Serve Out

Amazingly, it is the end of another month. Usually, I drag out all the bizarre photos that have accumulated in the inner recesses of my computer, but this time I think I'll recycle some of the newspaper articles that I have clipped and stuck on the wall.

Like the one about the middle-aged white couple seen stealing political signs in the Austin area. Not all that unusual for one party to vandalize another party's signage, but these two seem apolitical - they are taking all of the signs from all candidates that they can get their hands on. The printed portion, the wooden stakes, the metal rods - it's all being scooped up. Police are looking for a house under construction using recycled materials.

Speaking of signs, how about the prank brought to you by the letter 'T' and the students at Georgia Tech? The letter 'T' is disappearing from signs all over campus, costing the school more than $100,000 in repairs. Officials at the school are asking students to knock it off. Undergraduate President Elle Creel says the tradition of stealing the 'T' off Tech Tower began in the 1960s. But this new ritual involves taking a 'T' from everything from stadium signs to book return bins in front of the campus library. Student leaders recently launched an amnesty program to try and retrieve some of the letters.

Did you see that PETA wanted Turkey, Texas to change the town's name to Tofurkey, Texas? That's a contraction of Tofu and Turkey, a vegan alternative, if you didn't get it. The mayor of Turkey, Pat Carson, was not too receptive to the idea. And shortly after, the owners of Pork Barrel BBQ, a barbecue sauce company, offered the town $1,000 and part of the company's web site profits to briefly change the name to  Barbecue, Texas. Apart from being the home of Bob Wills, the little town of Turkey hasn't got a lot going for it; maybe auctioning off the name is a good idea.

Or did you hear about the wild turkey that smashed through a plate glass window at an empty restaurant near Pittsburgh, PA. and ended up where millions of its fellow gobblers did on Thanksgiving: a dining room? Penn Hills police said the feathered fowl didn't survive impact when it barreled into the dining room of the Eat'n Park on Thursday afternoon. The restaurant was closed at the time. Obviously the turkey's escape plan didn't work out as planned.

Several possible victims have come forward alleging a woman posing as a Florida doctor and promising buttocks enhancement pumped their behinds with a toxic concoction of, well, cement, superglue and flat-tire sealant, state health officials said Tuesday. It gets stranger -

Oneal Ron Morris — who police say was born a man and identifies as a woman — was arrested Friday after nearly a year of being sought and charged with practicing medicine without a license with serious bodily injury. Authorities say a victim who was looking to get a job at a nightclub and wanted a curvier figure paid Morris $700 for the injections in 2010. Morris allegedly used some type of tubing and injected the toxic chemicals into her backside during a painful procedure. You think?

And all the violence surrounding Black Friday shopping became so common it was no longer an unusual news item. Tasers, pepper spray, clubs - it used to be credit cards that you shouldn't leave home without.

How about the guy in Lubbock who had to be rescued from the chimney of his house? He said he wasn't trying to be Santa Claus. He was just locked out of his house and wanted to save the price of a locksmith, so decided to enter the house through the chimney as his wife and child waited outside around 1 a.m. Monday. The man's wife called 911 after he became stuck and firefighters hauled him out uninjured about an hour later. Ho, ho, ho.

And I'm sorry to report that Frosty the Snowman got arrested in Maryland. Maybe "Surly the Snowman" would be a better name for a costumed man accused of getting out of hand at a Christmas parade. Police in Chestertown, on Maryland's Eastern Shore arrested a man dressed as "Frosty the Snowman" on Saturday after he allegedly fought with a cop and kicked at a police dog. Kevin Michael Walsh became agitated when a dog-handling officer tried to escort him away from the crowd. It's unclear what prompted police to redirect Walsh in the first place, but cops claim that the suspect allegedly hit one officer in the face with the head from his Frosty costume and pushed another cop who tried to put him in a patrol car. Nothing in your stocking this year, Frosty.

Stay sane, my friends. The hard part is still ahead of us.

Monday Meanderings 11.28.2011

We enjoyed a peaceful Thanksgiving this year - certainly was not as exciting as the Thanksgiving when we tried out the "cook a turkey in a brown paper bag to retain flavor and juices." This was way before the commercial cooking bags hit the market. We were hosting guests - students from ACU - that year. We got up early to get the cooking started, and after everything was set and the bagged turkey was in the oven, we went back to bed. But not for long. The house filled with smoke when the bag caught fire and burned down to the liquid line. Then we almost dumped the whole thing in the floor getting it out of the ash-filled pan, but finally got it cleaned off and back in the oven. As I recall, Thanksgiving dinner was served late that day.

We did not, however, do as badly as a local restaurant, whose deep-fried turkey operation went up in flames early Thursday morning, depriving 125 customers of the Cajun-fried turkeys they were planning on serving in just a few hours! Fortunately, they had set up the fry stations out back, so at least the restaurant itself didn't go up in smoke.

And while we did not enter into the Black Friday shopping frenzy (except online), we did get out and go shopping on Friday for normal stuff, like groceries. We even braved Wal Mart, but stayed in the grocery section and kept purchases under 20 items so as to be able to use the Express lane. Pretty, daring, if you ask me. We might have encountered the lady who used pepper spray to hold off all the other shoppers while she made her selection.

Enjoyed the historic UT-A&M football game - especially the way it turned out. Someone said, "UT won the first one, won the last one, and won the majority of the ones in the middle." I have to gloat a bit; when A&M made their last touchdown with only a couple of minutes to play, Barb packed it in. I was able, a few minutes later, to stick my head in and say, "Oh ye of little faith."

While preparing breakfast the other morning we began hearing a strange noise - something between a small animal in distress and an alarm of some kind. Could not locate the source. Stuck my head outside - nope, coming from in the house. Strongest in the kitchen, Wait, now strongest in the dining room. Something in the attic? Not in any other part of the house. This is really annoying; the eggs are getting cold but how can we sit down to a peaceful breakfast with Eeep! Eeep! Eeep! going on in the background? Wait! It's...it's...coming from Barb's pocket! It was a game app that somehow got punched up!

It appears that in Austin, the F in F1 stands for Flop, not Formula. Anybody want to buy 500 acres of scraped ground in Southeast Travis County? It's out of character, but at least the City and the State didn't sink any up-front money into this boondoggle. Yet.

And this sort of sums it up for me.

 

Enjoy your week.

A small Thanksgiving memory - stories for my grandchildren

The tryptophan fog has lifted a bit, but the leftovers live on! I trust your Thanksgiving was a joyful experience, and you were blessed by the day.

A small Thanksgiving memory from many years ago -  Grandmother Anderson, my father's mother, had a brother who lived most of his life in the remote, wilderness areas of Canada. His story, and those that he told, are subjects of blogs to come, but for now the focus is on a particular trip he and his wife made to Texas.

I was a teen when I first met Great-Uncle Virgil. I'm unsure of his age at that time, but he and his wife were at the point where the harsh Canadian winters drove them to warmer climates, so annually they came south - usually spending some time with my Grandmother and the rest of the trip exploring warm places.

One of the trips co-insided with Thanksgiving, so the family gathered, and a great feast it was. Great-Uncle Virgil brought a few quarts of Cranberries, picked from bushes in a bog near their home in Canada. Picked fresh, they made the trip to Texas in the back of the car and got processed into Cranberry sauce for the meal. Delicious.

The story is a bit vague from that point, but around the table heads began to snap back after a taste or two of the Cranberry sauce, and knowing glances were exchanged among some of  family members. I myself do not clearly remember, but the story is that my little Grandmother, who had consumed several helpings of Cranberries by that time, was just a little bit giggly.

"Why yes, there had been several nights with the temperature below freezing before we picked the Cranberries. And yes, I did seal them in quart jars before we came down? Why do you ask? And would you pass the Cranberries, please?"

Pigorian Chants

Someone handed me a small booklet with an enclosed CD of...Pigorian Chants. Yes, classical Gregorian chants, by pigs. Well, voices assuming the role of pigs, and cows and chickens, and even the farmer.

Although this delightful little book has been around for a while, it's a new finding for me - so if you already have 3 copies, I apologize. The whole thing is from the imagination of Sandra Boynton, long famous for her whimsical greeting cards embellished with, well, pigs and cows and chickens, etc. I tried diligently to incorporate a sample of the pictures and audio, but I don't have the technical acumen to pull that off, and if I did, I would probably fall afowl (that's a pun) of Ms. Boynton's lawyers, never mind the pictures you see here. So I'll just describe as best I can what the book is about.


The chants begin with the pigs fast asleep. They chant:

Ore-Snay, OreSnay.       Snore, snore.

Ore-Snay, OreSnay.       Snore, snore.

Ore-Snay, OreSnay.       Snore, snore.

Ore-Snay, OreSnay.       Snore, snore.

It's possible that you noticed that the pigs chant in Pig Latin. The dawn comes, and the animals awaken. First the Rooster, then the chickens:

Coccadoodul du.           Cock-a-doodle-doo.
Ego dixi:                 I said,
Coccadoodul du.           Cock-a-doodle-doo.

O, primam lucem.          O, first light!

Sol surgit.               The sun is rising.

Gallus magnifice          The strutting

incedens exclamat.        Rooster calls.

Nunc venit agricola.      Now comes the farmer.


Ecce Macdonaldus Senex    Behold Old MacDonald,
qui fundum habet.         Who has a farm.
E-I-E-I-O                 EIEIO.

And it continues to name the farm animals, with a Ni oink oink hic, and a Ni oink oink ibi.

The gist of the book is that the pigs want to sleep(Et-lay us-ay eep-slay) and not until the farmer threatens to give their food to the chickens can they be rousted (Op-stay, Opstay. E're-way oming-cay!).

The cow's response?

Margaritas ante porcos.    Pearls before swine.
Allemooia, allemooooooia.  Allemoia, Allemooia.
Et in Arcadia sumus.       Country life is 
                           overrated.

There's much, much more. Quoting from the back cover:
"Intoned in the original Pig Latin, with antiphonal responsoria and commentaria in Latin by the lesser barnyard animals, and featuring the ethereal polyphony of chickens, this music is not soon to be forgotten."

 I'll be honest - this is not a recording that you will treasure over the years and play it again and again. A little chanting gos a long way, But it may be that you are in need of a white elephant gift for an upcoming party. This might be - if you can still find it in the stores - just the item.

Monday Meanderings - 11.21.2011

They handed out the annual certificates of appreciation at Learning Ally this past week. Mine said that I have logged a total of 527 hours in the studio. I think 500 of that has been devoted to a business statistics book that goes into excruciating detail on building Excel spreadsheets to solve detailed business problems. #notlikethatbook.

Still motivated to keep the exercise and smarter food-choices action going. It continues to bring results, one of which is an increased level of, well...chafed-ness. Not sure how marathon runners handle that. Family-friendly suggestions are needed.

And just in case you are keeping a log, I have now watched all 194 minutes of Titanic, a 1966 movie called Blue Max - an oldy with George Peppard and Ursala Andress, and next is The Iceman Cometh, with Lee Marvin. Maybe I will have to figure out this streaming stuff, after all.

After lackadaisical attendance and flagging interest on our part last year, we decided to forgo season tickets to the Lady Longhorns this year.  We have access to good seats if we do decide to see a game on general admission (Barb's hairdresser has access to a block of seats). Have to see how the team does this year.

Typical Texas weather. Put the extra blanket on the bed a few nights ago. Air Conditioning came on yesterday.

You all have a good week.

A small memory abberation

From time to time, we go up the highway to Pflugerville, to a Catfish restaurant that we enjoy. On the way, the road curves to the right, and just at the bend of that curve is an eating establishment called "Charlie's Steak House." Every time we pass it, I have a small memory hiccup and I think of trips to the little town of Lowake and steak dinners.

I can only guess that one of the two steak houses that once were in Lowake was named Charlie's, or was located at the bend of the road, or both. I do know that this was not the one we went to; we passed Charlie's and stopped at the Lowake Steak House.

Further clouding my memory is that this was all about 50 years ago, when a student in Abilene. A trip to Lowake was a special date; it was, after all about 75 miles away, down toward San Angelo. And the steaks were not cheap, even back then. Huge, but not cheap. You only took hot girls to Lowake. Barb says she doesn't remember going with me, but I am certain that I did take her. I remain adamant on that point.

Lowake was a hoppin' place, to have been in the middle of nowhere. There was even an airstrip for the fly-in traffic. Possibly, part of the attraction was the availability of adult beverages served with your meal. Abilene was located in what was at that time a dry county. Not the case in Concho County. I was always too chicken, but it was always very interesting to look around and see fellow students (and one or two faculty members) pretending that was not their beverage in front of them.

There is still a Lowake Steakhouse today. I understand that it's hard for you and your date to get out for less than $60, even without adult beverages, and the reviews are not too favorable. I don't know if ACU students still make that trip or not. I know the few times that I went down there remain memorable; so much so there's a little mind trick every time I pass by Charlie's Steak House.

Older than Dirt?

Count all the ones that you actually remember; not the ones you were told about, or saw on TV or in a movie.

1. Blackjack chewing gum
2. Wax Coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water
3. Candy cigarettes
4. Soda pop machines that dispensed glass bottles
5. Coffee shops or diners with table-side juke boxes
6. Home milk delivery in glass bottles with cardboard stoppers
7. Party lines on the telephone
8. Newsreels before the movie
9. P.F. Flyers
10. Butch wax
11. TV test patterns that came on at night after the last show
12. Peashooters
13. Howdy Doody
14. 45 RPM records
15. S& H green stamps
16. Hi-fi's
17. Metal ice trays with lever
18. Mimeograph paper
19. Blue flashbulb
20. Packards
21. Roller skate keys
22. Cork popguns
23. Drive-ins
24. Studebakers
25. Wash tub wringers
26. Head lights dimmer switches on the floor
27. Ignition switches on the dashboard
28. Heaters mounted on the inside of the fire wall
29. Pant leg clips for bicycles without chain guards
30. Using hand signals for cars without turn signals

There's supposed to be some kind of score matrix with this quiz, but I forget what it is.

Monday Meanderings - 11.14.2011

It's been an interesting week on the political circuit; Governor Goodhair is proving himself a prime candidate - as the source of humor for the late-night TV guys. Natalie Manes (Dixie Chicks) got in some serious hot water for saying she was ashamed to admit she was from Texas. Hmmm.

Latest entertainment is giving the telemarketers grief. Usually we just let the answering machine pick up, but for those very, very persistent ones that call several times a day, the new approach is to answer and play the role of an old, disoriented person (which I find is not all that hard). While they are trying to tell me about refinancing my mortgage, I'm acting like this is a call from cousin Kenny, and asking how the family is and whatever happened with Oscar's parole hearing?  Too soon to tell if they cross the number off the list, but I'm having fun.

Yes, thank you for asking. My better eating choices are indeed paying off. I try not to make a big deal about in front of Barb, but I have lost 16 pounds to date. I tell her that this is just the low-hanging fruit - the easy pounds; it will be a lot harder from here.

Part of the kerfuffle with everybody wanting out of the Big XII has been the formation of the Longhorn Network, the TV alliance between UT and ESPN. Seems other schools thought this gave Texas an unfair advantage on several fronts. The only problem is, to date, only one small cable company, mostly in San Marcos, has picked up the Longhorn Network. So to promote viewership, LN had a free weekend - everything was available to view - on your PC. Being the technical guru that I am, I went to Frys and got the cables that were supposed to allow me to connect the PC to the TV. If you like watching a big screen of nothing but blurry green lines, it was a great success.

Saw an ad in the AARP magazine that said I could look as good as I feel. I was hoping for something a little better than that.

One of the big toys this year is apparently a remote control roach. Really? We pay regularly so we won't have those critters crawling around.

And speaking of unwanted pests - you know how, when you are out and about and checking mail and such on your smart phone, you will get notifications of nearby hot spots that you can access? Here's one that popped up on my phone. How many unwanted visitors do you think this spot attracts?

Movies to walk by

I mentioned that I was taking my exercise to a new level, which is certainly not hard to do if one was sort of doggin' it, which I was. So instead of the occasional mile on the treadmill, I've committed to a semi-regular regimen of two or more miles on the endless belt each outing (don't judge me - I'm old). But you know the problem. Walking for a long time on the treadmill is like reading the Bible and getting to Leviticus. Boring, Boring,  BORING!

I started with the 5th and Final Season (sniff) of Friday Night Lights, but now I'm watching movies. Since Barb and I see, on average, one movie every two or three years, there's an enormous backlog out there just waiting for me. I found a copy of The Shawshank Redemption at the library and that turned out to be quite well done. I picked up a copy of Breaker Morant next, but it was veddy, veddy British, old chap, and there was a danger of falling asleep during the movie, which probably would have had unfortunate consequences, considering the circumstances.

So I switched to The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming, which is one of my all-time favorite movies (okay, I know it came out in 1966 and most of you have never heard of it; you will just have to trust me on how good it is). And next was Once Upon a Time in the West - the penultimate Spaghetti Western. I know you've never heard of this movie - it was a colossal flop in the US.

So how do I describe this movie? So bad it's good? Every Western Movie cliche crammed into a mere 171 minutes? Would it help to know Clint Eastwood, who found fame and fortune in spaghetti westerns, turned down a role in the movie? Or that two of the actors committed suicide - one during the filming of the movie by leaping out of his hotel window in full costume?

How could you go wrong  with a movie that stars Henry Fonda cast against type as the villain, Charles Bronson as his nemesis, Jason Robards as a bandit, and Claudia Cardinale as a newly widowed homesteader with a past as a prostitute? Scoff if you will, but the film is now generally acknowledged as a masterpiece and one of the best western films ever made. In 2009, it was named to the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress for being “culturally, historically or aesthetically” significant and will be preserved for all time!

But I digress. I have a copy of The Men who Stare at Goats from the library (I didn't say you could get good movies from the library) but it's only 90 minutes long, so I'm going to need a new movie to walk by soon, so the floor is open for nominations. What would you like to see while you are grinding out the miles? Better yet, what should I see? The longer the better, and weirdness is a plus.

Band Bus - Stories for my Grandchildren

One of our at-large family members, Sarah, recently blogged about the great adventure that comes with being a band parent. We have that experience in common. Who knows how many trips, how many concerts, how many BBQ dinner fund-raisers, how many hours Barb and I spent supporting our two through Junior High Band, High School Band, Concert Band, Stage Band, Marching Band, UIL, State Tryouts, etc.? We felt then, as Sarah does now, that band activities provide significant pluses that make it all worth while. Band kids, by and large, are the kind of peer group you want your kids to associate with. Band activities require discipline, and provide reward for hard work, and promote pride in oneself and one's classmates.

And then there's the band bus.  Sarah, you might want to skip the rest of this.

It's not done exactly the same way these days - especially not in the metro areas and big cities, but when I was a band member, we spent hours and hours rolling down the highway in the common yellow school bus on the way to some football game, and then hours and hours rolling back home again. Most of the time, there was a stop somewhere for supper; often there was a stop at a DQ or equivalent after the game before starting home. It was not uncommon to roll in at 2 or 3 in the morning. When you live in a small town (Breckenridge), your opponents are often many miles away. Abilene, at 60 miles distance was a breeze; Wichita Falls at 90 was a lark. Snyder, at 121, was just on the way to Abernathy, 233 miles distant. And Crane was 390 miles away. We got back in the wee, small hours that trip.

It took two school buses to convey the band (and some few twirlers and cheerleaders). There was the underclassman bus, and the Senior bus. Physically, there was no difference in the two. Psychologically, and esteem-wise, one was a royal coach, the other was a tumbrel. It is with some pride that I can say I never rode on the underclassman bus. It's all in who you know.  School was out for us about noon; we made a pretense of gathering our things while waiting for the two buses to pull up, then it was a mad dash to claim a seat. Mrs. Funderburk, the chaperone, and Mr. Roan, the band director, sat on the first two seats, so naturally, the further back in the bus one could position oneself, the more out-of-sight and thus more enjoyable the trip.

We loaded the instruments in bus-top racks, stashed all our gear (and hopefully all of our uniform and regalia) and endured the outbound trip. It was all social, and daylight, and card games and the like. I'm told that some students on the other bus sometimes studied and did homework. Our bus was two or three hours of  benign boredom.

The evening meal was always at some location like Underwoods (in Brownwood) or the Crosskeys Cafeteria in Wichita Falls, or wherever two or more fast food outlets gathered together. Get dressed, discover you forgot your Sam Brown belt, swipe one from the other bus and finally get underway to the stadium and the game. First half, showtime, cruise through the second half and gather back at the buses. This was sometimes tricky, in that locals usually took umbrage at the loss the Buckaroos laid on their boys. Once in Wichita Falls, the locals staged a fight beside the buses, hoping to draw in some unsuspecting bandsmen, then pounce on them. They hadn't reckoned on Johnnie LaForge, our raw Cajun drum major and his big drum major baton. Another successful outing.

And then the trip home. Some slept (the aisle was always the best place for that), couples who had already made allegiances paired off for the trip and the rest of us formed new and temporary friendships for the duration. What happened on the band bus stayed on the band bus. Every week was a new beginning. Mr. Roan had a wooden leg; he never risked walking to the back of the bus. Mrs. Funderburk was usually the first person to go to sleep. If it was quiet, Mr. Munnerlin, the driver never turned on the overhead lights.

So what went on in our band bus? Well... I was usually one of the ones who went to sleep. Right away. And I slept until we returned. That's my story. You'll have to ask your kids about theirs.

Monday Meanderings -11.7.11

Oh, "fall back" means one hour - not one day.

We enjoyed a cool, crisp weekend - a little too nippy of a morning for coffee on the patio (unless one brought one's Snuggie along with the coffee) but the afternoons warmed up delightfully. Trimmed some trees to get ready for bulk brush collection next week. Domesticity is killing me.

Occupy Austin continues to be in the news. Police did arrest a number of folks after a quick rule change about food tables. Unlike Oakland, our folks lined up to get in the paddy wagon, got released and were back on the premises for the next afternoon rally. I do wonder, though, if this is a "leaderless, agenda-less, non-organized" protest, why are we getting automated recorded phone messages urging us to support the protest?

Shouldn't those big bumps in the roads be called "slow bumps?" Just asking.

I think it goes without saying that people who break the law aren't very smart to begin with, but what kind of stupid do have to be to steal a big backhoe from a construction site, like Austinites Steven and Teresa Labato did last week - and then try to hide it in their backyard. Next door to the construction site they stole it from! "This is not the backhoe you are looking for."

I was feeling pretty smug about my daily exercise on the treadmill - until I looked it up and found that the calories burned just about cover the sugar in my coffee. Sigh.

Asked for our favorite waitress at Chuy's on Halloween. They said she was not working. In fact, she and some friends and family were soon seated at the next table, being served by others. Seemed a little strange, especially when she asked her wait person how a particular dish was prepared.  I wonder how well she tips?

And the Chuy fish dressed up for Halloween.

Curiously popular post

Back in May, I wrote a blog about a man named Broderick James, who has come to be known as "Austin's Running Man." He's the dude that could be seen most days - never mind the triple-digit temperatures - running and jogging in place and making like Rocky on the courthouse steps. Except he was doing all this on a swath of grass by the HEB until construction moved him across the street to the Sonic lawn.

I mentioned that he says he runs "because I am free. I run to inspire others to be bold in their dreams, their thinking, and be who they were created to be. I offer true optimism through my dedication to the city and its people thereof. I run to show that I am opposed to poverty, stress, depression, and obesity."

I also mentioned later that corporate HEB was keeping a very close eye on Mr. James and they visited my blog regularly to see if there was more news about the gentleman. Seems HEB is not the only one interested in the Running Man. I have had more visits to this particular blog than to any other blog I've written save one - all from people Googling "Austin Running Man" or something similar.  More than 140 people have accessed this blog entry as a result of a search. Some have even left comments. Like this one posted just a few days ago:

"Well, I know Broderick James Jr. personally, we first moved here when he came back home from Iraq. Broderick doesn't tell people he has children or even acknowledge them. I was very sad when someone that knows Broderick and I and our children, informed me that he says that he doesn't have children. I wonder if that is the reason why they do not get phone calls on birthdays, Christmas, or any other holidays. He is a great guy but when you don't take care of your children and you help everyone else, what does that really say about you. I'm not saying dead beat dad like others, but that's what it's called."

 So now it appears that I can add a new dimension to my blog. Marriage and Family Counseling. Maybe I can get a TV show.

The Doctor is in.

You picked a fine time to lose weight, Lucille!

I finally broke down and went back to see Dr. S - otherwise known as the Rotor-Rooter guy. Sinus congestion and blockage was driving me (and all those around me) crazy, so I made an appointment to start up the process that will eventually end up with long sharp objects in places I never want them. Hey, I've already had needles stuck in my eye this year! What's an electric drill up the nose after that? Oh. Sorry. I wasn't going to be so descriptive.

But first, Dr. S. has to deal with the immediate issue that I can't breath through my nostrils much of the time. That's not a new problem with me; I was 14 years old before I learned that you were supposed to be able to breath through both nostrils at once. That's why you had two, right? Breath through one for a while, then it stops up and you breath through the other one. It's when they gang up on you that's the problem. So, I'm back on industrial strength steroids.

The Doc asked me if I tolerated steroids well. I said he probably ought to ask my wife that. Other than the occasional outbursts of rage ('roid rage it's called in the sports world) and the staying awake all night, steroids are wonderful! They cure what ails me, Big Time! I can breath freely, I can smell things, I've got boundless energy (until I crash). I love 'em. Oh, and there is that other little problem. On steroids, I want to eat every thing on the table and then I want to start in on the table itself!

Now comes the conflict. A couple of weeks earlier I had an annual check-up with Dr. R. Tests came back pretty good, but there were a few things he didn't like - mainly my weight. So after reaming me out pretty good a stern lecture some counseling on the Doc's part, I came away with the conviction that it was time to do something. Dr. R. does not preach dieting; he is wholly vested in the gospel of changed lifestyle. I read that that's a good thing and that there are a number of ways to approach it, but approach it you must.

So, with my good wife's help, I am now walking the path of portion control and healthy choices. And I must say that so far it only partially sucks. I was managing pretty well until I augmented my diet with 50 MG of Prednisone a day. Did you know that with a little salt, the morning newspaper is not too bad? Bland, but filling. And I'm not saying a word about the missing potholders.

Oh. And exercise. Barb walks at the Mall. Thank goodness she just walks and doesn't shop. I walk on the treadmill because Dr C. (yes, I can sing the alphabet song with my doctor's initials) does not want me walking outside "vacuuming up allergens." But I wasn't walking that often, nor very far. So I set up the laptop on the treadmill and now I watch episodes of old TV programs (just finished the final season of Friday Night Lights. I'm a little behind. And I still say it's the best thing ever done on TV!) I haven't figured out the download streaming thingy so I get DVDs of old movies from the library.

Watching programs while you walk is similar to driving and listening to Books on Tape. First thing you know you are in New Mexico and some police officer says you crossed the border doing 90. You sort of loose track of time and distance stuff.

So. Now you know more than you ever wanted to know about me and my diet, exercise and meds. But that's just the steroids talking. You want to make something of it??!!