Interpreting the sniffles...

In the land of small children, someone is usually crying, just about to cry or recovering from a cry.

In a way, I’m jealous. Sometimes it just seems better to cry than throw something or yell.

In fact, I think most things a psychologist treats…anger management, fear, alcoholism, etc is just people that would have been better served by being told it was okay to cry. In fact, I hear that is what they tell you during counseling.

But the world frowns on crying.

I don’t know why, though. Some say crying is a show of weakness, but it’s obvious everyone is weak in some area.

We are so conditioned about this that we don’t know when we should or shouldn’t. A loss of a loved one sure, but what about a Reese’s Cup that you left in the car and now it is stuck to the paper? Or dropping a frosted mug full of beer?

It’s somewhere in between (depending on how thirsty you are or how much you like two great tastes that taste great together, I guess) but my point is that most people judge crying appropriateness based on when they would cry or how old the crier happens to be.

I guess this makes everyone an expert.

Thanks for nothing...

My glasses are crooked. They don’t line up evenly with both of my eyebrows, which is soon to be just one eyebrow unless I get some professional grooming done.

Years of the kids ripping them off my face and one day of tripping over a Lego castle have rendered them cockeyed.

I can almost get them straight if I put the left side up on the side of my head about a half inch above my ear. But this only works until I move my head or the wind blows.

I went to the eye doctor and asked the technician to fix them. She did and handed them back to me. I told her they still weren’t straight.

“Yes they are,” she said. “But let me see them again.”

She fiddled with them for almost three seconds, handed them back and sternly told me that they were fine.

I said thanks and left.

One more thing to check off the list...

I got invited to play basketball with a group of guys last week.

As I found out, basketball has changed in the seven years I didn’t play.

Back when I played, when you beat your man to the basket, he didn’t hit you in the back of the head or grab your arms to keep you from scoring in a PICKUP game. But now, apparently there is a great deal of shame in letting a 41-year old white guy score on you. But if you assault him, you keep your dignity, I guess.

Also, the current offensive scheme of choice is to dribble around until you can’t score or shoot from some impossible distance or angle and then stop and look around to pass the ball. Gone are the days of looking for someone to cut to the basket. So, to sum up, it’s four guys standing around while one guy plays offense.

And the guy with the keys to the gym takes the most shots, tells you who to guard and monopolizes the basketball.

Unless I find some “old school” guys that play, I’m going back into retirement.

One month wonder...

The Egg Nog people are back in business.

I guess it would be interesting to have a business that had only one profitable month per year. It just makes me wonder what they do the other months. I contacted them and they wrote me back.

Dear Sir:

We keep quite busy during the non-egg nog months. Here is a list:

January: I survived the Obama Inauguration T-Shirts
February: Dating service for NFL fans who lost their wives/girlfriends during the season
March: Selling green dye to Irish Pubs
April: Busing Earth Day participants to rehab
May: Picketing against Horse Racing
June: Reviving the interest in Flag Day
July: Two words: Global Warming! (Northern Hemisphere Project)
August: Back to School Concealed Weapon Certification Classes
September: Bringing back the true meaning of Labor Day Campaign
November: Busing Earth Day participants to the polls to vote for Proposition 215 in California

We take October off.

Sincerely,

And look both ways before you cross the street...

This morning my car displayed the message "Ice Possible, Exercise Caution."

Next I suppose it will tell me to slow down, to not make a cell phone call or maybe it will ask me what I'm thinking.

I don't need this.

Right below the ice warning is a readout that says the temperature. I'm aware of both the Fahrenheit and Celsius benchmarks for freezing and can deduce that temperatures reaching this area are conditions that may allow for ice. So telling me that ice is possible...not necessary.

What I need my car to tell me is if there is a cop around the corner, if the Outback has a 45 minute wait and to remember to stop on the way home to get milk.

But this is the direction the world is headed, I guess.

I'd write more, but I have to go ask my car if my coat matches my tie.

I’m not maintenance free, but at least my hair is again.

Thoughts in the barber chair...

I may be wrong about this, but it seems pretty correct that the one defining thing about a man’s character might be his hairstyle.

Long hair…hippie…possible drug use. Democrat

Short hair…job…family...thinks lying to a grand jury is a crime...Republican.

Pony tail…independently wealthy or extremely unconcerned about public opinion. Independent, of course.

Now all of these have exceptions, and if you are one, congratulations.

My current hairstyle is the kind that doesn’t need combing and gets people to ask me how long I have been a Marine.

It takes about five minutes for the local barber to complete it. This way, I don’t have to talk at length about the government, the weather, or football. It’s not that I don’t have opinions on these things, but I don’t like to argue with a man that I can't see that has scissors in his hand.

And if you are insulted by the generalizations made in this post, you probably are due for a haircut.

My common cold...

It’s cold in here.

I’ve never been able to escape the cold. Even when I lived in the tropics, I was often cold riding to work in my golf cart (without a windshield) or when it rained.

I’m cold sitting at my desk writing this post. I was cold getting out of the shower this morning. I’m still working on an invention to get my (dry and heated) towel without having to open the shower door.

Half of my showering time is standing under the hot water, trying to get up the courage to shut off the water. The other half is wishing I had two more shower heads aimed at me.

This morning, the car was really cold.

I got a coat. I ordered it online. It said with a “light layer” on the coat would keep me warm at temperatures down to 20 degrees Fahrenheit (or about minus 7 Celsius). What I didn’t know that the “light layer” needed to be a layer of neoprene. It hasn’t gotten close to that yet around here and I’m still cold..

With a “heavy layer,” they said my coat would be good down to 5F (that’s minus 15C). I should have known this was a lie. I have NEVER been comfortable in five degrees Fahrenheit. No matter how many layers I had on.

Pearls before swine...

I thought of a new word (or phrase) this morning, so when I had the opportunity, I just blurted it out.

Now, I’ve got to say it to everyone in the house. Say it to Daddy, say it to Grandma, say it on the phone to the lady from AT&T.

It kind of kills my creative juices when I have to constantly repeat myself. And it’s not like I’m splitting the atom. All I said was, “I wan dat!”

And while they marveled and asked each other, “Did you hear him?” they failed to give me what I was asking for in the first place. I’m not talking just to entertain these people, I really wanted the gravy ladle. It makes a great noise when I hit it on the kitchen cabinets.

But my voice cries out in the wilderness sans response. Why am I even talking to them? Sure I’ll say it again…but do you mind listening for a change?

And when I do something really fun, like pour Gracie’s milk on the kitchen table, no one asks me to “do that again.” It’s really kind of frustrating that my best work goes unappreciated. But, this is the life I have chosen…the path less taken.

I’d write more, but I have to go tackle Grandma.

Sure, he's great...which one is he?

We got a Christmas card and photo today from a family that I see every week at church and it was a good thing because I had forgotten what they looked like since Sunday.

What I needed was the kids names. I don’t have a clue. The only one I know the name of is the kid that said “poo-poo” (I’m still unsure if there was malice intended, but it hurt her feelings) to Gracie. I’m keeping an eye on him. He may need his something or other kicked soon.

The other kids in the photo haven’t sworn at me, stolen my property or done anything extraordinary or very interesting, so I don’t know their names.

If they came up to me an introduced themselves, fine. But otherwise, why should I be responsible for knowing their names? Am I to sneak around and try to overhear it from their friends or parents? And parents just talking about their kids doesn't help me recognize them...it's not a newscast with b-roll (tv lingo)...it's more like radio with a bad play-by-play man.

I know kids are special to their parents and I am no less proud of mine than the proudest of the proud. But I don’t expect mine to be special to you.

But if you’ve got one I need to meet, send him/her over. I don’t bite.

Psst...I got something to tell ya...

The cops are going to sit and try to catch people drinking and driving near Pleasant Run Road on December 20 from 9:00 to 11:00 pm.

This isn’t some inside information I have, this is public information. The cops came by today and asked us to announce it.

This, I’m told, is how it is done. It’s the law around here, the cops have to make it public where they are going to be. I guess somebody sued (and won) once upon a time.

But, I don’t suppose it does any harm to the law enforcement effort. I guess if you are out drunk on that night, it probably slips your mind that the cops are going to be waiting for you at that spot. Or maybe these people listen to other stations. I don’t know.

I’d like to figure out how to make some money from this, but I think selling the information (instead of just announcing it) might be illegal. And I have no idea where they’d be hiding to try to catch me doing that.

Today's Post or What I Did in Between the Weather and Sports

I almost read Thoreau’s Walden or Life in the Woods once.

My senior quote (for college) I quoted Thoreau…”Whoso be a man be a non-conformist.” Then I found out that a few others used it too. I guess I should have used, “Yikes and away!” by Daffy Duck.

Anyway, I’ve always appreciated that Thoreau named his book both “Walden” and (or if you prefer) “Life in the Woods.” It gave the prospective reader a chance to size up what the book was about before deciding to read it.

This needs to be done for a few more books.

David Copperfield or Over Three Hundred Pages without a Point by Charles Dickens
Moby Dick or The Cure for Insomnia by Herman Melville
Oliver Twist or Over Four Hundred Pages without a Point by Charles Dickens
Crime and Punishment or Just Punishment if You Read it by Fyodor Dostoevsky
My Life or Even a Dirt-Bag Can Become President by Bill Clinton
The Leatherstocking Tales or Even the Teacher Won’t Read This by James Fenimore Cooper
As I Lay Dying or What I Write Now that I’m Famous and have no Quality Standards by William Faulkner

And finally, I wish to announce I’m changing the name of my blog to: Cayenne Lemonade or The Painful Results of the First Amendment

If I don't post tomorrow, you'll know what happened...

I may have mentioned this (or not) but I do the daily news here at the station. It’s about 15 minutes or so on a good day…but today it may be all of five minutes unless something happens soon. And three of that will be commercials.

The sports teams don’t play until tomorrow night and I did the Tuesday results yesterday. Even the weather is boring.

I drove around town for a bit, but saw nothing. I stopped at the convenience store and got a Pepsi and some beef jerky. I went to the barber shop and eavesdropped for a few minutes.

Still nothing.

When I got back to the office, the top stores remained:
1. A local charity is offering pictures of pets (yours) with Santa.
2. The Fire Department is giving away smoke detectors and batteries.
3. The post office is open.

I may have to go out and commit a crime.

Now that I'm back from washing my hands again...

I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be obsessive-compulsive.

To be fixated and have no other fixation. To be totally focused on one aspect of life or something and not be able to break it, even if you wanted to.

To just think, each waking moment about one particular thing, with no other ideas filtering in or out.

To have one goal or need that dominates all others.

To be fixated and have no other fixation. To be totally focused on one aspect of life or something and not be able to break it, even if you wanted to.

To just think, each waking moment about one particular thing, with no other ideas filtering in or out.

To have one goal or need that dominates all others.

To be fixated and have no other fixation. To be totally focused on one aspect of life or something and not be able to break it, even if you wanted to.

To just think, each waking moment about one particular thing, with no other ideas filtering in or out.

To have one goal or need that dominates all others.

I’ve often wondered about this.

Tabula Rasa...

I won't pollute the blogosphere with bad posts...well, not today that is...

These were my best ideas/things for today...and I'm not going to write about them, as they are not up to the quality I've come to expect from myself.

I saw a cat cross the street yesterday....
John really likes to close the dishwasher....
The carpeting is off green or maybe is it blue? I can't decide...
I work in an office with wood paneling...
Salt and vinegar potato chips make my fingers feel funny...
Is BBQ a word or an acronym?
My printer is out of ink....
I can't always remember the difference between the "star" and the "pound" signs...
and
Why is it so hot in here?

If I come up with some real ideas, I'll be in touch...

And of course..."you'll shoot your eye out, kid"

I saw for the first time (this Christmas season) last night the movie, “The Christmas Story,” the one about the kid that wants a Red Rider BB gun so bad it’s killing him and his quest to get one for Christmas.

The movie has so many funny scenes and it is quite quotable.

“My dad was a turkey junkie…”, for instance.

Anyway, I have a friend that loves this movie. I worked with him for a few summers and even that far from the normal viewing time, we still laughed about it.

He’s in prison now and won’t get out until 2013 or so.

I’ve always imagined prisoners as being ruthless haters of all things good, like puppies and good (mostly) wholesome entertainment. I’ve had to change my mind about that. He made a mistake that will cost him his freedom for a while.

I hope he gets to watch it this year.

Deja vu...

Seven or eight years ago, when I lived in North Carolina, my boss asked me to write down all the things I did at the office, in order to ensure that I wasn’t being overloaded.

I told him that I’d like to, but I didn’t have time.

(it was a joke…he laughed)

See you tomorrow.

Scott has gone where the fishes is....

I was leaving an office supply store/bookstore today when I saw a familiar sight.

It was a sticky-note that said: “Back in 5 minutes.”

It wasn’t on the door, but next to the door, where it would be handy in case the owner needed to step out for a minute (or 5). It’s a common thing in a small town, with businesses having just one or two employees.

The reason it is such a familiar sight is that we have quite a few of these (in waiting) at the station. We have, of course, “back in 5 minutes” and the “back in one hour” for when we go to lunch. We have our cell phone numbers posted on the door in case of emergency.

Sometimes we need a note on the door even when we are here, such as an “on the air” and “ball game in progress” so people will know not to barge in on us while we are doing the news or when we are in the control room running the board (radio lingo).

We have the “office closing at 2:30” the “office closing at 3:30” and the rarely used “office closing at 1:30, if it opens at all” sign.

There’s the “went to the post office” (it’s across the street) and the “getting a haircut” (it’s across the street also). The idea is that if someone needs to talk to you, they can cross the street and find you.

My father-in-law used to have a nifty rhyme about going fishing on his office door a couple of days per week. Something about the grass has riz. (meaning risen...a sign of spring)

A few more will cover everything...I'm adding:
“Ran out for a Pepsi and a bag of Chester’s Flaming Hot Fries”
“Paying speeding ticket at courthouse”
and the occasionally necessary….
“Toilet Seat Down!”

And that 106 I rolled on National Television...

I’m having a writer’s block.

(Or maybe I’m not a writer and this could be called a radio station owner’s block)

It’s snowing outside right now and I could write about the first time I drove in the snow. A guy had started up a hill and then tried to turn around and got stuck across BOTH lanes. I saw him as I crested the hill. The guy in front of me slid into the ditch. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to stop my 1977 Plymouth Horizon down such a steep hill, but crashing into the guy’s truck helped me stop about halfway down.

This month is Christmas and I could write about the bowling ball I once got for Christmas and all the high games I rolled with it until an ankle injury ruined my dreams of a professional career.

Today is Monday and this could jog my memory of the Monday I went to a bar and watched football.

But I guess I’ll write about Gracie finding out last night that her favorite food “chicken” and the cute little animal called a “chicken” are in fact, the same thing, at different steps in their "life." This may change her dietary habits for a little while.