Petrol

Gas prices. In the past two weeks the price of gasoline in our area has gone up just over twenty cents. It wasn't but a few years ago when a rise of a few cents would foster letters to the editor espousing conspiracy theories, collusion, and how the government should investigate. But now twenty cents and noone bats an eye. The only articles in the paper are about how the nationwide average should be near four dollars a gallon by the end of the year. FOUR DOLLARS A GALLON. And yet people still keep driving those gas guzzling tanks. Granted my truck doesn't get the best mileage, but I don't drive more than 7500 miles a year. People have very short memories, or are too young to remember the gas shortages of the early seventies. Lines at gas stations that stretched out onto roads and highways. After that there was a brief call for automakers to make more fuel efficient vehicles, but soon they were back to the large oversized SUVs. Does anyone really need a Hummer? I long for the day when I first had my license and drove to the gas station to get two dollars worth of regular. It cost 26.9 cents. You could always scrounge around in your car for change to get a couple of gallons. Now gas is more than ten times that.

Different points of view

I am painting. No, not in oils or water colors on canvas. Rather latex on walls. Why am I painting? Because we got a new couch and love seat for the living room. Did we pick colors that went not only with the carpeting but also with the walls? Nope. So, now I have to paint the walls to compliment the furniture and carpet. Remove wallpaper border first, then prime, then paint. Yuck. And why did we get new furniture? Why? Because Pat no longer liked the flowered pattern on the couch and love seat. Nothing wrong with the furniture; she was just flowered out. I on the other hand could have lived with the living room the way it was for a few more years. Oh, who are we kidding. I could have lived with the present look until they either carry me out in a body bag or pack me up and take me to a nursing home. So, I guess there are two different points of view on this. Which one prevailed? Answer? I am painting.

The Passing of The Sign Man

It seems that a lot of my posts are about the passing of people who I remember from years gone by.  This can only mean that I am getting older.  With this post we remember Karl Earhardt.  Who is he, some might ask?  Anyone who followed the Mets in the sixties and seventies knows who he was, but those outside the metropolitan area probably never heard of him.  Here is a link to a NY Times article in 2006.  article

Mucus

Being in the sixth day of the common cold I felt compelled to make an observation. I find it astounding how much mucus the human body can produce while a cold runs it course.

Happy Birthday Jean Baptiste

If he were still alive Jean Baptiste "Django" Reinhardt would be 98. Gotta love his music.

The passing of Corporal Henshaw

I would like to take this time to recognize the passing of Allan Melvin last Thursday, 1/17/08. Most obits say he is best known for his role on the Brady Bunch, but having never watched that show, I remember him as Corporal Henshaw on The Phil Silvers Show, Sgt. Bilko's right hand man along with Cpl. Barbella, played by Harvey Lembeck. In my mind that is how he will be remembered, as well as for his role on All in the Family where he played Archie's friend Barney. But never for The Brady Bunch. In addition he also might be remembered for his voicing of Magilla Gorilla, as Drooper on The Banana Splits Hour, and the plumber in the Liquid Plumr commercials. But never for the Brady Bunch. At least not for me. He will be missed.

Common sense and courtesy

For the third time this year I went for a ride outdoors. Prior to these three rides my last outdoor ride was back in mid November. In the time between those rides I have been on my bike on the trainer in the den watching television while riding. The workout just isn't the same and now back outdoors I find I need to get in shape again, working back into longer rides and hillier rides gradually. But that isn't what this posting is about.

Riding today made me remember all the nuances of riding on roads where there are other vehicles sharing the way. Most people are aware of riders and are courteous but some are not. Those that are will give you a wide berth and wave you across when approaching them as they wait to pull out onto the road. But this post is about those that are not. I don't know if it is ignorance or just plain rudeness, but there are quite a few people who seem to either resent riders, not care, not see, or just don't know what the law is concerning bicycles.

Bicycles on the road are subject to the same laws as cars. In other words they should be on the right side of the road, stop at all stop signs and red traffic lights, signal for turns, and even when permissible to turn left from the left most available lane. These are a few of the rules that cyclists should be following. In addition they should be in single file when riding in a group. This is a gray area sometimes because on a country road two abreast is not uncommon when there is plenty of room for car to go around.

Courtesy and common sense should be observed when approaching a cyclist from the rear. Obvious you might say. But I find it not to be the case. If you approach a rider on urban streets he will be out in the lane slightly away from parked cars to avoid a car door suddenly swinging open into his path. If there are no cars for a section he will stay out there instead of going in near the curb and then swerving back out to avoid the next parked car. A defensive position to take when approaching a rider on any road is to look ahead of him to see what he sees in his path. This will alert you to the possibility that he might drift into your path to avoid a road hazard, sewer grate or puddle. If there are no cars approaching from the opposite direction do give the rider extra room. Don't try to see how close you can get to him. It seems as this is the goal of many people. They seem to think they are prohibited from going over the center line for any reason. As I said, courtesy and common sense.

I guess what prompted me to write this post was the car that passed me today. There was a driver and a passenger, both estimated to be in late teens, possibly high school students or not. As they passed quite closely, the passenger stuck his head out the window and yelled, "You f@#king moron, get off the f@#king road!". It is not the first time this has ever happened and I am sure it won't be the last. I just wonder what is going through his mind.

"Hello,

my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

December 23rd

To all who celebrate this day I wish you a HAPPY FESTIVUS; a holiday for the rest of us, created by Frank Constanza. So, celebrate around the aluminum pole, enjoy the airing of grievances and participate in the feats of strength.

And on a somewhat related topic, if I haven't given anyone reading this a present for the holidays, this is for you.

Random Act of Kindness

Yesterday we witnessed an act of kindness between strangers. We were coming up the highway and I was in the extreme right hand exit lane for the jughandle to go across the highway. A car ahead of us pulled into the large island area of the jughandle, and I wondered aloud where did she think she was going. As we made the turn and waited for the light to cross, I saw her get out of her car and approach an elderly woman who had just crossed the highway pushing a shopping cart. It was obvious they were strangers because the elderly woman was pointing down the road in the direction she was walking. Then the driver took the woman's groceries to her car, and helped the woman over to her car so she could drive her the rest of the way home. What seems amazing to me is that it wasn't after the woman driver had stopped at the light that she made the decision, it was as she was driving and saw the woman crossing up ahead.

Disgusting!!

Many years ago, probably twenty (I could go back and look in my old check ledgers to find the payment, but because it was before computers it would take me a while), I had a problem with the sewer system in the house. There was a cleanout plug in the basement that was never sealed tightly and when the water began to back up in the main line it came into the cutout in the concrete floor. No damage to anything, but an alert that there was a clog of some sort. At first it would only back up if two toilets flushed at the same time, otherwise there was enough time for the water to trickle by the clog to the street line. But eventually a cleanout by RotoRooter was needed and a small amount of roots were found. Leap ahead twenty years. As I do on an irregular yearly basis, I checked the flow of the line a couple weeks ago by filling up the sinks, then running through the house flushing both toilets and pulling the drain on the sinks and running downstairs to check the flow. There was some backup but not that much, but I knew it would only be a matter of time that someone used too much paper and it clogged more, so I called RotoRooter again. He came out. I ran water for him. He listened. Then he said he didn't see any reason to clean it out because he could hear the water emptying into the main street line. I said, no, I would like it cleaned out anyway. So, he did. During the cleanout I stood there and he said it seemed clear as the motorized snake went in and didn't hesitate at all. I knew that I was doing it for my peace of mind so I didn't care. Then he pulled the snake all the way out and as the shearing end of the snake came out of the cleanout hole I tried to figure out when I had flushed a shirt down the toilet. What came out is what is in the accompanied picture. ROOTS. He was as amazed as I was. It was disgusting. But now I am worry free, at least for a few more years.

At least it wasn't The Tropic of Cancer

With Pat retiring next year it will become necessary to curtail some extravagant expenditures. One of those items will be the purchase of books. In the past I have read on average, about thirty books a year. With an average price of ten dollars a book that is three hundred dollars a year. The solution? Join the library; which I recently did and have just completed reading my first library book. I returned it on time so I wouldn't have to face Bookman.

"Let me tell you something, funny boy... You know that little stamp? The one that says New York Public Library? Well, that may not mean anything to you, but that means a lot to me. One whole helluva lot. Sure, go ahead, laugh if you want to. I've seen your type before -- flashy, making the scene, flaunting convention. Yeah, I know what you're thinking... Why's this guy making such a big stink about old library books? Let me give you a hint, junior. Maybe we can live without libraries, people like you and me.... Maybe. Sure, we're too old to change the world. What about that kid, sitting down, opening a book right now in a branch of the local library and finding pictures of pee-pees and wee-wees in The Cat in the Hat and The Five Chinese Brothers. Doesn't he deserve better? Look, if you think this is about overdue fines and missing books, you'd better think again. This is about that kid's right to read a book without getting his mind warped. Or maybe that turns you on, Seinfeld... Maybe that's how you get your kicks... You and your goodtime buddies... I've got a flash for you, joy boy. Partytime is over."

Tryptophan a myth

A day after Turkey Day and I think it necessary to debunk the belief that turkey causes you to fall asleep after a Thanksgiving dinner. NOT TRUE. Without going into the scientific details, which you can read on many different sites, including these .... one ..... two. Bottom line, it is not the turkey which does contain the sleep inducing tryptophan, but rather the starches and sugar, not to mention the alcohol. So, don't blame the turkey.

Please don't squeeze the Charmin

It is only fitting that we stop and take note of the passing of an icon. Yes, Dick Wilson, more affectionately known as Mr. Whipple has passed away at the age of 91 at the Motion Picture & Television Hospital in Woodland Hills, CA. Even though his commercials were most annoying, he became a household name and amazingly appeared in over five hundred commercials over a twenty one year span. Egads. Of course he had other credits, but who cares about them. I just wonder if there will be a roll put in his casket with him. Inquiring minds want to know.
Watch him here.

Nothing

Yes, this is a post about nothing. I feel like Jerry and George going to NBC. I know I should have a lot to post about being able to choose from a myriad of topics. Our trip to LA to see K&T&K&Q, or the flight home where they replaced an engine on the plane, then my aching ears when landing, or the three brothers' trip to Cooperstown and the wonderful dinner we had with local flavor, or my not being able to get rid of this cold which has prevented me from visiting the NJ grandsons, or I could write my thoughts on Barry Bonds, or A-Rod, or about the Chinese woman who had a 33 pound tumor removed from her abdomen, or that in Australia Santas can't say "HO, HO, HO" because it is offensive to women. Yes there are a lot of things to write about, but I am not. Maybe next time.

Concerned neighbor, but duh

Saturday, around 4pm. I am at the den window looking out onto the street when I notice something along the opposite curb. I ask Pat to come and look because it appears to be leaves or something burning along the curb. She agrees and with it appearing that there is noone home across the street, I go put some shoes on, get a bucket and put some water in it from the kitchen sink. Pat is telling me to stop wasting time and to just go out there. After I have a little water in the bucket I go out the front door and rethink the amount of water I have. Not enough, based on the size of the pile of leaves that are smoldering. So I stop at the spigot in front of the house and fill the bucket up about three quarters full. I then walk down the driveway and get halfway across the street with my bucket of water. No one is around so it is up to me to douse this smoldering pile of leaves. Halfway across the street, as I get closer to the fire I smile, check to make sure no one has seen me, and then come back to our yard, empty the bucket on the lawn and go into the house. I am laughing to myself and then I explain to Pat why. As I got closer to the curb I saw it wasn't leaves with flickering flames at all. Nope. It was some Halloween garland that was laying by the curb with the shiny sections looking like flickering flames. Pat asked me why I didn't pick it up to throw in the garbage. I said I just wanted to get back inside before anyone saw me with a bucket of water in the middle of the street. Here is a close up pic.

Four readers for my mystery

Well, it has been ten days, a long enough time I would think, to see how many people are reading this blog. FOUR!!! Or is it that there are many more and they refused my request to make a comment. Has blogging been a fad? For me as well as for others? For the present I will continue, if not every day, at least intermittently. And so this entry is about one of life's many mysteries, in which I am now partaking. What is it you ask? Hair. First we must ask why we have hair. It seems logical that early man needed hair to keep warm as he evolved from early primates. [please, no comments about evolution vs. creationism] But as man evolved, even after thousands and thousands of years, we still have hair in the most unlikely of places. Why do we need hair under our arms? Why do we need hair anywhere? And now I have entered that time of life when I ask the question, Why do older men get hair on and in their ears? Why? I have googled this question and their is no definitive answer. It is one of life's mysteries. And it is confounding that rogue hairs pop up on the ears edge and seemingly have grown a quarter or an inch overnight. A mystery. And as I ponder this mystery, another works its way into my thoughts. Why do men have nipples?

Are you out there?

I don't have anything to write about. But I shouldn't be concerned because my readership is so small that I don't hear the clamoring for more. My guess is that despite the visitor counter on this blog, I have been read by no more than ten people. How sad is that? So, I have a request. I would like everyone who reads this posting to please post a comment. Consider it an experiment. It really doesn't have to be a long comment. A simple "I'm reading" will suffice. And please no more than one comment. Don't try to make me feel good by making numerous comments under aliases. Had to stop that right up front. And thanks for taking part in this experiment.

Free October

No, not a giveaway of Octobers. Nor is it a demonstration to free October from November's clutches. Nope. With the Mets loss it is now a free month where I will no longer be watching baseball. Well, maybe a game or two, but no real interest unless some story line develops like the Cubs with a chance to finally win one. Otherwise, I am free to do other things, watch other things, and not stress anymore over wins and losses, sloppy play, and bad pitching And with the way the area football teams are going, of which I have watched zero games, I will also have a lot of free Sundays the rest of the year.

Half full or half empty?

I have come to realize lately that I am a "half empty" person. Is it genetic, or is it my upbringing? Have I always been this way, or is it something that has manifested itself only recently due to life's circumstances or experiences? I had never really given it serious consideration before, but then over the past week, in watching the Mets squander away chances to win their division, it has become apparent that I am definitely a "half empty" person. The Mets will get men on first and second, one out, and I will be thinking "No way they will score. Double play, or a strikeout and a popup to end the inning." Instead of hoping for a positive outcome, I am predicting the worst. And if the opposition has the men on with one out, there is no doubt in my mind that they will score. Is it just rational thinking, knowing the Mets are going in the toilet, (see, pessimism is rampant), or am I viewing it that way because of my "half empty" mentality? And the more important question is, how did I get this way? And if it is genetic, did I pass it on to my children and grandsons? I must ponder this more.

No Big Deal

Well, only a few hours since I posted and said my life was uneventful and now I have something to write about. I went to have lunch with my grandsons today. Well, only two of my grandsons because the other two grandsons are a bit too far away for a lunch visit. After watching the Backyardigans with Dylan and watching Aidan run around non-stop, it was time for lunch. Before Dylan had his PB&J, sans crust, I checked his glucose levels which I have done before. But then came the task at hand. I had been telling Lauren that one lunchtime visit I would give Dylan his insulin shot but I kept putting it off. Not today. Lauren walked me through the setup procedure, which I probably will remember if I don't wait too long til the next time, and then came the moment of truth. He gets his shot while eating, so I went over to the table where he was eating, and with Lauren's supervision of course, I prepared for the big moment. She didn't think it was any monumental thing, but from my perspective I would beg to differ. "No big deal Grandpa", Dylan had said the last time when I had chickened out. He made no such comment this time. I followed Lauren's instructions, cleaning the arm, waiting for it to dry, dialing up the insulin in the pen, and then it was time. I had practiced at home on a tomato and a roll just to feel the needle go into something, but this was skin. This was my grandson. Oh boy. I held his arm in one hand, and the pen in the other. Lauren told me to just go ahead and poke him with it. I hesitated. And hesitated. Finally I knew I had to do it, so I just moved the pen's needle to his arm and put it into the skin. I held it there for a count of ten, took it out and I was done. Piece of cake. LOL! Not a sound from Dylan so I must have done okay. Now I am experienced at giving insulin shots. No turning back from now on. Every time I am there for lunch I will do it. As Dylan says, "No big deal Grandpa."

Stepping out....

onto the ledge again. Or maybe I should choose the "head in the oven" option. Just making emotional preparations for the worst case scenario. And you would think I would have had another entry somewhere in between this and the last, but alas, my life isn't full of anecdotes or special events. So then you can see why I am out on the ledge again.

Back from the ledge

Just want to let everyone know I have moved back from the ledge. This is in reference to my posting two days ago. Since then the Mets have swept the Braves and are now back to four ahead of the Phillies. Whew!

OH THE PAIN!!

No, not an accident, or food poisoning. This time I refer to the disaster in Philly. I will soon be taking the magic number counter on this page down because it will be irrelevant. Oh, the pain. Four games. Four losses. And to add to the pain of this short period is the sweep of the Sox by the Yanks. This season could turn into a nightmare for Mets fans. Oh, the pain.

Finally.... and Accident Clarity

In a posting I made on June 30th I mentioned the slow pace of bridge reconstruction in Union Beach. Well, lo and behold, in the past two weeks both bridges have been completed. Apparently they read my blog and were shamed into a speedy conclusion of their work.

Also in a previous posting I detailed my accident as much as I could recall, but my last ride put me on the same road and I wasn't paying attention and hit the same hole. It isn't a regular pothole with clearly defined edges, but more of a paved dent in the road. This time I didn't kiss the asphalt because as soon as I sensed it I grabbed the bars tight. And that is when I learned the cause of my crash. One or two seconds after hitting the first hole I hit a second one. Being aware this time saved me, but last time I would have recovered if not for the second hole. Mystery solved.