Jim read the last posting. He wasn't amused at being called an international spy, but he appreciated "eye candy". Jim is actually a history teacher (which is probably why he has no sense of humor) and a part time golf coach.
I finally added FiFi to my list of Scrabble players. I have only allowed her to play once - she came in second.
[This post is called "character development" because Julie, Jim, and FiFi are fictional characters I'm using to learn to develop characters for writing fiction.]
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Monday, August 22, 2005
Eye Candy
Before I'd let Fifi play Scrabble, I talked Jim into joining our group occasionally. Jim's the GI Joe type, if you know what I mean. Blue eyes, broad shoulders, slim hips, muscles that really fill out a shirt. I think he used to be an international spy or something when he was younger. I figured he'd be nice to look at even if he couldn't play all that well.
Guess who now has a higher ranking than Julie and guess who's still at the bottom? I'll give you a hint: it's a good thing Jim has a sweet personality, because nobody likes a showoff.
I'm beginning to get an inferiority complex.
Guess who now has a higher ranking than Julie and guess who's still at the bottom? I'll give you a hint: it's a good thing Jim has a sweet personality, because nobody likes a showoff.
I'm beginning to get an inferiority complex.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Cheaters never prosper
As mentioned in my posting on 7/23/05, I play Scrabble by myself to help keep my mind sharp and maintain a decent vocabulary. I no longer say, “I’m tarp as a shack.” and mean it.
To counteract this, I brought in a new player. Her name is Julie and she's a skinny blonde. I can't stand her. After playing 4 games, she ranks at the top and I'm still at the bottom. I made her and I can break her. If she doesn't start throwing a few games, she's history.
I think I'll bring in Fifi. If I can't beat a poodle, I'm going to switch games. Maybe Solitaire.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Say Cheese
I made manicotti for supper tonight. I didn't have all the ingredients to make any one recipe so I combined two or three to incorporate what I had on hand. I learned some important things about preparing manicotti. You don't really have to use two eggs if you only have one, only the recipe from a maker of pasta sauces uses two jars of sauce, and those fat little tubes are hard to stuff.
I allowed 15 minutes to prepare the recipe before it went into the oven. All the recipes claimed to be easy as well as delicious. They lied. At least about the first part. It took me 30 minutes just to fill the shells.
I tried the handy tip from one cookbook - just put the filling in a plastic bag, snip off the end, and fill up the shell. This works well if you were born with three or four hands, which I wasn't. I abandoned that technique after one shell, but after a couple more shells and cuss words I learned the easiest method is to cheat.
I split the pasta open lengthwise, laid a few spoonfuls of the cheese and spinach mixture down the middle, rolled it up so it looked like a tube again, and placed it seam side down in the dish. Once I put sauce and cheese on it, nobody could tell the difference. It certainly didn't affect the taste any.
The moral of this story is: If you can't follow the directions, make up your own.
I allowed 15 minutes to prepare the recipe before it went into the oven. All the recipes claimed to be easy as well as delicious. They lied. At least about the first part. It took me 30 minutes just to fill the shells.
I tried the handy tip from one cookbook - just put the filling in a plastic bag, snip off the end, and fill up the shell. This works well if you were born with three or four hands, which I wasn't. I abandoned that technique after one shell, but after a couple more shells and cuss words I learned the easiest method is to cheat.
I split the pasta open lengthwise, laid a few spoonfuls of the cheese and spinach mixture down the middle, rolled it up so it looked like a tube again, and placed it seam side down in the dish. Once I put sauce and cheese on it, nobody could tell the difference. It certainly didn't affect the taste any.
The moral of this story is: If you can't follow the directions, make up your own.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Oink Johnson
My father and grandfather were great storytellers. By that, I don’t mean to imply they were liars. But they did take writer’s license to make stories more interesting to their audience. Every storyteller does, whether writing jokes for Letterman, penning a novel, or relating family history around the dinner table.
My father told this story many times. It was one of our favorites because it was about people we knew, but you'd have to hear Dad tell it to think it was funny. Even though I didn't believe it was true, knowing my father, I was never quite sure and years later, I read a similar story about another family. I heard this version first, more or less. I’ve changed names to protect the innocent (me).
Oink Johnson
Every Saturday when I was a kid, my father would go to the Sale Barn at Scottsburg. Everything was sold at the Scottsburg Sale Barn at some time of another. Fresh vegetables, tube socks, ponies, neck ties, toys, and livestock. Some weeks Dad came back empty handed; some weeks he came back with treasures - or livestock.
One Saturday, he and my older brother bought a pig at the livestock auction. They put it in the back of the pick-up truck to bring home, but the pig kept jumping over the sides. Finally, they stuck it in the front seat between them.
About half way home, they were pulled over by a couple of policemen. As the men approached, my brother slapped a cap on the pig’s head.
“Hi, officers. Nice day, isn’t it?” my dad greeted the men. “Is there a problem?”
“You’ve got a tail light out,” the younger of the pair replied. “License and registration, please.”
“Thanks, Officer. I didn’t realize the light was out,” Dad answered, handing over the license as Neil got the registration out of the glove compartment.
The younger man returned to the patrol car to check the license while the senior officer put a foot on the running board and talked about the weather and the crops like they did in that part of southern Indiana. Being a farm boy himself, he just ignored the pig.
Eventually, the officer returned and handed the paperwork back to Dad. “Everything looks okay, Mr. Johnson. Just get that light fixed this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Officer. I certainly will. I don’t want to risk my kids’ lives by driving them around in an unsafe truck.”
As the men walked away, Dad heard the younger one say, "Did you notice anything strange in that truck?"
The older man replied, “Nope. They were a nice family”.
The other one replied, “Yeah, Bob, they were, but you have to admit that Oink Johnson is one ugly kid”.
My father told this story many times. It was one of our favorites because it was about people we knew, but you'd have to hear Dad tell it to think it was funny. Even though I didn't believe it was true, knowing my father, I was never quite sure and years later, I read a similar story about another family. I heard this version first, more or less. I’ve changed names to protect the innocent (me).
Oink Johnson
Every Saturday when I was a kid, my father would go to the Sale Barn at Scottsburg. Everything was sold at the Scottsburg Sale Barn at some time of another. Fresh vegetables, tube socks, ponies, neck ties, toys, and livestock. Some weeks Dad came back empty handed; some weeks he came back with treasures - or livestock.
One Saturday, he and my older brother bought a pig at the livestock auction. They put it in the back of the pick-up truck to bring home, but the pig kept jumping over the sides. Finally, they stuck it in the front seat between them.
About half way home, they were pulled over by a couple of policemen. As the men approached, my brother slapped a cap on the pig’s head.
“Hi, officers. Nice day, isn’t it?” my dad greeted the men. “Is there a problem?”
“You’ve got a tail light out,” the younger of the pair replied. “License and registration, please.”
“Thanks, Officer. I didn’t realize the light was out,” Dad answered, handing over the license as Neil got the registration out of the glove compartment.
The younger man returned to the patrol car to check the license while the senior officer put a foot on the running board and talked about the weather and the crops like they did in that part of southern Indiana. Being a farm boy himself, he just ignored the pig.
Eventually, the officer returned and handed the paperwork back to Dad. “Everything looks okay, Mr. Johnson. Just get that light fixed this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Officer. I certainly will. I don’t want to risk my kids’ lives by driving them around in an unsafe truck.”
As the men walked away, Dad heard the younger one say, "Did you notice anything strange in that truck?"
The older man replied, “Nope. They were a nice family”.
The other one replied, “Yeah, Bob, they were, but you have to admit that Oink Johnson is one ugly kid”.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Did the weekend start yet?
At 11:59 AM Friday, August 12, click on Hawaiian Music (in the links to your left), jump up and announce "It's Hawaiian Shirt Day!". Then play the Hawaiian War Chant. When it finishes, yell "ALOOOOOOOOHA!" and go back to work.
I'll give you a quarter if you do. Honest.
I'll give you a quarter if you do. Honest.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Crossroads
Yesterday I talked about an intersection. Well, I'm coming to a crossroads in my personal life and there are so many possible choices, I don't know which way to turn. Maybe I'll just sit here and wait for the light to change.
Like a lot of Americans, I'm about to lose my job. I know the job will be gone early next year. I don't know if I'll be able to move to the company that takes over or if I even want to.
Some days I'm excited at the thought of conquering new worlds. Some days, not so much.
One side of me says I'm too old, too tired to start over again. I just want things to stay the same till I retire. I like my job better than most I've had. I like the people on my team better than most I've worked with. I don't want to have to have other people get used to me. Because, let's face it, I take a lot of getting used to. My drummer is a couple of measures off the beat.
Part of me says this is a good thing. A chance to start over. To move to another town, another state, to find another road to travel, new scenery, new brands in the grocery store. An opportunity for more opportunities.
Part of me says, Oh, Crap!
The most frustrating thing is that it's out of my hands. Nobody asked my opinion before they did this. Nobody asked my permission to change my life.
I went through this 3 years ago when my last department was sold to the highest bidder. While I was waiting for the end, I took two classes. One was in Microsoft Access, the other in Outdoor Survival. I figured I was covered - the Access skills if I got a job, the Survival skills if I didn't. It's always best to be prepared for what ever life throws at you.
Today, I say "What the hell." I knew this wouldn't last forever. I'll go where the winds goes. I'll seek fame and fortune on the other side of the city. Or the state. Or the world. Where ever, what ever.
Like a lot of Americans, I'm about to lose my job. I know the job will be gone early next year. I don't know if I'll be able to move to the company that takes over or if I even want to.
Some days I'm excited at the thought of conquering new worlds. Some days, not so much.
One side of me says I'm too old, too tired to start over again. I just want things to stay the same till I retire. I like my job better than most I've had. I like the people on my team better than most I've worked with. I don't want to have to have other people get used to me. Because, let's face it, I take a lot of getting used to. My drummer is a couple of measures off the beat.
Part of me says this is a good thing. A chance to start over. To move to another town, another state, to find another road to travel, new scenery, new brands in the grocery store. An opportunity for more opportunities.
Part of me says, Oh, Crap!
The most frustrating thing is that it's out of my hands. Nobody asked my opinion before they did this. Nobody asked my permission to change my life.
I went through this 3 years ago when my last department was sold to the highest bidder. While I was waiting for the end, I took two classes. One was in Microsoft Access, the other in Outdoor Survival. I figured I was covered - the Access skills if I got a job, the Survival skills if I didn't. It's always best to be prepared for what ever life throws at you.
Today, I say "What the hell." I knew this wouldn't last forever. I'll go where the winds goes. I'll seek fame and fortune on the other side of the city. Or the state. Or the world. Where ever, what ever.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Crossed Roads
Most mornings when I go to work I have to stop at an 8-way intersection. The kind with stop signs, not stop lights. I'm sure it's the only one I've ever come across and it may be the only one in Indiana.
It used to be a regular 4-way stop that was a little narrow over the bridge if you went south. Traffic backed up quite a bit between 7:45 and 8, but for the most part flowed smoothly. Then someone got the idea of adding left-turn lanes so now when you stop and look for traffic you have to check if someone is going straight past you, then you can go, probably, unless the person on your left decides to turn left before the car has cleared the intersection or the person on your right is turning right but they have a phone stuck to their ear so they can't use a turn signal and are moving so slowly you can't tell if they are turning or what the *^&% they are doing. Then see if someone is going straight in front of you from the left (don't go) or turning right on your left (it's ok to go if nobody else is). Also check if someone is turning left on your right or going straight past you. (Don't go.) Are you thinking that sounds like a regular 4-way stop, so what's the big deal? Multiply each direction times 6 other possibilities, 7 if you want to throw your own car in the count.
There are 8 lanes of traffic at the intersection with 4 stop signs. So you have to watch 7 different cars instead of just 3. Sometimes people won't take their turns, sometimes they can't tell when their turn comes, so they just sit and watch while 7 other drivers decide to go at the same time. Some like to stagger turns so there are 3 to 5 cars half in, half out of the intersection, going straight, turning left, turning right. Too many people think they don't have to take turns or it's OK to sneak through on their neighbors turn. Some think the intersection means 8 cars can go through at one time so it's every woman and man for himself.
Sometimes you just pray you'll make it, close your eyes, and put the pedal to the metal.
I do think that drivers at that intersection are getting better at maneuvering the labyrinth. I like to think that I've had a lot to do with that. Goodness knows I've given them enough instruction through my subtle suggestions and appropriate hand gestures.
It used to be a regular 4-way stop that was a little narrow over the bridge if you went south. Traffic backed up quite a bit between 7:45 and 8, but for the most part flowed smoothly. Then someone got the idea of adding left-turn lanes so now when you stop and look for traffic you have to check if someone is going straight past you, then you can go, probably, unless the person on your left decides to turn left before the car has cleared the intersection or the person on your right is turning right but they have a phone stuck to their ear so they can't use a turn signal and are moving so slowly you can't tell if they are turning or what the *^&% they are doing. Then see if someone is going straight in front of you from the left (don't go) or turning right on your left (it's ok to go if nobody else is). Also check if someone is turning left on your right or going straight past you. (Don't go.) Are you thinking that sounds like a regular 4-way stop, so what's the big deal? Multiply each direction times 6 other possibilities, 7 if you want to throw your own car in the count.
There are 8 lanes of traffic at the intersection with 4 stop signs. So you have to watch 7 different cars instead of just 3. Sometimes people won't take their turns, sometimes they can't tell when their turn comes, so they just sit and watch while 7 other drivers decide to go at the same time. Some like to stagger turns so there are 3 to 5 cars half in, half out of the intersection, going straight, turning left, turning right. Too many people think they don't have to take turns or it's OK to sneak through on their neighbors turn. Some think the intersection means 8 cars can go through at one time so it's every woman and man for himself.
Sometimes you just pray you'll make it, close your eyes, and put the pedal to the metal.
I do think that drivers at that intersection are getting better at maneuvering the labyrinth. I like to think that I've had a lot to do with that. Goodness knows I've given them enough instruction through my subtle suggestions and appropriate hand gestures.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
School Daze
It's time for school to start again.
I know because I went to the local discount store on my way home from work this evening. You couldn't shake a short stick without hitting a mother, long list or two clutched in her hand, muttering, "1 pack of pencils, 1 looseleaf binder, 2 glue sticks... glue sticks... glue sticks."
I know because I went to the local discount store on my way home from work this evening. You couldn't shake a short stick without hitting a mother, long list or two clutched in her hand, muttering, "1 pack of pencils, 1 looseleaf binder, 2 glue sticks... glue sticks... glue sticks."
Holly, Holly, Holly
Some of you may have noticed that I have not written anything in my blog for several days. I know Holly noticed because she was whining about it today. It occurred to me the best way to stop that was to write about her.
When I was younger, I use to travel throughout neighboring Midwest states with friends and family - taking the road less traveled whenever possible, staying at small off-the-beaten-path motels, eating at mom-and-pop diners. It was our version of adventure, and, if you’ve ever eaten at one of those diners, you know we liked a little touch of danger.
Sometimes in the evening, I would buy a copy of the local newspaper for entertainment.
I love reading small town newspapers. The kind that tell you about the Spencers having supper Friday night with the Millers, about Paul and Millie Newburg showing their holiday slides at the Senior Citizen, about little Johnnie Franklin’s first birthday party that was held at his grandparents’ home and all the names of every relative that attended and even those that couldn’t make it, but sent their best wishes. A lot of these articles end with “and a good time was had by all”.
When trying to decide what genre to use to talk about Holly, I decided to go with a newspaper format and include her co-workers. (Ha! you thought I was just rambling, didn’t you?)
This is my version of a small town newspaper.
The Cubicle Chronical, Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Cube Town, USA
This reporter has just learned that Holly Hilarious is anxiously preparing for her first day at school this fall. Hilarious hopes to attain her degree in 3 years while working full time at a demanding job with the Cube Town mayor. Currently, Hilarious lives with her husband and three dozen cats.
C. J. My Way, Cube Town mayor, recently returned from a business trip with other county officials. The objective of their trip to the East was to entice businesses to open new industries in Cube Town and the surrounding communities. My Way reported that the trip, billed as “Don’t Be Square! Move to Cube Town”, was a great success.
Rumors are circulating that Wes Wascal is planning a trip to Cancun for his birthday later this month. Wascal is already sporting a deep tan thanks to Mayor My Way's new tanning parlor on the highway.
Office Josh B'Gosh was called to the home of Mike Marauder Saturday night when neighbors complained about the strange noises coming from his back yard. Marauder was found to be entertaining his sister from Ohio with a can of F**t Putty. No arrests were made even though F**t Putty was banned by the new noise ordinance pushed through the town council last spring by Assistant Mayor Assistant Holly Hilarious. Marauder’s neighbor, Wes Wascal, protested that the whole thing was “Scandalous!”
In honor of National Ice Cream Sandwich day, an ice cream social was held yesterday at the town hall. The Ladies Auxiliary served three kinds of ice cream sandwiches to Cube Town citizens attending the fete. Representing the town officials were Mayor C. J. My Way, Assistant Mayor Assistant Holly Hilarious, Councilman Wes Wascal, and Officer Josh B’Gosh. Others in attendance included Mike Marauder, Denise D. Nephew, Cheryl Sweep, Mich Elle, and Ronnie Lonnie Fonnie. Entertainment was provided by Marvelous Martha, and a good time was had by all.
When I was younger, I use to travel throughout neighboring Midwest states with friends and family - taking the road less traveled whenever possible, staying at small off-the-beaten-path motels, eating at mom-and-pop diners. It was our version of adventure, and, if you’ve ever eaten at one of those diners, you know we liked a little touch of danger.
Sometimes in the evening, I would buy a copy of the local newspaper for entertainment.
I love reading small town newspapers. The kind that tell you about the Spencers having supper Friday night with the Millers, about Paul and Millie Newburg showing their holiday slides at the Senior Citizen, about little Johnnie Franklin’s first birthday party that was held at his grandparents’ home and all the names of every relative that attended and even those that couldn’t make it, but sent their best wishes. A lot of these articles end with “and a good time was had by all”.
When trying to decide what genre to use to talk about Holly, I decided to go with a newspaper format and include her co-workers. (Ha! you thought I was just rambling, didn’t you?)
This is my version of a small town newspaper.
The Cubicle Chronical, Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Cube Town, USA
This reporter has just learned that Holly Hilarious is anxiously preparing for her first day at school this fall. Hilarious hopes to attain her degree in 3 years while working full time at a demanding job with the Cube Town mayor. Currently, Hilarious lives with her husband and three dozen cats.
C. J. My Way, Cube Town mayor, recently returned from a business trip with other county officials. The objective of their trip to the East was to entice businesses to open new industries in Cube Town and the surrounding communities. My Way reported that the trip, billed as “Don’t Be Square! Move to Cube Town”, was a great success.
Rumors are circulating that Wes Wascal is planning a trip to Cancun for his birthday later this month. Wascal is already sporting a deep tan thanks to Mayor My Way's new tanning parlor on the highway.
Office Josh B'Gosh was called to the home of Mike Marauder Saturday night when neighbors complained about the strange noises coming from his back yard. Marauder was found to be entertaining his sister from Ohio with a can of F**t Putty. No arrests were made even though F**t Putty was banned by the new noise ordinance pushed through the town council last spring by Assistant Mayor Assistant Holly Hilarious. Marauder’s neighbor, Wes Wascal, protested that the whole thing was “Scandalous!”
In honor of National Ice Cream Sandwich day, an ice cream social was held yesterday at the town hall. The Ladies Auxiliary served three kinds of ice cream sandwiches to Cube Town citizens attending the fete. Representing the town officials were Mayor C. J. My Way, Assistant Mayor Assistant Holly Hilarious, Councilman Wes Wascal, and Officer Josh B’Gosh. Others in attendance included Mike Marauder, Denise D. Nephew, Cheryl Sweep, Mich Elle, and Ronnie Lonnie Fonnie. Entertainment was provided by Marvelous Martha, and a good time was had by all.
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