Here's a little story about me in Popular Mechanics. Seems I owned a restaurant at one time. I guess I was a pretty decent fellow.
And here I am at age 19...
To view my biography detailing my experiences as an Alaskan hunting guide...
Here is my resume from when I was a doctor and living on the road to Oz...
And finally... from The Tidings: San Carlos Bay Sail & Power Squadron, April 2008:
Who knew?
I realize that it has been a while since my last bloviation. I guess between election fatigue and finals fatigue, and the low turnout to this site, I just haven't paid it much mind. I don't have much to add right now, except to simply hope that all of you enjoy the beautiful spirit of this wonderful, miraculous holy-day season and feel of God's love for you.
P.S. Here's a fun tongue-twister to keep you busy this week:
I thought today I would share a little about myself... you know, kind of a "This is Your Life" sort of a thing. So sit back and enjoy.
He was a typical teenager of the 50's... clean cut, sharp mustachio, smart, and of course, very handsome.
Hi, Dad.
I, of course, came about through some miracle yet to be explained to me, in
Mom and Dad were so excited to have me!
Mom jokes that it was like pooping an elephant...
Isn't that sweet?
The 70's were a time of experimenting. I did my share.
If you want to have a little fun, try this site.It's here! It's here!
A great blast from my past!
It was supposed to be here Friday, but no one was home to welcome it. The anticipation was too great, and I succumbed to strep throat. It knocked me out all week.
As I was lying here, on my death bed, pondering my very existence, I heard the rumble of a large truck, followed by the screeching of brakes. Mrs. The Practicalist looked at me with big eyes, and said simply, "It's here!" With those words, I suddenly jumped up and landed in my pants (perfect shot) and booked it to the front door, at the exact moment as the double-knock (a knock which had become familiar to us during the Christmas season). Mrs. P opened the door to my view, and there stood the man in brown.
"I just have the one package today," he said. He looked into my eyes, and knew he had one more satisfied customer.
As the door closed, I was in the process of ripping the box open. As the flaps separated, the music cued up: Cheese! Glorious Cheese!
There before my eyes sat FOUR pounds of beautiful yellowish-orange mild cheddar cheese curds.
Now, Mrs. The Practicalist had actually purchased a smaller shipment for Valentine's day. And it was a wonderful surprise, indeed. And they were the first curds I had had in many years.
So what was so special about these?
I grew up in Northern Utah, Cache Valley, to be exact. On the other side of the mountain was a dairy. One day, my mom came home with a big bag of the greatest snack I have ever had in my entire young life. It squeaked as we chewed it, and the flavor was so unique and pure.
We move away when I was still very young. A few years ago, the food channel went to a state fair in Wisconsin and mentioned this "squeaky cheese" that was all the rage there. All of a sudden, I tasted that scrumptious flavor, felt that spongy texture, and heard that soft squeak of the cheese as I sat on the front porch with my brothers passing the bag around.
Well, I found that dairy on line. I ordered that cheese. And I now hold a bag of it, and have to keep wiping off my keyboard.
No.
No.
Get your own!
When I was in high school, curiosity brought me to a meeting of Students Against Driving Drunk. I've never been a fan of drunk drivers, and it always made me mad that they were getting off with a slap on the wrist and a wink. I was soon thereafter approached by a school counselor to represent the school at the state level. While I was tempted to accept the offer, there was something about the program that really bothered me. I finally realized that it was the focus. Driving Drunk. It was actually more about students trying to persuade drunk students from driving. For me, it seemed more logical to persuade students from drinking. Then I wouldn't have much problem with them driving. That, of course, didn't go over so well. Students liked to drink. Or so they thought. I don't know many of them who enjoyed the flavor. I think they liked to drink because they thought they liked to drink - because they thought they were supposed to like to drink. Maybe I am wrong.
I didn't like to drink. Neither did my friends. In fact, we can still recall most of our parties. We had a great time. We had alternatives. For us, we didn't focus on whether we were going to drink or not. In fact, it very seldom came up. We just liked getting together and finding things to do. No one had to worry about who was going to bring the beer, or how they were going to get it. We were more focused on what movies we were going to rent, or whose house we were going to hang out at, or who was going to drive while we cruised Memorial, or the Fontana.
Nor did we worry about birth control, or sexually transmitted diseases, or whether we were going to have sex, or whether we were going to deprive ourselves of sex. We knew we would wait. We also tried to avoid getting too promiscuous. Why? Because we were learning the value of a relationship that was built on friendship and courtship. We didn't use the term "courting", but we lived by its connotations. We understood what sex was. We knew what sexual activity was. But we valued respect above all else. And we found that our relationships with the opposite sex were stronger for it. We fell in love. We recognized love. Love, for us, was not an activity we arrived at, but an emotion we experienced on both long- and short-terms. We had girlfriends. And while we sure each one was "the One", we cherished the sweet, innocent emotion that bloomed as we developed a pining for each other. We had long-distance, short-distance, marathon and sprint romances. But our focus was not on whether we would score. Rather, we focused on whether this one would bloom; whether this would be "the One".
Abstinence education struck me as a little odd. It began just as I was leaving school, so I never really got into it. But from what I knew of it, and from what I had been taught growing up, I saw the wisdom in it, and was happy to agree with its message. But, as beautiful as the message was, it was certainly vulnerable to snide and snappy comedic attacks. And it seemed almost doomed. Why? I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Tonight, I can. For the same reason I had a hard time with the SADD - the focus. Read this article for more. I thought it laid it out pretty good. Abstinence is fine, but innocent romance is where its at.
Today is January 1, 2008. Today, I weigh 255 pounds. Today I am 6 ft 3 inches tall. Today, I sat around, watching football and eating cheese and crackers, chips, and sodas. Today, I did very little to improve my life. Today is the last day I will ever say such a thing.
This time next year, I will weigh 215 pounds. This time next year, I will sit around and watch football, because that is what I enjoy doing. This time next year, I will not be eating cheese and crackers, chips, and sodas. This time next year, I will do something to improve my life.
I am tired of being overweight. I am tired of getting bigger. I am tired of making jokes about my jolly belly. I am tired of breathing heavily after walking up a flight of stairs. I am tired of being afraid of playing football in the Turkey Bowl because I can't run more than 15 yards. I am tired, and I am tired of being tired.
I am what I am because I have made myself what I am. For the most part, I am proud of what I am. But what I am is not necessarily what I see while shaving.
No more. I like me. My wife likes me. My kids like me. I want to be around to see if I can get some grandkids to like me.
I will keep you updated on my progress, and my set-backs, so check in every now and then.
Just took a little self-analysis and found myself likened to the great sage...
It looks like I was trying to sign in with the wrong email. But I knocked a few heads, kicked a few butts, and got things done. I'm back on the blog, but my head just doesn't seem to be in it right now. Not sure why. This is an exciting time in politics, I know. And I've been following it, and, of course, have opinions. But between work and school, I just enjoy sitting and relaxing, vegging out, racing, and playing with the family. I'll probably get back into this blogging thing soon. I just have to get the groove back. (Yeah, "How Sammy got his Groove Back").
Until then, I'll probably post a few boring things, maybe a few personal things, a few funny things, and a few things political.
I said I like racing. Funny story alert. Mrs. The Practicalist came in after cleaning the bedroom with a brand new Gran Turismo 4 for the PlayStation 2. Said she found it back behind some books. I had been wanting one for a long time now. We couldn't figure out whether we had borrowed it a while back and just forgot to return it (yeah, don't loan me anything). Mrs. The Practicalist thought it was something I had lost. When she discovered that I had no idea we had ever had the game, she wished she had not said anything - badabing, badaboom - another Christmas gift!
Well, I later discovered a receipt hiding behind the instruction manual. It hit me. Shaking off the amnesia, I suddenly began to see myself, having received a few dollars cash for Christmas last year, excitedly purchasing a video game I had been wanting for a long time. It was so satisfying... until I put it in the console, only to find that the console didn't want to read it. I even took it back for an exchange. That didn't work either. It was a long time, and a few price reductions, before we could afford a new console. When we finally did it, I so wanted a Gran Turismo 4 to play on it! I almost purchased one.
So, how often do you get the same Christmas gift two years in a row, and are just as surprised and excited the second time around? Maybe there is a bright side to alzheimers.
I have to apologize to my faithful few. School has started back up and so my focus has been more appropriately elsewhere, lately. I try to keep up with things politick, but just don't get much chance to comment. While taking a full load of school, I am also working 3 jobs for about 30 work hours a week (still much less than when I was in undergrad). I blog when I can, but y'know, nurturing a strong family relationship requires a little time away from the laptop. I like my wife, and I think she likes me, too. I want to keep it that way. My chitlins are growing up behind my back. They all have birthdays coming up in the next three months, and I have tried to bargain with them to let them have a birthday so long as they promise to quit growing up. They're not willing to cooperate with that (and yet they still want to have a birthday...).
On another note, I forgot to mention that I grilled dolphin last weekend. I am not a fish-eater. I don't know why, either. I used to love fish as a kid. I remember liking it, and I don't remember what caused me to change. I would like to like fish. This dolphin helped me begin to accomplish that. I marinated it in some yellow carolina BBQ sauce (they like mustardy italian dressing for BBQ sauce out east. Makes for a better marinade than a dipping sauce, in my never to be humble opinion). Then I grilled it over some pretty hot lump charcoal until it started to flake, then flipped it over to grill the skin side for a few minutes. I tell you what, it was some pretty darn good eats. Tasted a little sweet, actually. My buddy has some more cuts (he caught it in So.Car. this summer), so I'm sure I'll be roasting up some more. I downed it along with a thick cut t-bone steak, grilled to perfection, along with some grilled onion (slice it thick, drizzle w/ olive oil and sprinkle with rosemary, then grill until translucent), fresh mashed potatoes, and corn.
I know it wasn't a smoke, but boy was it a good grilling!
Happy eats!
Sorry, I was just calling the Hogs. Don't know that they were answering, though.
Thanks to a great friend of mine, I got to attend the opening game for my Razorbacks. "We" played Troy (yeah, I had to wonder the same thing... not sure just where they are from, either). It was a great time, fun atmosphere. Whenever Mr. Obnoxious, who sat two rows down, would sit down, the seats were really great. They were on the 25 yard line, looking almost directly down on the field. I think most people stay sitting out of fear that if you lean too far forward you might just fall straight down on top of the home team. The stadium is built in a way that every seat is a good one.
I'm a little concerned with the way this season is going to turn out. McFadden is a powerhouse, as is Jones. "We" can run the ball, and... let's see... "we" can run the ball... and then there is the run. That about sums up the team this season.
On another note...
remember my post about the wonderful man (?) who designed the Chevy Astro van? Yeah, he stuck it to me again. This time, its the A/C tube. Guess where the hole is... yeah, under the dog house.
I brought the van in to the mechanic down the road, told him my a/c wasn't working. No problem, he said, we'll just hook it up to this here machine that will spend a few hours sucking out the old freon and adding new, along with some dye, so that "we" can check it later if it starts running out of freon again. I'm OK with paying a mechanic a fair wage, but machines just don't have wives and kids at home, and, imo, shouldn't be charging me the same hourly rate. I can give it money to go get a sno cone or something, but c'mon. Anyway, after $175 of personalized machine service, we were,once again, enjoying the comforts of warm air blowing at max in the middle of the summer.
We made it to a good friend of mine, who looked under the hood, then climbed under the van, reached his hand up, and felt the big wide gaping hole where the tube rubbed up against the transmission. Fortunately, he didn't charge me for his 2 1/2 minutes of mechanic diagnosis (although I would have gladly paid it).
Now, why is it that the guy I pay to fix the air has to hood it up to a sucking machine for two hours, just to SEE if there might actually be a leak (isn't that why I brought it in?), but then didn't look to SEE if there was actually a leak, and my friend, who is not (yet) a paid mechanic could find it by simply reaching up and touching the hole?
Now, I get the privilege of paying some $400 to replace a tube, which wouldn't be quite so bad if it wasn't in ADDITION to the $175 of wasted freon.
I apologize if the music you are hearing is a little grinding on the nerves. I kind of like it, and there is a reason it is playing now. I have always thought it was pretty cool when the same song gets made in different ways. Music is awesome that way. Don't like a song, change it to fit your style. Don't like a style, but like the song, change it to your style.
One of the most versatile songs has to be "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", as you can see from the playlist. I don't expect anyone to suffer through the entire versions of all those. But take a moment to tap on each of them, and see what I mean. Some, like what you are listening to now, are rock based and loud. Some have changed the intro, but kept the main tune. I think IZ (Israel Hakinakinakiolo'aloha) has one of the most interesting, and beautiful, versions. I first heard it at the end of a movie (don't get me to lying about which one), and loved it.
This song has been through Hollywood musical, blues, rock, country, Broadway, adult contemporary, big band, et al. It has been twisted, pulled, pushed, hurried, slowed, mangled, straightened every which way but loose. It is a timeless tune. Many a version has been mimicked by big names and small, alike. Through it all, though, there are still only a handful that can never be topped.
Have fun, see what you think. Enjoy.
It is amazing who you can connect to.
A good friend of mine, a work colleague, was mentioning in passing that his brother was a sculpturer. He then showed me this web site: Bronze Wildlife Sculptures--Fine Art Sculpture by Raymond Gibby
At the bottom of the page is a large fish. This artist is in negotiations with Bass Pro to build something like this that is about 20 feet high. Many of these sculptures are about 3-4 feet tall.
I want to thank the Born Again Redneck for a wonderful post regarding the relics and joys of his childhood. My girls have a PS2, a computer, satellite and other distractions unintentionally intended to keep them indoors. I guess we use them to give them something to do while they are indoors, but I'm afraid they work in reverse, more often than not.
I was fortunate as a boy to have begun life on a four-acre farm in a small valley community in northern Utah. I remember a few toys, like wooden blocks of various shapes and sizes, HotWheels, and Legos. Any combination of these provided hours of imaginational entertainment. But most favorite of my childhood memories came from the hours spent roaming the barn and shed, climbing the rafters, making mud pies on the sheep hay trough, and riding my bike up to the canal that ran through the town.
My dad then got a job in Tulsa, and we moved into a neighborhood that was under construction. Talk about a young boy's dream playground. There were always sand piles to dig through, jungle gym house frames to climb and explore. Best of all, there were streets to bike and roller skate on. It was not an uncommon day to have 10-12 neighbor kids riding their bikes around the streets, erecting scrap plywood ramps, and finding awesome trails with natural ramps. Falling off your bike at the end of a jump was a regular occurrence, that's why God invented the band-aid and arm sling. We were the bicycle repair facility of the neighborhood. My brothers and I could disassemble a bike, shift a few parts around, and wind up with a new bike in a matter of an hour. At one point, I was charged with the task of sorting the build-up of bike parts in the back yard. I had a pile for wheels, another for handle bars, another for sprockets, and so on. They were pretty sizeable piles at one point.
One day, while riding down the street, I found where a neighbor had thrown a frame in the trash. It looked cool, so I grabbed it and brought it home. After separating the rear bars, where it looked like it had been run over, I sanded it down and repainted it. It was my first experiment with two-tone paint, and for a 10 year old, it wasn't too bad. I threw some parts on it, and came out with a good solid bike.
Two weeks later, my brother had decided his bike needed an upgrade, and for some reason mine become a donor. It wasn't anything, though, for me to throw together another one, and I was back in the pack. We never really got into the newer alloy Mongoose bikes. We just couldn't afford those. Ours were always heavy, but not always as sturdy as those newer bikes.
School was in another neighborhood, about a mile or so away. There was a bus that stopped by my house, but it was nothing to ride to school. I got to where I could stand and pedal without holding the handlebars. That was freedom. Now and again, my brothers and I would gather a few friends for a bike rally, and head to the swimming pool, in yet another neighborhood. Sometimes, we looked like a motorcycle gang, hogging the street.
I don't know at what point riding bikes became a thing of the past.
A couple of years ago, at a garage sale, I came across an old mountain bike and offered $5 to take it off the guy's hands. It didn't fit in the car, so I rode it home. What an exhilarating thrill. The wind in my hair, the road beneath my feet. Zig-zagging across the road, dodging pot holes. Where had those days gone?
I have begun taking my older two on a bike around the neighborhood. They love it. And I love when they attempt to commit me to the next day after dinner. There is a comic book store about a mile away. I think I might take them down there today.
| You Are a Ham Sandwich |
 You are quiet, understated, and a great comfort to all of your friends. Over time, you have proven yourself as loyal and steadfast. And you are by no means boring. You do well in any situation - from fancy to laid back. Your best friend: The Turkey Sandwich Your mortal enemy: The Grilled Cheese Sandwich |
This is FANTASTIC! You have got to check this guy out.
I like art, but am often disappointed at what passes for art. Too often, it is merely a statement, often rebellious in nature, or static. What I seldom tire of, however, is watching it be created.
I was the cartoonist on my high school newspaper. I dabbled in art over the years, studied graphic design, made a few t-shirts and designed awards. I now play around with graphic design, but can only dream of making a creation that has any artistic merit. Mine usually get the "That looks pretty cool" or "yeah, that's cute". I get a few accolades now and then. But this guy is a visionary. He can look at the blank canvas, know what he wants to draw out of it, and then enjoy the ride.
How do you know when you're fat? How about when the office decides to have a contest to see who can lose 10 pounds the fastest, and it's hatched by two women who really have no reason to be losing weight, and the only person they approach about joining this "contest" is you. Hmmmmm.
Well, being the competitive sucker that I am, I threw in my ten dollars and boasted that I had lost thirty-five pounds in a month before, and I can drop this ten pounds in a week! Oops. Ok, so it was more like twenty pounds, and it took me all summer, and I was working in a hot factory for 40-50 hours a week, but I've still got it in me. Trust me, there is plenty of it in me.
That evening, as I was finishing my last supper, I planned my strategy... gorge on watermelon and drink a gallon of water just before my first weigh-in. Well, the water and melon didn't quite make it that far. After four midnight trips to the bathroom, I figured I ought to play this thing honestly, and me and the missus hauled out the long-forgotten Weight Watchers plan and hatched a for-real approach. We hit the WalMart for the necessary veggies, frozen dinners, itty-bitty diet cupcakes and On-the-g0 water enhancer flavorer packets.
Turned out, Anita is doing Jenny Craig, Teresa is doing the South Beach, and I am going to win with Weight Watchers.
Personally, I prefer the Baha'i Diet. Take the best of all diets, and indulge. One diet restricts your meat, but lets you eat bread. Another prefers meat, but no bread. WW lets you eat ketchup, sauces, and all the veggies you can stand. Put that together, and you've got the makings of a good hamburger. Now, if I could just find one that promotes cheese...
Do you hear that? If not, hold on, you might just be slow. (If you still can't hear it, hit Refresh... or turn on your speakers. Or, you might just have to scroll to the bottom to get it to start playing... but then come back here, and enjoy.)
Hear it now? OK, good.
That, my friends, is satisfaction. Sweet, sad, soft satisfaction. That is the pinnacle of a quest which has lasted me for more than a quarter of a century.
Just listen...
Ahhhhhhhhh......
In case you're a little perplexed as to why this is such a special moment, let me reference you to an earlier post. HOLD ON. Wait until the song is over. You just can't interrupt a classic such as this.
(wait...)
(wait...)
(wait...)
OK. Now. (Come back when you are done.)
Almost exactly what had been running thru my head all these years, except I just couldn't remember all the words. So sweet and melodic, and sad, sad, sad.
Thank you for sharing this moment with me.
Now, if you'll scroll down to the bottom of the page, you will see a green box. These are just some other old faves. They brought me joy throughout the years. Feel free to click on any of them at any time.
When I was a wee one, I think the first radio song I ever learned to sing was "Seasons in the Sun". Again, here it is, in all its ballad-ical glory.
No pics this time. Forgot to charge the camera. Which is too bad, because these were a sight to behold! I'm still excited about it.
I was chosen to cook the meat for our J. Reuben Clark Law Society End Of The Year Picnic And Swim Party Get Together (Can I Come Up With Any More Words To Make This Any Longer Of A Title) Thingy. We were expecting about thirty people, so I fixed an ample supply of ribs. I cooked them in two shifts at six hours per shift, so it was a thoroughly enjoyable two days of samokin' ribs! My most satisfying moment came when it was time to cut them up. The knife went very smoothly in between the bones, slicing the meat as though it were butter. That's when I knew they were good. I made enough to fill a large, deep turkey roaster pan to overflowing! Of course, my taste testers were right there to perform their duties. I got the six thumbs up (they claimed they had to try an ample sampling before they would give the OK).
I did struggle a little with the pork roast, though. The first was a little on the tough side. The roasts heated up faster than normal, which I didn't expect with so much meat. But I got it done, shredded, and mixed in with a nameless-to-avoid-self-incrimination sauce. I then added five fatties, and about 15 roasted mice (see previous entry). The mice were extremely spicy, and only cooled down after four days in the fridge. But they were good, nonetheless.
The JRCLSEOYPASPGT(CICUWAMWTMTALOAT)T participants loooooved them. What they didn't eat there (about half, since only about 15 adults actually showed up), we split up and took home. Later reports indicated that they were even better several days hence.
That was, so far, the largest smoke I have done. It was also extremely enjoyable. My special rub added that sweet spice to the natural flavors of smoke and pork (although there were a few reports of some of the ribs being just a little too spicy - I'll work on that). Can't wait to do it again!
Y'know, if I were to get some out of town visitors for the upcoming Memorial Day Weekend, I might could be convinced to stoke it up. I'm just sayin'.
My wife is awesome! She has really taken to this wave of reality shows, exposing me, in the process, to a wide world of diverse tastes and talents. But never have I appreciated this fascination as fully as I did this week.
Dancing w/ the Stars is a show about precision, technique, and talent. The idea is to take fading celebrities, some of whom you would probably never remember as having existed, and pay them to learn to dance. They work hard all week, and then perform on Monday night. This season has been rather uneventful. In fact, I was wondering if any of them were even taking this job seriously. So were the judges. Clyde the Jolly Green Giant seemed more concerned with scheduling tee times than whirling hips and throwing small ladies around.
Mr. Achy Breaky appears ached and breaked.
The former Mrs. McCartney's leg landed her on her buttocks.
Just as I was beginning to lose all hope, and start washing dishes...
Apollo and the Tiger Lady.
and...
and then...
Now, who couldn't appreciate fine ballroom dancing?
Thanks, Sweetheart!
When I first got my grill, I wanted to be able to grill, but I also wanted to take up smoking. My first couple of smokes were a little difficult, but with trial and error, I made a few modifications.
I found that I had a big gap around the lip. This allowed the heat to go up and out the sides without staying in the cooking chamber. So I found some heat resistant furnace sealer at Lowes. It looks like nylon rope. It worked great, but eventually the glue got brittle, so I bent some nails to use as clamps until I can figure out something more permanent. It still works pretty good. (All that white stuff is glue drippings.)
I found that by lowering the smokestack to the level of the grill, the heat was forced to fill the entire chamber, instead of just sweeping across the meat closest to the fire, and then up and out. The problem I had was that I have a warming rack attached to the lid that got in the way of anything that would have prodruded from the stack. So, to improvise, I found a 4 inch diameter aluminum ducting that would attach to the bottom of the stack, and then snake around the heating rack, and lower to just above the grill. 
Oops! Sorry, gratuitous pic of wife's awesome cinnamon rolls.
The other problem I was trying to solve was a more even distribution of heat. It didn't seem to want to go over to the far side. So I turned my charcoal pan over, drilled holes all along it, and then tilted it. That way, it captures some of the heat coming out of the fire box, and distributes across the cooking chamber. The only problem I have now is that the heat is a little too evenly distributed. This can be a problem when I am trying to cook beef along with pork. Beef needs to heat up to a lower temp, and then cook at that lower temp in order to stay moist. I may turn the charcoal pan over for my next cook (I'm fixing up some beef roast along with several cuts of pork, and some ribs). I want to get the beef just right before I try an expensive and time-consuming brisket. 
While I'm doing show and tell, I might as well show you the charcoal chimney I made out of an old coffee can and some wire. It took a while, and hurt the finger pretty good, but it was fun and works great! I've the wire sitting around for a long time, and got the coffee can from work, so it didn't cost me a dime.
OK, one more shameless shot of some good samoked ribs! Mmmm..mmmm...mmmmm.
