern; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:-2147482993 6144 0 0 31 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22;">Dear Friends,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22;">To the many readers of "Are We Having Fun Yet" we leave you with these holiday wishes. The editors will return next year to delight and entertain yet again!
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<br /></p><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C03%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Blackadder ITC"; panose-1:4 2 5 5 5 16 7 2 13 2; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:decorative; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa"; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:script; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147459005 0 128 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Lucida Console"; 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charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C03%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Blackadder ITC"; panose-1:4 2 5 5 5 16 7 2 13 2; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:decorative; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa"; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:script; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-2147459005 0 128 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Lucida Console"; panose-1:2 11 6 9 4 5 4 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:modern; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:-2147482993 6144 0 0 31 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">2008, a year to abhor<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">foreclosures, layoffs, recession and war<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">death & destruction, disaster galore<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">financial distress, jobs sent offshore<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">but still there is hope, beauty and love<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">and faith in the cosmic power above<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">believe in the future and happier times<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">the best will come yet in 2009</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 22pt; font-family: "Blackadder ITC";">Keep the faith Baby!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><b style=""><span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Lucida Console";">Wishing you joy and peace this holiday season!<o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: lucida grande;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22;">
<br /></span></p>
<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /></p><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-52428728922717184732008-12-20T07:17:00.001-08:002008-12-20T07:32:51.154-08:00A Very Democratic Holiday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYHgZ35AFqtptM1tBFN6wX6EjCChloZ9z_oBxFem4blxM6JITGib03PQcWVhjvmiVu5ogdOJUPYUWY4_B6kVgTYPVtWNZMPsVks7OJI5ADisKsY31BAUB8ZkixHy9dQg4dkXlzT_co3Rg/s1600-h/obama.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYHgZ35AFqtptM1tBFN6wX6EjCChloZ9z_oBxFem4blxM6JITGib03PQcWVhjvmiVu5ogdOJUPYUWY4_B6kVgTYPVtWNZMPsVks7OJI5ADisKsY31BAUB8ZkixHy9dQg4dkXlzT_co3Rg/s400/obama.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281892425970099010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">(sung to the tune of
<br />Santa Claus is Coming to Town)</span>
<br />
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Oh! you better watch out<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">You better not lie<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">You better not doubt<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I’m telling you why<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Democrats are going to town</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">They’ve got a hit list<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">They’re rolling the dice<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Gonna get rid of lobby and vice<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Democrats are going to town</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">They know big biz is scheming<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">They know when deals are fake<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">They know which loans are bad or good<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">With Lehman on the make
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7AzwrlZchtEoyYQUf1h-7cQzz6l9Z-TptzghJhLzwGQ5JvMCa-kJgxCPD85TbWXb-TwRRqWQWDE2JSY7lwS4xG_-y3pluLJdZZy7j3-BH5lGtRkK82grzooIZb9n604Lv50KSKBxUYql/s1600-h/hillary+clinton.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7AzwrlZchtEoyYQUf1h-7cQzz6l9Z-TptzghJhLzwGQ5JvMCa-kJgxCPD85TbWXb-TwRRqWQWDE2JSY7lwS4xG_-y3pluLJdZZy7j3-BH5lGtRkK82grzooIZb9n604Lv50KSKBxUYql/s400/hillary+clinton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281893597638446354" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">So… you better watch out.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">You better not lie<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">You better not doubt, I’m telling you why<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Democrats are going to town.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Little reforms, Insider chums<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Booty lawsuits- go after those bums<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Dem</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ocrats are going to town</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Business Exec’s that sob boohoo<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Repo Ferarris and Limo cars too<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Democrats are going to town</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">The magnates all live in playland<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">They’ll get a penalty<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">They’re gonna spend 5 to 10 in a penitentiary<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKNxbenAItsQzVQkoohXdLBI4lpUnNU_ukzoC7C2jb3q_CFPnqkAGV2qc_An4VLl6gBxQaKJkpXm0lT3ZBSlTX3ntPG5J41hYgF_2oIcYvYUVY4laaenAXl0gd9sC67Q9dhJh-p_6ed_R/s1600-h/PelosiHetchy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 173px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKNxbenAItsQzVQkoohXdLBI4lpUnNU_ukzoC7C2jb3q_CFPnqkAGV2qc_An4VLl6gBxQaKJkpXm0lT3ZBSlTX3ntPG5J41hYgF_2oIcYvYUVY4laaenAXl0gd9sC67Q9dhJh-p_6ed_R/s400/PelosiHetchy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281893208102634338" border="0" /></a><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Oh… You better watch out, you better not lie<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">You better not doubt, I’m telling you why<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Democrats are going to town.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /></p><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-15226240867675967562008-12-17T19:31:00.000-08:002008-12-20T07:37:04.982-08:00A Republican Holiday Party<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLh8afMVO7sNHwFyZOnNOeYWR9jHVyM4PEeiyQjE3uQKgbvgpZMkiq7VO3xTv8B6CyeyfvS5vyLCi1se4jlsqfX2q3qsOmMT37Vkud0ADqi3UkZLSyzYY75z0rfkLmlTtvHrqq-VqFMhhZ/s1600-h/bush_cheney.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLh8afMVO7sNHwFyZOnNOeYWR9jHVyM4PEeiyQjE3uQKgbvgpZMkiq7VO3xTv8B6CyeyfvS5vyLCi1se4jlsqfX2q3qsOmMT37Vkud0ADqi3UkZLSyzYY75z0rfkLmlTtvHrqq-VqFMhhZ/s400/bush_cheney.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281886434764152226" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Twas the night before Christmas and all through the House<br />Right wingers are slurring, Obama’s a louse<br /><br />The mocking begun, intending to sc</span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >are<br />In hopes their disgust </span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >would soo</span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >n be laid bare<br /><br />Lobbyists all smug in their states crimson Red</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Plotting escape from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">dems</span> they all dread<br /><br />In shock disbelief from their election night zap<br />They’d just settled plans to get cong</span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >ress back<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkny5kQVDhPDc4opUKonnqFlo63wV1G4oUIJ3_fTs7d-Suv0bO2UuyDvjiRRDnLB1udUtcp62fiuD4lmZjvC1Z0xhQYID4tEBBADh6S7wCDgcbwC7O-KD46MkYMSmA7HA6hVeGqeMF6fv/s1600-h/sarah+Palin.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 129px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkny5kQVDhPDc4opUKonnqFlo63wV1G4oUIJ3_fTs7d-Suv0bO2UuyDvjiRRDnLB1udUtcp62fiuD4lmZjvC1Z0xhQYID4tEBBADh6S7wCDgcbwC7O-KD46MkYMSmA7HA6hVeGqeMF6fv/s400/sarah+Palin.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281889824435940322" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >With <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Palin</span> long gone, arose the mad hatter<br />It’s dirty Dick</span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" > Cheney, full of mad blather</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><br />Away to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Veeper</span>’s top secret stash<br />Tore open his checkbook</span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >, filled with GOP cash<br /><br />There’s no time to rest, there are rumors to sow<br />With swift boat veterans, it’s on with the show<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >When what to my plundering eyes should appear</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >But tiny </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDKxJqGnRNpCDo_F1rDuiberBk0pRRjxMtLNQ_Q_KpznoAYeqtaQzLUoHMfbIhaiqKz7z0JyndvGja9TkMOMkZpaw3P64Vl-sInxlBp0InyDxBGsorFkPT_IZXdG50e3qnQgEOrSHCjoQC/s1600-h/rove,+bush+nice+smile.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDKxJqGnRNpCDo_F1rDuiberBk0pRRjxMtLNQ_Q_KpznoAYeqtaQzLUoHMfbIhaiqKz7z0JyndvGja9TkMOMkZpaw3P64Vl-sInxlBp0InyDxBGsorFkPT_IZXdG50e3qnQgEOrSHCjoQC/s400/rove,+bush+nice+smile.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281891115182653954" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Karl <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Rove's</span>, vendetta and fear<br /><br />A political genius, at old party tricks<br />He knew right away, to get in his licks<br /><br />Fast and illegal Rove’s couriers came<br />And he whistled and shouted and loudly proclaimed<br /><br />Now Romney, Now <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Rumsfeld</span>, Now Rudy and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Jindal</span><br />On <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Crist</span>, On <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Pawlenty</span>, On Libby and McConnell<br /><br />So up to the House-top conservatives flew<br />For a ruthless payback, that's long overdue<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >They’re plan, it was shocking, they needed a jerk<br />Lieberman helped with his own dirty work<br /><br />Liberal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">dems</span> they need to dispose<br />Hillary, Kerry, Teddy must go<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qiyeR2I4SBTh4d-v96nE7RhjhXbPnFPNNnaPRDX5mHlYUudGYYsCuYQOYiGGAXRuiWK8edc69oSjo5BfUgfb-87AwFlh84774cCXMumiwTiwPUXroZxZWW3jytZq-DU_o4wbBsHVVEWI/s1600-h/ann+coulter.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qiyeR2I4SBTh4d-v96nE7RhjhXbPnFPNNnaPRDX5mHlYUudGYYsCuYQOYiGGAXRuiWK8edc69oSjo5BfUgfb-87AwFlh84774cCXMumiwTiwPUXroZxZWW3jytZq-DU_o4wbBsHVVEWI/s400/ann+coulter.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281888022558172034" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Rumors, innuendo, to make them all bristle<br />Conservatives took aim at the lard and the gristle</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><br />And I heard them exclaim, to Ann Coulter's delight<br />Wait till 2012, when we're back for a fight!</span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />(Up next: The Democrats respond)</span><br /></span><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-81141325152969667002008-12-08T18:46:00.000-08:002008-12-11T16:56:33.182-08:00Timberrrrrr<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><o:p></o:p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">This year, it’s the Christmas Tree from hell.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">At least, it sure seems that way. This drama begins a few days ago when Trina and I go in search of the Holy Grail.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The perfect tree.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOOQZyvq4YHHSR23-r-av2FCknMV6pxiUmr5wYRLaEbeK2QQSZcHIab8Hm0boXixoeAnCa8eqLCwYnH38iT9hMuRI3UgEAMypz89yz69U1VcH4_vHjClGoick_F6Ncxn870JFTfUsH-iu/s1600-h/huge+tree+toppling.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOOQZyvq4YHHSR23-r-av2FCknMV6pxiUmr5wYRLaEbeK2QQSZcHIab8Hm0boXixoeAnCa8eqLCwYnH38iT9hMuRI3UgEAMypz89yz69U1VcH4_vHjClGoick_F6Ncxn870JFTfUsH-iu/s400/huge+tree+toppling.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277631477406954450" border="0" /></a>I grew up in a family where every December, the men put on their woolies and trekked out into the deep woods in search of a trophy tree.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We’d trudge through the snow, braving the icy cold, armed with saws, axes and assorted implements of destruction.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Frasier Fir, Blue Spruce, Scotch Pine, we knew our wily prey.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Sometimes it took all day to find th<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_tydyzLR1EJ4giEMEC8DJf9PdN8YwgEJAj2HCBCRqAnb2IJ5Ict61tDTeCL_1uo7JqVFq0Znc2t37b_MD_CgCADNTImiiz0wws5t75tvM_oaC0Zr4r1ZFY5kG4qSxdzfBJXfcUHU6_15/s1600-h/2+boys+cutting+Christmas+tree.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 329px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_tydyzLR1EJ4giEMEC8DJf9PdN8YwgEJAj2HCBCRqAnb2IJ5Ict61tDTeCL_1uo7JqVFq0Znc2t37b_MD_CgCADNTImiiz0wws5t75tvM_oaC0Zr4r1ZFY5kG4qSxdzfBJXfcUHU6_15/s400/2+boys+cutting+Christmas+tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277626367596673266" border="0" /></a>at perf</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ectly-shaped tree.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">No Charlie Brown Christmas Trees allowed.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We never, ever, came home empty handed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Okay, so we really just went to a tree farm at the end of the street.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">But we did cut the tree down with our own hands and hauled it to the car like manly men.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We lashed it to the roof like freshly-killed game.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And as we drove home (with our hands and feet jammed into the heat vents) everyone could see that we’d bagged our quarry.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">They envied our prowess and the trophy tree that was now ours. Of course, the women folk also went along to make sure we didn’t bring home a tree that was:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">a) too big</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">b) too scraggly</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">c) too homely</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">d) too thick</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">e) too tall</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">f)</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">ewwwwww!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">g) all of the above
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4TKPWdprZEuoKUW8s-p4HFpeChJ9hWuzt_LFUcWhqgpxRKIlX84hxbYR8kikw0Js35RlGzgbMrCC8o7eje7RkdvVixdTmw5lVNp7sfIxD3T7yfVKBI6t8Uz-wDcCr0n6eBGi4cI-tBEi/s1600-h/silver+christmas+tree.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4TKPWdprZEuoKUW8s-p4HFpeChJ9hWuzt_LFUcWhqgpxRKIlX84hxbYR8kikw0Js35RlGzgbMrCC8o7eje7RkdvVixdTmw5lVNp7sfIxD3T7yfVKBI6t8Uz-wDcCr0n6eBGi4cI-tBEi/s400/silver+christmas+tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277646559453527586" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Trina grew up in a house where the tree came out of a box.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">All shiny and pre-loaded with tinsel-trimmed sparkly lights.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">She’s not wild about live trees in general.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">She’s less thrilled about the whole process of hunting for a live tree. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I think she gets a little woozy at the sight of sap.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It usually takes a lot of begging and pleading.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">But Trina always indulges my hunter-gatherer instincts.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">This time, we drive 60 miles to the hi</span><span style="font-size:130%;">nterlands of central <st1:state><st1:place>Pennsylvania</st1:place></st1:state>.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">In part, because <st1:city><st1:place>Harrisburg</st1:place></st1:city> is prime territory for perfect trees.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And partly, because there’s a Mega-Christmas Tree Farm perched right beside the turnpike.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">So it wasn’t too hard to find. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We stealthily maneuver our car into the parking lot, careful to stay downwind to keep from spooking the trees.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Of course, there are 150 other cars already in the parking lot.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">So the element of surprise appears lost.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">There’s a friendly yellow lab who wants his belly rubbed.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">There’s the faint scent of hot chocolate, extra sweet.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">There are garlands & wreaths & ribbons.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And horses hitched to wagons, ready to ferry us Christmas Tree hunters to the promised land.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">This, I tell Trina, is perfect Christmas Tree territory.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Until we see the prices.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">$9.50 a foot.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">$12.50 a foot if we wimp out and buy a pre-cut?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Back in the car, the hunt resumes.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We drive through <st1:place><st1:placename>Lancaster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>County</st1:placetype></st1:place>.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The fields are freshly turned, t</span><span style="font-size:130%;">he thick brown loam stretching into the distance.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The Amish are out in force.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Buggys everywhere.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I wonder, do the Amish put up Christmas trees?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And if so, do they hunt them down or just take the buggy over there to the Mega-Christmas Tree Farm?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Trina rolls her eyes.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Stopping at a convenience store, I slip a clerk some extra cash.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">She slyly gives me directions to the local Christmas Tree hunting ground.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We quickly drive there, our hearts pounding.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It’s a small Christmas Tree farm. A modest home is set in the middle of this Arboreal Nirvana.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">“How much?” I inquire.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The woman in charge eyes me over.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">“20 bucks, for any tree you can catch.”</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We shake on it.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Deal”.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Trina and I take a saw and begin to prowl.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I’m ready to pounce.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">But time and again, Trina says, “too little”, “too scrawny”, too many needles”. Yada Yada Yada.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">An hour later we leave sans tree.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">But you should have seen the one that got away.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The minutes pass by, then hours.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Darkness begins to fill the sky.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We are lost.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Almost magically, we find a highway.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Civilization at last!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And right there is a huge sign, pointing back into the wasteland we’ve just left.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Christmas Trees” it says.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Undaunted, we turn back, following the jagged spore of Christmas Tree Farm signs.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Until, suddenly, there they are.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Christmas trees stretching out into the twilight. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">They charge $7.50 a foot.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It’s too much.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">But </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I…Must…. Have…. A … Tree.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">In moments we have found it.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The perfect Christmas tree. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Just as I place my saw blade to its pulsing trunk, Trina shrieks “STOP”.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Are you kidding me?”</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">“No”, she says, “this tree is already tagged.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I shudder.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Some other Christmas Tree hunter has beaten us to the spot.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Murphy is the name on the tag attached to an upper limb.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Murphy’s Law indeed.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Trina and I go on.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Finally we find a tree.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Not quite perfect.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">But close enough.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The girl at the exit says our tree measures seven feet.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">She even counts the foot-long scrawny twiglet sticking out of the top.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I hand her my credit card.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Oh”, she says, “there’s a four-percent fee to use credit”.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I’m beginning to tremble.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I pay cash instead. $55.65.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I could have gotten it cheaper at the MegaTree Farm </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">six-hours ago… </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Back at home, we resurrect the tree in our foyer.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It fits “perfectly”.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Lights, ornaments, ribbons.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It’s majestic.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We gaily wrap Christmas presents and gently place them next to the tree.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The next day, as I add water to the tree stand, our tree unexpectedly lurches forward.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">It’s still alive! </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Putting my hands up in self-defense, I wrestle the tree to the ground, ornaments flying in all direction.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Two gallons of water cascade across the floor, swamping our presents.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">So there I stand, maniacally ripping open gifts in a desperate race to save them before they’re soaked through.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I am successful.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">But now, we must re-wrap everything.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We mop the floor.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">We place the tree back in its stand.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And we lash it to the walls with 15 gauge wire.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Subdued, the tree knows it’s going nowhere.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Later, as night approaches, I turn on the lights.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">No lights.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">They shorted out in the flood.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Those pre-packaged tinsel trees are starting to look pretty good.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-55514614532188255292008-12-02T17:27:00.001-08:002008-12-02T18:15:40.133-08:00Oh Say, Can You See?<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="address"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="Street"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:14;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span>Trina and I have just returned from a visit to California. State Motto: "See what you've been missing". And there's so much not to see. That's because California is constantly covered with fog.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUg4uM6a_0uVVlrSvw60ONxxi-cBJ0rF20Lq03hO0skfGAY67DBSaUeACxt6Jx-1WyvTdP93sbgG1JPEpbqIpx2eQKwf1v-cHW_BOsQE0OZclPSM-fDbJcZ0NyXJm5h90ySO3-3V35nQi-/s1600-h/Trina's+ghost+ships.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUg4uM6a_0uVVlrSvw60ONxxi-cBJ0rF20Lq03hO0skfGAY67DBSaUeACxt6Jx-1WyvTdP93sbgG1JPEpbqIpx2eQKwf1v-cHW_BOsQE0OZclPSM-fDbJcZ0NyXJm5h90ySO3-3V35nQi-/s400/Trina's+ghost+ships.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275370368555540530" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > And not just any fog.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >There was Pea Soup in San Diego. Gray Mist in Malibu. Obnoxious O2 in Oxnard. Hydro Haze in Hermosa. Sea Smoke in San Francisco. Even London Fog at Saks Fifth Avuenue. There is fog everywhere.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > We took a trip up the famous </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:street><st1:address><span style="font-family:Arial;">Pacific Coast Highway</span></st1:address></st1:street></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >.<span style=""> </span>It was magnificent.<span style=""> </span>Or</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > so we’re told.<span style=""> </span>We didn’t see a thing because an incredibly thick blanket of fog rolled in off the ocean.<span style=""> </span>Th</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >ere were waves crashing, Sea Lions barking, Harbor Seals howling, and Sea Otters ottering.<span style=""> </span>We could hear them all but never</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > got a glimpse.<span style=""> </span>Trina came armed with her MagnaChroma Z280 Camera, and a suitcase crammed with digital </span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >photographic gear.<span style=""> </span>But sadly, it never saw the light of day.<span style=""> </span>There was nothing to photograph except that thick goopy sky.<span style=""> </span>We stopped at</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" > a gift shop an</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >d admired the breathtaking sights by looking at the postcards.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span>It was more of the same in </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">San Francisco</span></st1:place></st1:city></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >.<span style=""> </span>They get so much fog i</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >n San Fran, they have pet names for it, depending on where you live.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span>The infamous Castro Creeper is known for spreading through the Castro Di</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >strict, choking the locals like roaches caught in a cloud of Raid.<span style=""> </span>We hiked up to </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="font-family:Arial;">Coit</span></st1:placename><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span><st1:placetype><span style="font-family:Arial;">Tower</span></st1:placetype></st1:place></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >, a well-known lookout with spectacular views of The City by The Ba</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >y.<span style=""> </span>Well, you couldn't prove it by us.<span style=""> </span>We couldn’t see the Bay, </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Alcatraz</span></st1:place></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >, </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Chinatown</span></st1:place></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >, or </span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >anything else.<span style=""> </span>We rode a cable car back to the hotel, zooming through murky streets lined with stores, restaurants and homes.<span style=""> </span>But who knows? <span style=""> </span>May</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >be they took us on a tour of the city dump.<span style=""> </span>We were in a fog.<span style=""> </span>Again.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span>Undaunted, the next morning we drove out to see the legend</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >ary </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="font-family:Arial;">Golden Gate</span></st1:placename><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span><st1:placetype><span style="font-family:Arial;">Bridge</span></st1:placetype></st1:place></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >.<span style=""> </span>It was a magnificent sight.<span style=""> </span>At least we imagine it must have been. Somewher</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >e out there, completely </span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >hidden in the haze, was that mighty American landmark.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;" >
<br /></span></p><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C03%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style=""> </span>Next stop, </span><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="font-family:Arial;">Napa</span></st1:placename><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span><st1:placetype><span style="font-family:Arial;">Valley</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">.<span style=""> </span>Thin wisps of fog rippled in our wake as we guided our rented Suzuki Sidekick ever Northward.<span style=""> </span>Finally, the Fog broke.<span style=""> </span>We could see!<span style=""> </span>Row after row after row of grape vines.<span style=""> </span>We had discovered a wino’s oasis, an alcohol-based air hole, a break in the dismal </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">California</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family:Arial;"> fog bog. <span style=""> </span>We stopped at several famous vineyards and sampled their finest wines.<span style=""> </span>It was a moment of clarity (or was it Claret) in what was otherwise a vacation void of vision. <span style=""> </span>Our time in </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Napa</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family:Arial;"> was a wonderful respite from the hazy horizons that hung over our journey like the specter of gloom.<span style=""> </span>But after several glasses of </span><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="font-family:Arial;">Napa</span></st1:placename><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span><st1:placetype><span style="font-family:Arial;">Valley</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">’s finest grape juice, I realized that everything suddenly looked foggy again. <span style=""> </span>Rats! <span style=""> </span>Too much Vino… At least Trina was our designated driver.<span style=""> </span>
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">We sped back to </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">San Francisco</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family:Arial;">, anxious to board a plane going anywhere.<span style=""> </span>Anxious to sail above the fog that followed us everywhere.<span style=""> </span>On our way back to the airport, we had to cross the </span><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Golden Gate</span></st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">, just as the sun was going down.<span style=""> </span>I know it was sunset because the fog had miraculously lifted.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglECpjpjkpyR_4ahdwH8kr7uagKqJszFsukJkgv5XxrAU-TBsTE5ySBCRpDiJ1ma6KqU_x6MUqEEG-IbNQ3EkwkSwpAvCkoa_zJOKRwosNU3L9NOGOHjpqUepZjSLxIGPUUaorYpbWQ9eK/s1600-h/Trina's+golden+gate+bridge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglECpjpjkpyR_4ahdwH8kr7uagKqJszFsukJkgv5XxrAU-TBsTE5ySBCRpDiJ1ma6KqU_x6MUqEEG-IbNQ3EkwkSwpAvCkoa_zJOKRwosNU3L9NOGOHjpqUepZjSLxIGPUUaorYpbWQ9eK/s400/Trina's+golden+gate+bridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275381548848292338" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style=""> </span>We could <b style="">see </b>the bridge, the bay, even </span><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Alcatraz</span></st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">.<span style=""> </span>It was a moment to savor.<span style=""> </span>So Trina hauled out her MagnaChroma Z280 and took about 600 photos, snapping away merrily, until the fog rolled back in again.<span style=""> </span>We left before dawn, taking the redeye back home to </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Pennsylvania</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family:Arial;">.<span style=""> </span>Naturally, our flight was diverted to </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Richmond</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family:Arial;">.<span style=""> </span>Too foggy to land in </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family:Arial;">Philadelphia</span></st1:place></st1:city></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:14;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">…</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:14;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-42526508292453895772008-11-30T17:52:00.001-08:002008-12-02T17:42:48.906-08:00California Part 2 Star Gazing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1v8uUGOH0Rf1SCSclTdN7s7s3oHHYp8hRw_v7qMpUXRW5fx_c8X_klC02KTrBVtmthg0dQEsy6jP-RTGpqcB8b8Sbh6dmwFbWGLMTnmIYhBSxGLHM86Gy_3cpXngYx5cuaQ-Zlwmjyqd/s1600-h/grauman's+chinese+theater.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1v8uUGOH0Rf1SCSclTdN7s7s3oHHYp8hRw_v7qMpUXRW5fx_c8X_klC02KTrBVtmthg0dQEsy6jP-RTGpqcB8b8Sbh6dmwFbWGLMTnmIYhBSxGLHM86Gy_3cpXngYx5cuaQ-Zlwmjyqd/s400/grauman's+chinese+theater.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272408375555843458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunset Boulevard:</span><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>So here we are on a mission to discover <st1:state><st1:place>California</st1:place></st1:state></span><span style="font-size:130%;">’s most notable landma</span><span style="font-size:130%;">rks.<span style=""> </span>And since it’s Trina’s</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> first trip, we have to see the</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> r</span><span style="font-size:130%;">eally hot spots.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">We’re hitting t</span><span style="font-size:130%;">he A-list.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>First stop: Sunset Boulevard and Grauman</span><span style="font-size:130%;">’s Chinese theater where movie stars are canonized in concrete .<span style=""> </span>Trina has heard of George Clooney, but wonde</span><span style="font-size:130%;">rs, who are all these other people. Jane Russell</span><span style="font-size:130%;">? Marilyn Monroe?<span style=""> </span>John Wayne?<span style=""> </span>Losing interest quickly, we switch to a new form of sidewalk entertainment, the Walk of Fame.<span style=""> </span>I have </span><span style="font-size:130%;">my photo taken with Nat King C</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ole’s marker.<span style=""> </span>Trina poses with Celine Dion’s star.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>A lot of aspiring actors are hanging around pretending to be famous celebs. One is dressed (mor</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> of less) like Spiderman. Another appears to be Fre</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ddie Krueger. And there are two Marilyn Monroe look-alikes wearing white dresses, waiting for a passing su</span><span style="font-size:130%;">bway breeze. <span style=""> </span>T</span><span style="font-size:130%;">hey volunteer to pose for photos and then hit you up for a “donation”.<span style=""> </span>I take a pass and suddenly one of those dreamy</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Marilyn M</span><span style="font-size:130%;">onroes gives me a dementedly dangerous look. Thank God I stayed away from Freddie Kreuger! <span style=""> </span>We ask a security guard where to go to get a good view of the famed <st1:place>HOLLY</st1:place><st1:place>WOOD</st1:place></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> sign.<span style=""> </span>He tells us to go around the corner and look up.<span style=""> </span>Clearly, we are tourists.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>I drive Trina down Rodeo drive. <span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>She is unimp</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ressed.<span style=""> </span>Especially s</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ince she knows I can’t afford to buy anything there.<span style=""> </span>Who’s the genius who decided it's pronounced</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Row- Day-Oh instead of Row Dee-Oh.<span style=""> Oh, Oh </span>Pleeeeze!<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Trina dec</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ides she <span style="font-weight: bold;">needs</span> to take a tour of</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> the Movie Star homes. <span style=""> With visions of Cellulose Celebrity Sightings, we</span> speedily embark in our rented Suz</span><span style="font-size:130%;">uki Side</span><span style="font-size:130%;">kick. Well, we go as fast as you can in a Sidekick.<span style=""> </span>Apparently a lot o</span><span style="font-size:130%;">f people hav</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e taken the tour of Movie Stars’ homes.<span style=""> </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXXIogAC1sQgAfmPu7ynH8b-hMORXgEnXhAWMA5QsY2ngGbmLoOzQSasAnlXfqnsrpgEyDQQAIdw4vDB_NUsvAfM2pHtxv6d9DkrcWC_4omddFMMck8F3VvBlsmiWdZbuTD2ME6pihQ-w4/s1600-h/large+hedge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXXIogAC1sQgAfmPu7ynH8b-hMORXgEnXhAWMA5QsY2ngGbmLoOzQSasAnlXfqnsrpgEyDQQAIdw4vDB_NUsvAfM2pHtxv6d9DkrcWC_4omddFMMck8F3VvBlsmiWdZbuTD2ME6pihQ-w4/s400/large+hedge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274611666671001666" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">And it would appear that after the first bazillion tourists stopped</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> in to say hi, all the Movie Stars took evasive action to protect their privacy.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">They installed very high hedges </span><span style="font-size:130%;">and imposing iron gates around their properties.<span style=""> </span>So, we spe</span><span style="font-size:130%;">nd two hours touring hedges and gates.<span style=""> </span>We see Courtney Cox’s hedge</span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<span style=""> </span>We pass by Paul McCartney’s Gate, and Ringo Starr’s gate too.<span style=""> </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hrmoWIf-xCfSqaNRk9hTe2q8H2KQCwlXWKMdH7WaN_SpFxWq4w9Vm3sg-TZPrNHZkp1p2IeqBsLdX-CaEGshD5LNKr88EjCoRNpL3xeJneCl_K98N1SFMA1hqPQ8_JIpCTI4nuJUyD9W/s1600-h/feet+in+hedge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hrmoWIf-xCfSqaNRk9hTe2q8H2KQCwlXWKMdH7WaN_SpFxWq4w9Vm3sg-TZPrNHZkp1p2IeqBsLdX-CaEGshD5LNKr88EjCoRNpL3xeJneCl_K98N1SFMA1hqPQ8_JIpCTI4nuJUyD9W/s400/feet+in+hedge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274625666490797106" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Or was it </span><span style="font-size:130%;">George Harrison’s?<span style=""> </span>Paul was alway</span><span style="font-size:130%;">s my favorite.<span style=""> </span>He has a lovely gate.<span style=""> </span>We also go to see Ellen DeGeneres’ gate.<span style=""> </span>This is a little embarr</span><span style="font-size:130%;">assi</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ng</span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<span style=""> </span>The road leading to Ellen’s house is fairly narrow… and when we get to the end of it, there’s a BIG gate.<span style=""> </span>It’s a private road.<span style=""> </span>S</span><span style="font-size:130%;">orry Ellen! </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I have to k-t</span><span style="font-size:130%;">urn</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> about 6 times to turn around, pretending not to notice the agitated looks from Ellen's household staff as they glare through the bars of Ellen's Mega-Gate.<span style=""> </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSzjwMCM1iJ3G7xHsiYVzPcSvxRUh-w7ZnroPS3JHRTOyUuCFCf7HFy56Kxdx3Dn46SpRL1pVbALlkasQLQ-f31mv6BMo_Lsb5JCmN5vqs2MHXk9SfaFlnaInA4_7fevI46JWYvksKSIFM/s1600-h/imposing+gate.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSzjwMCM1iJ3G7xHsiYVzPcSvxRUh-w7ZnroPS3JHRTOyUuCFCf7HFy56Kxdx3Dn46SpRL1pVbALlkasQLQ-f31mv6BMo_Lsb5JCmN5vqs2MHXk9SfaFlnaInA4_7fevI46JWYvksKSIFM/s400/imposing+gate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274586804970394370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>But h</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ey, I’m here to tell you.<span style=""> </span>It is on</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e heck of a gate.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Undaunted, we press ahead, up into the</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Hollywood Hills.<span style=""> </span>We tool around Muholland drive and see Jack Nicholson’s gate.<span style=""> </span>It’s not that impressive.<span style=""> </span>But I understand he has quite a nic</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e compound in there.<span style=""> </span>We also see the gate for Britney Spears’ home.<span style=""> </span>That doesn't really count because Britney lives in a gated community.<span style=""> </span>So, while we did see her gate, that particular gate also </span><span style="font-size:130%;">belongs to a lot of other people.<span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"> We accidentally drive up to an overlook with a beautiful view of the <st1:place>HOLLYWOOD</st1:place></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> s</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ign.<span style=""> </span>There are lots of other tourists there, a busload of Germans having just pulled in.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBTDouC4lWdwCWD2Y9Cxiw4v8A0QqgmB0yvcnnKaBsMT5fhk2iWAmpC6aL49xJl15kygvaVeOmStXoUkN9-513nvYa95B5NcEZqsrTcUe3uzjuXm9gA_-zX7bt-LSQp1S8AMVJlwQAMhm/s1600-h/Hollywood+sign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBTDouC4lWdwCWD2Y9Cxiw4v8A0QqgmB0yvcnnKaBsMT5fhk2iWAmpC6aL49xJl15kygvaVeOmStXoUkN9-513nvYa95B5NcEZqsrTcUe3uzjuXm9gA_-zX7bt-LSQp1S8AMVJlwQAMhm/s400/Hollywood+sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274609926686725698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>We ask one of them t</span><span style="font-size:130%;">o take our picture.<span style=""> </span>This German guy claims to be a serious photographer.<span style=""> </span>And later, when we see the picture we can tell he is good.<span style=""> </span>It</span><span style="font-size:130%;">’s a </span><span style="font-size:130%;">nice photo of Trina and me.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, you can barely see the famous <st1:city><st1:place>HOLLYWOOD</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> sign behind us.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:street><st1:address><br /></st1:address></st1:street></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><st1:street><st1:address>Melrose Drive:</st1:address></st1:street></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">The following day we visit our friends, Jon & Jean</span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<span style=""> </span>Trina wants to shop on <st1:street><st1:address>Melrose Avenue</st1:address></st1:street></span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Once there, we find </span><span style="font-size:130%;">lots and lots of Thrift shops.<span style=""> </span>Apparently, Movie Stars like to sell their expensive wardrobes to us peons.<span style=""> </span>Sadly, Jon and I</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>do not find any Givenchy gowns for $15.<span style=""> </span>And we don’t find anything for Trina either.<span style=""> </span>Suddenly, there is a hubbub!<span style=""> </span>People with cameras start running around.<span style=""> </span>It is the famed </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Paparazzi!!<span style=""> </span>One of them explains that </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zTt94RvKnUPwFsMN0u4M7y4f9Ayi2JuekuwQ-nzSD_JM9Jh36IE8GuR24Q47uNPjLiJKpNanWVY0Nkk9cUSL8AScUqvqjUA6c7Q0jVnCMm87cHpDH3dLeo9yNF13hlZcGeET2AwutLC3/s1600-h/Michael+Jackson.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zTt94RvKnUPwFsMN0u4M7y4f9Ayi2JuekuwQ-nzSD_JM9Jh36IE8GuR24Q47uNPjLiJKpNanWVY0Nkk9cUSL8AScUqvqjUA6c7Q0jVnCMm87cHpDH3dLeo9yNF13hlZcGeET2AwutLC3/s400/Michael+Jackson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274569496563361746" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Michael Jackson has returned from the MiddleEast and is going shopping.<span style=""> </span>We wait expectantly, hoping the gloved one will stop </span><span style="font-size:130%;">to say hi.<span style=""> (We're feeling especially needy after being snubbed over </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">at Ellen’s place.)<span style=""> </span>Suddenly, there he is.<span style=""> </span>Or rather, the</span><span style="font-size:130%;">re is a fleet of Cadillac Escalades with </span><span style="font-size:130%;">tinted windows speeding down Melrose.<span style=""> </span>People on the street jump up and down and wave.<span style=""> </span>I’m sure inside one of those massive SUV’s Michael is waving back.<span style=""> The next day, </span>the tabloids are full of reports explaining that Michael went furniture shopping, in his pajamas.<span style=""> </span>But we depart Melrose Avenue with no gowns, not even one of Michael’s sequined gloves.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">It’s now getting late.<span style=""> </span>We hop on the freeway.<span style=""> </span>Traffic stops dead.<span style=""> </span>An accident?<span style=""> </span>A naked girl running down the median?<span style=""> </span>Michael in his PJ's?<span style=""> </span>Nope.<span style=""> </span>It’s a wildfire.<span style=""> </span>One of the biggest highways in LA is closed at rush hour just because flames threaten to incinerate us commuters.<span style=""> </span>We go the back way home, past Jack Nicholson’s gate, past Dr. Phil’s massive concrete wall.<span style=""> </span>After a quick 2 hour detour we have covered 12 miles and we are home for dinner fashionably late, at <st1:time minute="30" hour="20">8:30pm</st1:time></span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<span style=""> </span>Jon’s lovely wife Joan has kept the meal simmering.<span style=""> </span>Supper is delayed but delicious.<span style=""> </span>We chat into the night, sitting by Jon & Jean's gorgeous outdoor pool, keeping a watchful eye out for scary nocturnal creatures lurking out in the sagebrush. Coyotes. <span style=""> </span>Owls. Michael Jackson.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Next time, Sea Elephants Meet the Velvet Fog<br /></span></span></p><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-16743306309182236402008-11-24T17:32:00.000-08:002008-12-02T18:17:23.421-08:00Thank You! Thank You!<span style="font-size:180%;">Thankfully Thanksgiving<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLqBT98Zxtx7xXI6elyHCEOU08jR8p6NlwPKp2tpvAG3Tgrv9zAJ408r4KpoqsKAm6266pu4s4Fpbg_428wcek25u17vC_nkHbYoi7M9JpCQ8wYorlpNex7PYsyxIsmqMFD7RkxqoQ2d5/s1600-h/sb10067447d-002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLqBT98Zxtx7xXI6elyHCEOU08jR8p6NlwPKp2tpvAG3Tgrv9zAJ408r4KpoqsKAm6266pu4s4Fpbg_428wcek25u17vC_nkHbYoi7M9JpCQ8wYorlpNex7PYsyxIsmqMFD7RkxqoQ2d5/s400/sb10067447d-002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272791372869137906" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Once again, Thanksgiving is upon us. A time to give thanks. For starters, I'm thankful that Thanksgiving is an honest to God, unadulterated, four day holiday weekend. You can't say that about the 4th of July, Memorial Day or any of the other less-regal three day holidays.<br /><br />I think I speak for everyone when I say that us people are very thankful that we're not turkeys. Of course, I'm referring to turkeys in the drumstick and stuffing sense. Those of you who are real turkeys will have to suffer through Thanksgiving just like you do the other 364 days of the year.<br /><br />I'm thankful for Mom's scalloped potatoes, yams, those little skinny sweet pickles in the relish tray and all the other yummy stuff we stuff ourselves with.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmRWHLJgqv4pl6v_7o6E1ONBNnsQMzF7ZKwNn1arB96GtUjfBUlaOFAgaWpw6SZL_1VVlUarkClDKp7ur6yQi68PA29jhrWvnH_Sb4ian6tLOl60tzs_Kwbuzvrh1LlXyv3k-i2s0w9E0H/s1600-h/LimoPhoto.bmp"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 157px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmRWHLJgqv4pl6v_7o6E1ONBNnsQMzF7ZKwNn1arB96GtUjfBUlaOFAgaWpw6SZL_1VVlUarkClDKp7ur6yQi68PA29jhrWvnH_Sb4ian6tLOl60tzs_Kwbuzvrh1LlXyv3k-i2s0w9E0H/s400/LimoPhoto.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272782116261181330" border="0" /></a>I'm extremely thankful for my wife Trina who loves me. And I'm really thankful my incredibly intelligent wife hasn't figured out what a boob she really married. Life is full of strange wonders to be thankful for!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFfmgzE2U018eVO8x9Ajlp0Ud2coWM-mdRPyA3cjlrRC18EDjP25_VGBdQ0yXOUzy0JszgyqkNOj7q0A3tnyOpdzli_pVJ2yDmCmqKwsYA8R7j2wNEonBteMm_Xxwu7HuDqQGtqI1B843/s1600-h/mika+front.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFfmgzE2U018eVO8x9Ajlp0Ud2coWM-mdRPyA3cjlrRC18EDjP25_VGBdQ0yXOUzy0JszgyqkNOj7q0A3tnyOpdzli_pVJ2yDmCmqKwsYA8R7j2wNEonBteMm_Xxwu7HuDqQGtqI1B843/s400/mika+front.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272782108751071602" border="0" /></a>I'm thankful for our golden retriever, Mika, and for our cats Barney & Bailey. My life would be much less full without them. Mostly, it would be less full of cleaning up various forms of pet poop & puke (and wondering which element came from which animal).<br /><br />I'm thankful for Thanksgiving parades, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoiJODli5lbc5dB4_xG6i-sMFnovwQGUYpkdRSC98yRTCePk9P1E7SqfsHlIIubV3DtHUQM2DYKaO_nFWKeEGjzvtLPnUySTntlOXJfCiTAM65vFsbZn9lPGWHbXDDEFyxOy0FOb7hCjU/s1600-h/76942578.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoiJODli5lbc5dB4_xG6i-sMFnovwQGUYpkdRSC98yRTCePk9P1E7SqfsHlIIubV3DtHUQM2DYKaO_nFWKeEGjzvtLPnUySTntlOXJfCiTAM65vFsbZn9lPGWHbXDDEFyxOy0FOb7hCjU/s400/76942578.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272783826549035634" border="0" /></a>football games and post-gorging naps on the couch. Especially football. It's just such an exciting sport to watch. And it's an All American sport to boot.<br /><br />I'm thankful that Washington politicians take a "holiday recess", spending Thanksgiving in their home districts. It's just one less chance they get to "bless" us Americans with their special talents. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12lC40keT4EgMLNfbUaqpKbDHYYP37kWWkp8vVSe3_tLidj_Gk4a9WLxx7CMPax0nmlNbpJeL34Haa63F3c9W-mOrrTlOXWSZ9qA_TJm__e4R2zAErG1RhjFh_oR2Mw8Rquydxi_vo3Cz/s1600-h/Obama+%26+Bush.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12lC40keT4EgMLNfbUaqpKbDHYYP37kWWkp8vVSe3_tLidj_Gk4a9WLxx7CMPax0nmlNbpJeL34Haa63F3c9W-mOrrTlOXWSZ9qA_TJm__e4R2zAErG1RhjFh_oR2Mw8Rquydxi_vo3Cz/s400/Obama+%26+Bush.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272792178429331282" border="0" /></a>I'll bet Barack Obama is thankful he won the election. And I'll bet right now he's scared to death. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wtaBitSaQrlVSN4mMlzCEsU-TCMe1NW3yXTqjvAPr60FXvZsaSJsteAeFKNM3TVc5R3tjjk4ViRb5oNGbWsv45DwfWsvciy9RUanoICYnfJmbh9t0dk5qp4_aJdAwp4mrOKKujMJf_u4/s1600-h/McCain+%26+Palin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wtaBitSaQrlVSN4mMlzCEsU-TCMe1NW3yXTqjvAPr60FXvZsaSJsteAeFKNM3TVc5R3tjjk4ViRb5oNGbWsv45DwfWsvciy9RUanoICYnfJmbh9t0dk5qp4_aJdAwp4mrOKKujMJf_u4/s400/McCain+%26+Palin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272791911802578498" border="0" /></a>John McCain is probably thankful he doesn't have to campaign anymore. And I'll bet McCain is secretly happy he doesn't have to spend the next four years with his new BFF Sarah Palin. I wonder what George Bush is thankful for this year? For starters, he still has a job and a place to stay. But like a lot of us, his job status and home address are about to change.<br /><br />I'm equally thankful that Wall Street and all the other financial institutions close their doors for national holidays. We would probably be even more thankful if they would close down a little more often. </span></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SC-kLGdQ38BKr16TH-rfCC28tMgsCkgqUhlvgB6CrcSo7Uwn2PhP177xR6Jk8wXr2VXzt1brJAH3QZAJ5tAd27VC8c7lCbFarQPvwfAJOFSLn6bAqjCuij2bZSvzZQWf3iLhlc5Lyag3/s1600-h/83764336.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SC-kLGdQ38BKr16TH-rfCC28tMgsCkgqUhlvgB6CrcSo7Uwn2PhP177xR6Jk8wXr2VXzt1brJAH3QZAJ5tAd27VC8c7lCbFarQPvwfAJOFSLn6bAqjCuij2bZSvzZQWf3iLhlc5Lyag3/s400/83764336.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272782118319561234" border="0" /></a></span></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">On a related subject, I'm thankful that my investments haven't lost all their value. I'm pretty sure there's still some spare change hiding in my sofa. Some enterprising capitalist tool will eventually get around to scamming me out of whatever money is left. With that in mind, there's reason to be thankful that retirement is many, many, many years away. With this economy, I'll be working for eons, whether I want to or not.<br /><br />Speaking of money, I'm thankful that Donald trump hasn't been around much lately. I haven't missed his icky hairdo either. No joke here. I'm just thankful.<br /><br />I'm thankful I haven't received an invitation to appear on Dr. Phil, Oprah, or Jerry Springer. That's probably a good thing. But I have to admit, sometimes I think I must be the only person in America who hasn't gotten the call.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi04JxiB0XYtdAUhT6wcC6EuuPREh2Ygjwq3qppqjnZjJNUaLoU1ydUfVXzvww4i-L-NyJuaeRzrFOu2Oic3HQ84br52WLlwCUMpgjj01Rgq6rOOylbVEDjKbRmBZq_7CV3ZrrqB0h-wzrY/s1600-h/74161767.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi04JxiB0XYtdAUhT6wcC6EuuPREh2Ygjwq3qppqjnZjJNUaLoU1ydUfVXzvww4i-L-NyJuaeRzrFOu2Oic3HQ84br52WLlwCUMpgjj01Rgq6rOOylbVEDjKbRmBZq_7CV3ZrrqB0h-wzrY/s400/74161767.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272783833289188562" border="0" /></a></span></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm thankful that we've all been seeing less of Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and that guy "Carrot Top". I don't know why, but they all scare me. At least I can't prove Carrot Top goes carousing without any panties... Now, there's a mental image I'm not so thankful for!<br /><br />Happy Thanksgiving!<br /><br /></span></span><h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size: 130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-62234938530574904772008-11-23T17:40:00.000-08:002008-12-11T16:32:37.891-08:00California Dreaming<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:14;"><span style=""> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Trina and I just spent two magical weeks in </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:state><st1:place>California</st1:place></st1:state></span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<span style=""> </span>For those of us who normally reside o</span><span style="font-size:130%;">n the right coast, California is like visiting another country.<span style=""> </span>We fly into <st1:city><st1:place>Los Angeles</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> on Virgin <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ameri</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAKLVe3ksyb2AHl60qX632cyp0UBRJ_ohAPUEFaQaIfiQ69Wws0HNZi1Ka3OQFXOYJ8BOehgtcohItjLUz8EF4kAHCGdnNJ3PHvl6z9-RLslaMB2jcmxshJ4NlWvbp57nkSJ_sZQVXYf9/s1600-h/sb10064478aq-002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAKLVe3ksyb2AHl60qX632cyp0UBRJ_ohAPUEFaQaIfiQ69Wws0HNZi1Ka3OQFXOYJ8BOehgtcohItjLUz8EF4kAHCGdnNJ3PHvl6z9-RLslaMB2jcmxshJ4NlWvbp57nkSJ_sZQVXYf9/s400/sb10064478aq-002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272042427365556930" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">ca.<span style=""> </span>Very fitting since this is my wife's first visit to <st1:place><st1:placename><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">LaLa</span></st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Land</st1:placetype></st1:place>.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:city><st1:place>
<br /></st1:place></st1:city></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:city style="font-weight: bold;"><st1:place></st1:place></st1:city></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:city style="font-weight: bold;"><st1:place></st1:place></st1:city></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:city style="font-weight: bold;"><st1:place>
<br /></st1:place></st1:city></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:city style="font-weight: bold;"><st1:place>
<br /></st1:place></st1:city></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:city style="font-weight: bold;"><st1:place>San Diego</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>As </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Trina and I drive South to visit friends near <st1:city><st1:place>San Diego</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> we pass through awe inspiring territory.<span style=""> </span>Namely, a mountain wilderness packed with enough dead brush to kindle one of those massive wildfires <st1:state><st1:place>California</st1:place></st1:state></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> is famous for.<span style=""> </span>That is, when they’re not having mudslides, earthquakes, plague, etc.<span style=""> </span>We hurtle down the freeway in bumper-to-bumper traffic so dense you can get out and walk across</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> the moving cars.<span style=""> </span>Adding to the excitement are deep pockets of fog.<span style=""> </span>It’s the kind of fog you see on those TV News reports about tho</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">usand</span> car pile-ups.<span style=""> </span>Stopping to stretch our legs and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">de</span>-whiten my knuckles, there are signs warning us to watch out for Rattlesnakes.<span style=""> </span>Now this is paradise!<span style=""> </span>Our friends, Tom & Marcy, take us to lunch at a very nice outdoor restaurant.<span style=""> </span>We chat about old times while fighter jets from <st1:city><st1:place><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Miramar</span></st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> dive-bomb our table.<span style=""> </span>Nothing like the deafening roar of turbocharged afterburners to enhance any fine dining experience.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:city style="font-weight: bold;"><st1:place><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Laguna</span> Beach</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span>Most people don’t know this.<span style=""> </span>But the name <st1:city><st1:place><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Laguna</span> Beach</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> comes from a Native American word meaning, “people with suitcases filled with cash”.<span style=""> </span>This is a great place to watch wealthy people at play.<span style=""> </span>Hummers, Rolls <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Royces</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Ferraris</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Maseratis</span>, all <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ja</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">m into shopping malls filled with expensive restaurants and shops.<span style=""> </span>Again, we stay with friends, Tim & Patty. Tim takes us out on their boat.<span style=""> </span>We motor along past an armada of luxury sailboats, yachts, and ocean-going catamarans. <span style=""> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Hord</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">es of Sea Lions are draped across the main decks of the boats that don’t have security guards.<span style=""> </span>Those Sea Lion-infested boats are filthy!<span style=""> </span>But the beasts seem quite happy camped out on their pirated vessels.<span style=""> </span>Trina, our wilderness photographer, quickly snaps 32-hundred </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7isZgfdbWdlm2LPZP2aHv9hjCXhmH_Yqz16fYDpecS1eh63ARI-1rt5lHMC-a8g-9jTBjUw64Qm6D0KzUEMukD9SpMCSdRu6IPPW25NFzDcXkG5T0luFtlceV88RfvJjYoLrP4L8aTK8/s1600-h/Trina's+Sea+Lion.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 337px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7isZgfdbWdlm2LPZP2aHv9hjCXhmH_Yqz16fYDpecS1eh63ARI-1rt5lHMC-a8g-9jTBjUw64Qm6D0KzUEMukD9SpMCSdRu6IPPW25NFzDcXkG5T0luFtlceV88RfvJjYoLrP4L8aTK8/s400/Trina's+Sea+Lion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275372353827143106" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">photos, having fallen in love with Sea Lions. Sadly, our boat ride is cut short.<span style=""> </span>Dangerous currents? A hurricane? <span style=""> </span>Tidal waves?<span style=""> </span>No.<span style=""> </span>Just more impenetrable fog.<span style=""> </span>Once back on shore it's time for dinner. Fortunately, Tim & Patty know the best places to eat.<span style=""> </span>And they can help us pronounce the names of all the fancy dishes on the menu.<span style=""> </span>We eat at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Chez</span> Moritz.<span style=""> </span>That’s Native American for “leave your first born with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Maitre</span> d’.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tomorrow:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span><st1:city><st1:place>Hollywood</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;">!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">And our encounter with Michael Jackson in his </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">PJs</span><span style="font-size:130%;">!!</span></span></p><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-size:14;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-10848862882010597642008-11-20T18:07:00.000-08:002008-11-23T17:36:05.306-08:00Holy Holidays!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTqqezVHQ7GHaCX1R7SX9QXnz2hxGjpGjZg-bXi6LaA3cA769BGqkMKjW5CojbRI9fjDNNWwPR6dSWW8NTE8-ElFfYSGAYLglwD3IJSVfvCu5AEJjuWFURHo73sw3fWPNwEpTNDpkXoy9u/s1600-h/Christmas+shopping+people+shoving.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTqqezVHQ7GHaCX1R7SX9QXnz2hxGjpGjZg-bXi6LaA3cA769BGqkMKjW5CojbRI9fjDNNWwPR6dSWW8NTE8-ElFfYSGAYLglwD3IJSVfvCu5AEJjuWFURHo73sw3fWPNwEpTNDpkXoy9u/s400/Christmas+shopping+people+shoving.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272031628503189922" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Look around your neighborhood the next time you’re out driving around. Know what you’ll see? The gray ghosts of Halloween past. Long gone is the day when little ghouls and goblins flood the streets, entranced by a devilish spell of a chocoholic binge. Today, sticky strands of fake spider webs fill the trees. Pumpkin guts spill onto the sidewalks. And creepy zombie creatures still dangle from wire nooses like hanged desperadoes. But now comes a much scarier specter.<br /><br />It’s almost Thanksgiving. And that can only mean one thing. It’s time to go holiday shopping. Just the thought of buying all those presents fills your tormented soul with raw terror. What will you get Aunt Shirley? She hates everything. And don’t get me started on Uncle Fred. Heck, you don’t even like your Nephew Artie -- he’s a coal-worthy mole if ever there was one. And your sister Mary, she got you an aerobics tape last year. Hint, hint, fatty. It’s time to plot sweet holiday revenge! As you can see, holiday gift shoppers have a lot on their demented minds.<br /><br />My wife Trina and I are already finished shopping! Eat your heart out. Yessiree, we’re way ahead of the curve. But in this economy, we probably paid way more than the rest of you will. Unsold gifts are piling up on store shelves. And unless people suddenly start buying like banshees, retailers are going to be chopping prices like the guy with the axe in one of those Halloween horror flicks.<br /><br />This brings us to a truly macabre aspect of holiday shopping. It’s not trying to figure out what to buy for all those people. It’s not even trying to pay for all that junk. It’s Made In America. With so many Americans out of work, wouldn’t you really like to buy something that was actually produced in the states? Sure you would. Just try.<br /><br />Here’s how we made out:<br /><br />* Electronics – made in Korea.<br />* We bought a fancy crystal bracelet from Thailand. It has a warranty card that says “not applicable in the USA”. I’m not kidding. You can’t make this stuff up.<br />* Clothing - from India, Thailand and China.<br />* Disney’s Winnie-the-Pooh toy phone - China.<br />* The George Foreman Grill - made in China.<br />* Hasbro’s Iron Man toy with </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Repulsor Power</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> - China. (I didn’t have the guts to even look at the Captain America toys.)<br />* And the kick in the gut? The gift tags to put on our gifts - you guessed it, made in China.<br /><br />Trina and I really tried hard to buy American. Really. We bought some zesty Barbecue Spices from a company based in Illinois. Of course, that company’s name is Xcell International Corp. Hmmm. Out of all the gifts we purchased, we found some bath gel (you know, over-priced soap) that says it’s made in the USA and some homegrown cat nip for our cats, Barney & Bailey. As if those crazy beasts need to get stoned again? The last time they shredded the curtains and part of my leg. But we’ll save that screed for another day.<br /><br />I was so upset with the results of our holiday shopping spree I came home, went to the fridge, and grabbed a cool, refreshing, All-American bottle of Budweiser. Then I remembered that Anheuser-Busch was just bought out by a liquor conglomerate based in Belgium. Sigh. Next year I’m giving everybody a gift that for now at least is still Made In America. Cash.<br /></span><h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></span></h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style=""><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-19659089754063963802008-11-19T17:17:00.000-08:002008-11-24T17:28:42.818-08:00Something Old, Something New<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSteve%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C04%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="time"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} h1 {mso-style-next:Normal; margin-top:12.0pt; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:3.0pt; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; page-break-after:avoid; mso-outline-level:1; font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-font-kerning:16.0pt;} h2 {mso-style-next:Normal; margin-top:12.0pt; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:3.0pt; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; page-break-after:avoid; mso-outline-level:2; font-size:14.0pt; font-family:Arial; font-style:italic;} p.MsoList, li.MsoList, div.MsoList {margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.25in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-indent:-.25in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} p.MsoBodyText, li.MsoBodyText, div.MsoBodyText {margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:6.0pt; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size:130%;">I Do! </span> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Over the weekend I traveled to <st1:place>Western Pennsylvania</st1:place></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> to attend a wedding. The bride is the daughter of an old college buddy, Brad, and his wife Deb. <o:p></o:p>You realize what this means? No amount of Greci</span><span style="font-size:130%;">an Formula can hide it. I am Old. My friends and I have aged to the point where we don’t just have kids. Our kids are getting married and they’re having kids. My friends are still in their 40’s. Do</span><span style="font-size:130%;">n’t you have to be, like, 78 before you can be a grandparent??<o:p></o:p></span></p> <h1><span style="font-size:130%;">The Ceremony!</span></h1> <p class="MsoBodyText"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Kr1YiZRYMx86PM3NNRlgGRUmUyzJOjbletGt4gmqmX_X6pYM4GGqBArg6KyLplDAlFwQ359DkqqXlhx18-vEeGvmdh_DZHASM6rsMknJ71guOh7GG4eWIqJf0sxzNvK6zdfOELira3FE/s1600-h/Kacie+%26+Dan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Kr1YiZRYMx86PM3NNRlgGRUmUyzJOjbletGt4gmqmX_X6pYM4GGqBArg6KyLplDAlFwQ359DkqqXlhx18-vEeGvmdh_DZHASM6rsMknJ71guOh7GG4eWIqJf0sxzNvK6zdfOELira3FE/s400/Kacie+%26+Dan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272396463984610578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> I search a crowded church. It’s a gray sea of familiar Old faces. I see the Finalles, the Millers, the Balls, the <st1:city><st1:place>Murrays</st1:place></st1:city></span><span style="font-size:130%;">, the Kriners, Brad Anderson, <st1:place><st1:placename>Ken</st1:placename></st1:place></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place><st1:placename></st1:placename> <st1:placename>States</st1:placename></st1:place></span><span style="font-size:130%;">, and the Hoffers. All of my Old friends fill the pews. And once again, Old is the operative word. Look at those wrinkled faces, receding hairlines, and ever-expanding bellies. The playmates of my youth now look like a casting call for a Metamucil commercial. I am</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> saved from this horrifying realization by the first strains of the Wedding March. <st1:time minute="0" hour="17"></st1:time><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><st1:time minute="0" hour="17"></st1:time></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> The ceremony starts promptly at </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:time minute="0" hour="17">5:00pm</st1:time></span><span style="font-size:130%;">. The bride, Kacie Jo, is radiant in white. The groom, Daniel, is dashing and debonair. They are sooo young. They are clearly overcome with thoughts of matrimonial bliss. The entire bridal party seems strangely unaware that it is surrounded by the Depends crowd. I don’t remember hearing any promises to Honor and O</span><span style="font-size:130%;">bey. Only us Old fogies said things like that. There isn't a dry eye in the house. It is a beautiful, moving ceremony. In other words, it is short. We are back on the street in 35 minutes. It is time for,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style="">
<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style=""><span style="font-size:180%;">The Reception!</span><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Two words. Open bar! This is the gold stan</span><span style="font-size:130%;">dard for any wedding. If you can get the parents to pay for an open bar, you are a rock star! The families being joined together live in a small town where everybody knows just about everyone. It’s the kind of town where wedding receptions are always held at fire halls and comm</span><span style="font-size:130%;">unity centers. Dinner is</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> buffet-style. The chow is very good but never <span style="font-style: italic;">too</span> fancy. No Veal ala Especiales in Vichy Brandy Glaze. And thanks to that open bar, the cuisine, the atmosphere, and even the air, tastes better and better as the night wears on. The wedding cake is served. Delicious. I feel my own belly expanding<span style="color:blue;"> </span>in wrinkled excitement. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"> In towns like this, musical entertainment is always provided by some DJ known to all as “Magic Mel the Music Man”.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Mel is cranking ‘em out. The kids go first. It’s the classic Chicken Dance! Then everyone starts line-dancing.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> The music is different. But the steps look familiar to my ever-aging brain. It is The Macarena.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDZiw-DGXD48PmJf0LiTKu2SPiZ46pFQixDSuCTMYZDN-dw5ovZOlSJSw35wB_3HX7ioJWuzKreM2kLb8IS1KH8mCSGYW7Yaau3H9L4asF1M0GI3Zmd3a5nHLJiryVObDgg58t4Lzhy-rz/s1600-h/Maddie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDZiw-DGXD48PmJf0LiTKu2SPiZ46pFQixDSuCTMYZDN-dw5ovZOlSJSw35wB_3HX7ioJWuzKreM2kLb8IS1KH8mCSGYW7Yaau3H9L4asF1M0GI3Zmd3a5nHLJiryVObDgg58t4Lzhy-rz/s400/Maddie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272396815694134322" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I call to the flower girl, Madee. She is a darling. A bright-eyed nymph with ultra-blond ringlets cascading down her shoulders. This innocent child looks up at me, a whe</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ezing, aging Old man. And then, she runs for her life.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Slowly. Very slowly. The geriatrics hit the dance floor. Mel blasts out “Shout!” that immortal "Oldie"<span style="color:blue;"> </span>from the Animal House movie.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">Say that you love me
<br />Say that you need me <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"> We’re all out there, lurching around like a pack of crazed senior citizens whacked out on Geritol. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">You know you make me wanna Shout!
<br />Kick my heels up and Shout!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;">With each chorus of “Shout”, my buddy Dean and I throw up our arms. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoList"><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoList"><span style="font-size:130%;">Don’t forget to say-ay-ay-ay-ay<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoList"><span style="font-size:130%;">Say you will<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoList"><span style="font-size:130%;">Say it right now baby<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoList"><span style="font-size:130%;">Say you will</span></p><p class="MsoList">
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoList"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKj3o7NntpNaDEVxEPOhQeYMv7fhMjPR19If7QYm8naOFEpyYSN2erKi3YxVMcnjtp0Z6guym9W3_jPEOmjDYOMr-H0mEffLcSqhZxkGuebS5dxVnTY5XdX6IYrv_yejmiNGL24xk6_7Yu/s1600-h/PSU+guys.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKj3o7NntpNaDEVxEPOhQeYMv7fhMjPR19If7QYm8naOFEpyYSN2erKi3YxVMcnjtp0Z6guym9W3_jPEOmjDYOMr-H0mEffLcSqhZxkGuebS5dxVnTY5XdX6IYrv_yejmiNGL24xk6_7Yu/s400/PSU+guys.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272396826017073298" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">Shout! Shout! Shout! We fall to the ground with our hands and feet flailing skyward and wriggle around on our backs just like John Belushi did in the movie. My friends’ children laugh nervously. Maybe these old geezers are having seizures? Maybe somebody should dial 911? Dean and I hobble away. My hernia is acting up. Dean reveals plans for a total knee replacement. Yes, he is balding too.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"> I look around the dance floor. Now, it’s wall-to-wall teenagers, stomping through a haze of hormones. It is amazing. I was there when these children were born. I used to tickle them and chase them around, giggling as their diapers drooped. Suddenly, they are nearly grown up. I see young women brimming with poise and promise. Their fathers are filled with pride. And terror. Those fathers undoubtedly would like to lock their daughters in a closet until they're 35. Teenage boys are getting too close for comfort. And worse, the girls seem to enjoy it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"> The mother of the bride takes over for the bartender. My beer is suddenly filled with foam. Somebody knocks over a candle at the bridal table and <span style="color:black;">t</span>he centerpiece bursts<span style="color:blue;"> </span>into flame. I heroically sacrifice my over-sudsy brew and douse the inferno. The bride and groom are safe.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <h1><span style="font-size:130%;">The End!</span></h1> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"> My wife Trina and I are among the last to leave. But the teenagers are still reveling in their near adulthood. We leave them still dancing<span style="color:blue;">. </span>Their parents sitting. Watching. Gasping for breath.<o:p></o:p> For the record, I would never lock a teenage daughter in the closet. The garage is probably a more secure spot.<span style="color: rgb(68, 68, 51);"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <h2><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></h2> <p class="MsoBodyText"><b style=""><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photos Courtesy Trina Bauer Photography</span></span>
<br /><b style=""><span style="font-size:14;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p> Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3760687129326551090.post-69330951245349446002008-11-17T16:59:00.000-08:002008-11-25T16:47:45.648-08:00Riding The E-Coli Express<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfs73GSOiP2ITZrFDjOjmucj3bkManjInI_7ZO7R3DeSGgMx5Cf92_n88FLBLHvvuHaPBc253YAMqJb5CU1rT0hD31nziiOm5eDzY8o0DIblWyLLr647gOOb0ivSCsjxf56wJh4b8-m9K3/s1600-h/baby+in+shopping+cart.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfs73GSOiP2ITZrFDjOjmucj3bkManjInI_7ZO7R3DeSGgMx5Cf92_n88FLBLHvvuHaPBc253YAMqJb5CU1rT0hD31nziiOm5eDzY8o0DIblWyLLr647gOOb0ivSCsjxf56wJh4b8-m9K3/s400/baby+in+shopping+cart.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269808863919334466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Here’s a news flash for you. I just saw a story about the dangers of grocery store shopping carts.<span style=""> </span>No, the carts themselves aren’t dangerous.<span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">Unless you’re a parked car.</span><span style=""> </span>The focus of this news report is about a danger that’s <b style=""><span style="font-weight: bold;">in</span></b> the carts.<span style=""> </span>We’re talking about kids.<span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">Very little, yet to grow up, toddler types.</span><span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">Those little germ factories with runny noses, and diapers full of baby guano.</span><span style=""> </span>Which reminds me, the quality of the produce in most local supermarkets is disappointing, to say the least.<span style=""> </span>But that’s a screed for another day.<span style=""> </span>So this story (featured on NBC News) is about germs that wind up on the cart where you carry your food.<span style=""> </span>The problem, it seems is <span class="GramE">that parents</span> put their little kids in those little seats in the carts.<span style=""> </span>And the toddlers do what comes naturally.<span style=""> </span>They leave behind loads of (family warning here) fecal matter and who knows what else.<span style=""> </span>So think about it.<span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">Kids & Their Poop.</span><span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">You & Your Food.</span><span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">Perfect together.</span><span style=""> </span>You see where this is going.<span style=""> </span>They take samples from the carts and send ‘<span class="SpellE">em</span> off to the lab.<span style=""> </span>And sure enough, they find enough <span class="SpellE">WMD’s</span> to take out the Fighting 88<sup>th</sup> Division.<span style=""> </span>We’re talking biological warfare.<span style=""> </span>And it’s in that cart you’re pushing around and loading up with stuff you’re <span class="SpellE">gonna</span> put in your mouth.<span style=""> </span>So, there are a couple of solutions.<span style=""> </span>One, parents can bring their own portable baby seat—and hopefully when they leave the grocery, they take the baby and all of those deadly germs with ‘<span class="SpellE">em</span>.<span style=""> </span>Or, customers (that’s you) can bring a portable Hazmat team.<span style=""> </span>Or, you, Joe Customer can scrub down the whole cart with some of those sanitizing wipes.<span style=""> </span>And the bonus there is your hands get that pleasing lemony-ammonia smell.<span style=""> </span>To defuse that smell you really will need a Hazmat squad. <span style=""> </span>So that’s the story.<span style=""> </span>Bring sanitizing wipes to the grocery or risk your family’s health.<span style=""> </span>Oh sure, those kids are cute.<span style=""> </span>But who knows WHERE that baby’s been.<span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">OR where it’s going.</span><span style=""> </span>And that’s where NBC dropped the ball.<span style=""> </span>They forgot the big picture.<span style=""> </span>There are baby’s everywhere.<span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">Touching stuff.</span><span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">Your stuff.</span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" ><span style=""> </span>Maybe this is what took down the </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><st1:place>Roman Empire</st1:place></span><span style="font-size:130%;">.<span style=""> </span>Little <span class="SpellE">Ceasar’s</span> backside…<span style=""> </span>Sarah <span class="SpellE">Palin</span> has like, what, two dozen kids.<span style=""> </span>Look what happened to the Republicans.<span style=""> </span><span class="GramE">Coincidence?</span><span style=""> </span>And how many Moms have you seen take their kids out of those shopping carts and plop them down on the counter when they’re checking out?<span style=""> </span>That’s where the real danger lies, or in this case, sits.<span style=""> </span>Mom, that kid’s caboose is a toxic time bomb.<span style=""> </span>I’m begging you.<span style=""> </span>Get him off the counter before we’re all toast.<span style=""> </span>Me?<span style=""> </span>I’ll be out in the parking suiting up with the Hazmat guys.</span></p><h2><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright 2008</span></h2> <h2><span style="font-size:130%;">All rights reserved</span></h2> <b style=""><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-size:130%;">No part can be reprinted or reused in any way without express written permission from the author</span></span></b><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Steve Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11506089148374377065noreply@blogger.com0