Old News

Hi strangers and old friends, I've set up shop across town, quite literally. Here's how:

1. I quit blogging at this site for a number of reasons
2. I got separated in 2007, divorced in 2008
3. I moved from Michigan to North Carolina
4. I started a remodeling business
5. I set up a blog at Wordpress, just to noodle with and keep writing a bit
6. The new Spiffytown was set up
7. I got married in 2009

I haven't been avoiding most of you, it's just been a busy and change-laden time. If you'd like to catch up, send an email or comment at the new digs. I go by db grin now. This oughtta be the last post at this here site.

150 Is All I Can Do

Hi friends,

This is my 150th post. And it's the last from this place. *

A lot has happened since my launch into the bloggosphere.

I've made a ton of friends, almost all of whom I consider true friends.

I've had a 17 year anniversary. Then moved out.

I've discovered what it's like to undergo a divorce. It's not over yet.

I've experienced real loss and deep sadness.

I've experienced real joy.

At moments like these, it's easy (for me) to get moopy and sad, but I shan't. I've had a blast with Spiffytown, and will keep in touch. Just not here.

Thanks to Tiff, Jeff Kay, Wordnerd, JC, AC, Tracy Lynn, Renn, Stew, Sparky, Hyperion, and Wordsmiths.

Thanks also to those on my blogroll.

Stay connected, it's worth it. Send me your email address, or leave comment in the comments and we'll keep in touch.

I'm planting a tree in honor of Daniel 'Blitz' Krieg (AKA Dr. Syn, Buerger King, or Lenny Harris - I loved that guy). I invite you to do the same. Put a plaque on it in his honor, or at least let his family know where it is.

*I will post the picture when the deed is done. The Blitz Krieg National Forest will grow.

So Much To Say

There have been so many thoughts, observations, and happenings that have sleeted through my mind over the last month that make me smack my head and say, "That would make a great story!" But they've gone unwritten. Some snippets will stick in m' haid and leak out later, when I have the leisure required to maintain a writing hobby. A couple things to log though:

Um, the motorcycle crashing wasn't severe. It was enough to cause some damage that's still not healed up: A blunt-force contusion on my elbow and a busted turn signal. And a scratch on my helmet. Other than that, all is well. Here's what happened, and feel free to mock me like most of my coworkers did.

My day job's parking lot was sealcoated a cuppa weekends ago. Nice, shiny blacktop. It rained for days and days after that. I was leaving for lunch on my vroomscooter (heh - just made that up) and turned to go out the gate and down the drive. Suddenly, at around 8 MPH, I found my wheels making way more of a turn than I was (or was it way less?). At any rate, the bike slid out from under me sideways, skidded 30 feet to a stop, dribbling gas and turn signal lens parts along the drive. I was unceremoniously dumped on my right side with all the force gravity and other various laws of physics could muster. I was wearing my leather jacket (thankfully) and hate to think how much bone meal I'd have left on the parking lot otherwise.

************

I've ended my career at the Kwikee Mart, due to high powered schedule issues at the day job. And I know on which side my bread is buttered, so any extra hours will be spent making the world a better place for construction workers rather than for Squishee drinkers.

Yes, I'm aware construction workers can enjoy the occasional Squishee, stop splitting hairs at me.

*************

There's a post on the interwebs that got me thinking (and reacting) more than usual. So there's only one thing for it: To offer the other side of the pancake.

First, go see Kingfisher's post. I'll wait. Now, I like and respect Kingfisher a great deal, but I couldn't agree a whole lot less. I offer this in the interest of open-minded discussion of ideas, rather than pretending to be an all-knowing end-all authority on existential matters. More discussion is a good idea.

I fear that much of the rambling which follows will be useless if one rejects the very idea of God's existence. But it comes from a perspective I've wrestled and reasoned out for most of my life, and I can say I wholeheartedly believe it.

Without faith it's impossible to please God. Faith takes humble acceptance of things not seen or fully understood. A recurring biblical theme - the greatest wisdom of man is confounded by the simple truth of God. It takes a childlike (not childish, immature) faith to understand, accept, not miss it. I would assert that it takes far more faith to believe that all things that we see happened by convergence of just the right elements and energy, and creative accidents continued to advance life to the stage we now see. That doesn't happen anywhere else in the observable universe - chaos and decay are in charge without intervention. If God's an invention, then it's pure foolish grasping. As CS Lewis said, you either have to believe Jesus is who he says he is (the divine son of God), or he's a madman, on par with one who says, 'I am a poached egg.' One can't simply say he was a great teacher and reject the bit about his claims. Cafeteria style truth isn't an honest practice. If God's a revelation, then it's due reverence, awe, and thoughtful consideration. Nowhere does the bible say to reject reason or science or observation. The senses are designed to inform us, not betray us. The black-and-white assertion that one must either accept Carl Sagan or the Bible leaves little room for discussion. I believe in Carl Sagan, and have learned from and had my curiosity piqued by him. I also happen to disagree with him on philosophy. To 'know' is to farking END CURIOSITY, which is why scientists become scientists. To explore. To question. Every answer produces more questions. I would think this exhilarating, not infuriating, to intellectuals and scientists. If WE are created in God's own image, then that alone evidence of importance. If God alone is worthy of our worship, then he must believe us important. If God deems us worthy of redemption, that's the ultimate trump card. It takes humility, not hubris, to accept truths greater and more durable than we are in favor of demanding to know - with acceptable proof to our satisfaction. Is the only answer to unsatisfied questions that God MUST be a cruel taskmaster?

Just because things aren't the way I prefer doesn't make them malignant, cruel, or spiteful. I could trip on a steel ball and curse it, just as an olympian celebrates his record-setting shot put. I could glory in the beauty of a mountain at sunrise as an unseen climber falls to his doom on its harsh and icy face. A tree that provides me shade blocks my neighbor's view. Or, a favorite among the inspirational email forward crowd: the traffic jam that makes me late could be what saves me from going over a collapsed bridge. I believe there is room for the harsh and unyielding laws of physics/ nature AND God to coexist.

Yes, interpretation is subjective, belonging solely to the individual. Knowing we have "The Correct" interpretation is a luxury we aren't afforded. That takes faith.

Mah Associates Tell Me

Due to a threat of violence against Hypnotoad, here is a post. While I'm sure Hypnotoad can take care of himself, I thought it would be best to put something up to keep the peace. If you want to know what Hypnotoad sounds like, see Kingfisher's comment... cracked me right up!

Happy first day of summer (Summer Solstice, for you druidic dancing-naked-around-a-fire-at-midnight-in-the-woods types). Today's a good day to test the theory that you can stand an egg on end on the sidwalk at high noon. Of course this works best at the equator, I'm told. I've always remembered the experiment around 2PM, and naturally it wouldn't work then. Plus which, I'm near the 45th parallel, which is halfway between the equator and north pole. Which explains why we get howling blizzards in April. Makes for a short day at the beach.

I'm absent mostly from my online haunts due to an increase in workload and downcrease in computer play time. I don't have a computer (or teevee) at the apartment, so my activities are limited to those blessed by my boss. Not only that, but I got a virus this week that required the wipeout and reinstallation of every.single.byte on my computer. I was without my trusty jet-engine sounding puter for 2 1/2 days, and I got it back clean and fast and almost like new. It's boggling how much personalization I took for granted, like toolbars and menus, printer setups, music and bookmarks. It's still not back to full efficiency yet. And, the IT guy has to approve all downloads, and Firefox ain't approved. Gah! Feels like I'm painting a house with those toy watercolor brushes, and my colors are all reddish-black. And runny.

I have a few posts in the hopper, but they may not see daylight for a while.

Since you're already online, go check out some people who actually write stuff you want to read - The Places I Go, at right. Wordnerd's got a bright and freshly painted site I'm sure you'll love, and Wordsmiths Unlimited has a story challenge for you, it's due in 9 days. Tiff's already posted her story, 'cause she's on top of things like that.

8+1

It's time to change the scenery here. I've been tagged, which takes care of the decision-making portion of this post. I've also been impugned by one Trinamick (that's a rare photo I'm sure she wouldn't want published. Ha! to that). So, on with the completion of a thing started last week. I'm so on top of things. So, I shall call this: An Octet Of Things 1. I was a spelling bee champion at my school in 7th grade. I got eliminated in the regionals, but had all kinds of dorky fun getting there. Nobody was more surprised than I when I won my classroom, then school. I studied at my friend Mark's house, but I seem to remember overdosing on orange pop and Oreos, and playing with all kinds of strange toys from the 50's including wooden telescoping boxing gloves much more than studying. 2. I've been on 4 cross-country bike tours. First was Grand Haven to Mackinac Island, MI; next Rochester NY to Bar Harbor ME; then Jackson Hole WY through the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone; finally, Eugene OR to San Francisco CA. Between age 13 and 16, I put a couple thousand miles on the ol' Schwinn. We would take a bus to our starting point, then bike about 35-60 miles each day to camp. The bus would leapfrog us, carrying the kitchen and tents. Some of my best photos are from those times. I managed to collide with something on each trip (another biker, ground, tree, or car). Fortunately it never happened during the many times I was inches from a several-hundred-foot dropoff. 3. I'm getting a motorcycle this weekend. I hope to get it to run (it's, uh, in my price range). It will be my primary mode of transport since Marlon went all corkscrewwy on me. I had one once before (when I was 18): a Suzuki 3-cylinder POS that I got for $50. It had a gas leak, bald tires, loose chain, and no license or insurance. I plan to be a wee bit more responsible this time around. I hope to get a 4-wheeler before the snow flies again, which should be some time after September. 4. I've never asked a girl out on a date, since being turned down for my Homecoming dance in 9th grade. Oh sure, I've been on plenty of dates. But it was either mutually agreed or initiated by the girl. I told Boy this story on the occasion of his having 5 dates to homecoming. His reply? "Sucks to be you." I think I'm over it. 5. I've never gone 2 weeks without work since landing my first Real Job at a car wash at 16 years old. It took me a while to settle into a career path, and there sure was some wandering. But even in one of the worst economies in the country, I've always managed to find work. 6. Related to #5, I tried entrepreneuring 3 different times, which certainly has its ups and downs. Freedom and limitless possibility come with long hours, no health insurance, and all the responsibility. The first was a cleaning business, which was wildly successful. Mrs. Spiffy cleaned houses for extra cash when the kiddos were young, and I began helping her out. We picked up an office to clean, and then another... soon we were earning a week's pay each night. I quit my day job, hired a flotilla of part time cleaners, and became a Businessman. Four years later, when two of our crew leaders quit on the same night, it fell to me to keep the accounts rolling. I managed for a couple weeks. Until one day, when I woke up in the afternoon and realized I hate cleaning. Truly hate it. So, we liquidated. From then on I vowed to do what I enjoy. So far, so good. 7. As a yoot, I always wanted to be an astronaut, pilot, or locomotive engineer. Didn't matter, I just wanted to be at the controls of a big, powerful, expensive machine. Gave up on astronauting when I realized I needed better grades than I ever got, and the pilot program is still in my future. I get my jollies when I can in construction equipment - I have operated backhoes, bobcats, cranes, bulldozers, skytracks, and forklifts. Wouldn't think I'd like doing that full time every day, but it's fun once in a while. 8. I'm not a big sports fan. I'll watch about 4 football games each year on purpose: Michigan/ Michigan State, Michigan/ Ohio State, the Superbowl, and the Lions' annual Thanksgiving loss. I like going to live games, but when people talk sports around me I usually nod, smile, and shuffle off to look at my Star Trek Action Figure collection. Or something. OK, now you know a thing or two that you might not heretofore have known. Here's the Plus One: I received a gift fish last night, quite unexpectedly. No, I didn't look it in the mouth. It's a very pretty Betta with a flowing iridescent tail, in a new bowl with a bright yellow plastic cactus. BTW, my fish is much prettier than the one linked. It needs a name. Won't you help?

The Five Things Thing

I saw this over at No Accent yet, then at JC's, who tagged me. So I'm it. Time to knuckle down and get this done. My post explaining the mysteries of cold fusion and cheap, abundant, and clean energy will have to wait. Here's the 5 Things meme, which can be counted on one hand (unless you're a Simpson). What were you doing 10 years ago? Enjoying my new remodeling business, took the family to see relatives in California by train, had the 2nd of several marriage crises. Thought I was mature and wise. Still living in our first house, a cute little brick box on the corner in Cedar Springs. What were you doing 1 year ago? Starting my 2nd year at my current company, enjoying life with 2 teenagers, adjusting to how freaking busy one can be with high school activities. Barely paying the bills on our 3rd house in the pseudo-country. Five snacks you enjoy: 1. Tortilla chips (plain or with cheese, bean dip, or salsa) 2. Sliced tomatoes with colby jack cheese on a Ritz cracker 3. Roasted potatoes & onions 4. Wheat thins (or, stack 5 and eat at once, making a Wheat Thick) 5. Banana-OJ-Peach smoothies Five songs to which you know all the lyrics: Oh geez, I learn lots of lyrics. Then forget key bits as the songs collect dust in the back of the ol' brainium, and wind up mumbling through it until the chorus starts. Do I pick church songs, Christmas carols, TV themes, or stuff I listen to every day? Here are the first 5 that come to mind: 1. Amazing Grace 2. Gilligan's Island (tune and lyrics interchangeable with #1) 3. Oh Lately It's So Quiet (OK Go) 4. Let Go (Frou Frou) 5. Love Shack (B52's) Five things you would do if you were a millionaire: 1. Be debt free by sundown & set up the kids' college funds 2. Get my pilot's license and an airplane 3. Buy a motorcycle and an RV, and travel a ton 4. Set up mutual funds to keep earning interest 5. Give a bunch to select nonprofits Five bad habits: 1. Frittering time/ procrastinating 2. Avoiding 3. Saying yes too much 4. Thinking I don't need that much sleep 5. Drinking a bit much Five (g-rated) things you like doing: 1. Bike riding with my kids 2. Flying 3. Cooking 4. Writing 5. Poking campfires with a stick Five things you would never wear again: 1. A mullet 2. White tuxedo 3. Bathing suit with a split up the middle 4. The plastic halloween costume I had at 7 years old 5. Plaid polyester anything Five favorite (g-rated) toys: 1. Bicycle 2. Camera 3. Computer 4. Sharp chef knife 5. Frisbee INSTRUCTIONS: If you participate, include the blog chain that got this here. Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so: One Gal's Musing Philly Transplant No Accent Yet What Can't Be Looked For Spiffytown And now for the tag: Er, well, since I swim in the same waters as most of my blogbuddies, I say YOU'RE IT just for reading this. Again. I'll be sorely disappointed if you don't play along. But of course, I'll get over it. Please drive through.

Verbal Intercourse

I had a boss, a big Swedish guy, who would routinely call me into his office, announcing to all, "Biff, I need to have verbal intercourse with you." It still creeps me out a little. At any rate, the discussion continues regarding how communication works. Now, I'm no expert in practically anything. And, to boost Hyperion's hypothesis, 64% of all statistics are made up on the spot*. So, please ingest the following with a small amount of sodium chloride. I went looking things up, which is easy to do with the Power of The Interwebs at my outsize fingertips. Wikipedia is always first, because they OWN research these days. Nevermind that the articles are written by the likes of me (albeit, hopefully more smarter likes than I). The Wiki article cites all kinds of studies relating to communication. It mentions work by Charles 'Deathbed Confessional' Darwin which argues that "all mammals show emotion reliably in their faces." I then discovered that there are actual names for all sorts of expression - object communication (clothing, or waving sticks threateningly), haptics (I guess it's a shorter word than 'touching'), chronemics (manipulation of time), oculesics (eye contact), and paralanguage (tone of voice). Too much to think about indeed. The study cited by my friend was done in 1971 by Albert Mehrabian. He's the 7%-38%-55% guy. It makes sense, especially considering how easily we pick up on whether someone is telling us the truth in face-to-face communication. If you tell me you like me, but won't make eye contact and have the scowl and tone of voice that suggests you like me as much as brussels sprouts, I might be inclined to doubt your veracity. How much does it matter though? In this forum, where we're all insulated to varying degrees by miles of cold copper wire (or fast & sexy fiber optics) and flat, unblinking monitors, we can claim anything. We can also believe anything - or not. If you're new to Spiffytown, you might believe I'm a hott, well-muscled and ridiculously wealthy entrepreneur with the keys to all of life's mysteries. In case you're still wondering, it's true. The blogs I visit tend not to be written by overly cynical people. How can I relate to someone for which everything sucks and there is no hope? To make witty observations without injecting some personality and heartfelt opinion means very little to me. The point of our discussion was to explore why online friendships are so valuable to me. Is it a substitute for 'real-live' face to face community? Of course not. Friends who know and care for me, who spend hang-out time and can ask about my business, are essential. What, then, makes the blogworld so attractive? I heard recently on NPR about a social experiment conducted on the subways of Washington DC. A violin virtuoso was standing on the platform, playing for passersby. Most paid no visible notice. A small percentage paused for a moment to listen. A tiny handful of people stopped to hear a few minutes' worth of music that would have cost them plenty to get in a concert hall. He collected $59 (including $20 from someone who recognized him). Those questioned said they were too busy, or in a hurry to get somewhere, to notice the beauty right before them. That got me to thinking about how easy it is to miss people in 'real life' circumstances. How would you know if you passed a potential best friend in the grocery store, or had so much in common with the gruff-looking guy with the beer gut at work? That's one door that online friendships opens up. Discovering people from their thoughts out, rather from appearance in. *Todd Snider, 'Statistician's Blues'

Greetings and Salad Dressings

I don't believe I've ever been more spoilt on my birthday, even including the time I got a pony. When I was a wee tot we had a big backyard to-do, and it was stuffed with other wee tots, hot and steamy and all wearing sticky polyester. There was a fort made out of a jungle gym and some horse blankets, a big picnic table loaded with cake and picnic food, and games & prizes a la Bozo's Bucket Bonanza. Other kids were winning the contests and getting prizes, and it was MY special day, dammit. I remember being a total ass that day. Good thing I've grown up, at least a little. My daughter's handmade card to me last night said 'Growing older is mandatory, but growing up is optional.' Here's hoping for some of both. Thanks to Wordnerd and Tiff and Kenju for the birthday mentions around the interwebs - how fun to get so many visitors and wishes! You guys rock! And a hearty hi-ho and heaps o' thanks for my friends who stopped by. I just wish I hadn't seen the card Blitz sent me. Not sure I can look him in the eye anymore. The celebration continued last night, as I met the Spousal Unit at Meijer (if you don't have a Meijer near you, get one) to get some dinner supplies. It was steaks-on-the-grill night, the first time the grill has been fired up in 10 months or so. Did you know the Bible says grilling is man's domain? Yep. It's right there in 2nd Kingsford. Anyway, we got a cuppa two tree items, and up to the house for the festivities. We had planned to have friends over, but they pussed out. They'll be up Friday and we can do it all over again, but they missed the best grilling I've ever done (if I do say so m'self). The grill scrubbing took as long as the cooking, but it was worth it - I've never been a fan of last year's charred remains in this year's food. I made garlic mashed potatoes, a pan full of sauteed onions and green & red peppers, and hand-rubbed seasoned steaks. El-yummo. S'all I got time for this morning, I'll leave you with a couple representations of me last night: This is me after a couple doses of bourbon, cooking and singing some new OK Go tunes. This is me when I finally got back to my bed. Except I didn't have cat food in bed with me.

It's A Major Award

Thanks to my drinkin' buddy* Sarch for tagging me with this. I sincerely appreciate the honor of having any readers at all, let alone being nominated for something nice like this. Especially at a time of scandal, intrigue, assassination attempts and an onslaught of telemarketers in the highest offices of Spiffytown. In the spirit of carrying on, I'll finally get 'round to it. Unfortunately, due to extended/ sporadic hiatusing, some of my prime candidates have already received this award. If you would be so kind as to peruse the blogroll you see at Right (-->) you will find the bloggers I read as regularly as I can, in order. They're there because they make me think, laugh, and enjoy their company. And, they can spell. Nothing chases me off faster'n rotten grammar and rottener spelling. None of 'em are fillers or simply there for politeness' sake. Without further adoo, here are my humble nominations. JC at What Can't Be Looked For She's a writer alright. Painting pictures that evoke emotions and memories, she can switch between hilarity, warmth, and touching depth with grace and biting wit. Stew at Get Stewed He's a conservative with compassion. And hella funny. Vote for him, dammit. Hyperion Duh. Thinking is his first, middle, and final name. While I have reason to doubt he would deign to participate because of a reported dislike of all things memey, he deserves the tag. I'm counting him as an alternate, in case he doesn't play along. Blitz Krieg A regular haunt of mine, he's engaging and fun, a real guy with a large music library and a penchant for snotty comments. Tracy Lynn Kaply Don't go there today, unless you're OK with the graphic awfulness sometimes associated with being human. Her style is brief and acerbic, but smart as honk. And, lest she think I'm stalking her with multiple tags, Rennratt rounds out the list. Rare insight even when reporting the mundane. Do NOT get in an insult war with this woman. ****************

The participation rules of the award are simple:

1) If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think

2) Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.

3) Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.

*Contrary to the term 'drinkin' buddy,' Sarch did not, in fact, get plastered and fall off his bar stool. He did almost start a brawl, however. We escaped with our lives.

Somebody Owes Me An Hour

It's dark again. Friday, when I came in to work, it wasn't. It's a ripoff and a scam, and I won't stand for it. So, I'll sit. Meh, it's like getting to watch the season change again. This weekend was fraught with lovely weather, the kind that entices and seduces and falls on its glorious knees begging you to come away with it. So I spent as much time as my pale sack of flesh would tolerate out-of-doors. It wasn't exactly warm by normal standards, but 48 is downright balmy after you get acclimated to 12 and below. I went wogging this morning, and it was an adventure. The warmth of the weekend melted lots of snow, but the cold that comes with nightfall turned the runoff into a thin & crispy crust glazing over the asphalt. In the dark, it's tough to see the difference between black pavement and black ice. I expected to do the instysplits at every moment, and only let my guard down under streetlights, where it was plain to see whether I was on dry land. This coming Wednesday is Pi Day, as the numeric date is... well, if you don't know already, you're not geek enough to appreciate it. This PSA is brought to you so you have time to set up the catering and buy the booze. Leave party invitations in the comments, I'll come to each of your celebrations. Time to Earn My Keep, which means that this morning I have an actual deadline and better do something or join the Former Employees Club (there actually is one, they meet monthly at a local pub. There's a Future Former Employees Club too, we go out for lunch on Fridays).

Backing Up

Well, it feels as though a month has gone by without much of my involvement on this little endeavor we like to call Spiffytown. Which, basically, is true. And I'm grateful. I know that when I'm hankering for some communication from friends in the 'unreal world' of the Interwebs, I'm grateful when I find new words to devour. I love love love reading stuff, especially from friends who have interesting and fun and thought-provoking things to say. Check my blogroll if you're short on interesting-fun-thoughtful stuff today. Regarding the title, I never have caught up to the things that happened early on in my travails and travels. The Alabama trip was wonderful all around, not least because of meeting a friend in person that I discovered online. Sarch is a newish blogger who has been haunting many of the same haunts I haunt. On my first day in a strange town (Birmingham - it's like home, only with more traffic and less snow (and a bit of an accent)), he suggested we meet at a local (Loco) watering hole. "It's a bar, but they have good food too," he said. Turns out my hotel was downright convenient to his place of work, and only a stone's throw from the restaurant. We met after he got off work, and for my part, I had an absolute blast. Some people think folks you meet online aren't real; in fact I've gotten to know many people online who I now count as genuine friends. Oh sure, most aren't close enough to go catch a movie or pull me out of a ditch if need be, but true friends nonetheless. Sarch is the real deal, full of easy friendly chatter on topics ranging from faith and family to work and motorcycles. We gossiped extensively about other bloggers, but none of you, my dear readers. I would never. We enjoyed Yeunglings and hotwings and burritos, and the time was up too soon (I pooped out early, as I am getting noticeably old). I would do that again in a second, and but for not wanting to pester the poor guy, would have enjoyed another get-together. There's always next time, right? My classes were both easy and challenging, fast paced and interminable. It's weird how things can be so paradoxical. I was enjoying the learning of new things, understanding a program that has certain idiosyncrasies; but the weather outside was generally nice, sunny, and warm. Which gave me a mild dose of the Cabin Fever. I was itching to be out in it, since the home weather was chock-full of ice, snow, and nosehair crystallizing cold (I call that the BFP, or Booger Freezing Point). The class consisted of me and one well-qualified instructor. There was another student enrolled, but he punked out at the last minute. My instructor and I went out to lunch each day, and I learned about his fascinating career path and history with this company, and the cruise he and his wife just took with some church friends. The entire time was worthwhile. After hours, I found myself with some time to kill, which I had expected to be filled with homework and catching up on office/ home stuff. The instructor had given me some suggestions, and each night I tried something new. One night I took a driving tour of the pretty parts of Birmingham. Would have been prettier, I'm sure, in the daylight and without a heavy rain. Another time I visited the McWane Center, a hands-on science museum with an IMAX theater. Still another time, I visited the McWane Center when it was open. That was infinitely more fun. What a cool place, especially for those of us (me) who have to touch everything. I flew an airplane (poorly), made a cartoon, watched tornadoes being formed, and blew smoke rings from a giant steam table. There was a bed of nails also, which was surprisingly comfy except for a few pointy bits in the shoulderbone region. They had video butterflies and stone waterfalls, a fascinating Rube Goldberg contraption that kept me mesmerized for about a half hour, and all manner of physics and art experiments. I highly recommend the place, but it's sure to be much more fun with a friend or a few youngsters. In all, it was a wonderful trip. I wouldn't change a thing.

The Post I Almost Posted

Well, I'm back in town. Thanks for leaving the lights on for me, and I was pleasantly surprised to find my key still works and there's no saran wrap on the toilet. First, mega-thanks to Tiff, Guest-Hostess Extraordinaire who put up the guest posts (not put up WITH, mind you). And thanks to y'all who kept the place running. I enjoyed seeing what you'd come up with (and in some cases, what you wouldn't come up with) the days I could get online. ================ This is what I almost posted last Friday, with much much more to write. But, I had another surprise trip come up, a whirlwind tour of Virginia, DC, and Maryland to deal with jobsite problems. There ensued adventures galore, tales of which are forthcoming. Today. I promise. I've already returned Rick's Rent-A-Goats and paid the bill, and I'm planning to choke and barbecue Tracy's chickens for a big party tonight. Stay tuned!

Indonesia, Part 1

JC said she really, really didn't want to know how one could deal with not having toilet paper. Therefore, this post is dedicated to her. There are whole chunks of the world that only recently discovered indoor plumbing. And there are some who invented indoor plumbing of an entirely... foreign nature. Back a few years, I got the opportunity to do a music tour in Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia. I was the bass player in a 40-member touring group. We had some amazing musicians and singers, plus a dance team, and spent a week in support of churches in a place that is often very hostile toward Christians (and not just calling them names, either). We played in a variety of settings and configurations, but the coolest place was this giant palace of a building. It made the Orthodox church I visited last week look like a cheesy Vegas wedding chapel. The floor and walls were tiled with marble (the place was e-NOR-mous). The stage had huge marble columns and carved frescoes in the walls, a kind of architectural artistry that I have never seen in America. They do have McDonald's and other American-ish food (Texas Chicken was a big chain there - doesn't exist anywhere else, as far as I know) but you will not find a restaurant that doesn't serve rice. I didn't go to McDonald's while there, but someone on our team did. They got McSpaghetti - lo mein in a thin red sauce - and pieces-parts chicken nuggets. One thing I noticed was the absence of Starbucks. Having made a career in construction, I was very interested in how they did things 12 time zones away from me. There were a few projects underway in the area, and I'd always stop to watch as much as I could. Bamboo scaffolding and concrete forms would sprout from the ground and be crawling with small, limber people with bare feet and straw hats. They have never heard of OSHA or laser levels. Everything was done in concrete and marble and dark-stained wood, and while there were certain idiosyncrasies (like stair steps not being uniform from one to the next), I witnessed a high degree of hands-on craftsmanship. Now, this trip has enough material to fill several posts and I intend to milk it for all it's worth. But, the thing that inspires toDAY's installment is their plumbing customs. Our hotel was the epitome of tropical resort goodness. I didn't realize how much I would come to appreciate it, but the hotel was outfitted with western appliances. They had bottles of Air (Indonesian for water) in the washroom, because the tap water was infamous for causing a condition called Bali Belly. There was no vent fan, but a little stack of candles and a book of matches. That was thoughtful. This view is my room, and roommate Stu. That's marble tile on the floor. Verrry nice. Now, the other places we visited, whether restaurants, orphanages, homes, stores, or churches, had the more traditional Asian plumbing. Known as 'squatty potties,' they consist of a porcelain bowl set in the floor with foot pads along the sides. You stand on the bowl and, well, squat. They feature a 2" drain, which is woefully inadequate for carrying the Cottonelle, so (here's the part that JC's gonna love) they don't use toilet paper. There is a kitchen vegetable sprayer on a hose, that's all you get to work with. Oh, and don't offer anything to anyone with your left hand. It's seen as an insult. Upon this discovery, I saw to it that all business was carried out in the hotel room. The view outside the room A small group of us enjoying the shallow end of the 1/2 mile long pool - I'm the pale one in the one-piece ==================== Programme Update! It's official, Spiffytown will be overtaken by a band of pitchfork-wielding villagers next week (some may be bringing the Throwing Spoons), while I'm in foreign parts (Alabama) for training. MagnifiTiff, SuperHeroine, will be administering justice and lining up the posts in my absence, and I trust that you will be highly informed and entertained. BE HERE! I expect you to visit and comment profusely, for there be some stars lining up to unload their greatness upon you.

Lists of Things

Well, now I've done it again. I, your humble and appropriately-for-public-office Idiot Mayor of Simpleton, have lost another post. It was passably good, too. I went to put the CD I got for Mrs. Spiffy's VD present ("No, really, it's for you") in my new computer, and without looking too closely, pushed the wrong button. The power button. As windows vaporized one by one from my dual monitors, 35 minutes worth of writing did too. I suppose I've had worse occasions of 'time I'll never get back' - but dang it's frustrating. I should probably compose in a format that auto-saves. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. It's a co-ink-a-dink of epic proportions, since I had started a post about my long-time romance with keeping lists, and then happened upon Wordnerd's site where she tagged me (don't go see unless you're willing to be unwittingly tagged like I was, only if you go now it'll be wittingly and you'll have nobody to blame but yerself) with a 'make a list of six weird things about you that everyone is doing internet phenomenon (and DON'T call it a meme)' thing. A list! Yay! One of a list of my many favorite things! Almost enough to make me lurvitate. Almost. I start most every day with a list of some sort. I created a comb-bound book to contain my work-related lists (spiral notebooks are too easy), because I had a season where I practically wallpapered my little corner of the cube farm with stickynotes. I appear much more organized now, but the days I misplace or can't reach my listbook, I get grumpy. It creates a very seductive illusion of productivity and importance. Besides, once I write something down, I'm free to forget it, since that bit of useless information is no longer cluttering my brain. Appointments, calls to make, paperwork to finish, all can be safely forgotten for it is on a List. Now I have mental capacity for really important things like... uh, like... blog posts? Monty Python quotes? The lyrics of my favorite poem? Well, at least I'm in prestigious company. Einstein reputedly didn't know his own phone number. When an incredulous reporter asked him about it, he asked, "Why should I memorize it, since I know where to find it?" I'm such a listophile, I like to make lists of things I've already done. Shower... check. Shave... check. Breakfast... check. It's comforting to know that before I even clock in I've accomplished so much. The thing that's saved my compulsive list-making life is the discovery of this rule: All lists contain 3 items, no more, no less. That way the important 3 get done. Oh look! My day's already complete! Of course, then you can add another item to keep it at 3... For today's exercise, I'm making an exception to the Rule. Okay, on to my obligations. Here is my List of 6 Weird Things About Biff Spiffy. 1. I like to keep lists. See above. 2. I absolutely love trampolines. I am the most undignified sight you could see on one, but I'll bounce the night away, get into 'rocket wars' with anyone willing, and flail around like a sped on speed for endless hours. I used to have a trampoline, but took it down after witnessing Girl snap her little arm into the shape of an S one evening. Should have happened to me long before it did to her; once I was bouncing with a friend who is roughly my size (think huskypants). He launched me over a fence. It was not pretty. 3. Spiders fascinate and terrify me. Simultaneously. I once watched a wolf spider for several minutes (while on a ladder - 2 stories up), convinced he was looking at me curiously, much like a puppy or billy goat might. Then I turned him into hairy goo with my hammer. I really enjoy studying their creepy, creative web-spinning, prey-stalking, and trying-to-bite-me ways. The very worst thing about spiders is that if one lands on you, unlike other buggy critters, he can't just fly away. Oh no. If you brush at him, he has to either crawl all the way wherever he's going, or rappel - and I can't have that. Jibblies. If you want more reasons I'm skeeved out, go here and scroll to January 17. 4. Q-tips are more important to me than any other part of my morning hygiene rituals. We can run out of toilet paper, and there are ways to work around that. Shampoo gone? Use soap, or just rinse vigorously, it'll keep until tomorrow. But if I can't squeak out my ears, it bugs me all day long. 5. I don't have any fetishes. As someone who has spent some significant time on The Interwebs, I'm beginning to think I truly am weird for not being into feet or midgets in drag or bikers wearing diapers chasing nurses dressed like smurfs. I do like a goofy sense of humor though. Oh, and good spelling. Yeah, I'd have to say spelling is a turn-on for me. 6. I'm known as the Polite Police at my house. There is nothing that drives me up one wall and down the other like poor table manners, particularly open-mouth chewing. Gaah! Celery, carrots, and tortilla chips are noisy, and I can understand that. But when I can hear you masticating a banana or slurping soup, I just go out of my head. And, please don't hold your fork like a shovel. Thank you.

Now THIS Is How To Celebrate

For your loathsome holiday enjoyment, here is a Valentine's Day post from accurately self-proclaimed funnyman, Avitable. Most of you who read here already know Evil Genius Tracy Lynn, so this may be a little redundant, but hey, funny is funny.

VD and Valentine's Day

READ THE ARTICLE AT DRIVL.COM

Sponsored by STD Floral, providers of the 'Sorry I Gave You The Clap' Bouquet ============================ Programme Note: (Like that fancy spelling? That's for my international readers) I will be offsite all next week, Monday through Saturday. I'll be a stranger in a strange land, learning my new job on the high-falutin' proprietary engineering software. I expect to be surrounded by people who speak a different language and have unusual dental formations, and who knows if the Internet has penetrated such foreign parts. However, you can count on Spiffytown to bring you the most for your entertainment dollar, oh yes. The village will not go dark, and I will tell you how. Later. ============================ Last night I was roped into another long, drawn-out game of Cowboys and Indians. The rules of this game go thusly: The cowboy waits on the phone while the Indians try very, very hard to sound American while sapping my will to live through repeated requests for highly personal information, interminable waits with ultrashat smooth jazz music, and multiple transfers. Yes, Charter has still not come through with providing the service for which the meter is now running. They say on the 15th a technician will arrive to take on the daunting task of opening a little plastic box and attaching a wire. Good thing I have a place to go where the internet flows like sugar from a hole in the bottom of the bag. ============================ Somehow the subject of kids with Wal-Mart bags on their feet came up last night. It sent me back to my days as a snot-nosed schoolkid. Okay, lots of things send me back there, but you're missing the point. I had the old-fashioned black rubber boots, with the thick felt liner and metal buckles on the side. Since they were made of rubber, you would think they'd be waterproof. Not so. My mom, in her ever-watchful wisdom, would bundle us up by first slipping our little feet into 3 layers of socks, bread bags, and then the boots. Yep. Wonderbread, in case you wanted to know. My feet had a fresh baked yeastly aroma for most of my childhood. When Moonboots were invented, I could ditch the bread bags because the fashionable one-piece design tended to keep slush and water out for a little longer. I loved 'em, for the baglessness and the quickness. An ADD riddled (undiagnosed, because that hadn't been invented yet either) kid who wants to go out sledding does NOT want to be hampered by shoestrings and buckles and the like. At school, we didn't have traditional lockers. They were wooden shelves with a coathook in each, open for the world to see. Along the hallway floor there would be rows and rows of moonboots. One day at the end of class, I was leaving late for some possibly detention-related reason. My moon boots sat nearly alone in the deserted hall. I inserted a socked foot, and felt something strange therein. I wiggled my toes, but couldn't figure out what was inside. I turned the boot upside down and shook gently. Out plopped a soft, perfectly formed dog turd. It had been collected while frozen, and left to thaw in my warm and cozy boot. Tragedy was averted because I caught it before full-meltdown mode - odorless and stainless, which is not a turd's normal state. The perps were never brought to justice, which bothers me still. Maybe that's why I've never gone to any class reunions. Perhaps I should be grateful. From that day on, I compulsively check every shoe before installing it on my enormous foot, saving me from countless golf balls, spiders, and other buggy encounters.

GAAAAAAAAAAH!

Blogger ate my homework. I had a post today, a wonderfully brilliant concoction. Then my computer locked up. Unsaved words, hundreds of 'em, vaporized. It was my best post ever.

Redirecting

There's a party game over at Monkey Barn, go see! Play! It'll be fun.

Lumps O' Meat

I returned from our Weekend In Long Beach this morning, after a ridiculous arrangement of flights and layovers, and decided it was my night to cook dinner. So, you'll get a mini-update (more fuller updateliness to follow) and a recipe to round out my Monday. I didn't sleep really last night; there was a series of 20 minute naps between LA and Detroit, a series of 40-minute naps on the airport floor, and a 40-minute nap after returning home. In this state, you may find me rambling unpredictablier than usual. Sorry. First, with the recipe-ing. Ok, maybe 2nd, because the Shrinking Piggies are making some progress and still need their beloved cheerleaders to help them fight the good fight. Go see and comment. OK, the recipe evolved thusly: In my freezer, I discovered several vacuum-sealed lumps of mystery meat. Upon defrosting, I found 2 nice pork medallions and one good beef steak (hard to tell exactly what the unlabeled, frost-encrusted meat was at first). I set 'em to float in warm water when we got home around 1PM. The Fam was due back from various school engagements around 5:30, so around 5:00 I started the cooking. It took about 25 minutes from start to table, and there were NO leftovers - which means either I didn't make enough or everyone liked it. Since we're all full, I'm going with (B). 3 Lumps O' Meat, about 3# total - pork or beef steak or chops, trim fat and bones 1 green pepper 1 red pepper 1 onion 1 tsp garlic (I use the kind that comes in a jar, pre-chopped) olive oil dry spices First I mixed up a bowl of dry spices. When all was done, there was a little under 1/4 cup of spice mixture, consisting of what I found in the cupboard: garlic salt, onion powder, curry, turmeric, ground black pepper, ground red (cayenne) pepper, and sage. I sauteed half the onion and 1 tsp garlic in olive oil. I spread some olive oil into the meat and rubbed in a sprinkling of spices all around. Then I sliced the meat into bite-size pieces, keeping it rolled in the spices. Toss in with the sauteed onions and garlic. While the meat is on, chop the peppers and remaining onion half; add to meat mixture when it's half done. Cover and simmer while cooking minute rice; serve the goodies over rice with soy sauce to taste, and you'll be the darling of the dinner. This trip was a whirlwind of activity, involving dear friends, the silliness that is modern travel, massive climate changes, dinner parties, and sleep deprivation. Unfortunately, the latter is making me kinda loopy and I'll have to officially begin the tale tomorrow, even though it's only 7:32 PM EST and I should have enough energy for another hour of tale-telling, at least. Again, sorry, but my pillow is calling my name and it just won't shut up.

Up, Up, and Away

I get to spend the next 4 days in Sunny Long Beach, CA. I'm heartbroken at the prospect of missing my blog haunts. But, it's comforting to know I'll be walking on a sidewalk in the sunshine tomorrow - with short sleeves. Yay! My hotel will have wiffy, and if there's time I'll post from the road. Have a great weekend, and submit your souvenir requests via comments.

Quick! Read This!

According to Kristi Lee this morning, it's National Compliment Day. I'll start by saying I'm thrilled to have you here and you sure do smell nice, and what a wonderful comment you left for me the other day. Oh, and nice scarf. I think this is a PERFECT occasion to get you to turn in your homework from last week, and tell us of an encounter of kindness you had with someone. It's not bragging, it's sharing, which according to experts, is different. Who knows, we might get some ideas from you. Oh, and the bunny? Do NOT say that to people. It's not kind. ========================= I'll be traveling for work again today, maybe there will be more posting from me at day's end. Maybe not. I never know with me. Have a wonderful day.