A LOOK AT THE SITUATION

I walked into the garage this morning and happened to look in the corner and saw it. A bag holding a bunch of useless metal and graphite sticks. Why useless? Well if you were here with me when I opened the overhead you would know why…….piles of snow, the results of a typical 12” New England storm….yuck. Yah I know, it’s pretty and soooo New England, but its times like this when even this warm blooded Pollack would prefer a swaying palm tree and lush green fairways. Why the hell did my grandparents settle in New England? Didn’t they know about the Carolinas in Poland? And how come my parents didn’t have enough adventuresome spirit to get the hell out of here?

I take another good look outside with the hope that the pretty winter scene will make up for the wind and 15 degree weather, but looking at the abandoned swimming pool the dried up flowers and the birds and squirrels struggling for a few seeds in the feeder bring me back to reality. I think it’s time to become one of those “Snowbirds” and go down south somewhere for a few weeks until Mother Nature comes to her senses. Guess it’s time to convince my wife that the four kids, spouses and eight grandchildren will survive without our company for a little while.

On the bright side, in a couple of days we’ll all be getting together to celebrate what the Polish call “Wigilia” or Christmas Eve. This day along with Thanksgiving and Easter were my big cooking days. Over the last few years my daughters, evidently feeling compassionate, have taken over these holidays leaving me only an occasional dish to prepare. For Wigilia it will be a pot of mushroom soup which has been a family tradition. I’ve created a few different recipes over the years, but this year I’m doing it the way my mother used to make it. For many years I would make a few excursions to the woods and pick mushrooms which my mother, wife and I would string and let dry in the furnace room. My mother would reconstitute them and use them in our Christmas mushroom soup. It was usually a great tasting soup, although we occasionally ran into some mushrooms that had a very strong laxative effect……lol. Not deadly, but the methane they created might be called deadly by those who were in the same room after dinner. Well enough potty talk. I’m really looking forward to enjoying our Polish Wigilia customs and food.

It’s too bad we can’t have some sort of Christmas type holiday each month. That way we would think about our friends and family and wish them well every month instead of only in December. My thanks to all who make the effort to read my Blogs……I extend to you my best wishes for a wonderful holiday and a happy, healthy 2009.

A Few Thoughts

My desire to enter only Blogs that I feel are either interesting, funny, enlightening or informative creates a major mental writing block for me. I’m afraid that if I merely report daily events of my current, rather mundane life I will lose my huge (lol) audience. Hence, with so little to write about I feel a need to apologize for the sporadic entries to this site.
I have, however, had some recent thoughts about television. I realized that it has a hold on me. Although I have enjoyed reading books in the past, not an avid reader, but I’ve gone thru quite a few books in my time, I find that I only look at them now to see of they’re still standing straight on the book cases. What a shame! The minute I sit down in my recliner I grab the remote and begin my journey up and down thru the numbers seeking that one elusive channel that satisfied me long enough to stop and watch. I continue to do this even though I’ve been convinced long ago that most of them stink. My channel surfs usually end up on the Travel Channel or the Food Channel which is at least something I can relate to.
Besides the junk they send us twenty four hours a day, just try to find something besides infomercials during the wee hours if you happen to have an insomniac night. And speaking of commercials (might be something I’ve already ranted about) have you ever seen so many? They must be giving them away, think I’ll make one myself, use it as my personal “Bitch Channel”. Do you really want to be annoyed, just start paying attention to the canned laughter on the sit-coms or listen to the constant loud barrage of background music on the commercials and shows? Ever notice that the sound level you chose is not valid when the commercial comes on. Boy, they really want you to hear it. Even with my age produced impaired hearing I have to turn it down.
Well folks, I’m kind of happy I started to write these thoughts down, because I’ve convinced myself that those lonely, unread novels on the shelves are finally going to get my attention. My daughter loaned me several Stephen King novels about four years ago which will now replace a few hours of useless TV watching. Mary Ann, I promise you’ll be getting them back shortly.

A calm day at the course

The #4 Utility Wood flew out of the 18^th fairway like a July 4^th rocket. It looked as though it’s final resting place might even be the middle of Savage street, but alas, it hit an upper branch and began a trickling descent to the ground. Landing unharmed, it was soon to be subject to another terrible swing. This club was one of two that hit the air this past Saturday. The other was a nine iron that took a gentler path, traveling no more than four feet off the ground.

I thought my club throwing days were behind me, especially after a near disaster several years ago in Myrtle Beach (that’s another story), but I’m embarrassed to say that I’m still immature enough to let my golf game develop club throwing anger. Perhaps going from a nice round of 86 a couple of weeks ago to a sparkling 100 this week might have been a big part of it. I suppose there will come the day, I hope, when I can take this game lightly and totally accept the fact that with advancing age comes a shitty golf game.

Thank heavens I can handle the nineteen hole with ease. I’m a scratch drinker and eater in the club house. Heinekens and Chili Dogs go down so smoothly that there are never any forks or knives hitting the air.

I think it’s about time to consider letting the clubs rest until March and find something I can handle calmly till then.

Newport

Just thought I'd give you all an opportunity to get a look at our summer home. I'd invite you all over for Thanksgiving, but the place is a beast to heat and the weather's getting a little cold. Seriously though, this is a picture I took of the "Marble House" during a recent weekend we spent in Newport, Rhode Island.

Did you ever agree to something and then have some serious reservations about doing it? Well, recently our friends invited us to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary with them in Newport. Sounds good, but there was a catch, nineteen of their family, children and grandchildren, were also going. Now really, doesn't that sound like we might have had a minority presence? Well surprise, surprise, we had a marvelous time. No bad meals to bitch about, no car or driving problems ( I didn't drive ), no hotel problems, fabulous weather. The whole weekend gave me no fodder for my usual negative blogs.

Friday was spent only with our friends, rest were coming on Saturday. Did one of our usual Winery stops and followed with dinner and a great play at The Newport Playhouse. Play was "Pajama Top" and we were able to watch it from the theater's front row. Even this old guy with advancing impaired hearing was able to hear all the words. The play was followed with a cabaret performance by the cast members.

A pleasant trolley tour provided us with a great history of the city (tour guide was a very enthusiastic retired history teacher), and some great scenery during a shoreline ride. The Trolley trip was topped off with a tour of the Mansion shown above.

As I'm writing this, I'm still amazed at how well the whole weekend went.

Even our trip home on Monday had some pleasant surprises. One more winery stop and a stop at the Mohegan Sun Casino brought an end to our trip. At the Casino we ate at The Dubliner Irish Pub for a second time and was surprised by another good meal. A sandwich of tender Corned Beef with Whiskey Onions, Hot Cabbage & Bacon Slaw, Swiss Cheese and lathered with Guinness Stout Mayo or Spicy Brown Mustard. All this on a nice toasted grinder type roll and washed down with a pint of Harp and Bass Ale. My God, what could be better? I certainly have no idea, because I think it was the best sandwich I have ever had in my seventy three years, and it was only $9.00 ( at a Casino?). The slots didn’t treat me as well as the Dubliner, but one out of two isn’t bad.

This little treat was the culmination of a long, but great weekend trip to Newport, Rhode Island.

Connecticut Wine Trail

There are nineteen vineyards in Connecticut, and Marge and I, along with our friends, Bill and Lee , have visited them all. For the past three years we've participated in what the Connecticut Wineries call the Passport Program. As you visit the wineries, a pass book is stamped by the winery indicating your visit. After you have visited fourteen of them, the book is turned in for a drawing. Lucky winners in past years have taken trips to France, Germany, California, and Canada. This year's first prize is ten days in Spain along with many other weekend trips. We're anxiously waiting for our book to be picked.
Win or lose the program has been great for us. The winery visits and tastings have taken us to some of the most beautiful and scenic areas of our State. Places we would normally not think of visiting. A recent trip this past Sunday found us in Goshen, Connecticut. We drove a stretch of Route 63 North that reminded us of back roads in Vermont. Miles of beautiful scenery without a gas station, convenience store, restaurant, nothing, only a Connecticut few people know exists.
Part of the charm of these trips are the nice, interesting people you meet at the wineries. You are able to use their picnic facilities, buy a bottle, buy a glass or partake of all the wines they produce at a wine tasting. Price of the tasting includes their monogramed glass. On many of our trips we pack a lunch and enjoy the view and wine. Pictured here are the picnic and scenery at Gouveia Vineyards in Wallingford, Connecticut. Quite a view, don't you think? We cap off these days with a nice dinner at one of the restaurants in the area. Surprisingly we even have some nice vineyards in Connecticut's shoreline area. North Stonington boasts a couple and Clinton has Chamard Vineyards. I've pictured Chamard here for a very good Canadian friend who has enjoyed Chamard's Chardonnay. At least he told me he did, when I would bring him up some on visits........lol I'm sure he wasn't lying, because, their Chardonnay has been voted best in the state for many years. I know you think that people who make these winery visits are either old farts like us or alcoholics, but we meet more and more young people making these trips. It's a little late to do the wine trail this year since the Passbook drawing takes place in early November, but you might consider it for 2009.
By the way, we are working real hard to empty some of these barrels, but so far the wineries are filling them quicker than we can empty them.

“BEE” lieve it or not.

Believe it or not the little bastards came back and screwed up another night out for us. We had a business meeting this past Friday afternoon and when we responded to the doorbell and opened the front door to greet our guest, their he stood with fear in his eyes and arms ready to protect his face. Couldn’t figure it out until we saw the yellow jackets swarming our house again and coming into the same place we had previously sprayed. Our exterminator must have used a generic or these damn things have begun to mutate and develop an immunity. Well, I wasn’t too worried since their previous entry hole was plugged up. Figured we could enjoy the play we were going to see that evening and call him back in the morning, but unfortunately, or fortunately Marge is gifted with the hearing of a freakin deer and said listen to this. She dragged me into the dining room and said listen. Appears she now could hear them in the dining room ceiling. Well, with my hearing declining dramatically as I work thru these so called golden years those bees would have to be shooting off cannons for me to hear their buzzing. Well, for me that called for a trip outside to see if they were indeed coming in. I didn’t have to search long, the north side of our house looked like a landing strip on a world war II aircraft carrier.

Now what do we do, to see the play or not to see the play, that is the question. The answer came quickly, call our now regular visiting exterminator and kill-um quick before they eat thru another ceiling and we come home to thousands of uninvited guests. Here's a picture of our first invasion.

Won’t bore you with all the details, but begging got him here from Old Saybrook, Connecticut and it appears the problem is solved…….hopefully.

Saturday and Sunday turned out a hell of a lot better. Golf was good, my partner and I beat our opponents three ways with two greens and a birdie. Sunday it was on two our winery visits.

Great stop in Wallingford at the Gouveia Vineyard. Gorgeous place high up on a hill overlooking some great scenery. Cheese, crackers, a bottle of wine, what could be better. Then it was off to Chamard Vineyard in Clinton, CT. Nice bottle of Chardonay and some more cheese and crackers. Finally a trip to Lenny and Joes Fishtail for a good New England Lobster roll with melted butter. Stress relieved, bees a forgotten issue.......maybe.

Quite an Interesting Day

Here's a picture of yours truly and my wife Marge. Yesterday we celebrated or 54th wedding anniversary. Not record, but in this day and age, that's a lot longer than most. I'm sure that many men occasionally have trouble remembering their anniversary date, but after that horrific day seven years ago, September 11th is hard to forget. Fifty four years ago we started our marriage with a memory.....woke up to hurricane Edna. Five hundred guests trying to make their way to New Britain, Connecticut. What a way to start, but start we did, and here we are after 54 years. Yesterday's anniversary started out fine. Weather was great, flowers were purchased , dinner reservations made and plans finalized to attend an exhibit at New Britain's fine Art Museum.

Marge and I sat down in the kitchen to a nice quiet lunch. As we ate our sandwiches, we were joined by a bee flying around our heads. Marge always keeps a swatter handy, so that bee was history pretty quick. No sooner was he dispatched when another took is place, then another. Our kitchen has an adjoining enclosed porch so we assumed they had gotten in on the porch. Checking the porch we located a few more, but careful aim with the swatter sent them the way of the others. Now we could go back to our lunch, but not before Marge left the kitchen on some mission I no longer recall. That's when she let out a startled little yell. When she passed by the front hall, the bee mystery was solved. The entire hallway was filled with bees. Front windows completely covered with bees and masses of them in the corner of the ceiling. Didn't take long to figure it out now. We have been plagued by bee invasions of the house many other times. They seem to like our house for some reason and get into the attic and build their nest. Access to our house is easy for them and we have to be on watch for them every summer and exterminate. before they go to work on the nest. If we miss the invasion they continue to expand their nest using the ceiling dry wall for nest materials. When the ceiling finally gets real thin a small hole will develop and out they come when attracted by the lights in the house. This has happened four times and I've become an expert at patching ceilings ( an entire closet ceiling was replaced after the "Bee Man" took out a nest holding nearly 10,000 bees.

Well, there went the anniversary celebration. A call to the exterminator's office proved a disappointment when we found out he was away for the weekend and would not be back until Monday. Well, we finally got ahold of his helper and together he and I found a way to gather the bees ( vacuumed them ), plug the hole and spray the nest. Mission accomplished, and another memorable 9/11 established.

P.S. No museum trip, but we did manage to enjoy a very nice dinner which included enough wine to sooth the savage beast (me).

SCARLET LADIES

I think you all know what comes to mind when we hear the words Scarlet Ladies. I envision the ladies of the old Western saloons all dressed in fancy red dresses. The ladies who tried their best to keep all the men "happy". Well this isn't about them. This is about twenty elderly women prancing around in fancy red hats and purple attire. These twenty are part of nearly 2 million in thousands of similar groups around the world.

Back in 1998 I think there was a little Asian business man sitting in his warehouse, hands clutching his temples wondering "what the hell am I going to do with this red hat overrun". Well I think he got a hold of Sue Ellen Cooper and said "please help me empty this warehouse". Well, she certainly did. She along with some friends started this movement which has expanded to epic proportions. This Scarlet Lady group is led by my wife, the "Queen Mum". They try to get together monthly for nothing more than fun, no business stuff, only lunches, museum trips , tours, plays. Great idea as far as I'm concerned. I'm really thinking of forming a "Blue Cap Society". Men only, wearing blue baseball caps and going to places like bars, hooters, and ballgames.
Well, anyway, each member of the Scarlet Ladies is in charge of planning one of the monthly outings. My wife for some reason has decided that once a year I should become an honorary Red Hatter and hold a picnic as her monthly contribution. I've done this for the past three years and have had our Grandaughters act as waitresses.

The ladies have been treated to Pork Tenderloin, Filet Mignon, and Chicken lunches these past three years, and I must say, although being hard work, it's been fun for me.

Man, it's probably the wine I serve, but I've become quite the hero with these ladies. Why, oh why, couldn't I have been this popular with women when I was young and available.

Seriously, I give these Red Hat groups a lot of credit. No sitting around in a rocking chair knitting sweaters for them. No way, they're out there enjoying themselves and doing things they never had time for before. "My Blue Cap off to you Ladies".

The Gentleman Farmer

No, that's not a snake in my hand, it's a string bean. Last year a friend and neighbor brought over a handful of these beans for me to try. They turned out to be delicious. It turns out that these things are called "Chinese Long Beans" and they grow from 14" to 30" inches long. One day he came over and gave me a small bag of beans from his previous crop. Couldn't figure out what I was going to do with them , but we do have a long 52' wall behind our pool which has been decorated each year with pots of geraniums. The pots rest on soil between the wall and our fence. Good place to plant the beans and let them climb on strings attached to the fence. Then I got a real wild idea, dump the flowers and plant vegetables in the pots.

Well off to Walmart I went, bought cherry tomatoes, yellow tomatoes, peppers, and butternut squash. Never gave any thought to the fact that I had to water the hell out of the pots that dry out every other day. Then my brother tells me I have to fertilize them all summer. I suddenly realized that I was turning into a farmer. ........I like the term "Gentleman Farmer."
Any way the venture is proving to be very rewarding. Each night we've been enjoying salads with our own cherry and yellow tomatoes, peppers and have accompanied our meals with those big long string beans.

I've got five of these big Butternut Squash beauties growing on a 24' vine spreading out from just one little pot....can't believe it. It's been an interesting experience, this "farm" of ours. I stroll around the pool to inspect in the morning and evening to see if the chipmunks have left me any ripe cherry tomatoes for my daily picking. The little bastards are eating well this year. I've been joking with my family that if this pot garden starts producing any more I'm going to build a little stand in front of the house and recoup my investment.

This morning I received an email from my brother reminding me that I complain too much about leading an "old fart's" dull life. He's taken on the task of spicing up my life. This past month he talked me into going to an outdoor concert (Beatles Tribute) in Simsbury. Had a great time especially with the good company, wine and Kentucky Fried Chicken. He's also talked me into blowing the moth balls out of my wallet and buying tickets to a Michael Buble concert in December. Sorry about all those complaining posts Pete, I guess with a little outside help I can still be rejuvenated.

Fruit of the Vine

My nephew and his wife were up from Maryland to show the family their new addition, a beautiful baby daughter, Julia Elizabeth. While we were catching up on things he told me that he was tired of still seeing “The Bucket List” on my Blog site. I told him that entries for me are not as easy as they are for other members of the family. They have so many things to write about, new kids, new jobs, home remodeling, trips, you name it. While I on the other hand have been type caste as a bitcher, moaner and overall grouchy old fart. The only time I get inspired is when I’ve got something that annoys me to the extent that I feel it needs to be shared with the world.

Well, I started to think about this and decided that I do have stuff going on , maybe not super exciting, but if you people are crazy enough to read my stuff I’m going to start telling you what’s going on. For example, we’ve started to make our pilgrimage to all the Connecticut wineries. Over the past few years the Connecticut wineries, all nineteen of them and growing, have what they are calling “A Passport Program”. At the first winery you visit, you pick up a passport and get it stamped at the winery. You then must get your book stamped at a total of fourteen wineries. In late October, you turn in your passport at the last winery you visit. The wineries then hold a drawing for various prizes which, in the past, have included trips to Germany, Spain, California, and Canada along with other prizes. Don’t really expect win anything but our wine tasting trips have been very enjoyable. We travel with another couple and usually visit three of them with a picnic lunch in between. At the visits we taste five or six of their wines, and buy a bottle or two to replenish the wine cooler which shows a great deal of winter depletion. The trip usually takes us thru many small picturesque Connecticut towns. We cap off the day with dinner at a restaurant on our way home. Kind of a senior type of day, don’t you think?

Played golf today in the old guy’s nine hole league and decided that I still don’t understand many things about the game. For the past few years I have driven the ball quite well, not super long but straight. Don’t lose balls anymore. Today, I couldn’t buy a decent tee shot, but ended up shooting 40 with the absolute best putting round of my life. How does this happen? Played this past Sunday and couldn’t make any. Today, I couldn’t miss ……made a bunch and even came close on the chips and long putts that you don’t ever expect to make…..strange game, kissed my putter several times and decided I was taking it to bed with me tonight and continue my love affair.

Getting late so I’ll wrap this up, but still have an entry coming up in a few days on how I became a “Gentleman Farmer”.

BUCKET LIST

Watched "The Bucket List" a couple of weeks ago. The movie was blessed with two great actors, Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. They're capable of making any movie a good one. Thinking about the two of them, I don't think they even have to act, that's really who they are. The only fault I had with the movie was that it was too damn depressing. Come on, two old guys sick and dying. Really cheers up someone my age.

Everyone knows "kick the bucket" means to die, but few understand why. Where else to go but to the web for answers? I found that it is said that the phrase comes from "an old-school suicide technique." The depressed person would allegedly stand atop a bucket with his or her head in a noose, then kick away the bucket and take a one-way trip to the great beyond.

This might be the answer, but here’s another, even more gruesome, possibility. Slaughtered hogs "were traditionally hung by their heels on a high wooden block." This block was called a bucket because the ill-fated hogs were hoisted with a rope and pulley in a manner similar to how a bucket of water is pulled from a well. "Supposedly, the hogs' dying struggles as they kicked against this so-called bucket led to the birth of the idiom."

I've continued thinking about the movie's theme and decided that everyone should make their own "Bucket List". A real private list, since I have no doubt that everyone's list would include things you didn't want anyone else to see. I'm sure all of you have thought about things you would want to accomplish. We have these thoughts, but eventually forget about them or bury them in some small corner of our brain. But, if we had them on paper we might give some serious thoughts about actually trying to get them crossed off the list.

So, with that in mind, I've decided to make a bucket list of my own.......it might just be just a mental exercise, but who knows, I might just get to cross a couple off.

Ok, let's see: Visit the pyramids, shoot my age at golf (only if I live to 95), lose fifty pounds. Well that's a start. The sexual ones will have to remain on my hidden list. I bet we'll all have some of them.

The Amazing Brain

The storage capacity of the human brain continues to amaze me. More so these days as I get older because the long term memory seems to be getting stronger and stronger. Little details from the past are getting clearer and clearer. Can't remember what I had for breakfast, but fifty years ago, no problem. While on one of those long term memory trips I was reminiscing the other day about some of my past trips to Canada. I was lucky enough to have some great Canadian business friends who annually invited my brother and I to visit their facility. While visiting we were treated like kings. On one of these visits we were taken to a pretty French bistro for lunch, at least I think I could call it a bistro. On this occasion about 8 or 10 French men were enjoying lunch with us when my host, always eager to please, asked me how I was enjoying my meal, which on this occasion, was a plate of delicious frog's legs. It appeared as though everyone was waiting for my answer. Without thinking I blurted out, "I never met a Frog I didn't like". I needn't have worried about my little social disaster as those at the table roared at my fau pax. Why is this event still so clear in my mind?

For some reason, this same host seemed to always delight in watching me devour food and drink. The wine glass was never allowed to go empty as was my plate. On another occasion, at one of Montreal's finest restaurants he discovered that I loved oysters on the half shell as much as he did. That's all he needed, plates of them kept coming until the poor waiter finally came to the table holding a plate with far less than the usual dozen. He explained apologetically that this was all the kitchen had left and that these were on the house.

Why is it that we remember these things as clearly as if it were yesterday. We certainly don't remember the pains of past tooth aches that well. Conditioned I guess to block out the bad and remember the good. I remember the home runs I hit, but for the like of me I don't seem to remember the times I struck out.

It is truly amazing how much information we have at our disposal in that thing sitting on our shoulders. Watching programs like Jeopardy I will at times come up with a correct answer that I have no idea why I should know. How is it possible for us to recall things that occurred fifty and sixty years ago. Look at all the experiences we've had during those years, and yet we're able to not only remember conversations, but even create visual pictures of things that happened so long ago. What a creation the human brain is. I wonder how big a computer hard drive would have to be to hold it all.

Oops! Just forgot something..........see ya!

I'm Back

Never tried to post a picture before, thought I'd give it a try. In past Blogs I've talked about this senior activity of ours where we get a tremendous amount of exercise lifting wine bottles. These are our friends, Bill and Alecia to the right of my wife Marge displaying our future purchases. You can't believe how these winery trips have helped keep us in shape. We usually start the day with a picnic lunch, visit three wineries, sample about fifteen or sixteen wines, eat many crackers and finish off the day with a dinner at a restaurant. At times we even cracked open one of our inevitable wine purchases. One year we managed to visit fifteen different Connecticut wineries. The picture shown is from a recent winery visit in Florida. Funny, other people go to Florida to golf, sit on beaches, well I guess you know what we do. Have to get your exercise somehow.

I was quite flattered when two people this past week complained that I had not posted a Blog since April. I feel that just like an actor who has been type cast, can't Blog without a bitch, so with most everything going pretty well, I haven't had much to work with. My son, however, did come up with one that I've thought about quite a few times. In Connecticut like so many states there came a need for more area codes than just 860. So area code 203 was established, but wait, it's 203 only in certain areas. In other areas you need to dial a one before the 203. Come on, stupid or what....are you supposed to have a map out before you dial, or do you flip a coin?

Bitch number two. Do engineers or package design people ever try out their creations? Here's one that really gets me. As you have probably noticed, Heinz has come out with a super convenient squeeze bottle of hot dog relish. The only problem is that on your first attempt at getting it out of the bottle your greated with a dose of pickle water. Then if you can squeeze hard enough you'll get an explosion of relish out of the ridiculous 1/2 inch hole provided. Do you think maybe thats it's on sale for $.88. They must have a warehouse full. Squeeze mustard bottles kind of suck too. Your first squeeze will also get you a little stream of yellow water to contaminate your dog.

Well i don't want this entry to take up anymore of your valuable time or you'll stop reading them.......blog you soon.

More Observations

I think about the weirdest things as you perhaps gathered from reading some of my blogs. Thanks for being so understanding. Here’s another thought I had while having our regular Sunday restaurant breakfast. Have the rest of you noticed that when going to the container for jelly you have to search hard for a Strawberry, Marmalade, or Mixed Fruit amongst a ton of Grape. I’ve even been to places where there was nothing but Grape. Where did the restaurants get the idea that we just love grape. I don’t know, maybe they think we still love it because of those giant Welch Grape Jelly jugs our mothers used to buy (must have been the cheapest) when we were young. By the way, while pondering this I received the best cheese omelet I’ve had in years. Could not believe it, fluffy, full of cheese and even the home fries and toast were done just right. Actually couldn’t believe it. Doesn’t happen often for me. Downside is that it gave me nothing to bitch about which is very rare.

Advancing age and retirement must be taking its toll on me since my thoughts keep getting stranger by the day. Just this past Saturday during my weekly round of golf I was trying to determine if there was any advantage to being a senior citizen. Certainly wasn’t my golf game which over the years has deteriorated from a 9 to a 20 handicap. Saturday golf has turned from pleasure, to at times, severe pain. Saturday golf now has two good things about it, breakfast with my friends and Heinekens after golf surrounding the requisite 18 holes of misery. I must admit that the Lord does bless me occasionally with a couple of good shots.

I do try hard to see its advantage, but a small senior discount doesn’t make up for the aches and pains which seem to crop up on a regular basis. Seems that I find a new one daily as I crawl out of bed. Wait, I found one. Women, both young and old are easy to communicate with. I guess they now view me as harmless when approached, talked to or joked with. Doesn’t make up for all the rest though.

Well enough moaning for this entry. See you soon.

FLORIDA AGAIN

We just got back from our grueling 3400 mile trip to Florida. Getting four tickets to the Women’s Final Four in the NCAA lottery began the planning for this trip. We went with friends who unfortunately do not fly, hence the grueling description of the trip. Spent the first week in a Condo in the Orlando area and were able to spend a day at the Kennedy Space Center and a day at Epcot. Good beginning to the trip until the Uconn girl’s embarrassing loss to Stanford in the semi-final…..also poured like hell, tough with no umbrellas. It put a little damper on things, but a couple of Yuenglings helped to warm it up again.

After a little winery tasting trip and tour it was off to Saint Augustine for a few days. Very nice interesting city…..took a few tours and a stop at an interesting Alligator Farm. You’ll have to see the pictures some day. Final area visited was Savannah, Georgia which I like. Made sure we ate at Paula Deen’s, a wish our traveling companions had. Marge and I had previously eaten at Paula’s……still not terribly impressed, but popular as hell because of the TV exposure………an absolute gold mine.

Just to let you know that this trip still did nothing to turn Florida on to me, although we did go by a few “nicer” areas on our way to Saint Augustine, rural cattle country as opposed to miles of flat, straight highways clogged with cars and lined with strip malls, all with the same stores and restaurants every other city has. Again, I want to assure my friends and family that this guy will not be turning into a “Snowbird” so you don’t have to worry about visiting us. Might get me into Southwest Virginia or Northwest North Carolina, but that’s it.

Surprisingly the big Enclave gave us over 20 miles to the gallon on every tank full. Highest was 25.6 and average on others was about 22.5. Very comfortable ride, even with my passengers who have a few back problems. More importantly though, I didn’t get any speeding tickets……I must be getting old.

Florida - March 27, 2008

I just got back from a week long golf trip down in Florida, West Palm Beach area. I had visited Florida before, but that trip was primarily a business one where, except for an afternoon boat trip on the Inter Coastal Waterway, I spent my time in meetings in a hotel. That didn’t give me much time to look the area over, but this time I had the whole week to get an idea what Florida
is all about.

Now before I go any further I want to make it perfectly clear that I have nothing against old people. Being 73 years young I consider myself a member of that group. Having said that, I have to tell you that I never saw so many old, and I do mean old people in one place as I did during my week’s stay. They were everywhere, in the condos, on the golf courses, in the bars and restaurants. All sort of means of transportation, cars, mechanized wheel chairs, walkers, canes, you name it. Now as I said before, nothing against the elderly, but give me a break, let me mingle a little with some young people. Even old guys like to look at a young pretty girl once in awhile. I was really depressed and thankful that I was still mobile. One advantage for me while there, the Snow Birds drive the restaurant prices down. Some super “early birds”.

I can’t say that we didn’t have some outstanding sunshine even though I’m not an admirer of heat…..this large body (they call me “Big Guy”) doesn’t take well to hot weather. All in all I wasn’t impressed with Florida, at least in the area we were in. Flat as a pancake terrain with highways that stretch for miles without a bump or bend and lined by one after another strip malls. Boring, boring, boring. In defense of the state I guess there must be some nice areas somewhere, but in the meantime I’ll stay right here in New England.

Well, I’m going to give Florida another chance. Driving down with another couple to Orlando for a week, then to Tampa to hopefully see the Uconn girls perform in the final four of the NCAA Tournament. Next stop, Saint Augustine and then to Savannah, Georgia to sample some of Paula Deen’s cooking. I hope I can form some better opinions of Florida. Will let you know when I get back.

Chrome Domes

I go to church nearly every Sunday and consider myself a pretty religious fellow, although there are many out there that might question that fact. I will, however, admit that during that hour of Mass both my mind and eyes wander most of the time. I can’t help it, I’m a people watcher and I am not selective. I watch beautiful women, ugly people, young people, and old people. This past Sunday I spent the hour staring at bald people, all of them men. I saw naked domes that could reflect light, I saw receding hairlines, friar Tuck heads, heads with little patches, big patches, just about every exhibit of bare skin you can think of.

I switched my viewing and tried to find a bald woman. Couldn’t. I saw thin hair, overworked hair, but couldn’t find a bald women. Why are they so lucky? I never before gave it a thought, but seeing that sea of scalps I couldn’t help wondering why. I think it would be fun if we had a lot of bald women walking around. Can you just imagine it?

Well I set about that afternoon to find out why this was the case. You know you can find anything on the Internet these days. I started out by Googling “Male Pattern Baldness”. Low and behold, I got my answer right away along with a bunch of pictures showing every kind of bald heads you could imagine.

Well, it turns out that most men are genetically predisposed to male pattern baldness. It is the effect of hormones on the hair follicle that produces male pattern baldness. Testosterone, a hormone that is present in high levels in males after puberty, is converted to dihydrotestosterone (DHT) by an enzyme called 5-alpha reductase. DHT has an adverse affect on the hair follicles. Acting on a hormone receptor on the hair follicle it slows down hair production and produces weak, shorter hair, sometimes it stops hair growth from the follicle completely. This process gradually depletes your stock of hair and is normal hair loss.

Isn’t it ironic that the hormone that produces our virility and masculinity eventually turns us into a bald “Old Man”. I think I’ll get a Michael Jordon Or Shaq haircut, then no one will ever know.

Rhino's roaring again!

Does anyone else out there think that the number of commercials on television is getting ridiculous? When I can get out of my recliner, go upstairs, make a coffee, grab a snack and even take a leak and not miss any of the show I was watching, something is wrong. Are they giving away advertising time these days? With so many channels and so much air time, advertising prices must be ridiculously cheap. Are the networks using grocery chain store ploys, "Buy one get one Free"? And have you ever seen so many car ads, and drugs ads. I can't believe how many drugs there are that I have never even heard of. I firmly believe they develop the drug and then invent a disease for it.

The commercials really frost me. We pay dearly every month for cable, with prices going up on a regular basis and still have to watch so many. I think a half hour show is only about twenty minutes long. And heaven forbid that you have a sleepless night and want to occupy yourselve with a little tv watching.......hope you like thirty minute commercials ( infomercials ).

Then we have the whole High Def thing. How many people bought those beautiful flat screen sets expecting that super sharp, big picture. What a surprise, fork over a couple more sawbucks and you can have it or continue watching what you had by turning the picture into a small square. Of course you have the other option of stretching it out to fill the screen, adding about fifty pounds to the actors and knocking off a few inches off their height.

I of course could go into a little bitch about broadcasting important basketball and football games on channels only available on special expensive cable packages.

I only hope I'm not the only one that's a little p___ed at cable.

A NEW ENGLAND MORNING

Looked out the window to see how the world looks this morning. What a beautiful New England day……two or three inches of white stuff, rain coming down freezing on the trees and roads. How exciting! Now begins my serious pondering as to how the hell I’m going to get my trash barrel down my ski slope driveway for tomorrow’s collection. Amazing how we don’t think about things like driveway slopes when we’re young and looking to buy a house.

As I sat and contemplated all these important retired guys problems a serious question crossed my mind. Why the hell did my grandparents settle here in New England? What was the great attraction in Bondsville, that little hamlet near Chicopee, the little Poland of Massachusetts? Did you know why so many Polish people settled in Chicopee? When they entered the country they were actually headed to Chicago, another Polish stronghold. Many of the immigrants unfortunately mispronounced Chicago and ended up in Chicopee. Didn’t they teach geography in Poland? Didn’t they know anything about places like Savannah, Charleston, or Norfolk? If they had, I might have been on the PGA Tour with all the golf I could have played……just kidding, but seriously, you have to wonder what would have been if they settled somewhere else.

Oh well, no use dreaming, time to go outside and clear some of that New England sunshine that settled in my yard.

Proxy Bitch

I had breakfast with my brother the other day. As I sat there watching him drink his diet Pepsi it occurred to me that he was getting royally screwed by ordering that soda. I should clarify this for you. While most people in the US of A drink coffee or tea with their eggs, my brother has never had his lips touched by coffee. I was almost done with my second cup of coffee, but no problem, here comes the waitress with the pot and another refill for me. It was then that I looked over and saw that his Pepsi glass was almost empty. Did the waitress offer him a free refill, hell no! Did she ask if he wanted another, even one he would pay for, hell no! It was then that it occurred to me how screwed the soda drinkers are.

Soda cost restaurants very little, a dribble of syrup and a squirt of seltzer and yet they charge what, a $1.00, $1.25, whatever. I think at today’s prices that cup of coffee probably cost them the same, but think about this. After my usual cup and three refills, now we divide the $1.25 coffee price and lo and behold, I’m having thirty cent beverage.

Since that day, I’ve been thinking about why the soda drinkers don’t get asked. It’s because the waitress will have to grab the glass, go all the way back to the service area, put some ice in the glass, pour the soda, and travel all the way back to the table. Compare this to the coffee refill procedure. Grab a pot and walk by and take care of half the restaurant in one easy trip. I really felt sorry for my brother who has often reminded me of his plight.

I call this little blog my Proxy Bitch.

January 1, 2008

Watched the “Ball” come down in Times Square to welcome the New Year for the umpteenth time. Is it my imagination or are the crowds getting bigger each year? What a mind-boggling mass of humanity. On the news yesterday I heard that the masses started arriving around 2:30. My question every year is where do they pee? Let’s see, if my math is correct that’s at least ten hours in the street. They say that Camels can hang in there for a long time, but come on, ten hours? There’s certainly no men in that crowd with enlarged prostates. Speaking from experience, two hours is about it for me.

While on the subject of the Times Square celebration I have to express my anger at the TV Networks. We stay at home old timer’s sacrifice our precious sleep time and labor to stay up to see the New Year in. We get one short glimpse of the throng and then it’s off to commercial time. After five minutes of the usually stupid commercials they finally get back to what we’ve been waiting hours for and humor us with a 1-1/2 minute view before the “Ball’s descent. You would think they would have a little mercy on this once a year event. After all they’ve had the whole year to saturate us with endless car and drug commercials. To tell the truth, without all the car commercials we probably would have to go back to radio.

By the way, I admire Dick Clark for his courage and dedication to the tradition he established, but don’t you think it’s time to pass the baton?

Well our illustrious weather forecasters did it again; they filled the grocery stores again as people loaded up the larders against that New England terror, the dreaded Nor’easter. Even my cautious wife loaded up the thermos with hot water (we don’t have gas), got out the candles, lanterns and flashlights in preparation for the worst. Let me tell you, my back is aching from clearing off that ¼” of white. I can’t think of another job where being wrong so often continues to be rewarded, well maybe politics and sports.

Looks like I’m back on the bitch wagon again. Till next time.