Papa Rocks

Guess What I'm Making

2007-01-27T18:53:00.000-08:00

These are pieces of my latest project. 1000 points to the first reader to guess what it will be, and 2000 points to the one who guesses the kind of wood.

I'm back... for now... occaisionally... maybe. We'll see how it goes.

Paparocks' Favorite Rock

2006-05-23T17:18:00.000-07:00

Blackbird wanted to see a rock for show and tell, so here it is:

This rock stands in the Kananaskis range of the Canadian Rocky Mountains between Calgary and Banff, near Chester Lake. It is known as The Praying Nun. You don't even really have to use your imagination too much. She's kneeling at an altar, with her hands folded neatly under her chin.

I came accross the formation while out hiking one day several years ago.

It's one of my favorite pictures, and definitley my favorite rock.

The Real Windy City

2006-05-15T18:49:00.000-07:00

This is in response to Gabriela's post. She's not the only one who's lived somewhere with weird monuments.

I grew up in a small town on the prairies of southern Alberta Canada.

The wind was always blowing.

I have seen a golfer hit a shot into the wind that in calm conditions would have been a 250 to 300 yard drive, but because of the wind, only went about 50 feet.

As kids we used to hold our jackets out like sails and ride our skate boards under wind power.

The trees in town all tilted to the east, because the prevailing wind was from the west.

I hated the wind, but it gave us something to be proud of. Something we could complain about and brag about at the same time.

The town finally erected a monument to the wind - a giant wind gauge:

You think that's bad? We thought this was just little breeze. When it was sticking straight out, parallel to the ground... Now that was a WIND!!!!!

The Texas Weed Whacker Massacre

2006-05-11T17:42:00.000-07:00

It was a lovely evening:

Temperature in the low 70's.

Light Breeze.

Blue Sky's.

The grass cutting was done:

The edges had been trimmed:

All that was left was a little cleanup around the fenceline:

And then it happened.

The Weed Whacker went wild, and when it was done, this is what my ankle looked like:

Yes, it hurts!.

No, I don't want to talk about it!

It just happened, OK???!!!!!!

I'm an idiot!

IT'S NOT "JUST STUFF"

2006-05-07T07:59:00.000-07:00

How many times have I heard someone say, "Well, it's all "just stuff", as in "only" stuff???

Well, I beg to differ... It's not "just stuff", in fact it's way more than "stuff". Our houses are full of things that other's might call "stuff", but to us are priceless treasures because of what they represent, the memories they invoke, the feelings that they awaken inside of us. They are not "just stuff". Because they make us happy, remind us of where we came from, who we are and maybe even who or what we would like to become, if they were lost, or destroyed, as they can be and sometimes are, we would feel a great loss, because many of them cannot be replaced. Yes, we may still be able to remember them, or the place, person or event that made them special to us, but over time the memories may dim and we might miss the "stuff", wishing we had it back again to help us remember.

Here's some of our "stuff" - not all of it by a long stretch, but then, this blog is not big enough for all of it. In no particular order of importance, because they are all important. Some of it is on display in our home. Some of it is kept in closets. Some of it is in special boxes that we keep this kind of stuff in so that from time to time we can pull it out and remember:

The Jade Grizzly reminds me of the Canadian Rockies and the many wonderfull times I spent there as a child and an adult, and of the times and feelings I had when I actually saw a live grizzly in the wild.

The glass disc reminds me of our year in Venezuela. It wasn't ALL bad. In fact there was probably more good than bad.

The antique clock that belonged to the old woman that grammy shared a room with for 7 years while she was growing up, and learned to tell time on. Oh, the memories this one holds!

Magic kalaidescope, complete with letter from Papa.

The baseball glove that I keep around even though I never played much, but keep just in case the grandson's (OK, and daughters) might want to play catch with Papa when they come to visit.

Lakes Moraine and Louise - two of the most beautiful places on earth. Filled with memories.

The stupid horn your Dad brought you home from his trip to Portobello Road in London.

Smiley Face lamp, Canadian Flag, stuffed animals, hope chest...... the list goes on.

Quite possibly our most memorable family vacation - Summer 1994.

To remember that we were once little and someone loved us enough to present us to the world in the very best. These are Grammy's baby booties.

A dresser full of "stuff" - every piece meaningful!

Reminder of vacations at the shore:

The friendship bracelets my daughters made for me. Yes, I kept them all these years.

And who wouldn't want and cherish a "Flagon with a Dragon".

Family pictures.

Many of these things were given as gifts. Some were purchased as souvenirs and remembrances of trips and special occaisions. Some were inherited. Some were just picked up along the way. All are special to us.

"Just Stuff"???? I think not!!!!!!

I'm sure you all have your own stuff. Treasure it!

Finally.... It's Done!!!

2006-04-22T12:46:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had a project that you started and then for one reason or another just couldn't finish? You put it aside, but every time you walk past it it calls your name and sticks it's tongue out at you, mocking you and calling you names, like:

"You procrastinating loser!", or

"You lazy bum!".

No? Yeah, probably not. You're probably all super focused on finishing something once you've started, and nothing can get in the way of you achieving your goal.

It's kind of like writer's block, only with wood, instead of words.

Well, I've finally finished the wood project that I started well over a year ago. It's been sitting in my garage in various stages of unfinishedness for all that time. In between, I've finished several other projects: 10 walnut and maple cutting boards, my Daughter-in-law's solid cedar hope chest, Grammy's birthday music box, and a few others that I've forgotten, I'm sure.

But no more will it be called "Unfinished"! This very morning, I put the finishing touches on it and installed the drawers and it now sits in our family room with our stereo on top and the drawers full of our CD's and some DVD's.

So here it is:

The cabinet ready to stain:

The open cabinet with the drawers for the CD's:

The finished product:

Done!!!!

Finally!!!

Now, what to make next????? Hmmmm???

We'll have to think on that one for a while.

I don't think these things are weird, but......

2006-04-19T19:02:00.000-07:00

1. I like to eat baked potatoes with soft boiled eggs on top of them.

2. My favourite treat in my Christmas stocking is smoked oysters.

3. I can remember my Canadian Social Insurance number even though I haven't had to use it in 12 years, but I can't remember what it was I wanted to Google 5 minutes ago.

4. I enjoy getting older, even with the ever increasing aches and pains.

5. Nantiemeg's thing about having her left foot out from under the covers..... She comes by it honestly. Me to!

6. I had an appendicitis attack at the age of 18 while wrapped from head to toe in tin foil. (No, it was not what you might think... I was playing the Tin Man in a Wizard of Oz play and had my appendix out the next morning.

Lastly, I don't tag.

TELL ME A STORY, GRANDPA

2006-04-04T21:06:00.000-07:00

When my kids were little, they always used to want to hear stories about the "olden days" - you know - when I was a kid. Well, that's about the time that I would break out the old standby's:'

"When I was a kid, we had it rough! Yup! We used to have to walk to school through 10 feet of snow, uphill..... both ways!!. You kids think you got it tough? You don't know nothin'".... Blah, Blah, Blah , Blah, Blah!

Seriously, they used to like to hear about what kinds of things I did, and where I lived - the farmhouse with no indoor plumbing for a while, trips to the outhouse when it was 30 degrees below zero. Getting trampled by a bull calf, stepping on a rusty nail, learning to swim in a muddy pond. Going on trips with my parents to the Grand Canyon, Lewis and Clark Caverns, Disneyland. Meeting Grammy. The list goes on..

A few weeks ago, I blogged a bedtime story for Laylee, Magoo and the Bean. It got me thinking about telling them stories and how when they get older, how neat it would be to have them say, "Tell me a story, Papa."

When I was young, we lived close (a couple of blocks) from my Mom's Dad. I used to go over and visit on a regular basis and Grandpa would tell stories. I remember one about a girl he used to know. He said "She weren't much for pretty, but she were hell for smart!" I thought, "Grampa said "hell"!, hee, hee, hee!" He used to call me up and ask me to come over and listen to his latest Bill Cosby album, you know, the one with the story of Noah and the Ark. We'd be in the living room listening to it and Grandma would be in the kitchen slamming pots and pans around saying, "I don't know how you can listen to that Sacrelig!!" But me and Grandpa laughed and laughed! I really miss him.

But this blog isn't just about him. It's more about this guy:

This is my Dad's Dad. He's in his World War I uniform. He was killed at Vimy Ridge in France in WW I when my Dad was only 4 years old. Dad was only 2 1/2 years old when Grandpa went away to war, so my Dad never got to hear stories about when his Dad was little, and I never got to hear stories from this Grandpa either.

From things we've been able to piece together over the years, we know that he must have lived an interesting life. His Mom died when he was young. He went to live with his Grandparents, but for whatever reason, left their home when he was about 14, lived in California for a while, spent some time in South America, where he "came in possesion of a large ruby". Paid his passage to South America by signing on as a hand on the ship. Worked as a dynamite blaster on road construction crews in Idaho, where he met my Grandma (who also died before I was born). Immigrated to Canada, homesteaded in the Canadian Rockies. Joined the army and fought as a sniper in the Battle of Vimy Ridge where he was killed by a German sniper.

I never knew him, but I miss him terribly as well. There are so many things I want to know about him: Why did he leave home? Why did he change his name? Why did he go to South America? How did he "come in possesion of a large ruby"? Why did he move to Canada and never contact his family again after a single letter written to them when he was about 21 years old? Why did he go to war? Why didn't he keep his head down? Again, the list goes on......

Someday, I'll meet him. And when I do, I'll say, "Sit down, we've got some catching up to do. "

"Tell me a story, Grandpa. Let me find out who you really are."

A Week at the Shore With Grammy and Papa

2006-03-20T17:53:00.000-08:00

Or, "Some Words are Fun To Say - Part Deux"

A couple of years ago, we were in somewhat of a CONTEMPLATIVE mood, wondering what we could do to continue our tradition of creating happy family memories for our children ( aka: ANKLE BITERS, YARD APES, RUG RATS, NOSE MINERS….), Heather, DYM, Ace, Nantie Meg, and Bucklintine and their spice (plural of spouse), Code Man, DYD, Queen of Ace’s Heart and Invinceable, and our grandchildren Laylee, Magoo and the Bean, and adopted daughter Bowersita.

It dawned upon us that there was a PREPONDERANCE of evidence that some of our happiest family moments had happened while relaxing at the Jersey shore. We had Grammy’s family reunion coming up the 1st week of July, 2005, so we came up with the idea of inviting the kids ET AL, to the shore for that week..

After discussing how much this would all cost, we decided that we could pay for the house and some of the car rentals and food, but that any more than that would be a SUPERFLUOUS, amount of help, not to mention expensive.

Upon informing the kids, they responded with a PLETHORA of positive responses:

AWESOME!!
BODACIOUS!!
INCONCEIVABLE!!
SERENDIPITOUS!! (because it was so valuable and agreeable and yet not sought for.)
LAND ‘O GOSHEN!!! It’s the land of milk and Honey!
And my personal favorite: “Why Grammy and Papa, how PERSPICACIOUS of you to have the acute mental vision and discernment to realize what a wonderful time this will be for all of us”.

We’d never been called PERSPICACIOUS before.

With great anticipation we awaited the wonderful occasion. And finally it came.

Grammy and Papa and Nantie Meg ARROVE first, followed soon by a fine assortment of Sisters, Brother, NANTIES, NUNCLES, Grandchildren, car seats, pac’n’play’s, suitcases, toys, cameras, computers and various and assorted sundry items need to support a crew of this size.

And then it began… Oh the fun!… OODLES and OODLES of fun!!!!!

There was food:

CHICKEN, COOKIES, ADOBO, salads, Daddy eggs, soup, chips, and Cheese Steaks GALORE, GALORE I tell you, Cheese steaks GALORE!!! There were also HUMUNGUS quantities of Rita’s WOOTER ICE and GELATIS approaching GALORE status, consumed by all, but particularly the Code Man. There was fresh Jersey Corn and Tomatoes. We even offered some JUS DE PAMPLEMOUSE to Ace, but he stated that he would not DEIGN to soil his manly lips with such a CONCOCTION. I do believe there may have been some SUCOTASH served up, though DYM probably called it SUFFERIN SUCOTASH due to the lima beans it contains. She may have even said, “What the HIDEY HOOKEY are you trying to do to me? You know how I hate beans, especially those of the lima variety!” To which Grammy responded, “Don’t get PERSNICKETY with me! If you don’t like them, don’t eat them. There is more than an ELEGANT SUFFICIENCY of other stuff to eat. There were jelly filled doughnuts. When someone asked how they got the jelly inside the doughnut, Grammy said, “Why, I thought everyone knew that… They use a HYPODEEMIC NERDLE!” Needless to say, by the end of the week we were all completely SATIATED.

There was the Beach:

Sand, sea shells, seagulls, sunshine, salt, seaweed, crabs, fish of the GELATINOUS variety, and lots and lots of people in swimsuits. Let it be known that Papa had only eyes for Grammy and she for him, because as anyone can tell you, she is the EPITOME OF FEMININE PULCHRITUDE, and he is her one and only STUDMUFFIN!

There were waves. There was FROLICKING in the waves. There was the PLINK PLANK PLUNK sound of stones being dropped into the water. There were sandcastles built and destroyed by the waves and then rebuilt again. There were trips to the boardwalk, the mini-mall, the arcade, the NUT HOUSE. There were fireworks on the 4th of July. There were bike rides and romantic walks on the beach after dark. Whether there was any FROLICKING on those romantic walks, I cannot say.

There were Games:

Canasta, Hearts, Rook, Rummy, Quidler.

There were Pictures… Lots and Lots of Pictures, none of which can be shown without the proper waivers being given by the subjects of said pictures.

What there was not:

There was no PREPOSTEROUS behaviour.
There was no need or desire for anyone to practice the fine are of DEFNESTRATION on a sibling or other member of the family
No one had a MIOCARDIAL INFARCTION.
No one felt the need to say SHRIGANESH KERRER or DANGYOUJOHNWILSON.
We saw no streets that carried the name of SHAGANAPPI TRAIL.
No one was SANCTIMONIOUS, or a POPPINJAY or ROOD, R-O-O-D, ROOD.

In the end what there was mostly were Memories, many happy Memories, stronger family ties and perhaps a few tears at having to say goodbye.

Oh, and by the way, When you use LEDERHOSEN as a swimsut, especially in the ocean, the salt water makes them very stiff and they tend to cause the most awful chafing. Not that I have any personal experience in that regard.

P.S. Many thanks to those who contributed words that are fun to say in your comments on my previous post

B.S. Bingo... WE HAVE A WINNER!!!!

2006-03-17T18:38:00.000-08:00

If you've ever worked in the corporate world, you've probably heard of a wonderful game called B.S. Bingo. It consists of a standard bingo style card with overused corporate cliches that few normal people use in everyday conversation but are so pervasive in business circles as to be laughable. When you're in a meeting that just won't end, keep the card in front of you and when you have a Bingo, stand up and yell, "BULL......t!" I have actually seen people playing the game, but I've never seen anyone declare that they were a winner.... but it would sure make the meeting more interesting!

As many of you know, I work for a large multi-national oil and gas company and as you might suspect, there is no shortage of this type of language, but I think the following memo should win a prize as one of the best examples of Corporate BS that I've ever seen. This is the opening paragraph to an actual organization announcement that was issued in our company sometime in the past 15 years. I couldn't believe it at the time so I've kept a copy. I still can't understand it. If you can, you should probably keep it a secret because I'm pretty sure it means there's something seriously wrong with your brain.

Here it is:

ORGANIZATION BULLETIN

In order to re-focus our organization in alignment with our strategy and to provide for (name deleted) project completion, some changes are necessary in the organization. We will seek to enhance the infrastructure and geologic synergies of the OU's and OC's with life cycle synergies, and functional synergies will be enhanced, which will allow us to more effectively focus our personnel resources. This reduces the number of OU's and OC's, and provides better critical mass for our asset grouping. The Commercial group, responsible for functional excellence in the commercial homeroom, as well as Methanol, TransportationInfrastructure, and Oil and Gas sales for (country name deleted), will re realigned into the BD organization. The Graphics group will be realigned reporting to IM. Due to near term drilling activities and the need to more efficiently establish our next project utilizing (name delteted's) expertise, Extraction will be focused on this role. The following organization is effective as of ........:

(Names withheld to protect the identities of the poor schmoes who after reading the above nonsense, still had no clue as to what their new jobs were going to be)

I guess we all just have to figure things out as we go along.

Cheers!

Papa

Some Words Are Just Fun to Say

2006-03-15T19:44:00.000-08:00

Take "Lederhosen" for example. I can't say Lederhosen without smiling, or almost giggling. It just conjures up silly images of grown men with knobby knees with leather hiking boots and knee-length wool sox with the cuffs turned down, and little William Tell hats with a feather stuck in the band, blowing on an alpen horn, or snogging on a bratwurst and quaffing a stein full of full bodied ale.

It's also fun to work it into conversations:

"Hang on to your Lederhosen, we're GOIN' IN ! , or

"Calm Down! Don't get your lederhosen in a knot!", or

"What should I wear today, my black biker lederhosen, or my brown Swiss mountain meadow Studmuffin lederhosen?"

Deter, here, went with the latter:

I'm also very glad that we kept the original German name with out translating it to English. "Leather trousers (shorts)" just doesn't have the same ring to it.

So, what are some of your favorite fun words to say? (No bad words, please!!!)

A Bedtime Story for Laylee, Magoo and the Bean

2006-03-08T17:23:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time there was a Daring Young Mom and her Daring Husband, Daring Young Dad. Together, they were the Daring Duo. They had two darling children, Princess Laylee and Prince Magoo.

Princess Laylee had a special friend by the name of Ducky. But he was no ordinary Ducky - no, like every other member of this family, he was a Daring Ducky.

"Now, just what does a Daring Ducky do?", you might ask yourself. I know I have.

Well, a Daring Ducky does what anyone of the daring persuasion does: Daring Deeds. Here's a story about how Daring Ducky saves Princess Laylee and Prince Magoo from a horrible fate:

One day, Princess Laylee and Prince Magoo were in their home, playing hide and seek. Mostly Laylee was hiding and Magoo was seeking, but they were having a good time. There was much laughter, as Magoo would erupt into uncontrollable fits of joy when Laylee would jump out of her hiding place just before Magoo found her and say, "Peek-a-boo".

All of a sudden there was a knock at the door. Daring Young Mom went to the door and, forgetting to check through the peep hole first, opened it. She immediately jumped back at the sight that stood before her. It was a little woman, dressed in a black dress with a tall pointy hat. She had a green face with a long hooked nose with a giant wart on one side, and long straggly hair that fell over her shoulders like brittle straw.

"Wh, Wh, Who are you, and what do you want?" stammered Daring Young Mom, not feeling very daring at the moment.

"Well who do you think?" said the ugly visitor, "I'm Wanda, the Wicked Witch of the West, and I'm here to move in with you and your daring little family. I can't stay in Oz anymore after that water incident. Melting is not a fun thing to do, but I'm back now and I've been looking around, and I think this would be a wonderful place to live. By the way, you have very Chaaaarrrrmmming children."

Sensing danger, Daring Ducky, who had been watching the whole scene unfold from under the couch, leaped between Daring Young Mom and Wanda the Witch, and said, "Don't worry, I'll protect you and Laylee and Magoo." Locking the Witch in his gaze, he said, "If you want to get to them, you'll have to deal with me first. And I'm not about to let anyone, or anyTHING hurt my family".

"As you wish", said the Wicked Witch as she pulled out her wand and threw a bolt of lightning at the little Duck.

But Daring Ducky surprised everyone as he held up his wing as if it were a shield and the lightning bolt glanced harmlessly off.

The Witch was somewhat surprised, as were all of the Daring Family, because in their experience, Ducky had never been the least bit daring, in fact, they all thought that Darling Ducky didn't do didley. But what they failed to understand was that this was a double negative, and if Darling Ducky didn't do didley, then that meant he must do something, and what would that be? They were about to find out.

Ducky leapt into the air and flapping his stubby little wings, in his bill he grabbed the end of a ball of yarn that Daring Young Mom was going to knit into a sweater for Daring Young Dad, and flying faster than any of the astonished onlookers had ever seen he went round and round the Wicked Witch until her arms were tied helplessly to her sides. Then, tying it off in a dazzling areobatic manouver, he dropped to the ground in front of her and said, "I'll thank you not to even think about doing anything like that ever again."

The Wicked Witch was appropriatly humbled, and with her arms tied tightly to her sides, she didn't seem quite as scary. Daring Ducky looked at her and said, "Where did you say your were from?"

"I said I am the Wicked Witch of the West," said the Witch

"Yeah, yeah, I heard that, but WHERE are you FROM? What City?", said Ducky.

"Cleveland", said the Witch.

"AH HAH!!", cried Ducky, "I KNEW it!!! You're not from the WEST, you're from the EAST. And I'll bet you're not even that wicked! As easy as your were to tie up, I'll bet you're the Clumsy Clod from Cleveland. Or to the people up in Canada, you're probably known as the Silly Simpering Sourceress from the South.

Well, you can bet that this knocked the wind out of her sails. "Well", she said, "I had the people in New York convinced that I was the Wicked Witch of the West. Cleveland is west of New York, you know".

"Well, the sun may rise in the East, but it sets in the West, and we're about as far west as you can get in this country", said Ducky, "So I suggest you just quit trying to be somebody you're not, and try being nice for a change. You never know, your might like it."

Wanda thought about it for a minute and then said, "I'm really not a bad person. It's just that all of the kids in my neighborhood when Iwas growing up used to tease me about my nose, and the wart, and my green skin. I just never fit in and so I started casting spells and one thing led to another and here I am again, but I guess being tied up beats being melted. It was really nice of you not to throw water on me."

At this, Princess Laylee started to feel sorry for Wanda. She came out from behind Daring Young Mom and said, "Wanda, you can stay with us if you promise not to cast anymore spells or throw lightning bolts or mean stuff like that. We won't make fun of your nose or your green color. We are nice."

Well, you wouldn't believe what this did for Wanda. "You really mean it?", she asked, "You really do? Why, you and me and Magoo and Ducky could do all kinds of fun things together. We could play games, and go to the park and color pictures and blow bubbles and go for rides on my broom. It will be so fun!!!"

"And...", said Laylee, "Maybe sometimes you could make some ice cream with your magic wand. I like ice cream..... ALOT!"

"That would be fun", said Wanda, "but only if your Mom says it's OK".

And that is how Wanda the Wonderful (as she was known for ever more) came to live with the Daring Young Family. All because Darling Ducky wasn't afraid to do a Daring Deed!

Good night, sleep tight!

March 4th

2006-03-02T15:45:00.000-08:00

If you're anything like most of us, if you did make any New Year's resolutions, you've probably broken them by now. I'm not sure I even started on any of mine. At any rate, I usually like to start a new resolution on some date that I can remember, so I'll know how long it took to break it, or maybe it's just that I want to put it off until next week..., my birthday...., my grandmother's wedding anniversary..., pretty much anytime that is not now.

Is anyone seeing a little of themselves here yet?

Yeah????

OK, so here's the deal. This Saturday is March 4th... No big deal, right?

WRONG!!!!!

March 4th is a great day to...

March 4th and conquer.

March 4th with courage.

March 4th with renewed determination to start over on those broken resolutions - or at least one of them.

March 4th from our pit of despair and into a bright new day.

March 4th shouting to the world that we will not give in to whatever it is that we always give in to.

March 4th shaking off the shackles that.... (Is anyone getting sick yet?..... I could go on....)

But I won't.

I think you get the picture

JUST DO IT!!!!!!!!!!! (March 4th)

P.S. If anyone has any bright ideas, I've already got dibs on May the 4th for my Star Wars tribute.

Some Day's You Just Wanna.....

2006-02-27T18:39:00.000-08:00

Open up a can on somebody!!!!

And you know what kind of a can I'm talking about!

Not that I'm whining, or that I've never given anyone else reason to want to open up a can on me, but some days I feel like the guy in the commercial who's trying to explain to the person on the other end of the line that he works with a bunch of monkeys.

I'm not going to go into any details, but suffice it to say that I work in what I consider to be a stressful job. A wise person once told me that, "Stress is the condition that arises when the mind overrides the body's desire to OPEN UP A CAN on someone who desperately needs it!"

I'm really not such a bad sort, and I would never resort to violence, and now I don't have to, because....

I finally found a CAN...

Of.....

You guessed it....

It's truly amazing what just having it around has done to my stress levels. When people come to me at work and ask stupid questions (yes, contrary to popular belief, there really are stupid questions), I just look at the can, and somehow find the strength to smile and say, "Well, let's see, how's about if we look here......" And after solving their problem, they leave, I look good, and they have no idea how lucky they were.

I really hope I never have to open it up for real, cause... like... things could get ugly. Oooooh Yeaaahhh!!!!!

What Have I Done? Part II

2006-02-26T19:07:00.001-08:00

My very first post entitled "What Have I Done?" was really more about what have I, or my daughter? gotten myself into, in terms of blogging. But I started thinking the other day about what I've done in my lifetime and all the jobs I've had. So here its is: My List of Things that People have paid me to do starting at age 14:

1. Tractor driver doing summer-fallow work on a farm
2. Haying (bales)
3. Cutting (if you know what I mean) and branding calves.
4. Working the water pistol game at the local fair carnival.
5. Working the "toss a dime on a dish" game at the local fair carnival.
6. Scraping Manure off the feed lot fence in preparation for painting.
7. Doorman/ticket taker at the local movie theatre.
8. Meat delivery/bone pickup/carcas boner at a meat packing plant
9. Wheel move irrigation system manufacture and assembly.
10. Public library janitor and various other venues including a bar cleaning up vomit from people who mixed too much beer and who knows what else with chili and chips. (I figure this one and scraping manure off the feed lot fence would qualify for the "Dirty Jobs" show.
11. Sears plumbing and heating and paint and wallpaper department sales person.
12. Underground sprinkler installer and repair man (Private industry and city unionized employee.
13. Chartered accounting student with major public accounting firm and with smaller firm that specialized in bankruptcy.
14. Chartered Accountant large public firm
15. Special Projects Accounting Manager - small oil and gas explorationa and production company
16. SEC and FASB Accounting Research and Compliance Specialist with a large oil and gas exploration public company.
17. Chief Accountant responsible for financial reporting, Tax and Treasury for the small Canadian subsidiary of a major multi-national oil company.
18. Global consolidations accountant for the parent of the small Canadian oil company.
19. Retail accounting and audit supervisor same company
20. Transportation (pipeline) Budget and finance coordinator for same oil company
21. Budget and Finance coordinator for the Rockies business unit (refining, pipelines and marketing) of same company.
22. Accounting and Planning Manager for the Venezuelan subsidiary of same company.
23. Currently the primary finacial data organizer/chief data miner for the U.S. marketing department of this same company. Yup, that's it. At some point I stopped being an accountant and now I'm a data miner and specialize in telling people how to get their financial data out of one of the largest computer systems in the country, quite possibly the world. Not as glorious as it sounds - Especially when looking for historical comparative data out of 2 predecessor companies we refer to those projects as "Dumpster Diving for Data".

Okay folks. Nothing happening here, move along!

Show and Tell - Walking Sticks

2006-02-22T15:28:00.000-08:00

There they are. Right by the door. Waiting to be taken for a walk. Some I made myself. Others I purchased. There's a bunch more in the attic somewhere. But I'm not energetic enough to photograph those. The tall ones are for hiking in the mountains. The short ones are for setting a pace around the neighborhood. And yes, I'm just eccentric enough to use them.

And hats to shade my head.

Word of the Week Wednesday

2006-02-21T19:50:00.000-08:00

The word of the week is "STUPID".

Have you ever noticed how many different ways we have of saying something, with out really using the real word? Take the word "STUPID" for example:

Unintellegent
Dumb
His elevator doesn't go all the way to the top
The lights are on but nobody's home
A few bricks shy of a load
Doesn't have both oars in the water.....

I could go on, but you get the picture. How many other ways can you give me to say that somebody's not playing with a full deck?

And don't worry, if you choose not to comment, I won't think its because
you're a lamebrain or any thing like that... oops, there I go again. You can't use lamebrain or not playing with a full deck either.

Come on.... Show me whatcha got... I dare ya! I double dog dare ya!!!!

Quasimodo Takes a Vacation

2006-02-20T19:52:00.001-08:00

Quasimodo had been ringing the bell, well.. it seemed like forever. So one day he decided he'd like to take a vacation, so he put an add in the paper for an assistant Bell Ringer to fill in for him while he was gone.

He only got one application, so he asked the applicant to come for an interview. When the guy showed up, he was a skinny little bit of nothin'. He only weighed about 90 pounds soaking wet. Quasimodo told him that he couldn't give him the job due to his small size, but the little guy pleaded, explaining that he needed the job to help support his poor dear Mother.

So Quasimodo consented to give him a try, and took him up to the top of the tower to see the bell. After climbing the 300 stairs to the top, the poor fellow could hardly breath. Upon catching his breath and looking around he noticed that there was no rope attached to the huge and heavy bell and there was also no clapper inside the bell with which to ring it either, and he asked Quasimodo how he was supposed to ring the bell.

Quasimodo said, "Here, let me show you" and proceded to push on the bell until it swung out away from him. He then braced himself so that when the bell swung back it hit him in the head, causing a resontating "BONNNNGGGGGG"!!! Then he stepped aside and said, "Okay, now you try it!"

Somewhat nervous, but determined, the little guy gathered up his courage and strength and grabbed the side of the bell and push as hard as he could with both hands. To his surprise, the bell swung out fairly easily. He then braced himself the way he had seen Quasimodo do, and let the bell swing back towards his head. The huge bell hit him square in the face, knocking him back over the railing of the tower and he fell 300 feet to his death.

Soon some people were passing buy on the sidewalk, and pointed to the body and asked, "Who is that?" "I don't know", said another passerby, "but he's a DEAD RINGER for Quasimodo".

Okay, same preamble, different punch line: "I'm not sure, but THE FACE RINGS A BELL".

Sorry but it's the best I could do today.

What Goes Around, Comes Around

2006-02-19T07:26:00.000-08:00

A while back, I seem to remember a certain young Mom (initials DYM) posting an entry about her youngest child, Magoo. You remember - the one about how he's always into everything, breaking stuff, pulling stuff out, falling down, playing in the toilet, never let your eye off him 'cause if you do he'll burn the house down kinda stuff.....

Well, I also remember an old Bill Cosby routine where he's talking about kids and he mentioned Adam and Eve and about when they got kicked out of the Garden, God cursed them by saying, "Multiply and replenish the earth".

We've all heard parents say to one or more of their children, (not that any of us would have said it or even thought it ourselves), "I hope when you get married and have children, you have one just like you!!!"

I know it may be hard for some of you to believe, but DYM got into her fair share of mischief as a child as well:

Notice the crumbs left in the cake pan. Notice the crumbs left on the plate. Notice the crumbs on her hands and face. But especially notice the look on her face - you know the one - the one that says, "I think I may be in trouble, but if I smile real cute maybe they won't notice, or at least maybe they'll think it's so funny they'll take a picture and send it to Grandma."

DYM went on to get in other kinds of mischief, most of which I won't mention here, but I seem to remember a conversation she and I once had about her driving. "You're driving too far to the right, try to stay in the middle of the lane", says I. "Dad, I know precisely where every piece of car is at all times. I'm very good at depth perception and spacial relationships", says she. "Okay, but try to keep to the center of the space where the car is", says I.

A few days later I come home to find two small bolt holes in the top of the drivers side front fender of the car, caused by my depth perceptive, spacial relationship expert bouncing the left front tire off the cement curb that supported the security card reader into the parking garage at the office where she worked afternoons her senior year in highschool, causing the mounting bolts on the bottom of the card reader to embed themselves into the top of the fender. If I remember correctly, that the same cute smile got her out of that one as well.

So, to all of you who struggle with over-active little bundles of joy, "Don't sweat the small stuff!" If I say to my kids, "I hope that you have a kid just like you!", I honestly do mean it as a blessing, not a curse. I could not wish for a better family, and I'm so proud of how they've turned out and how they continue to develop. They truly are a blessing.

....In Which Grammy and Papa's True Identities are Revealed

2006-02-17T20:06:00.000-08:00

I suppose most of us have an alter-ego that we identify with; that in a way shapes our thinking and how we see ourselves. Mine comes from many happy memories from my childhood and parenthood. Mine involves magic (no, I'm not a wizard even though I have scar on my forehead), wonder, joy, anticipation and just downright fun.

Children of all ages love me and are drawn to me, whether they believe in me or not. Most want their picture taken with me, even the big kids and adult kids, although they are often embarrased to admit it. People's eyes light up when they see me and there is nothing like the feeling I get when a youngster who truly believes climbs onto my lap and whispers their wish in my ear.

Most of the year I go about in disguise but come December I can quit pretending and reveal who I truly am, and if Grammy's available she likes to join me as:

That's right folks we are Santa and Mrs. Claus. I've got the suit and the belly and I'm working on the beard although the real full one may have to wait until I'm retired.

One day this past Christmas season, we were invited to the local community association children's party and to the YMCA. In all that afternoon we had about 400 kids. What makes it all worthwhile are the ones who say, "All I want is for my little brother to have the best Christmas ever." Or the little girl whose house I went to on Christmas Eve who said, "I know you! We were just watching a movie about you." Or the little girl who said, "Oh, I don't need anything but I wanted you to have this", and then gave me little toy car with a ribbon tied around it - just for Santa.

Then there was the one who said in response to the question about what he wanted for Christmas, "OH, I have a list! Are you sure you want me to read all of it?"

There are the ones who aren't quite sure if they believe anymore, and the ones that are only there because Mom wanted a picture and they are embarrased. To them I say, "Don't worry, we'll have this posted on the internet for all your friends to see by tomorrow morning." They give a nervous laugh and go away wondering if I really will.

All I can say is that you're never too old to believe in Santa Claus. I know I sure do. And believe me being Santa is really cool especially because Mrs. Claus is such a total Hottie!!! Isn't she gorgeous?

Trust Me on this one - USE SUNSCREEN

2006-02-16T16:09:00.000-08:00

If you're a bit squeamish, you may not want to view the picture further down the page. I don't think it's that bad, but you never know. I'd hate for someone to lose their lunch on their keyboard.

About 3 years ago, I was installing an attic staircase in the garage, and Grammy was holding it in place while I was securing it in place from below. She thought I was done and let go. I wasn't done, and caught it with my head. No big deal, just a scratch that healed in a few days. But then about a month later, it seemed to open up again and over the course of the next few years it never fully healed. Most of the time it was just a small indentation in my forehead about the size of a pinhead and occaisionally it would bleed. Finally, when I went to a dermatologist about something else on my arm, I asked him to take a look at my forehead. He said the arm was fine, but that I had a Basal Cell Carcinoma on my forehead caused by too much sun over the years. Then he said, "but if you're gonna get cancer, this is the kind to get, because it doesn't spread out of the skin and it won't kill you". He then recommended that I have it excised or it could get larger and cause some permanent disfigurement

Hence, my trip to the plastic surgeon last October who confirmed the Demetologist's diagnosis and after numbing my head (Grammy might argue that I was already a numbskull) started cutting, and cutting , and cutting and lasering, and cutting. Apparently it was larger than it appeared on the surface. When I got home I looked like this:

Move over Harry Potter, there's a new Wizard in town:

But, not to worry, the surgeon said it would heal just fine and in 6 months to a year it would be almost invisible. And now four months later I see that he was right:

So, folks, take my advice and WEAR SUNSCREEN, or better yet, BIG HATS!!!

Tune in tomorrow when Papa and Grammy's true identities will be revealed (don't you just love a little suspense? I'm sure you can hardly wait.)

Why Computers Sometimes Crash

2006-02-15T16:21:00.000-08:00

Does it count if I steal shamelessly from someone else? Oh, well, even if it doesn't, here goes anyway. Someone sent this to me and I had so much fun reading it out loud to myself that I just had to pass it on. But you have to promise to read it out loud. If you can't make that commitment, then STOP NOW and read no further:

If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port,
And the bus is interrupted at a very last resort,
And the access of the memory makes your floppy disk abort,
Then the socket packet pocket has an error to report.

If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash,
And the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash,
And your data is corrupted cause the index doesn't hash,
Then your situation's hopeless and your system's gonna crash.

If the lable on the cable on the table at your house,
Says the network is connected to the button on your mouse,
But your packets want to tunnel to another protocol,
That's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall...

And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss,
So your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse,
Then you may as well beboot and go out with a bang,
'Cuz sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang.

When the copy on your floppy's getting sloppy in the disk,
And the macro code instruction is causing unnecessary risk,
Then you'll have to flash the memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM,
And then quickly turn of the computer and be sure to tell your Mom!

Well..... That certainly clears it up for me. How about you?

Xerxes Beard

2006-02-14T20:28:00.000-08:00

Ask any of my kids what that green, straggly wispy moss is hanging from the trees in the forest, and they'll tell you without a moments hesitation that it is Xerxes Beard - not Spanish Moss, not Tillandsia Usneoides, but XERXES Beard.

When the kids were little and we used to car trip all over the place, we used to play a game to keep them occupied. Starting with the letter A, and working our way through each member of the family and letter of the alphabet, we had to name something that we could see out of the window of the vehicle that started with that letter: Apple tree, Barn, Cow....... until one day we got to my turn and the letter X. Realizing that there was a serious shortage of xylophones outside the car in that particular part of the country, I happened to notice all the moss hanging from the trees so I said, "Xerxes Beard".

"What?", they asked. I decided to give them a history lesson and told them of Xerxes, a King of ancient Persia, who had a long wispy beard strangely similar to the moss in the trees, and that because he was so famous, the moss had been named after him. I won the game, by the way. I don't know how long it took before they realized that I made it all up, but to this day that is what they call it and I'm sure that's what they will teach their kids to call it. I'm shooting for an entry in the dictionary.

I've since used this same tactic on several other occaisions when I was pretty sure my audience didn't know the correct answer and for darn sure, neither did I. It's all in the delivery. If you say it with enough conviction, and your "facts" are at least plausible, chances are they'll believe you and you won't have to admit that you really don't know.

I'm sure most of you have done the same thing, so c'mon folks let's hear your version of "Xerxes Beard".

,,,IN WHICH PAPA MEETS GRAMMY'S MOM

2006-02-13T09:34:00.000-08:00

I think that in order to really know someone, or know yourself, for that matter, you need to understand where you came from. Many of you have been getting to know DYM and Heather from One Woman's World for some time, but I relate the following so that you might understand that they come by their wit and their unique way of expressing themselves honestly.

I had never met Grammy's family until about 2 weeks before the wedding, and they didn't call it off, so I must have done something right.

The day I flew in, Grammy picked me up at the airport and took me home to meet the parents. The first evening was a bit formal, "Hi, nice to meet you.", "I want you to entrust your only daughter to me for the rest of her life and send her off to live three thousand miles away in a foreign country.", "How do you like me so far?".... the usual kind of stuff.... you know.

Anyway, the next morning, was Sunday and we were all getting ready for church. I was ready early - trying to make a good impression, and standing in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs.

Grammy's Mom starts coming down the stairs in a below the knee floral dress belted at the waist. Now you need to understand that Grammy's Mom, unlike Grammy was not a small woman. Nor was she fat, just solid, perhaps matronly, and rather tall. She had given birth to Grammy somewhat later than was the custom, sometime in her early forties, so she was now in her early sixties, white haired with streaks of grey, and very "proper". Got the picture?

As she's coming down the stairs, I noticed that her slip was hanging down below the hem of her dress a good two inches. Realizing that such a proper, even elegant woman would not want to be embarrassed by that situation in public, I decided it was my duty to inform her so she could make the proper adjustments before leaving the house. Having only known her for less than 24 hours, and not yet knowing what to call her, as any respectful prospective son-in-law would do, I discreetly called to her and said, "Um, Mrs. ________, your slip is showing."

At this, she never missed a beat. She pulled her self up to her fully height, squared her shoulders and in the most serious tone she could muster, said "It proves I'm a nice girl and wear one!"

Well, at that moment, I knew this was a family I could love. It didn't take long for me to call her Mom, although she would answer to just about anything, including, "Hey Lady!!!" if nothing else worked.

It's now over 30 years later and she has long since left us, but she still lives on in our memories, and in her daughter and grandchildren. If Great Grammy were here today, she probably wouldn't have a blog, but she'd be proud of her family and would not hesitate to correct some of the twisted english that sometimes appears in the posts of DYM, One Woman's World and now Grammy Rules, even though they learned at least some of it from her.

What Have I Done?

2006-02-11T17:25:00.000-08:00

I'll tell you what I've done. I've given in to "Kid Pressure", but DYM says that it's all Blackbird's fault. Truth be told, I've kinda wanted to have a blog, because it seem's to be the cool thing to do, but I don't know if I can stand the pressure of coming up with something to say everyday, or even every other day... or so. When my kids were little they always wanted to hear stories about when I was little, so I may get a lot of that out here, as well as what ever else pops in to my head from time to time.

Anyway, like I said in my profile, I like woodworking. I've dabbled a little over the years, but I got more serious about it about 3 1/2 years ago when we were able to buy some good equipment. So, I enjoy taking stuff that looks like this:

And turning it into stuff that looks like this (this actually did come from the pile of wood in the first picture):

So, someday when I retire in the next 4 to 8 years, that is what I would like to do with my time, make stuff for around the house and for my kids and grandkids, and maybe the occaisional thing to sell. But I will never take custom orders. My philosophy is that if someone sees something they like that I've made, I'd be happy to sell it to them for the right price, but if I take orders then they've suddenly become my boss, and I've spent too long getting out of that racket, and I don't want to go there again.

Okay, so much for day one.

TTFN