tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46336518314935015602024-02-06T22:40:19.879-04:00BAYOU Time!John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.comBlogger268125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-48666403979048340962015-08-06T10:50:00.001-04:002015-08-06T10:50:16.831-04:00Max, Poor Minn, and the Holy MartinMax performed at a recent jam session and did his parents prouc. Check it out on the new blog.<br />
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http://baurlife.com/2015/08/02/max-poor-minn-and-the-holy-martin/John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-53271735901458603022015-05-26T22:36:00.002-04:002015-05-26T22:36:32.687-04:00Moving TimeThis blog has always been a work in progress, and now it's progressing some more.<br />
<br />
It started in 2008 as Island Time, relating the story of our family's move from Oregon to the U.S. Virgin Islands and the adventure of making our home in a Caribbean paradise. Then, when the island's economy tanked in 2012, the blog became Bayou Time, and told of us moving back to the states and making our home in New Orleans. In the meantime, I started a second blog, The Write Pirate, in which I followed my writing progress.<br />
<br />
But things are changing again, and we (me and Tori) have decided to try to do a little more with the blog. So it's changing again – and this time it's moving.<br />
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You can find our new blog at <a href="http://baurlife.com/">BaurLife.com</a>. It's even more a work in progress, the new platform has a lot more bells and whistles to learn – or learn to ignore. But I'm ready for a new challenge.<br />
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And speaking of new challenges, that's what the first post on BaurLife.com is about. This summer we're going to self-publish my first novel, "Chrissie Warren: Pirate Hunter. So you'll want to follow that in the new blog (and order the book when the time comes! Yeah, definitely that!)<br />
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So click the link and join us at the new blog, and watch us grow.John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-6636637818501913982015-05-05T19:13:00.004-04:002015-05-05T19:13:58.054-04:00Odds and Ends from a Busy WeekTori's chicken enchiladas are in the oven, and while I'm waiting impatiently for them to come out and get in my belly, I'll catch up on a busy week.<br />
<br />
Saturday we went to Jazz Fest and had a great time. Saw Elton John and Jerry Lee Lewis. I will write a LOT more about this tomorrow. Great, great time. Good show.<br />
<br />
Max is taking up violin. In fact, he started Monday. Wednesday he will play with the string group in the music department's end-of-year concert. He's picking it up quickly.<br />
<br />
Been working on a couple of projects which will be ready for the light of day soon. One is a video that I think ought to be funny. Maybe very funny. Another is a lot chancier, but it's time. I'm getting ready to take a gamble on myself.<br />
<br />
I've become obsessed with the "health" app on my phone, constantly checking the number of steps I take each day. It's harder for me because I work from home and this is NOT a large house.<br />
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My old camera is giving up the ghost and we're now looking for a new one. Anyone who knows of one that takes still and video AND has good sound, by all means let me know. I've had the old one more than ten years and it's been a good one. It'd still be a good one if there weren't a couple of shorts inside that make it difficult to charge and to get photos off of. When I got it, it was the first eight megapixel camera out there. Now my phone has a higher resolution.<br />
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Getting excited about our trip to Florida in June for the Billy Bowlegs Pirate Festival. I'll have plenty more to say about that in the weeks ahead.<br />
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That was the timer. Enchiladas are on! Anyone who has had Tori's chicken enchiladas knows why I will not dawdle, but post this and get to the table.<br />
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<br />John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-52291038085202095582015-04-28T14:31:00.000-04:002015-04-28T14:31:44.306-04:00So Much Weather, All at Once<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Amazing storm blew in out of Texas Monday. (Damn you Texas!) The forecast had called for rain, but when I stepped outside at around 10 a.m. it was so dark I had to turn on the porch light. Across the river, Tori was in her classroom and saw the sky turn green. The school told them there were tornado warnings, so keep the kids away from the windows. The kids, of course, immediately freaked out, and every time there was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder they all screamed.<br />
<br />
There was a LOT of lightning and thunder, and the wind swept in with a fury. This is how strong it was – the wind blew a train off a trestle! I'm not kidding, check out <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i76HFtO2lsU" target="_blank">the video here.</a> I would have bet that wasn't possible, but looking at the video, I get it. All those box cars made a big sail for the wind barreling down the river, and as they went over, they took the locomotive with them.<br />
<br />
That's the train trestle that's part of the Huey P. Long Bridge over the Mississippi, the same bridge Tori crosses twice a day to and from work. When she headed home, the four-lane roadway was reduced to one lane because of all the emergency vehicles.<br />
<br />
In our neighborhood, we got a lot of wind and rain, but the power stayed on, at least here. But it wasn't all sweetness and light. Right around the corner a power pole blew completely over. A swath of houses and stores a couple of blocks wide and almost a mile long were blacked out south of the downed line. This is why I'm glad I'm a northerner. We were fine. When I drove by the morning to take the kids to school, the pole was still lying across the road.<br />
<br />
See, this is what happens when you build a housing development on what used to be a swamp. Sure, you can put in a bunch of fill, and you can put in a drainage system, but when you get that much rain that fast, some of the stuff you stuck in the ground doesn't stay.<br />
<br />
We've been waiting for more today, but apparently it's mostly move on east. (Sorry Florida.)<br />
<br />
But boy, it can change fast, can't it? It's not that we have different weather than we had back in Oregon. It's just that we've got <i>so much</i> weather. Often all at once.John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-44100856958982196292015-04-21T15:18:00.000-04:002015-04-21T15:18:52.770-04:00'Suck the Heads, Eat the Tails"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suck the head ...</td></tr>
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We recently attended our first crawfish boil – a Louisiana tradition
heartily embraced by our neighbor Eddie. This winter Eddie moved into
the house next door, a house that had been vacant for two years. He's a
great guy, one of those guys who is always working on a project, always
has a story. And he loves holding crawfish boils. In fact, next month is
his annual competition – at which a half dozen people compete for the
title.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglnhyphenhyphenC3wMCQ0NT5OlUlDMLzAWFT8HTIILC9lLB0BTX8ctp74ayMNH7nxegn_mzVePpsjHhDJh4dzQ9XW42v953GwDhYwMUdU7vld1Yk6brFfWJ94e3pmGGVy-gXQ7XEOcJJMr1Ckj-GcWO/s1600/Eat+the+tails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglnhyphenhyphenC3wMCQ0NT5OlUlDMLzAWFT8HTIILC9lLB0BTX8ctp74ayMNH7nxegn_mzVePpsjHhDJh4dzQ9XW42v953GwDhYwMUdU7vld1Yk6brFfWJ94e3pmGGVy-gXQ7XEOcJJMr1Ckj-GcWO/s1600/Eat+the+tails.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and eat the tail.</td></tr>
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This first one was a test run, his first crawfish boil in his new home. And it was great. Eddie has a custom-designed table, stainless steel with an opening in the middle for the trash. He boiled 70 pounds of crawfish which he poured around the table and everyone dug in.<br />
<br />
If you've never eaten crawfish, here's how you do it, if you've never eaten crawfish. Grab the crawfish at the base of the tail and break it in half. Suck the head. That's what I said. Suck the head, because apparently that's where a lot of the flavor is. I'm not sure about that, but it's what you do. Then you peel the shell off the tail and eat the meat inside. <br />
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It's good. No question about that. Eddie prides himself on his culinary ability, and rightly so. He cooked in two batches and the second was a lot spicier than the first. He also made jambalaya. It goes without saying that his jambalaya was WAY better than the pot I had put together a few months ago. Although I've gotta say, mine wasn't completely out of line, and eating Eddie's was educational, almost a revelation. I learned a lot, and my next will be better.<br />
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On the one hand, even the bigger crawfish are kind of small, and the whole process of eating one is a lot of effort for a small bite. In that sense they're sort of the artichokes of the seafood world. But that misses the point. They are delicious, and more importantly, it's a whole social thing. We met a lot of people, stood around talking, learned more of the culture. It was a lot of fun. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7Rzw5jYxCOIUJkGBOnsng5qiVGUGgUBN43b1iQjhjlSuSlAlMg46QgMW6LwzINSHYMODmbImgCqcjgdLVZzlJI3YCoBYNq3nz2bHW3j69M06MKym7S8qkiiU0GyxYejd2fleqzZkG_2C/s1600/Eddie's+crawfish+table.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7Rzw5jYxCOIUJkGBOnsng5qiVGUGgUBN43b1iQjhjlSuSlAlMg46QgMW6LwzINSHYMODmbImgCqcjgdLVZzlJI3YCoBYNq3nz2bHW3j69M06MKym7S8qkiiU0GyxYejd2fleqzZkG_2C/s1600/Eddie's%2Bcrawfish%2Btable.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eddie's guests gather 'round his crawfish table, where mounds<br />of the seafood awat. Eddie is the guy in the white T-shirt</td></tr>
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<br />John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-76702089730630224302015-04-08T14:27:00.002-04:002015-04-08T14:28:10.390-04:00A Week, a Coincidence, A Deal and a Visit<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>Good week, with an amazing deal and a
visit and some good work. But before I get to that, file this one
under karma, or at least under Interesting Coincidences.
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<br /></div>
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Last week I wrote about getting more
organized in my work – and I've been doing pretty well, except for
the last few days, about which more later – and about how it's fine
to have a dream, but you need to plan for how you're going to achieve
that dream.
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<br /></div>
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And then I got this in a fortune
cookie.</div>
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<i><br /></i>
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<i>
</i>
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<i>"Acting on a good idea is better
than just having a good idea."</i></div>
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A coincidence, sure. But still, the
kind that makes you go, "Hmmmmm."</div>
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<b>Spent a few hours Saturday at an estate
sale</b> in Old Metairie. The house belong to a guy who recently turned
100. His wife had died years ago and his family was moving him up to
where they could help him out. It was a big house</div>
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<br /></div>
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Anyway, there was decades and decades
of "things." The owner and his wife had obviously traveled
everywhere, he appeared to have been a sailor, he had been active in
several carnival groups. As a fellow reporter once said after coming
back from an interview with a little old lady who had been collecting
for decades, "The Knick knack shelves where chockablock with
bric a brac."
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We picked up some interesting items,
including a small Chinese vase that might be worth exactly what we
paid for it – $15 – or around $250. Doesn't matter. We got it
because we liked it. Same with the Scandinavian pitcher. A couple of
vases. And we got a tuxedo that almost fits Max – whole thing,
jacket, ruffled shirt, cummerbund, bow tie and pants. Well, the pants
will never fit him. The previous owner was a tall man. But Max will
grow into the jacket soon and the shirt already fits. Ten bucks for
the whole outfit.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But the big thing was a set of Noritake
China. There was a big stack of dinner plates – 14 I think –
small plates, saucers, a tea ... there were a LOT of pieces. The only
thing missing was most of the cups. There were only three left. Cups
break, ya know.
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And they were asking $65.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I don't know a lot about China, but I
know that's not a much for that much dinnerware. Hell, that much
Melmac plastic would have cost more than that. I looked the pattern
up online. It''s a discontinued design, but it's by no means
worthless. Plates were going for $10 a piece. The creamer was listed
at about $35. The sugar bowl was listed at $15. And on and on.</div>
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<br /></div>
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They wanted cash, so I had to run to a
nearby bank ATM. When I got back Tori was wrapping it in paper and
packing it into a plastic bin, with a bemused look on her face. She
had approached the women running the sale and said she wanted to buy
the China. One of the woman said, "Great. How about $40?"
Tori said, "Sure." They even threw in the plastic bin and
paper.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As a writer I don't do a lot of
bargaining and haggling, but it seems that's backwards. When you're
negotiating a sale, you don't lower the price after you've made the
sale, do you? We were prepared to pay the listed price. Tori said we
were going to buy it. I would have thought that was a done deal. I
guess they just like bargaining.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Anyway, we've got several hundred
dollars (at least) worth of China. Not sure what we're going to do
with it. Maybe give it to one of the kids, maybe sell it online. But
even if we just use it to replace the department store stuff we use
now, we're way ahead of the game.</div>
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<b>Also last week, we had a visit</b> from
Robyn, one of Tori's closest friends and of all our Oregon friends
the one she's known longest. We hadn't seen her in two and a half
years, when she came out to New Orleans to help us through <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2012/11/haooy-birthday-boats-on-water.html" target="_blank">the firstAlex birthday since she died</a>. Before that, while we were in the V.I.
she was in Australia. Then she moved to L.A., which she hated, and
now she and Daniel have moved to Knoxville, Tenn. (Long story not to
be repeated here.)
</div>
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Robyn had loaded up their stuff and was
driving across country in a Ford pickup with a 4-cylinder engine, so
progress was slow. But she got here earlier than expected. We
expected her late Thursday, but after a short stop at an extremely
noisy motel on the Texas/Louisiana border, she decided to hit the
road and arrived in our driveway at 3 a.m. Instead of knocking on the
door or window, she and her cat Owen slept in the front seat. So when
I got up at 6, there they were. I knocked on the driver's side window
and she jumped about as far as you can jump in the cab of a pickup.
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So she and Tori had a good day
together, then she had a "bonus day" when she slept in
until almost 11 a.m. – which she never does. The road had taken its
toll and she needed the extra day. She and Tori got extra time
together, and Robyn made it to Tennessee on Saturday after a grand
motor tour of the deep South – Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama,
Georgia and Tennessee.</div>
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<br /></div>
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John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-43345108379439030692015-03-31T22:22:00.001-04:002015-03-31T22:22:27.191-04:00Spreading Out as a Writer
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Starting to get back
in the writing swing, which I have let trail off a bit the last
couple of months. Between various family errands and day-job work,
it's easy to let that slide. But a couple of things have popped up
the last few days to give me that kick in the pants I need to keep
going.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The first was this
quote from a literary agent's blog. She was writing about how not to
give your "power" away. This line rang true to me.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>"Everyone, no
matter their career or chosen field, must do the hard work of
becoming good at what they do. That’s where a great deal of your
power lies – in your ability to study, learn, research, practice,
whatever it takes to become the best. Don’t give up this key
element of control over your future." Rachel Gardner</i></div>
</blockquote>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And this one even
more so. It came from The Writer magazine, in an interview with
notoriously obsessive, nit-picky Broadway playwright Doug Wright.</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>"If the subject
isn't sufficiently compelling to occupy your time and attention for
the three to five year time span it takes to write and rewrite a good
play, then why should an audience give you 120 minutes out of their
lives?"</i></div>
</blockquote>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Three to five years.
Did you see that? It's a rebuke to those who think, for some reason,
that writing is or should be easy. We've all heard them say it. "Oh,
when I leave this job I'm going to write." Like it's just
something you decide to do. You wouldn't say, "Maybe I'll try my
hand at brain surgery," or "I'll tear down my car's engine
this weekend." Not if you have no experience at medicine or
mechanics. But people think they can start writing, because how hard
could it be?</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Someone said that to
me just last week. Seriously. "I'm retiring next year, and then
I'm going to start writing." And maybe she will. But I always
want to ask, "OK, but what are you doing RIGHT NOW to get ready
for that?"
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because you don't
just say, "Now I'm a writer" and money starts rolling in.
Even if you're good, some savant with all this raw talent, it
just doesn't work that way. From the day you decide to start writing
a story, with luck and hard work, you might start to see some return
three or four years down the road.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And that was where
the third kick in the pants came in. Mystery writer James Scott Bell
is one of a dozen mystery writers/editors who contribute to the Kill
Zone blog, and he's far and away the most helpful. The blog is not
specifically or only for mystery writers, although of course that's
their forte, but 95 percent of it is generally applicable to writing.</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In his column Sunday
(which I highly recommend <a href="http://killzoneblog.com/2015/03/7-habits-of-highly-successful-writers.html#comment-39521" target="_blank">you read here</a>) Bell looks at an article on
the habits of wealthy people, and applies those habits to writing. I
think they really are applicable to just about any endeavor, but he's a writer, I'm a writer. We're talking about writing.
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
What it boils down
to is asking yourself, on a daily basis, "What am I doing today
that will lead me to become better in my field, and improve my
chances of success." What am I reading, what am I studying, what
am I doing <i>today</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> that will
help me ultimately succeed?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">He
also draws an important distinction between having dreams and having
a plan. "I'm going to be a New York Times best-selling author"
is a dream. So is, "I'm going to make enough money on my writing
to buy a six-pack of beer every other week." It's nice to have
dreams like that, but just having dreams doesn't get you very far. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">It's
your plan that gets you there. In an earlier post, Bell once wrote, "Plans are what put running shoes
on your dreams." A dream is something you hope will happen. A plan is what you
do to increase the odds in your favor.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">And
here's maybe the most important thing Bell said. (Seriously, <a href="http://killzoneblog.com/2015/03/7-habits-of-highly-successful-writers.html#comment-39521" target="_blank">read the column.</a>) A plan has to be measurable. You have to be able to count
the steps, you have to be able to gauge your progress. If you can't,
it's just a dream, just wishful thinking.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">And
part of what Bell does to achieve that really opened my eyes.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>"Since 2001 I
have kept track of my writing on a spreadsheet. I can tell you how
many words I wrote, and on what projects, day by week by month by
year. I prioritize my projects and know each day which one I want to
work on."</i></div>
<i>
</i></blockquote>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I hate
spreadsheets. I can see how they're handy for accountants and people
who need to count large numbers of things, but I hate when I have to
use them. Still, I can see how this is a good idea.</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have a target when
I sit down to write. I always aim for 1,000 words a day. If I go over,
that's gravy, and I usually do (my best day I got on a roll and
knocked out almost 5,000 words. It felt amazing.) But it's very easy
to say, I've got to do this, that or the other thing today, and not
get around to writing on my WIP (work in progress.) That's a
dangerous. It's easy to get out of the swing. Which is what I did.</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But now I've got a
spread sheet going, and I will mark my progress every day – every
day – not just for my WIP, but for all the writing I do for the
Source and for this blog. It's harder to ignore. I know that if I
skip a day, that blank space is going to be in my word-count log forever.
Or until I die, whichever comes first. </div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-1443840210452304402015-03-20T18:51:00.001-04:002015-03-20T18:52:30.424-04:00Why Must He Be So Reasonable?<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Had my follow up visit with the doctor
Thursday. It went fine, but it would probably have been more helpful
if he hadn't kept being all reasonable.
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We went over the results of all the
tests and it was all pretty much what I'd told him six weeks ago –
high cholesterol, a little too much weight. Turns out I <i>don't</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
have gout, just a sore toe. And my heart is fine, that's always good
news.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">So
I'll be going back to see him in six months – and in the meantime
I'll have lost some weight and lowered my cholesterol. I'll do the
latter in part through a statin drug he's prescribed – which means
no more grapefruit juice for me! Damn! I love grapefruit juice.
There's half a bottle in the refrigerator. Ah well. The things we do
simply to live longer.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">As to
the former, lose weight. Well, there ain't no secrets or surprises
there. Eat less, and eat smarter, and exercise more. The plan is,
I'll take the statin and restructure my eating and workout habits.
Then at the end of the six months we'll check the cholesterol level
again. If it's down enough (and by "enough" I mean roughly
in half) then I'll go off the statins and see if the new,
smart-eating me can keep it down.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">I've
already dropped six pounds since my first meeting with the doc Feb.
2, so I'm on my way but have a ways to go. It is a not inconsequential percentage of my current body mass. Biggest thing I've done is
stop drinking milk. I was raised with milk, to me it doesn't feel
like a meal without a glass of milk, or two. But milk, of course, is
a liquid devised by mother nature to turn calves into 500 pound
steers quickly and efficiently. So now my only milk comes on my
morning Cheerios.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">The
doctor gave me – not a diet, but a sheet on how to eat more
sensibly. First, do most of your own cooking. People who prepare
their own meals tend to be healthier and have less weight problems
than people who eat out a lot. Check. Already do that. I probably do 70 percent of the cooking in the house. Second, do the bulk of your
shopping on the periphery of the supermarket – shop the outer walls
first. That's where the produce, meat, seafood departments tend to
be. As the doc said, "Buy food that looks like food." As much as possible, refrain from stuff in boxes or cans.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> (Of course, the bakery often also is on the store's periphery,
but I didn't point that out. It'll be our little secret.) </span> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">Again
- check. I already buy very little of the processed foods. I don't understand why, for instance, a person would buy a
jar of spaghetti sauce loaded with sugar, dyes and preservatives, when it's so easy to make, and tastes so much better.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">So as
we talked about healthy choices (At dinner the contents of plate should
be half plant – salad, vegetables, fruit, that kind of thing.) Starch –
rice or potatoes – should be the smallest portion.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">And
this is where his reasonableness became a problem. I'd heave a sigh
and say something like, "Goodbye red meat," and he'd say,
"Oh no, a little red meat is fine, in fact ..." and he'd reel
off several reasons why a little beef – grass fed, not corn fed –
would be just fine. Or how I have to have a regular "cheat day"
when I'm allowed to break the rules. We even had a spirited
discussion about the awesomeness of bacon! How is </span><i>that</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
supposed to help me?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">That's
not what I need. I need a task master. I need someone to get all in
my face and shout, "No more white rice! Step away from the cookies! Eat
this quinoa, then drop and give me 10!"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">No,
I've gotta be the grownup here. Any yelling at me will have to be
done by me. The grown up.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">Speaking
of quinoa, I have now tried it and don't plan to again. When we were
at the Whole Foods a couple of weeks ago we picked some up. As the girl at the register
rang us up we mentioned we didn't know how to cook it yet. She gave
us some tips.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">"So
you eat it?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">"Yeah."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">"Is
it any good?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">"Oh
no," she said without hesitation. "But I eat it."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">Well,
good for her. We tried it. It's supposed to be very good for you, but cooking it made kind of a mess and it tasted sort of vile. In fairness maybe if we were better at cooking it, it might not have been completely vile. But I don't care.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">It's no longer on our diet. I don't eat quinoa. You may quote me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">And I
don't think that's being unreasonable.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-29006728083221105752015-03-15T14:57:00.000-04:002015-03-15T14:57:09.680-04:00Our Biggest Challenge Yet on the Kitten Front
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<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We have a new kitten in the house, and
this one will be a challenge.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We have fostered three kittens (<a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2014/12/were-sending-little-one-out-in-world.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2015/01/bad-history-teeth-cats-idiots.html" target="_blank">here about halfway down</a>) for the
<a href="http://spaymart.org/" target="_blank">Spaymart</a>, kittens that have undergone some kind of trauma and had
trouble learning to socialize. And in each case we've been able to
help them calm down and get adopted into homes where they're now
loved and loving members of the family.</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbrcXqu-XrxePd3B8lwpkfM4CPHNkUuZGghRBs2-O_ddYlO-uLb3mx41jr2rq5oYrg6cBbbgAm2ItED_5Ycka-mknWMU8lLMGbzbApddVzoHZLnEfiNTrvLgN_Zxlq_v7atZq6VeOWZ0X5/s1600/cat+in+closet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbrcXqu-XrxePd3B8lwpkfM4CPHNkUuZGghRBs2-O_ddYlO-uLb3mx41jr2rq5oYrg6cBbbgAm2ItED_5Ycka-mknWMU8lLMGbzbApddVzoHZLnEfiNTrvLgN_Zxlq_v7atZq6VeOWZ0X5/s1600/cat+in+closet.jpg" height="166" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitten in the Closet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The new one is about eight weeks, but
that's a guess. She was part of a litter of four found int he wild
and brought to the Spaymart. Two were adopted. This one and the third
got sick and were at a vet's office that – well, let's say care for
the animals seemed to be secondary to the vet's convenience. The
third died. And the one with us now was pretty badly traumatized.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We were told going in that, if we can't
make any headway with her, they have a feral cat colony, so no
pressure. That's not a great image to start with. And she sure showed
no sign of wanting to be part of a family. She's scared.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tori opened the cat carrier and she
dashed behind the couch, where she spent most of her first day. We
knew she used the cat box – which was kind of a miracle since it's
in the laundry room and we never had a chance to show it to her –
but we never saw her. Shame too, she's a very pretty cat.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Unlike the other three kittens we've
fostered, this one didn't even have a name. She does now, but she had
to earn it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The second day she ran into our
bedroom, burrowed into the closet, and spent the next two days there.
We'd peek in, pushing aside the hanging clothes, talking to her the whole time and never reaching for her. All we could see
was her eyes staring out. She didn't hiss, didn't strike out. Just
stared.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzVGetSY44Zof0eE8anqmZ3XPJvrhKXZbP9z7Clrzk0ZPtmlp2NHPqiffucXPf9SoRqZQLGamSGkBQFyMrojA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tori has spent hours, sitting outside
the closet just talking and waving cat toys at her, the kind on the
long flexible rod with a bunch of stuff fluttering around. And the
cat started responding, tracking the beguiling objects and batting at
them.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's just a matter of patience. Lots
and lots of that. We can't force anything. We haven't even tried to
touch her yet. Just keep talking to her, keep playing with her, keep
letting her know we're here and aren't going to hurt her. No sudden
movements.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXku_Z5DLftSTKTIBB0MsPqwLs9IbQNyNO6eN2lW1VzSlcNavT-guwtxaFhrPMmIf8v0qE0zWpLAgOvd3WLDGyRjKdL4Xllwg19EREkR9OTy5sEYzMCBzBhiCWgXJnziXNvTKWAeEG_2vZ/s1600/Ellen+the+Explorer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXku_Z5DLftSTKTIBB0MsPqwLs9IbQNyNO6eN2lW1VzSlcNavT-guwtxaFhrPMmIf8v0qE0zWpLAgOvd3WLDGyRjKdL4Xllwg19EREkR9OTy5sEYzMCBzBhiCWgXJnziXNvTKWAeEG_2vZ/s1600/Ellen+the+Explorer.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellen the Explorer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She mostly stayed in our closet for two
days. We never saw her leave, but she did because the cat box was
being used and the food disappearing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She finally came out yesterday. And
that's how she earned her name. We call her Ellen, because she came
out of the closet.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She's spending most of her time behind
the furniture in the living room. Right now I see she's very
tentatively slipped around the corner, alert for any movement, ready
to run. She's been at the food and water bowls, which are kind of out
int he open, for about ten minutes. She's aware we're here, Tori at
the kitchen table, me at my work station in the living room, and
she's very cautious. Now she's exploring the living room. She's
keeping her distance, but she's out.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Time. It's just a matter of time, I
guess.
</div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-22275385266846608992015-03-13T14:42:00.003-04:002015-03-13T14:42:38.771-04:00No News Is Good News
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<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's been two weeks since I took my
cardiac stress test, and still no word on the results.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That's gotta be a classic case of "no
news is good news," right. I mean, I've been imagining a phone
call that starts with, "This is the hospital. Are you still
alive?" I say "Yes," and they say, "Whew. That's
great. Don't move. An ambulance is coming to get you."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But that hasn't happened, so I figure
whatever the news eventually turns out to be, it can't be <i>too</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
bad, and it might even be good. So hooray for me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">By the
way, for something called a "stress test," it was pretty
boring. Took all morning, and it mostly involved sitting around
waiting while the various things they gave me intravenously got
circulated. Then they'd take some pictures of my innards, take some
EKGs, pump in something else and make me wait more. Poor Tori, who
came with me, missed all the "action," because there wasn't
any, and because she couldn't come in the areas where they did the
actual testing. Fortunately, she brought a book.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">The
only really difficult part was just getting from the place in the
hospital where they did the IV to the place where they took the
pictures, to the place where they did the EKG. It seemed as if they
intentionally placed them at the farthest points away from each other
in the hospital.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">Since
then I haven't really given it much thought. Just waiting for the
results so I can get on with the next step – whatever that turns
out to be – of making me healthy, or at least healthy-ish. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">Catching
up</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">Been a
while since I posted. Lot of stuff going on, lot of it work, family
stuff. Stuff I should be blogging about but I'm too busy doing it to
take the time out to write much. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">The
family is good. Max is driving – I know, scary, but he's actually
getting pretty good. Doesn't have a license yet, probably not until
this summer. Louisiana, which is so backward in so many way, has some
really strict laws about the process for kids getting licenses and
what they can do when the first get them. But he's going through the
hurdles.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-36622441110599944842015-02-22T13:05:00.001-04:002015-02-22T13:06:37.130-04:00ROAD TRIP!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79bfBN3toRLtLaWsm2VOoKFQG9cVUPrulgU9Mdqq0MWs2PLFOjKlKR0ln_xP_761-t3iI8n9hX2WsYFOcqfGlm2u1Mcz5_AHTYLsFKqLpq5KiX5yEARMXWf3nbSswmtTSPMUjo7VkFcSl/s1600/on+the+balcony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79bfBN3toRLtLaWsm2VOoKFQG9cVUPrulgU9Mdqq0MWs2PLFOjKlKR0ln_xP_761-t3iI8n9hX2WsYFOcqfGlm2u1Mcz5_AHTYLsFKqLpq5KiX5yEARMXWf3nbSswmtTSPMUjo7VkFcSl/s1600/on+the+balcony.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tori and John on their hotel balcony. Happy.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Pirates, penguins, porpoises and more. What a great, serendipitous road trip we had.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tori and I were
talking about going to Fort Walton Beach, Fla., this June for the
<a href="http://www.billybowlegsfestival.com/" target="_blank">Billy
Bowlegs Pirate Festival.</a> It's an easy drive from here, it's
supposed to be a really good festival, and our friend <a href="http://www.tommason.net/" target="_blank">Tom Mason</a> is
the featured performer.
</span></div>
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</span>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETGrygjLtYflQlvr84tcYalpfiwblsTZDbaZgbA7Haq_cay2b36bskqtKHDH8Icyq_6ALKhnohNKwvo5B_vWkUQ6ysx265q-He4syENFiSvJ9XiJvNJwmzs24nkR7jMqxqi30B3OfKRLX/s1600/Tori+in+the+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETGrygjLtYflQlvr84tcYalpfiwblsTZDbaZgbA7Haq_cay2b36bskqtKHDH8Icyq_6ALKhnohNKwvo5B_vWkUQ6ysx265q-He4syENFiSvJ9XiJvNJwmzs24nkR7jMqxqi30B3OfKRLX/s1600/Tori+in+the+car.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tori on the road.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">But we don't know
the town. The only time either Tori or I have been in Florida was
stopovers on flights from the states to the islands. We were having
trouble figuring out where would be a good place to stay so we could
enjoy the festival and do as little driving as possible during the
event.</span></div>
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</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Finally, Tori said,
"What the hell! Let's go!" Thursday we jumped in the car
with our toothbrushes and a change of underwear each and four hours
later we were in Fort Walton Beach. (Whoever told us it was two hours
to Pensacola lied – or drove about 130 miles an hour. But that's
OK, it was a nice drive. Who knew Mobile has such a great skyline?)
We felt right at home. It's a beachside town, and there's something
similar about them, whether in Florida, Southern Cal or Oregon. A
certain sandy funkiness that we recognized instantly.</span></div>
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</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-c3KL33XiKo3cxl-CrIuVyBtGvr6Qjx-GYfx5eOIOHs2JeelH0Fj4Og1kyHiyQYx_6SE4hAxBGHE5507bH6d9eBNEd5Hz6idw7Nk0l01EfgOujsET4U2vS-F6lG-2jE1k1JdEt89bhDSd/s1600/sundown+on+balcony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-c3KL33XiKo3cxl-CrIuVyBtGvr6Qjx-GYfx5eOIOHs2JeelH0Fj4Og1kyHiyQYx_6SE4hAxBGHE5507bH6d9eBNEd5Hz6idw7Nk0l01EfgOujsET4U2vS-F6lG-2jE1k1JdEt89bhDSd/s1600/sundown+on+balcony.jpg" height="178" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Gulf of Mexico sundown.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVBC31Wr-vESMjOc1Kr8TdPtUfwIlX8H1Kipz7-cMK6vh0ZJm6TONyS0RvlZCX9_XQwF4lVlX2aP3jTk7E1yemtHjZXjZyhQOTpcCbtKxAyAOLwVFtWYNfXGgxhQr4uOHtZstJAuS9Vgf/s1600/A+pirate+and+a+pirate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVBC31Wr-vESMjOc1Kr8TdPtUfwIlX8H1Kipz7-cMK6vh0ZJm6TONyS0RvlZCX9_XQwF4lVlX2aP3jTk7E1yemtHjZXjZyhQOTpcCbtKxAyAOLwVFtWYNfXGgxhQr4uOHtZstJAuS9Vgf/s1600/A+pirate+and+a+pirate.jpg" height="200" width="144" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Pirate and pirate</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Unlike our <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2014/04/dirty-water-but-nice-day.html" target="_blank">last
attempt to enjoy the shores of the Gulf of Mexico,</a> this was a
really nice place. I could stay there a while.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">We found the
waterfront park where the festival takes place, and found a resort
approximately a hundred yards away. That would be perfect. We spent
the night there, liked it, and the next morning we reserved the last
room they had available for the early June festival weekend, a room
big enough for us and Kate and Max.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">While we were
packing up to check out, the phone rang. It was my doctor, who wanted
to talk over <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2015/02/turns-out-im-ok-not-great-but-ok.html" target="_blank">the
results of my blood test.</a> Nothing to worry about, in fact he said
it was pretty much exactly what I had told him when I first walked
into his office. The only thing to be concerned about is high
cholesterol, which I had told him. I've got a cardiac stress test
Thursday and assuming all goes well (or at least well-ish) we'll talk
about how to get the cholesterol down.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">That having been
said, a big, greasy road trip breakfast was off the schedule. Tori
insisted. For some reason, she wants to keep me around.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">We asked at the desk
for a good local spot for breakfast would be and they directed us to
an out-of-the-way, not at all touristy restaurant called the
Neighborhood Cafe. Well named, because that's what it is. It's a
neighborhood place that tourists wouldn't even find, let along want
to go to. But it was really good. I had an omelet made with egg
whites only. It was delicious, and the best part was the hash browns.
I'd swear they were cooked in bacon grease. Maybe not the best thing
for my heart, but delicious!</span></div>
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</span>
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</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">But here's the thing
–
</span></div>
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</span>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
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</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT79_com_zimbra_date1"></a>
The cafe was full up – Friday, I guess, the local clientele comes
in for their chicken fried steak or biscuits and gravy. And except
for the table of guys from the nearby Air Force Base and one other
table, we were the youngest customers there – by far! I'm not
kidding, I can't think of the last time I saw so many walkers and
canes. It's not often these days that I walk into a place and <i>lower</i>
the average age of the room.
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">After breakfast we
stopped in at the chamber of commerce, which has a sign boasting "the
Billy Bowlegs Museum," which turns out to be their conference
room with a bunch of pictures on the wall. We introduced ourselves,
Tori mentioned TLAPDay, and the next thing I know the chamber
director is out there signing me up to do some radio spots announcing
this year's festival.</span></div>
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</span>
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</span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMlibCcIjphncvXfclrQS3bAbsuLGr3790onMKKlzqjKKNXhQNG89CSIgme_GmU5kDgRqjkOV81QyQ521tgXuxaUvJS_Ur5peEhZqoWWzPjwhjcqk_IH1a2d5SXuPTYocDghyphenhyphenNejLYKhh/s1600/Tori+talks+to+Cranberry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMlibCcIjphncvXfclrQS3bAbsuLGr3790onMKKlzqjKKNXhQNG89CSIgme_GmU5kDgRqjkOV81QyQ521tgXuxaUvJS_Ur5peEhZqoWWzPjwhjcqk_IH1a2d5SXuPTYocDghyphenhyphenNejLYKhh/s1600/Tori+talks+to+Cranberry.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tori chats with Cranberry.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEqGq-vL31bsjSs1ZzR-7gP3luRkJ3nFUXGFIAejRGegdmLBJCG8RQzWmNXB71HqMqJAQgtHVpwKGGEklZnCpMKzT0kfmig58ioOHYci4X3QfutkGX5pjh-E53LEZjOlhx0mKzLo4UT4r/s1600/Tori+and+Cranberry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEqGq-vL31bsjSs1ZzR-7gP3luRkJ3nFUXGFIAejRGegdmLBJCG8RQzWmNXB71HqMqJAQgtHVpwKGGEklZnCpMKzT0kfmig58ioOHYci4X3QfutkGX5pjh-E53LEZjOlhx0mKzLo4UT4r/s1600/Tori+and+Cranberry.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tori and Cranberry</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the afternoon we
went to the local aquarium, <a href="https://www.gulfarium.com/" target="_blank">the
Gulfarium.</a> I'm sure during the tourist season it's a terrific
place. In February, it was cold, cloudy, there was hardly anyone
there, and half the exhibits were closed for the season. But it was a
fun afternoon with a dolphin show, at the end of which, Tori got to
feed a penguin. She and a girl, about 12 or so, were given
instructions and told to sit cross legged. The little penguin, a
South African penguin called Cranberry, wasn't interested in eating.
Instead, she jumped right into Tori's lap!
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was, all in all,
a terrific road trip, two days of just me and Tori. The weather was
cold, the sky was cloudy, and we had a great time together. And
this the same week that <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2015/02/picture-this-pirates-prowl-streets-for.html" target="_blank">we
celebrated Mardi Gras.</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Sometimes life is
too good.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JISmY7ExUoyEdge0ZO5mLmXlASvL7MXVYa4I0zdMi3wcya_y7S47KgCI1Mw9sEkKw4d7JAeztXdHncZ5f5WkfvO-NLNcisDFqtMrnamoQTDDluOdNJTVy9S_eTbRDVOLvWqIPXPQ06yf/s1600/beach+sundown+panorama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JISmY7ExUoyEdge0ZO5mLmXlASvL7MXVYa4I0zdMi3wcya_y7S47KgCI1Mw9sEkKw4d7JAeztXdHncZ5f5WkfvO-NLNcisDFqtMrnamoQTDDluOdNJTVy9S_eTbRDVOLvWqIPXPQ06yf/s1600/beach+sundown+panorama.jpg" height="143" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span>John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-58042757132754063582015-02-18T17:42:00.000-04:002015-02-19T03:05:59.638-04:00Picture This: Pirates Prowl the Streets for Mardi Gras<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGSwGXnIBer7Xvr9xg_NqNRYpzRRqUQl5uFO_0DsaFX0G7cQOPXll5SXuvSBtgKrAbVwJvtkHoeNbDHqaYy0DN0VdwcxKeEbIw44HdmuZBNsJaefzPARnXIc_oTe5UWVNHR0Dp1LForYBO/s1600/IMG_0074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGSwGXnIBer7Xvr9xg_NqNRYpzRRqUQl5uFO_0DsaFX0G7cQOPXll5SXuvSBtgKrAbVwJvtkHoeNbDHqaYy0DN0VdwcxKeEbIw44HdmuZBNsJaefzPARnXIc_oTe5UWVNHR0Dp1LForYBO/s1600/IMG_0074.jpg" height="320" width="320" /> </a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
It's an old, old
saying, but it bears repeating.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
To most of the
world, yesterday was Tuesday. In New Orleans, it was Mardi Gras! In
most of the world, people went through their normal weekday routine.
They may have work a colorful tie to the office, or had a little
party after work. But they went to the office, they went to work.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Here's the whole
city was one big party.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I was again a
guest of the Krewe of Pirates, the New Orleans group that parades
through the crowded streets of the French Quarter and the surrounding
area, pushing the pirate ship over the cobble stones, firing the bead
cannon into the crowd. (Although the bead cannon was a little
disappointing this year, lot of misfires. I think we need cannon
Viagra.)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
It was a great
time. I learned a couple of important lessons the last time I went
with the KoP. You can read about it <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2013/02/no-other-word-for-mardi-gras-than-wow.html">here</a>, <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2013/02/more-mardi-gras-wouldnt-you-rather-be.html">here</a> and <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2013/02/last-mardi-gras-thoughts.html">here</a>.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
One – I got
some gel insoles for my boots. In 2013, by the time we got back my
feet hurt so badly I could barely walk. The insoles made all the
difference. My legs are sore, and my toes were sore, but the soles of
my feet were fine.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Two – There is
NO place to go to the bathroom when you're out on the streets. No
place. The bars and restaurants all have "Restroom for Patrons
Only" signs up and they mean it. I spied one bank of
portapotties, but the line was as long as most parades. When we got
back to our starting point two years ago, I was practically doubled
over from the bladder pressure, and I swear, I timed it and it took a
full two minutes to pee.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
So this year I
did not drink my usual half a pot of coffee in the morning, and I
stayed away from the beer and champagne. I drank rum from my flask,
and I nipped at it, no guzzling. It felt SO much better.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
So I had a great
time. A GREAT time. Met some terrific pirates I'm proud to call
brother. Reconnected with the boys from the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/whiskeybayrovers">Whiskey Bay Rovers</a>, a group of
maritime musicians from Lafayette, La., and great guys.They were along for the ride, and sang a tune at the bar.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Tori couldn't
come along this time. Max is in the EJHS band and they were marching
in the Krewe of Argus parade in Metairie (you wouldn't believe how
many parades they have during Mardi Gras – about 30, I think) and
Tori went along as one of the parent chaperones. She walked 6.2 miles
keeping the crowds away from the kids and making sure they kids got
water when needed. I only walked 3.7 miles, albeit pushing a pirate
ship, and I got rum! I win.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
You can see a video of the fun <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcDw3PPt5aA&feature=youtu.be">here</a>. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
As always,
thanks to Charles Duffy and all the members of the Krewe of Pirates.
It was a rollicking good time and I was delighted to be asked aboard.
Now for some pix.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTu3lde0OPfbRyeifWW8P0CCTD66S0SwNdzdYQv9Kr9KhdOV82PdUGQ7OqF24L7bvHe1ViI6SKjlnw-jR-Pz8VdwkdeMQzkDulBJsEsVSkxIT-teoHByJbAGWIDsPCqEzOg-H-KPy33na9/s1600/IMG_0079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTu3lde0OPfbRyeifWW8P0CCTD66S0SwNdzdYQv9Kr9KhdOV82PdUGQ7OqF24L7bvHe1ViI6SKjlnw-jR-Pz8VdwkdeMQzkDulBJsEsVSkxIT-teoHByJbAGWIDsPCqEzOg-H-KPy33na9/s1600/IMG_0079.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric of the Whiskey Bay Rovers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ezGUKU03MJHg9hIlrmfGk1mHE4v-dxBQ350mzDBHurde2Bb3NyDcKow3JXAesS666Aj9qhAv0oslzPduv1bd2Yrn-l3jFeRhDMPYcXH4_3n4EZSS3s0zoXxyMRGJ4fD3RJ3dd5d-6i8L/s1600/IMG_0086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ezGUKU03MJHg9hIlrmfGk1mHE4v-dxBQ350mzDBHurde2Bb3NyDcKow3JXAesS666Aj9qhAv0oslzPduv1bd2Yrn-l3jFeRhDMPYcXH4_3n4EZSS3s0zoXxyMRGJ4fD3RJ3dd5d-6i8L/s1600/IMG_0086.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manning the bead cannon.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh106EuAMr_SGlY0aHCF5KT14O0bA0ybReF3GHf4KcG53KkohxhB1tQ-LHb1nsKONGsyYhFvu8jZ29MZZWdBh8Xtys46LXeEWK_dLHYMxs5bvq3fsgDgEo1lBektjdzbd0NL3dIsKn9x3WL/s1600/IMG_0087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh106EuAMr_SGlY0aHCF5KT14O0bA0ybReF3GHf4KcG53KkohxhB1tQ-LHb1nsKONGsyYhFvu8jZ29MZZWdBh8Xtys46LXeEWK_dLHYMxs5bvq3fsgDgEo1lBektjdzbd0NL3dIsKn9x3WL/s1600/IMG_0087.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irish, a captain of the Krewe of Pirates.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjMo3aAryTWXAS8bwVdBjiAprx452Z1EPwYsicnsVr0oqKvcin4er1JVZQKEgYzvPy_0NBJbblEDl-OuzG66Qs2BjcVB6QM2HIGH4loAVzKpqnGursHM0iyTUBRLczKFEHe7G0p5Uer5b/s1600/IMG_0095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjMo3aAryTWXAS8bwVdBjiAprx452Z1EPwYsicnsVr0oqKvcin4er1JVZQKEgYzvPy_0NBJbblEDl-OuzG66Qs2BjcVB6QM2HIGH4loAVzKpqnGursHM0iyTUBRLczKFEHe7G0p5Uer5b/s1600/IMG_0095.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, that's exactly what it looks like. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqyQeNn_w37yWqvCGxxKoIB1UIA23QRXbRfY6WwZvrrjZpxv9iQqyIHWD_NSNnvkJWL7oshE8pOPbymLFbTxo7Oy-fnl7awRkerz0LfEKoo4xMz6V3IIyrJ2N7x_BVITCdWtIKpF1e6kQ/s1600/IMG_0101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqyQeNn_w37yWqvCGxxKoIB1UIA23QRXbRfY6WwZvrrjZpxv9iQqyIHWD_NSNnvkJWL7oshE8pOPbymLFbTxo7Oy-fnl7awRkerz0LfEKoo4xMz6V3IIyrJ2N7x_BVITCdWtIKpF1e6kQ/s1600/IMG_0101.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pirates on the prowl!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH-GdfikxcIje7jZ5HQfZaVht0BxPJ3e2bZmN6AER6nu_Db1_ChS04-5Ptj-0dE8VX7Xiog_E5gi0aSJK07wu6Fd3c9QOSKJOkG6ONGdJbj4hGK3QJABrKGJuUHwbNmqqCEW9DmPnSdQhd/s1600/IMG_0104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH-GdfikxcIje7jZ5HQfZaVht0BxPJ3e2bZmN6AER6nu_Db1_ChS04-5Ptj-0dE8VX7Xiog_E5gi0aSJK07wu6Fd3c9QOSKJOkG6ONGdJbj4hGK3QJABrKGJuUHwbNmqqCEW9DmPnSdQhd/s1600/IMG_0104.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve of the Whiskey Bay Rovers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPO1R0ScXqW4_VUxU52GcEdHYgEa25dF9L_vNlq0PLWp5cXOivtG_viPr9Iu7LXGTdkQ4KwBld27HS8O5rqLe21iahXLeTvrdQ1oQ7p9kAEJwGhoQOuB8xLoedihZTP-iDG9vjGfPZZGK/s1600/IMG_0105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPO1R0ScXqW4_VUxU52GcEdHYgEa25dF9L_vNlq0PLWp5cXOivtG_viPr9Iu7LXGTdkQ4KwBld27HS8O5rqLe21iahXLeTvrdQ1oQ7p9kAEJwGhoQOuB8xLoedihZTP-iDG9vjGfPZZGK/s1600/IMG_0105.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ol' Chumbucket flanked by Jared and Steve of the WBR.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4yB_-CJyQWg2MOVOrCypAq-Ivrq5h3wsFlhStywBb5H5KKQLIOp9jAJbeVpJ-CCSu794AhUSfWeVUY1Ppa8Jv0cq_pH-GA4oMhATIh7uoD_m1gQK1B9natruJmalA11SrtqsnOPTYOCo/s1600/IMG_0108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4yB_-CJyQWg2MOVOrCypAq-Ivrq5h3wsFlhStywBb5H5KKQLIOp9jAJbeVpJ-CCSu794AhUSfWeVUY1Ppa8Jv0cq_pH-GA4oMhATIh7uoD_m1gQK1B9natruJmalA11SrtqsnOPTYOCo/s1600/IMG_0108.jpg" height="640" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irish – A big man full of love – and rum.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXonxcuw4qPuL1v5_DPCqNt9Fn-feDB-2uQGjLGm3-rEWJuli9kvK8nOVu57iFDW4KzFWYWDiMNjSzpSM11xhL9JQJWwnJRDbojYCLToTgMEKurDVzhevPtwR3bQdu48X0RxOKqZPoGev/s1600/IMG_0109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXonxcuw4qPuL1v5_DPCqNt9Fn-feDB-2uQGjLGm3-rEWJuli9kvK8nOVu57iFDW4KzFWYWDiMNjSzpSM11xhL9JQJWwnJRDbojYCLToTgMEKurDVzhevPtwR3bQdu48X0RxOKqZPoGev/s1600/IMG_0109.jpg" height="400" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pirate from Tampa – the home of Gasparilla.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4gBbvrhIVN37e-ns5QP3V54xby4c8bCvcpvfuBwjIMnxWmMZoABmQe6Lys5ESJ9cQrabtpFf4uv0uT77BkFbEobWArsnqP1Bhhm7MW26NbX9WsifyVVkLqUbDGq7zEzqKygthXQppBCnu/s1600/IMG_0110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4gBbvrhIVN37e-ns5QP3V54xby4c8bCvcpvfuBwjIMnxWmMZoABmQe6Lys5ESJ9cQrabtpFf4uv0uT77BkFbEobWArsnqP1Bhhm7MW26NbX9WsifyVVkLqUbDGq7zEzqKygthXQppBCnu/s1600/IMG_0110.jpg" height="640" width="388" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charles Duffy, master of the fleet of KoP.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDIDJ-fbangHBaVD_ZIH3KIvRbOJ9Ti1whc0ZdHILYqAXaE7aBpRtRlWYapc0BWePyr9gFf_fwCseOogJnopgHrCmN1l61P4_jjsPW2Sqn1jhzmz3LUrkMNuIiU4yY3yki_1myotthqK5/s1600/IMG_0117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDIDJ-fbangHBaVD_ZIH3KIvRbOJ9Ti1whc0ZdHILYqAXaE7aBpRtRlWYapc0BWePyr9gFf_fwCseOogJnopgHrCmN1l61P4_jjsPW2Sqn1jhzmz3LUrkMNuIiU4yY3yki_1myotthqK5/s1600/IMG_0117.jpg" height="400" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure what this is supposed to be.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEe2_fCbCXBh1N4Gx2a5YnLKWDCisJLrpFH-SOTSjKfiuRQWcZGl4P_1cpsW5Itr0nzlyoACV0Ysm5viAiXma6cILNnIVsxoMCKxOcQY9nZjYFZXblJ7thyphenhyphenl4j-UQDHJDdS6Prursw9rBW/s1600/IMG_0120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEe2_fCbCXBh1N4Gx2a5YnLKWDCisJLrpFH-SOTSjKfiuRQWcZGl4P_1cpsW5Itr0nzlyoACV0Ysm5viAiXma6cILNnIVsxoMCKxOcQY9nZjYFZXblJ7thyphenhyphenl4j-UQDHJDdS6Prursw9rBW/s1600/IMG_0120.jpg" height="640" width="390" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All sorts of costumes take the streets.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRAmuCVqVyajQnRp6eN24_nmte1S2-oAPFp2vkM1bthK4hadrhddbeDKvcLKQ82PmPLypgwqFeYT46e7mcV8285JMon9tP7nVQpvV1Ohb7Z3V1qzHwBjPTqJpT2C3p71fJ_tPCfKpAnmRy/s1600/IMG_0141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRAmuCVqVyajQnRp6eN24_nmte1S2-oAPFp2vkM1bthK4hadrhddbeDKvcLKQ82PmPLypgwqFeYT46e7mcV8285JMon9tP7nVQpvV1Ohb7Z3V1qzHwBjPTqJpT2C3p71fJ_tPCfKpAnmRy/s1600/IMG_0141.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The streets become on big party!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPWRIGhfyEHco_2uuGekGjUt5dNwdBTqevZ-lnj4Dv3ysGjaYIsNoT2-Alk88gZmp6A5gFcQeRuccNlFm5WOund_WX3zmJubJ4uCDYrc-9L1rLg23kr8TbYSWjvzkIFljyahXjdnCEEsN/s1600/IMG_0144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPWRIGhfyEHco_2uuGekGjUt5dNwdBTqevZ-lnj4Dv3ysGjaYIsNoT2-Alk88gZmp6A5gFcQeRuccNlFm5WOund_WX3zmJubJ4uCDYrc-9L1rLg23kr8TbYSWjvzkIFljyahXjdnCEEsN/s1600/IMG_0144.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mardi Gras is for everyone!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj47LCVdTMdj-lSt-Cf92HOtowrjOktRKuLLA1DVgG-OL_nkiQ788HASr7xJEMbVNEsVPPSd_c4BbYR0uXsp-j6T-nKgLZfitXl7Hp-mGMJWvPx5vql1bp64bJ9UhgvvdJnTwNUW-DePas1/s1600/IMG_0152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj47LCVdTMdj-lSt-Cf92HOtowrjOktRKuLLA1DVgG-OL_nkiQ788HASr7xJEMbVNEsVPPSd_c4BbYR0uXsp-j6T-nKgLZfitXl7Hp-mGMJWvPx5vql1bp64bJ9UhgvvdJnTwNUW-DePas1/s1600/IMG_0152.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dodging a cannon shot of beads.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8MIGnJfvxUip1PY9eid2G3vQ7g85fK2O1uw2MLd-e5LTJ8HJryaam2lDtCV2zYpNMfelOs4fOZA_O4Si3k9sZN5KdUv3IH3E1Vmg_HRdsWeIa-De1frEe8GwOkUNs_xpjwu8rU9rk2QyE/s1600/IMG_0157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8MIGnJfvxUip1PY9eid2G3vQ7g85fK2O1uw2MLd-e5LTJ8HJryaam2lDtCV2zYpNMfelOs4fOZA_O4Si3k9sZN5KdUv3IH3E1Vmg_HRdsWeIa-De1frEe8GwOkUNs_xpjwu8rU9rk2QyE/s1600/IMG_0157.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's quite a lot of canonical costumes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zhR-_zIqhu1166y20DtyuRDt7Y06A7vQ_Qe8AhKaFm8Fh8yH0BbaJm838L5_uZEtGqqzwgYGgkxAcAWjffyn91LZ6J872RgvA-hO8IdbTQhOH6pO5b_kdn7rKN6-GH7ULJCt5LPstDbk/s1600/IMG_0159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zhR-_zIqhu1166y20DtyuRDt7Y06A7vQ_Qe8AhKaFm8Fh8yH0BbaJm838L5_uZEtGqqzwgYGgkxAcAWjffyn91LZ6J872RgvA-hO8IdbTQhOH6pO5b_kdn7rKN6-GH7ULJCt5LPstDbk/s1600/IMG_0159.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy's suit could have come from my own closet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgn0oyKxuTSEDwsJ3gB_HpIY34NEh3bhq4n-OB5N__QbrIDQGjjyOHiknHeQoWuq0FvJgHVhMZmFuEAtG4eRanSVmQf2IhvY9TOVEUxL7pX_VwMtIwDYjAAIf8jxnfKo_xYTk1-3WiJgK/s1600/IMG_0160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgn0oyKxuTSEDwsJ3gB_HpIY34NEh3bhq4n-OB5N__QbrIDQGjjyOHiknHeQoWuq0FvJgHVhMZmFuEAtG4eRanSVmQf2IhvY9TOVEUxL7pX_VwMtIwDYjAAIf8jxnfKo_xYTk1-3WiJgK/s1600/IMG_0160.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite shot of the day – love the "Praise Cheeses" sign.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0-JWh9HMbH6nn6bBs8NGREoixDjxPHHkma6V8VQgGfqFqHwcJsdmcF6YXTadcuDtXW-FrecZFBlAHeoa_Ux81La-3_aWb9fOloJEdMnTh6UnVbQiDcwTmJoMfSa2xW8enswjdsNUtMkQ/s1600/IMG_0163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0-JWh9HMbH6nn6bBs8NGREoixDjxPHHkma6V8VQgGfqFqHwcJsdmcF6YXTadcuDtXW-FrecZFBlAHeoa_Ux81La-3_aWb9fOloJEdMnTh6UnVbQiDcwTmJoMfSa2xW8enswjdsNUtMkQ/s1600/IMG_0163.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsoOMme3I5QeleV1M-PxxEtUVQ3FuMfQ_5oa5uV6IubTLMNrqZSX4MY7ccqlvzvPqsei2z2H08mZiYTBqvP1s4ucVc6kYiiB6x-wQA5Njera71M2hYgAEQd51o_-_ZQvZTUIKl5FRTVhd/s1600/IMG_0176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsoOMme3I5QeleV1M-PxxEtUVQ3FuMfQ_5oa5uV6IubTLMNrqZSX4MY7ccqlvzvPqsei2z2H08mZiYTBqvP1s4ucVc6kYiiB6x-wQA5Njera71M2hYgAEQd51o_-_ZQvZTUIKl5FRTVhd/s1600/IMG_0176.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irish's buddy, Shane.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3C-V0IMYpl2tTXUJOJZ3BH0p1mjrxTBSLxhAy_94aaDR-xyNwWc8Z80KfqBtaiEiEfI9XsvIheal6tJFiCdOtlj64NyZ5diqbKvaJtPNduqMrajLZqwJ02_HW32FSNvHMEoLq0bXgVMU/s1600/IMG_0178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3C-V0IMYpl2tTXUJOJZ3BH0p1mjrxTBSLxhAy_94aaDR-xyNwWc8Z80KfqBtaiEiEfI9XsvIheal6tJFiCdOtlj64NyZ5diqbKvaJtPNduqMrajLZqwJ02_HW32FSNvHMEoLq0bXgVMU/s1600/IMG_0178.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A small group of Christians rally each year in front of the cathedral, <br />
trying to convince revelers to change their ways. Fat chance.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8QZMRA7W3mZKVWqmwRv6Hg9EALPn2kEEaLdAnfKmtKEflU6f6KSvCSi6eiJ5VlATDE5XFEjWo2f3MLsmpkZ0_t6YJZuS09rGeiyv01xBCYc-tou86OKNPf3rWcbvgXRej0dqdkMAg5tA/s1600/IMG_0190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8QZMRA7W3mZKVWqmwRv6Hg9EALPn2kEEaLdAnfKmtKEflU6f6KSvCSi6eiJ5VlATDE5XFEjWo2f3MLsmpkZ0_t6YJZuS09rGeiyv01xBCYc-tou86OKNPf3rWcbvgXRej0dqdkMAg5tA/s1600/IMG_0190.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlNSXtWKcf0Kjeltol8kB3mdy8m_uZJ5Ve5c5AohR1DMzWp8SZCRwjS8l7_Vc4up4GbaFLMjv74qTg8S_jJhyphenhyphen79b9PXuj8BfyGX-pp6pgWWD75oxogmQQFqbshyJ8Un7C6zB4GkWEFIeo/s1600/IMG_0199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlNSXtWKcf0Kjeltol8kB3mdy8m_uZJ5Ve5c5AohR1DMzWp8SZCRwjS8l7_Vc4up4GbaFLMjv74qTg8S_jJhyphenhyphen79b9PXuj8BfyGX-pp6pgWWD75oxogmQQFqbshyJ8Un7C6zB4GkWEFIeo/s1600/IMG_0199.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gandalf the Gray finds that he cannot pass.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-69488522145471436942015-02-04T11:40:00.000-04:002015-02-05T01:40:41.753-04:00Turns Out I'm OK. Not Great, but OKI passed my blood test today. At least, they stuck a needle in my arm and blood came out. Sounds like a win in my book.<br />
<br />
<div>
I went to the doctor Monday for the first time in eight years. I haven't had
insurance, and I've been feeling fine. But now I have insurance (thank
you President Obama) and Tori thought it would be a good idea to
actually – you know – see the doctor.<br />
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I was fine with that. I was less
comfortable with the idea of him seeing me.</div>
<br />
<div>
I
feel OK, but you know, I'm about to turn 60 and I've had a few "issues,"
as would anyone my age who just doesn't pay much attention to
health.</div>
<br />
<div>
Tori came with me,
partly to make sure I went through the door, and partly because she
thought there was a chance they'd be rushing me into surgery or calling a
priest, or at least calling in the other staff at the clinic to "get a
load of this!"</div>
<br />
<div>
But no, I'm "OK." Not great, but I'm OK. I'm not gonna die <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT214_com_zimbra_date">today</span>, and I probably won't <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT215_com_zimbra_date">tomorrow</span>, and really, considering the way the word is, who can honestly say more?</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br />
I had an EKG and the doctor said it looked good. He actually sounded a little
surprised when he said it. Today's blood test was another part of the battery. He said he's gathering data. It's like he knows there must be <i>something</i> wrong, and he's gonna find it.</div>
<br />
<div>
The doctor – who seemed so painfully young that I kept wondering when
the field trip would be over and he'd get on the bus to go back to school – agreed
with what I had said when I first walked into his office. If I lose a little
weight, most of those issues will go away. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br />
Sigh. So long,
doughnuts (except on TLAPDay.) Goodbye red meat. Been good knowing you,
ice cream. And barbecued pork ribs (again, except on the holiday.) Hello
whole grains and leafy greens.</div>
<br />
<div>
Good thing the Super Bowl was <span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT217_com_zimbra_date">Sunday</span>,
It was hard enough watching that game. Watching it without <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2015/02/game-time-perfect-pulled-pork.html">my pulled pork sandwich</a> and a bottle of Shiner's "Birthday Beer," (a chocolate
bock that literally tastes like a piece of chocolate cake, yet is
unmistakeably beer) would have been too much to ask of a Seahawk fan (It
was in the bag man! There was no WAY we could lose!) Can you imagine
watching that with nothing to support me but rice cakes and room
temperature spring water?</div>
<br />
<div>
Anyway,
that ties into something else. I'm getting ready to move this blog to Word Press and was thinking of categories for the different parts of my
life. Family Life. Pirate Life. Now I can have another category, related
to my health.</div>
<br />
<div>
The categories will be: Family Life. Writing Life. Pirate Life. and – wait for it –</div>
<br />
Clinging to Life.<br />
<br />
I won't be moving right away, and I'll mention it before I do it. But it's in the works. John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-11160302389536688482015-02-01T23:53:00.003-04:002015-02-01T23:53:33.254-04:00Only One Thing You Can Say<div>
Well, that was disappointing. A great game, really a
classic, but Aaaaagggggghhhhh! So disappointing at the end. They had it
won. THEY HAD IT WON! Second and goal on the one with 30 seconds left,
two time outs and Marshawn in the backfield? We got this. That play call
was an atypical panic move. </div>
<br /><div>
Oh
well, it was a great game, with ups and downs and edge of the seat
excitement. As a Cubs fan, son of a Cubs fan who was the son of a Cubs
fan, I'm used to disappointment, and know that the only thing you can do
is brush away the tear and say, "Wait 'til next year!"</div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-32209202638816777192015-02-01T12:57:00.002-04:002015-02-01T12:58:50.420-04:00Game Time! The Perfect Pulled Pork<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4F3stBgB5eU4KANR4cXpPqdzyGfqjetmzDjWeW8mD8gKmBmVbs-5g5R_YAtNsFFtR4VMO-dAQeMjc9l-M_D_tpsqsn3zojIoXMsCTlISlFK5Go4miy0In6y2cSE5N9YLwqQoNwiU4nBAK/s1600/pulled+pork+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4F3stBgB5eU4KANR4cXpPqdzyGfqjetmzDjWeW8mD8gKmBmVbs-5g5R_YAtNsFFtR4VMO-dAQeMjc9l-M_D_tpsqsn3zojIoXMsCTlISlFK5Go4miy0In6y2cSE5N9YLwqQoNwiU4nBAK/s1600/pulled+pork+1.jpg" height="291" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>Three reasons why, in this house, my
pulled pork sandwiches are required Game Day food.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
– It's a simple recipe. Couldn't be
easier.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
– It's delicious, one of the very
best things I make.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
– It's the only thing I make that
lets me use my meat cleaver. Seriosuly, I have this heavy, razor sharp cleaver, and I only bring it out for these sandwiches. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Here's how you do it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Two pound pork roast. Most recipes call
for pork loin. I use the pork sirloin tip roast from Costco. Throw it
in the crockpot.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Add a 12-ounce can of root beer. Yes,
root beer. I also add a bit of basil for sweetness and oregano for
bite. Then close it up and let it cook on low for about five hours.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After five hours, take it out, pour off
the liquid and shred the meat. This is the fun part. I've got a nice,
heavy cleaver and go at it, hacking it into shreds. If it's halftime, and your team isn't doing well, this is also therapeutic. Two weeks ago, watching the NFC championship game, the pork was particularly finely shredded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqf2CgUNOYcwgVbfOlLXvf2sYOIijSfF8yjc-EG6r9bAnE0sUmc4eYLRemE2_S-X_2FNGbKfkh2RUdfjOleBFAUH1KQDRgZI5nlUZr2H2_mz0Bs6ZByWg3cutR6uuqh3jKRxsp5hX_Bg2-/s1600/pulled+pork+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqf2CgUNOYcwgVbfOlLXvf2sYOIijSfF8yjc-EG6r9bAnE0sUmc4eYLRemE2_S-X_2FNGbKfkh2RUdfjOleBFAUH1KQDRgZI5nlUZr2H2_mz0Bs6ZByWg3cutR6uuqh3jKRxsp5hX_Bg2-/s1600/pulled+pork+2.jpg" height="157" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then it goes back
in to the Crock Pot, and pour in your favorite barbecue sauce. If
you make your own, great, sometimes I go that direction. But if it's game day, you don't want to miss a thing, so an 18-ounce bottle of Sweet Baby
Ray's or whatever your favorite is poured on top, mixed around. Then
close it up again and let it simmer on low for another hours.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kzitLuuas48BfRjh-veoekFAX-pt73imVNhfkM298a1azGt1p5grt1MmjaFV8ki5gWJ-IBXZDUJ_tH3bly4pu1mCp1uT_RPpxda1H6VGxOttoA_veZ_R9_JYwVKZ8AgkettRysLJXlV3/s1600/pulled+pork+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kzitLuuas48BfRjh-veoekFAX-pt73imVNhfkM298a1azGt1p5grt1MmjaFV8ki5gWJ-IBXZDUJ_tH3bly4pu1mCp1uT_RPpxda1H6VGxOttoA_veZ_R9_JYwVKZ8AgkettRysLJXlV3/s1600/pulled+pork+3.jpg" height="161" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then toss it on a roll or bun, and get
back to the game!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHfIK-NHK6ycAGtz-yfcOZ3g_7box0wCD5cc86utQyFQJsvq3kVPPdboYgKRNW0poOeZr3CJd6Q3fcg1WP0su-MxV-iEbf49cs6G32q3_IGzBakny4Lsmj0KnVryf-TD1L23_VUYWxA0v/s1600/pulled+pork+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHfIK-NHK6ycAGtz-yfcOZ3g_7box0wCD5cc86utQyFQJsvq3kVPPdboYgKRNW0poOeZr3CJd6Q3fcg1WP0su-MxV-iEbf49cs6G32q3_IGzBakny4Lsmj0KnVryf-TD1L23_VUYWxA0v/s1600/pulled+pork+4.jpg" height="138" width="200" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Go 'Hawks! </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-28032110154406231032015-01-31T16:08:00.001-04:002015-01-31T16:14:28.114-04:00Avoiding Temptation at Dot'sTori and I went out to breakfast this morning at a place called Dot's Diner. It's kind of a greasy spoon place, which usually means good breakfast. And we weren't disappointed. Everything we wanted in a breakfast, plus gravy.<br />
<br />
I did NOT order this item for breakfast, though I was sorely tempted<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzIHvGtdGL3_xQef4eeG4ulfwhyphenhyphenIuzXkgbue5pJFKnC01SrXQJKH2nNLeR3WGj6m-7zrXeMAWfjmk-6DCRd5ECqnuEPaPth_4zU2cP7ez52w3pxa6pXLXCLpYJMOMhSfkVMRhfPki21is/s1600/Dots+menu+item.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzIHvGtdGL3_xQef4eeG4ulfwhyphenhyphenIuzXkgbue5pJFKnC01SrXQJKH2nNLeR3WGj6m-7zrXeMAWfjmk-6DCRd5ECqnuEPaPth_4zU2cP7ez52w3pxa6pXLXCLpYJMOMhSfkVMRhfPki21is/s1600/Dots+menu+item.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I have a doctor's appointment Monday, and the Super Bowl is tomorrow (Go 'Hawks!) so I'll be making my legendary – at least in our house – pulled pork sandwich. So this probably wasn't a great idea for a man of my years and health.<br />
<br />
It's a great price for a sandwich with 12 strips of bacon, but the crossed-out heart logo speaks volumes. Talk about truth in advertising.<br />
<br />
<br />John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-29111517039008716622015-01-27T15:27:00.000-04:002015-01-27T15:27:06.971-04:00Bad History, Teeth, Cats, Idiots
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>Bad History</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I watched the first two episodes of
"Sons of Liberty" on the History Channel. I might watch the final episode tonight, but it's hard. It makes good TV I guess, but
it's lousy history.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don't know why I'm surprised. Despite
its name, there's an awful lot of non-historical crap on the History
Channel.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Through the first two hours of the show
I kept throwing up my hands, and a couple of times had to leave the
room. It's like that Heath Ledger movie, "A Knight's Tale,"
which supposedly is about jousting knights and treats them like rock
stars – literally, considering some of the music was by Queen.
There's a 21st century mindset or attitude that I guess is supposed
to help us "get" the issues. But what it really does is
hide what's real about those times and those people under a
simplistic veneer.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And in the movie, they were fictional
characters in a fictional setting. In "Sons of Liberty,"
these are real people. They really existed and really did things that
created this country. And the History Channel's effort gives lip
service to some of it, short cuts, truncates and oversimplifies most
of it, and then just makes stuff up because it makes good TV.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I forget who said "History is a
great story that just happened to have really taken place," but
there's a lot to that. I just wish the History Channel had bothered
to tell the story that really happened.</div>
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</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>Teeth</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Went to the dentist last week. That's
not particularly noteworthy, except it was the first time in six and
a half years. The last time I went to the dentist it was about a
couple of teeth towards the back that were breaking off, chip at a
time. Necrotic (dead.) Not painful, just kind of annoying. That
dentist told me how we'd take care of it over the next few months if
treatment. I pointed out that I was moving to St. Croix in three
days, and that was that.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So now that I'm covered on Tori's
dental and optical insurance, she insisted I go to the dentist. It
wasn't bad. Not painful. Yet. Now I have a treatment plan that the
insurance will cover about half of. And some of it – scraping and
planing and removing the roots of those two missing teeth – does
not not sound painless.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I'm a grownup, and I recognize that
if I don't do something, I'll probably lose most of them. So I'll do
it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But first I've got a doctor's
appointment next week. Haven't been to a doctor in eight years, since
I didn't have insurance. Now I do thanks to the Affordable Care Act
(thank you, President Obama.) I could have signed on to Tori's health
insurance at work, but adding me would have been so expensive there'd
almost be no point in her working.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I feel fine. Not great. I will turn 60
this year and there's plenty of little things. But mostly I feel
fine. I've got a list of little nagging things that will make him
sit up and keep him busy for a while, running tests and whatnot.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And with new glasses – that's also on
the agenda – I'll soon be a new man.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I just hope I'm still funny.</div>
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</div>
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<br />
</div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>Cats</b></span><br />
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We are down to zero cats – we're 3 of
3.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In November, <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2014/11/a-visitor-lends-hand-but-isnt-very.html">Tori brought a kitten home</a>
from the Spaymart adoption center for us to foster. She was sick,
couldn't be with the other cats. We fed Jane (Tori had named her Jane
Austen) and fattened her up, took her in for her shots and neutering,
played with her, shared the computer with her, cleared up her ear
mites, and took her back so that someone could adopt her. <a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2014/12/were-sending-little-one-out-in-world.html">She was a Christmas present</a> for two young kids and is now a pampered and beloved
member of that family. They brought photos by the Spaymart the other
day.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
While we were fostering Jane, Tori
brought home Lucy. We were told she needed some discipline, she was
unruly, attacked and bit and was unsociable. Sounded fun. She had
been found on a boat. Young, probably not more than six weeks old,
she was still a little feral and HATED being in the cage at Spaymart.
Hissed, growled, bit. It took her a day to get comfortable in our
house, but playing with Jane, she got used to us.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In fact, she quickly showed her true
colors. She was a little love. She still played kind of wildly. Every
morning for about an hour she'd be sort of manic, so much so that we
thought maybe Lucy was short for Lucifer, but all of a sudden she'd
leap – absolutely leap – into my lap while I was trying to work.
She'd scrambled up my leg, up my chest (I still have a few scratches
from that) and perch on or near my shoulder, purring. It's hard to
type one handed. If you sat in the recliner, any time of the day or
night, you were almost certain to wind up with a cat purring on your
chest, vigorously rubbing the top of her head into your chin.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But every time Tori brought her back to
the Spaymart she went berserk. It was all Tori could do to hold on to
her, but no one else could touch her. So she'd come back here.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We tried bringing another cat home to
help Lucy socialize. but she was more standoffish than Lucy ever was.
Lucy actually helped <i>her</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
socialize, rather than the other way around. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After a couple of weeks, we took the
third cat (who had been given the unfortunate name Sweetie Pie. Max
temporarily renamed her Bon Quee Quee) back to Spaymart, and she was
finally adopted last weekend. back to Spaymart in the hope she'd get
adopted.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Which left us with Lucy, and I was
getting worried that she'd never get adopted. But Tori put ads on
Facebook and Craigslist, and we got a call from a couple that were
looking for a cat and thought she was the one. They came by and,
instead of hissing and running away like I'd expected, Lucy played
with the woman. And the guy has a beard, which Tori is convinced was
an important part of the cat's imprinting on me. So she's adopted and
I heard today from her new family that she's settled in, happy and
loved.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We got them when they were kittens, and
got to help them find families. And now they're out, and we don't
have to deal with cats. Mission accomplished.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Until Tori brings the next one home.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>Idiots</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT422_com_zimbra_date"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT421_com_zimbra_date"></a>
Tori has been having lots of fun with her Galaxy pad, my Christmas
present to her. She just found (on Hulu) and binge watched a show
that makes "America's Next Top Model" look like
Shakespeare. It's called (ironically, I think/hope) "America's
Most Smartest Model." <br /><br />It pits models, male and female,
in both modeling competition and quizzes by none other than that
asshole Ben Stein. And those parts are hilarious. <br /><br />My favorite
was the blonde (had to be, right?) who somehow managed to last five
episodes even though it was obvious she would not stand out
intellectually in a vat of toothpaste. Asked the last name of Napoleon,
she "thought" – if that's what you want to call it –
for almost a minute and then blurted out, "Pierre?" Kudos
to her for trying French (though Napoleon was Corsican, which would
have blown her tiny mind.)<br /><br />Even better was when asked "Who
assassinated John F. Kennedy?" You could practically hear the
hamsters in her head spinning the wheel as she thought and thought,
and finally, desperately, said, "Brad?" I'm laughing just
typing it.<br /><br />There were others even stupider than her, but
somehow not as flamboyantly stupid. When she finally got eliminated,
her last words on camera were a whine, then "Oh no! I really AM
dumb!"<br /><br />And in the final salute to inanity, "America's
Most Smartest Model" was won by a Russian. Go figure.<br /><br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-91685449685806047422015-01-20T14:54:00.000-04:002015-01-20T14:58:25.145-04:00A Good Week: The Game, The Movie and Home Work<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
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What a game!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We are Seahawks fans. I have been since
'78, and Tori became a fan after she moved to the Northwest in the
'80s. There has been little enough for fans to cheer about for
decades, so their success of the last couple of years is all the
sweeter. Seattle fans aren't bandwagon jumpers or fair weather
friends. We've earned the right to crow a little.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And that was never more true than
Sunday's game, sort of a microcosm of the whole long-term fan's
experience.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Those who were watching Sunday's NFC
championship game against the Packers know how it went. The game
started great, with Richard Sherman intercepting a pass in the end
zone. It was going to be easy.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But it wasn't. The Seahawk offense was
awful that day. Awful. QB Russell Wilson couldn't hit anyone, and
when he did they tipped it up and it was picked off. The running game
wasn't moving. It was hard to watch. But the defense kept coming
after the Packers, giving up yards but forcing field goals instead of
allowing touchdowns. So we were still in it, but time was running out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tori was glum, and I was nervous. I
literally cannot recall them ever playing that badly, not just in
their recent successful years, but even back during the bad days when
the owner seemed to be intentionally making the team bad so local
fans wouldn't object when he moved them to Los Angeles. Tori
kept asking, "Can they do it?" and I kept saying, "Yes,"
but I was getting a bad feeling that this wasn't going to be a happy
day. But we stayed with it, rooting for the impossible.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because that's what fans do. You root
for your team no matter what. You stand by them in the darkest hours.
It's your job. I know something about being a long-term fan of a hopeless team. I was
born a Cubs fan, son of a Cubs fan who was the son of a Cubs fan. My grandfather, who I never met, was the last in the line of Baurs to
actually see the Cubs win the World Series, back in 1908. It's been 106 years since then. One of my earliest sports
memories is the '69 Cubs. Enough said.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So on Sunday we waited, and kept hoping against hope. I'm not going to do a
whole play by play. If you care, you already know, if you don't –
well, you don't. But it was the most magnificent, amazing, impossible
and exhilarating finale I've ever seen. We were on our feet shouting.
And when Kearse rolled into the end zone with the overtime touchdown
pass that won the game, we literally screamed. It was the most
amazing high I've ever felt.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I dare say if the team hadn't been
misfiring so badly all day, if they'd battled the Packers without
trying to gift wrap the game for them, if they'd just gone out and
won, I'd have been very happy. But that would have been nothing compared to the giddy dancing
feeling of that impossible win. If we hadn't been so downcast, hadn't
been staring into the face of certain defeat, we couldn't have been
thrown into the heights the way we were by the performance of 53 men
– who we'll never meet – playing a game 1,500 miles or so away.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
You've got to accept the possibility of
heartache to get the chance for total exhilaration.<br />
<br />
Go 'Hawks! </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Movie</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tori and I saw "The Imitation
Game" Friday. Really good movie and Benedict Cumberbatch was as
brilliant as I'd been told to expect. It was a story I was familiar
with. I'd first heard of Alan Turing and Ultra when I read "Bodyguard
of Lies," Alan Cave Brown's 1975 history of Britain's secret war
against the Third Reich, and had read it many more times since, most
recently in "Cryptonomicon," a novel about many, many
things including code breaking and Turing and Ultra and computers and Greek gods
and the ultimate way to eat Cap'n Crunch cereal.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So we enjoyed a compelling movie about
both the ultimate coup against the Nazis and the enigmatic genius who
pulled it off and the tragedy of his life. A very layered, brilliant performance by Cumberbatch.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But as good as it was, it mostly just
reminded me of how much greater "Birdman" is. We saw that
on Christmas week, and my god, it's an amazing movie that works on so
many different levels. Michael Keaton is phenomenal, best performance
I've seen in years, certainly the best he's ever given. It's an
actor's movie, an astonish tour de force for a great cast. The
direction and the cinematography are incredible. It's not the kind of
movie that wins a lot of awards, but I cannot remember a better, more compelling
movie, ever.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Home work</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Spent Thursday up to my elbows in the
dryer. Of course, no one wants any appliance to go wrong, but if
anything does, you want it to be the dryer.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A dryer does only two things – it
blows hot air on a turning drum. That's it. For all the fancy stuff
they add, the computer chips and the filters and the lights and
buzzers, all it really does is blow hot air on a turning drum. And there's
only four major parts to make that happen – the drum, a belt, the
motor and the heating unit. So it's pretty easy to diagnose a problem. If
the drum isn't turning, it's the motor, belt or drum. If the air it
blows isn't hot, it's the heating element. That's it. Except ... </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But this time the air was still hot,
and the drum turned. But last week when the drum turned, it sounded like a cement mixer,
like it was about to shake itself apart. So Thursday I started taking
it apart, piece by piece.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I went slow, because I wasn't
absolutely certain what I was doing. That's what made it so fun. I
had the front and back off and couldn't see anything wrong. Nothing
stuck in there that should have been, no loose belt (Tori, by the way, first put in that belt two and a half years ago when we moved in here) or spring hanging
down that obviously should have been connected to something else.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I peered inside with a flashlight,
everything looked OK, but clearly wasn't. It still rumbled away like
a bulldozer every time I turned the motor over.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I paused between each step, consulting
various youtube DIY videos and thinking very hard between each step.
What should I do next and was I capable of doing it?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I finally pulled the drum and
everything looked OK until I reached all the way back and spun the
drum rollers, the two little wheels on axles bolted to the back that
support the drum as it revolves. One of them was obviously broken,
the hub broken out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A quick trip to the appliance store (no, not Sears) and I was back with a replacement part. It took about another hour to pull the whole thing back together.
When Tori got home, she didn't even realize the dryer was running.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The one frustrating thing – and boy
was it frustrating – was that as I took the front and back off,
etc., I dropped the screws in my pocket. There were twelve half-inch screws with 5/16 inch machine heads and two screws
with Phillips heads. And almost every time I reached into my pocket
for a machine-head screw, almost every single time, I pulled out one
of the two Phillips heads. And of course, those were the last two I
would need.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So yeah, I felt pretty good. It had
taken me hours longer than it would have someone who knows what
they're doing and does it often. But like the man said, to the man
who owns a wrench and knows how to use it, it's just a puzzle. I own
a wrench – a lot of them, actually, way more than I need, but
that's a different story – and solving the puzzle took a lot
longer.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
But the dryer works. Not sure it means
much, but it felt good to do, and was part of a very good week.
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-3131390992296679622015-01-09T10:08:00.001-04:002015-01-09T10:08:23.391-04:00The Greeks Have a Word for ItAnd that word is "hubris." Go ahead, look it up. I'll wait. "Overweening or excessive pride."<br />
<br />
OK, to begin with, I happen to make very good fried chicken. I am not saying I make the "best" fried chicken in the world. I'm just saying I've never had better. And Thursday I was going to make fried chicken for dinner, and I boasted of my prowess, to which Tori and Max and Kate all agreed. Mashed potatoes, zucchini, and fried chicken. One might call it one of my specialties. I certainly did.<br />
<br />
So naturally, I blew it. It was not dreadful, but it wasn't very good. A little burnt on the outside, a little raw in the middle – still not sure how I managed that – and over spiced. Not so much so that it was inedible, but it was definitely not up to the standard I'd been bragging about. The worst fried chicken I've ever made, and probably the worst thing I've cooked in months.<br />
<br />
The potatoes were good. How can you screw up mashed potatoes? And the zucchini was damn near perfect. But the chicken? Not so good. It was still better than KFC or most other chains. But karma had definitely put me in my place.<br />
<br />
Lesson learned. You can't serve your reputation for dinner.John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-40336167368433271042015-01-07T10:38:00.002-04:002015-01-07T10:38:51.000-04:00An Old School Yule
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<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I'm old school, a crotchety old
holdover. This comes as no surprise to anyone who knows me well,
certainly not to my kids. Sure, I work online, and whatever share of
international notoriety I've garnered wouldn't have happened without
the Internet. But in a lot of ways I'm not that different from the
classic TV dads of the '50s – Jim Anderson or Ward Cleaver.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On the afternoon of Christmas day, I
looked up and saw Kate deeply entrenched in her new Game Boy thing.
Max was working on his new computer. And Tori was learning all the
things her Galaxy Tab can do.<br /><br />And I was reading a book. John
Cleese's memoir, "So, Anyway ..." My other major gifts were
a cast-iron skillet, the kind that fits over two of the stove top
burners, a pair of eight-pound dumbbells, and a really cool hat.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I'm not sure what style the hat is, it
has the crown of a fedora and the rolled-up brim of a pork pie. I
suppose I could snap the brim down to a point in front, but no. It's
not as wide as a fedora brim, more like a trilby.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Besides, I like it the way it is. I'm a
crotchety old fart, but I admit it, I'd like to think I'm still a
little cool.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>BOOK</b></span> – "So, Anyway ..." is
a really a good book. I've finished it by now, of course.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's funny, of course, as you'd expect
from a book by John Cleese. Surprisingly, it contains very little of
his years with Monty Python and almost nothing directly about "A
Fish Called Wanda." It stops right about the time Monty Python
was taking to the airwaves and it's only the last couple of chapters
that have much about the legendary comedy group. (There's a very
funny bit about the origin of the justly famous cheese shop sketch,
which includes a bout of real-life projectile vomiting.)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The book follows his growing up and
into the kind of person who would end up as a Python. Great book.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The biggest thing that came across is
how serious comedy is. As zany and wild as Monty Python was (and is
on DVD and online) it was built by guys who took their comedy very
seriously. Interestingly, they all saw themselves more as writers
than performers, which was part of why they worked so well together.
It was always about the joke, not about being a star.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But here's a question. Why do
Englishmen, when telling you about their lives, ALWAYS start by
telling you about their schools and the name of every master and
teacher they had? There were two salient points to Cleese's school
stories, maybe three – that he was a coward, that his mother was
crazy, and maybe the fact that the teacher who seemed to be one of
his greatest influences (but not for the reasons you think) had
turned himself into the perfect Edwardian gentleman. And the schools
days take about the first half of the book.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then, almost 100 pages later, while
he's talking about being a writer for David Frost, he mentions almost
as a throwaway how as a boy he had loved comedy albums, collected
them, studied them, tried to memorize and reproduce them. I think
that's a lot more interesting, a lot more significant, coming from
John Cleese than any number of rugby coaches and the headmaster who
could get anyone to do what he wanted, except his wife.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It just goes to show, I suppose, how we
don't always understand our own journeys. Makes me wonder what I'm
missing, or fail to understand, about my own life.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-789410803582411812014-12-25T18:24:00.001-04:002014-12-26T13:33:06.413-04:00Merry Christmas Memory<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cZOcajsDsQgWepaxhvVVQnVBo_iWMHHeGKLQwJxDqrwpy5p1Cyl7rV0qMhKXNaQVtYXNKOq7D2Pt9RRCx8K9NjTsnyEG1TGDBg1sRd4rz1kG23zefK87TI1Ys5Tq8xiqfwkxKJaV1EG9/s1600/2008+Chrismas+eve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cZOcajsDsQgWepaxhvVVQnVBo_iWMHHeGKLQwJxDqrwpy5p1Cyl7rV0qMhKXNaQVtYXNKOq7D2Pt9RRCx8K9NjTsnyEG1TGDBg1sRd4rz1kG23zefK87TI1Ys5Tq8xiqfwkxKJaV1EG9/s1600/2008+Chrismas+eve.jpg" height="187" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
My favorite Christmas photo, Tori on the beach at Vincent T. Mason Coral Reef Park, just south of Frederiksted on St. Croix. This was taken on Christmas Even, 2008. It explains why, despite the problems that have beset the island and the idiosyncrasies of island living, we miss the V.I. and why we DON'T miss snow. At all.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas to All!<br />
<br />
From the Baurs of the Big Easy John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-79321029964140549712014-12-23T23:04:00.000-04:002014-12-23T23:30:32.379-04:00We're Sending a Little One Out in the World for Christmas<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tori volunteers for a spay and neuter
center in town, and about six weeks ago s<a href="http://onourisland.blogspot.com/2014/11/a-visitor-lends-hand-but-isnt-very.html">he brought home Jane, a kitten we were going to foster. </a>Everyone thought, "Oho! You're
in for it now John. You've got a cat."
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
No, no I don't. This is better.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nWt8IR5JltMvX0xaoRc2QHOdh5-dRFJBBB3roq-72m7fdiqSqQG8ZU22hYX0_LklUAgsZv0da5tOON7rXsdSm3LiP0f-lKcOL5qAuARmoeP7wsd3RzZ7zIUZg7SGczyZhIyjxNOLEZVy/s1600/jane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nWt8IR5JltMvX0xaoRc2QHOdh5-dRFJBBB3roq-72m7fdiqSqQG8ZU22hYX0_LklUAgsZv0da5tOON7rXsdSm3LiP0f-lKcOL5qAuARmoeP7wsd3RzZ7zIUZg7SGczyZhIyjxNOLEZVy/s1600/jane.jpg" height="136" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jane Austen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tori named her Jane Austen, although
you know about cat names. No matter what we think a cat's name is,
we're wrong. She was about 8 ounces of fluff and orange dryer lint.
She'd been found on a path in a swamp, so she was kind of scruffy,
but a cute little thing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Over the next three weeks we fed her
and fattened her up, took her in for her shots and neutering, played
with her, medicated her eye infection, shared the computer with her
(she loved to jump up on the keyboard and "help" me write,)
cleared up her ear mites, and took her back so that someone could
adopt her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That same day Tori came home with
another kitten, Lucy. Hard to describe her – not quite black fur,
because she has this sort of peachy/orange undercoat, and a peach
streak that runs down the right side of her nose which gives it an
odd effect. I'd have named her Schnoz, or Durante, if anyone had
asked me, which they didn't.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We were told she needed some
discipline, she was unruly, attacked and bit and was unsociable.
Goodie. She had been found as a kitten on a boat, and was not at all
happy with the change in accommodations.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When she came in, she was naturally
skittish, and a little bitey, as kittens will be. But within a few
hours she was out and exploring.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NPgEAOpnfTZ7snTPG_TGd9DiVuFXX73gGPnArqyLnGHmP8SR0fgEyE3_ty8eLFVEu-yYaqmMqaLxCuGpPZ6Ju8L2MgLti7BYwSytlaxpJJ-DZeXN_Y37YyREf48CLdsm24-NDH39IpaO/s1600/DSC00002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NPgEAOpnfTZ7snTPG_TGd9DiVuFXX73gGPnArqyLnGHmP8SR0fgEyE3_ty8eLFVEu-yYaqmMqaLxCuGpPZ6Ju8L2MgLti7BYwSytlaxpJJ-DZeXN_Y37YyREf48CLdsm24-NDH39IpaO/s1600/DSC00002.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She turns out to be the sweetest kitten
I've ever seen. I'm not a cat-fan, so I may not be the best judge, but she's pretty sweet. Except when she's doing the
manic-kitten-running-around-the-house routine, which she does for
about half an hour in the morning and again in the afternoon, all she
wants is for you to hold her while she purrs. If you sit on the couch
or recliner, she'll end up on your lap – well no, not your lap. She
starts there, then works her way up until she has her head wedged
under your jaw – and just purrs for the next hour or so.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So last week Jane got adopted, but the
family doesn't want to pick her up until Christmas Eve. The spay
center needs the space, and she's awfully cute so people kept asking
if they could adopt her. The center asked Tori is she could come back
here.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I took Lucy down and swapped her out
for Jane. Lucy was not happy, growling as I put her in her cage –
which was clean and full of food and kitty litter. I brought Jane
home and she acted as if she'd never left.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next day the center called and said
Lucy was having trouble, she flat out hated everything about being
there, hissed and howled and wouldn't let anyone touch her. So she
came back here.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At first she and Jane hated each other.
There was much howling and growling and stalking and hiding, staking
out territory. That lasted about three hours. Now they get along
fine, chase each other playfully, share the various toys and food
bowls. Their favorite thing to do is wait until Tori sits on the
recliner, then both jump into her lap and spend the next hour
sleeping on her. They've done it to me too, but Tori's their
favorite.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But now it's Christmas Eve. Time for
Jane to go to her new home. It's a family with two little girls who
will love her, and name her Mittens or Muffin or Whiskers or
something, and have tea parties with her and all that stuff. She'll
be a happy cat.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lucy is more problematic. We've put her
up on the spay center's Facebook page, because she just can't abide
the center. Hopefully we'll be able to get her adopted that way. All
she needs is a place where she's comfortable and she'll be the
sweetest cat you'd ever want. So we live in hope.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We like the idea of fostering kittens
for a few weeks, helping them get acclimated and find a home. That
way we get all the fun of a kitten without having the long-term
commitment of a "cat" and all that entails.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We'll see how it goes.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-29515762141536115412014-12-09T21:39:00.002-04:002015-02-01T15:28:28.994-04:00Just a Quick QuestionOh pressure cooker! Where have you been all my adult life? <br />
<br />
I've also acquired a Crock Pot. (An actual Rival Crock Pot, not just a slow cooker.) I know I've had them before, but I can't remember ever cooking in one. What a handy gadget.<br />
<br />
But the pressure cooker – Ye gods! John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-84337908119150126852014-12-08T14:01:00.000-04:002014-12-08T14:01:00.649-04:00Catching Up for the Holidays
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Catching up. I had a cold all week,
which just messed me up.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Been thinking about old friends and
good times, and a lot of epic Thanksgivings from years past. During
the '90s and into the new century we always took part in what we
called "the theater orphans' Thanksgiving." Our friends in
Oregon were almost all theater folk, and we'd get 16, 18, 24 people
over for the day. Everyone would bring the one thing without which it
wouldn't be Thanksgiving. We'd do a turkey, and usually there'd be
another one, plus someone often brought ham. Mashed potatoes and yams
and bread and Pat always brought "the pink stuff," this
frozen cranberry horseradish dish. It was always a good time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And there were pies. Many, many pies.
Tori turned the day before Thanksgiving into Pie Day. One year she
made 18. She never made less than a dozen. Pumpkin and apple and
cherry and a couple of pecans and even mince meat. Her mother, Janet,
loved mince meat pie. I never saw anyone else eat that one.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Alex was always an integral part of Pie
Day. It would have been hard not to think of her a lot that
Wednesday, even if it weren't her birthday.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We still do Pie Day, but this year only
four pies – and they were great as always. Our young friend Alan,
who was Millie's friend on the island and now lives in San Antonio,
came to visit for the day and it was great to see him. Dinner was the
usual delight, and the pies were plentiful. I ate too much, as
always.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That Saturday we went to the Louisiana
Renaissance Festival. It's probably been 40 years since I've been to
a Ren Fair. A lot of fun. The kids had a great time. Within an hour
of arriving, Kate, who doesn't like going out much, was already
talking about how next year she'd have to dress up. I could have gone
in pirate garb, but this time I was just there as "Dad,"
and dressed appropriately.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We saw a comic swordfight team, <a href="http://www.duelists.com/">TheDuelists</a>, and they were very good. The sword stuff, sure, that was
fun. But the patter, the stage presence, and timing – brilliant. I
enjoy watching pros, and that's what these guys are. They travel from
Ren fair to Ren fair,and they know what works, know how to play a
crowd. I learned from watching them. We could do an act much better
than the Pirate Guy schtick. Just takes practice and being willing to
try new stuff.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There was jousting, I suppose that's a
standard at these. It was a LOT of fun to watch. We ran into the
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/whiskeybayrovers">Whiskey Bay Rovers</a>, old friends from when we went to Mardi Gras with
the Krewe of Pirates. They didn't recognize me in my dad costume, but
smiled with recognition when I introduced myself. You can <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_88-TgCD8Q">hear them here</a> doing "Leaving of Liverpool."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Alan, who is both a computer nerd and a
geek, was very helpful Sunday as we searched for Max's Christmas
gift. No more on that, since there's the slightest chance Max might
actually read this.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then I took Alan to the airport, we
started our regular routine again – just three weeks 'til school is
out for the holidays, and I got sick. Not bad sick, just a cold that
refused to go away. For most of the week if I wasn't actually writing
or editing for the Source, I was asleep or wishing I was asleep.
Today is the first day I feel really almost like myself again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tori and Max are sure eager for a
couple of weeks off from school. And I have some plans for the new
year, and I'm eager to get going on a couple of new projects.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4633651831493501560.post-63807794673057736502014-11-26T21:56:00.004-04:002014-11-26T21:56:27.796-04:00Pie Day, Politics and a Lesson
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<br />
<b></b><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Pie Day:</b> For years at the Baur House,
the day before Thanksgiving has been Pie Day. About 20 years ago we
and our friends at Albany Civic Theater in Oregon held the theater
orphan Thanksgiving party. We actually hosted it about five years in
a row.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We made two turkeys and an ocean of
mashed potatoes, and everyone brought whatever it was that it
wouldn't be Thanksgiving without it. You'd be surprised at what some
people thought was necessary.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We had as many as 30 people show up. It
was an amazing time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And the day before Thanksgiving, Tori
made pies. Lots of 'em. One year she made 18 pies. Pumpkin. Apple.
Pecan (several of those three.) Chocolate. Cherry (my favorite) mince
pie (her mother's favorite.) Lots and lots of pie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A lot of it got eaten that day. A lot
more got eaten in the next few days. There may be better breakfasts
than leftover cherry or apple pie, but not many.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We still make the pies every year, but
not nearly so many of course. Tonight on the counter there are
pumpkin, apple, and cherry pies, with the pecan yet to be made. Of
course, there's not 30 people coming over. There's the four of us,
plus our friend Alan, and maybe Cam and his girlfriend. We haven't
heard back from them yet.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So even with the reduced numbers,
there's plenty of pie to go around. There's also cupcakes for
tonight, because we still celebrate Alex's birthday.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Thanksgiving. It's all about friends
and family. And pie. Lots of pie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
–––<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>I was canvassing</b> for the senate runoff
last weekend. They don't just send you out knocking doors. They give
you a list of names and addresses in a given neighborhood, the names
of people likely to vote for your candidate. The idea is to get out
your vote and hope the other side stays home.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I approached a house where a small boy
and his father were bouncing a basketball back and forth in the
driveway. The man had short hair and a scowl. His neck was actually
red. He saw me approach and asked who I was.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"I'm John, I'm a volunteer with
the Louisiana Democratic Party and ..."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"We're all Republicans here. You
keep on walkin'," he said. Really, it was as menacing as it sounds.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I glanced at my list, which showed a
woman lived there, who was listed as the same age as this redneck
appeared to be, and she was clearly listed as a Democrat. She had apparently registered Democrat and not let her husband know she had done so. I
considered raising the issue, just to show I had the right house, then thought better of it. Her voter
registration was her business, and I saw no point in spilling the
beans and creating what I was sure would be an ugly squabble.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"OK," I said, "have a
nice day."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
"We never vote for no Democrats,"
he added, possibly for his son's sake, as I walked on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
–––</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Lesson Learned: </b>Never buy your coffee
beans at a clothing store. You wouldn't think that would be necessary
to mention, but every now and then ...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
John "Ol' Chumbucket" Baurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17120550659339089195noreply@blogger.com0