The Blogger’s Excuses for Not Blogging…

I’m used to sleeping a lot more. Maybe it’s a sign of age. In any case, I’m tired. Tuesday we took the cat to the vet for a checkup (he’s fine) and went to the tax guru (he’s fine too). Have no fear – we took pictures of the cat’s reaction to the whole “vet” experience. I’ll post those later…

Wednesday I met a buddy of mine and went to the Chesterfield’s weekly jam session. That was a lot of fun! Heard quite a few local musicians, some of whom I’d never seen play before. In a market the size of Sioux City it’s always surprising to find new talent… There just ain’t that many of us. There were only three bass players there, though, so I ended up playing a bit more than I had anticipated. It’s always fun trying to jam with people you’ve never met before – a lot of “what, you don’t know Metallica?” and “anyone play blues?” and “how about we just play something funkish in E?” before every song.

Tonight I have rehearsal with the Clams. We have a half-gig tomorrow at the Chesterfield. Randy’s coming back from Washington State for a visit, so we’re gonna have a reunion of sorts and make him blow into the business end of his sax in public again… We’re opening for another band, and we’ll play during their breaks too. It’ll be fun to see if we remember any of the songs we used to do when he was in the band, oh so long ago last June.

Whoops, the boss just wandered past. I’d best pretend to be working or something… With any luck I’ll write more later!

Cartoons

In the past few weeks there have been several cartoons that have pushed the boundaries of good taste.

The Washington Post received a letter from the Joint Chiefs of Staff (signed by all six of ’em) saying that a cartoon previously published in the Post of a soldier who had lost his arms and legs in combat was “beyond tasteless.” I have not seen the cartoon, so I’ll refrain from saying if it was tasteless or not (though I think it probably was), but I will say that those in our government should NOT be trying to influence our media. If they want to write to the editor as American citizens, that’s fine and dandy. But don’t be trying to throw your weight around. And besides – if they didn’t want people printing political cartoons of the soldiers they’ve sent into battle, well then, they shouldn’t have sent the soldiers into battle in the first place.

The next incident was the infamous “Mohammed” cartoon published in a Danish newspaper. I have several observations about this… The first is, yes, the cartoon is offensive. But I also find people who burn the U.S. flag and cut people’s heads off offensive as well. The second observation is that the cartoon was published months and months ago. If the Islamic world had simply ignored the cartoon, no one would have seen it other than a few Danes who probably don’t care much anyway. Now, though, since they’ve made a big deal out of it, millions and millions of people have seen the cartoon. I have no doubt that the overwhelming majority of Muslims are nice, easygoing people, but they’re letting the minority speak for them. If you get upset because people equate your religion with violence (and this goes for us Christians, too), well then, police yourselves. Make your religion the most tolerant, rational group around – a paragon of virtue. Then no one will offend you by drawing nasty cartoons.

If you don’t think the “Mohammed” cartoons are inflammatory, by the way, simply think of your reaction if you’d see a cartoon portraying Jesus in such a negative light. Think of Pat Robertson’s reaction – he goes ballistic at the slightest provocation. Now think of what would happen if Pat Robertson were influential in our government…

The world’s a delicate place, people. We need to work together on this stuff. We can’t afford to stifle free speech, and neither can we afford to overreact to those who think differently than ourselves. (“If there’s one thing I just can’t stand, it’s intolerance.”)

Them’s just my thoughts.

Now I’m scared…

In the past few hours I’ve read a bunch of stuff on the Internet about the Superbowl. Unfortunately, what I’ve been reading hasn’t had much to do with the Seahawks or the Mighty Mighty Steelers, but instead people are talking about the chances of our elected government bombing Ford Field during the game.

Let me repeat that.

People are worried that our government will set off a bomb during the game. Here’s one link.

What kind of world do we live in where thoughts like that even cross our minds? And what kind of government do we have where I can read stuff about them bombing American citizens and think, “Oh, geeze – they might actually do something like that.”

I am NOT saying that I think our government would actually bomb the Superbowl. But I am saying that it’s very, VERY sad that our government is so sneaky and greedy that people believe they would. Sad. We have to remember this stuff when we go vote!

New Things

Not being a web-guru type guy, when I started this blog I used a “canned” template. In other words, I took someone else’s design and put my words in it. The template was available through Blogger, so it wasn’t sneaky-plagiarism or anything, but as a graphics guy it bugged me. So, as I’m sure you noticed, I finally changed the look of the blog a bit.

Aesthetically, I changed the powder-blue picture of a lighthouse to a pretty picture of our motorcycle. Then I took out the powder-blue clouds at the top and made the background red. That’s about it, actually. Like I said, I’m not all that web-savvy. I just got tired of feeling, well, a bit feminine whenever I read my own blog.

The other major change is the little bar at the top. You can search my blogs now, and there’s a neat little “next blog” button on the right that will take you to someone else’s randomly chosen blog. (I didn’t do this, it’s something the Blogger people offer. I just pushed the “yes” button.) It’s kind of fun, but I can’t guarantee that if you go to someone else’s blog you won’t be offended. There’s a lot of strange stuff out there. Good stuff, too. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one from the other.

What do you want?

I’ve only had a few people leave comments on my blog, but they seem to be equally distributed between three major categories – funny stuff (like Dagmar’s Operation), political stuff (like my Grassley Rant), and personal stuff (like the time I reminisced). What do you guys wanna read? E-mail me or leave a comment if you have an opinion… (My e-mail address can be found somewhere on my regular website HERE, just in case you don’t already have it.) If you don’t tell me, I’ll just continue rambling and babbling at random.

No one’s ever commented on the photos I toss up on the blog every now and then. I’m gonna keep doing it, though. I like pictures. Especially when they’re pictures of my beloved wife Dagmar playing with the nieces, Peyton and goddaughter Maddie. (Looks like Maddie’s stuffing her hand in Dagmar’s mouth for some reason. Strange kid.)

Cool!

A nice blog lives HERE. It made me smile. Well, it’s only five or six hours ’till the Superbowl starts. I’d best kick the cat off the couch and reclaim my spot and get all my accoutrements in order (remote, chips, salsa, popcorn, Tootsie-Rolls, lollipops, crackers, phone to call the pizza, etc.). Pre-game started last week already, so in a way I feel like I’ve already watched the game, but the commercials should be good!

Puppy Dogs

You gotta be kidding me… Yesterday I wrote about the neighbor’s dog (you can read it here), which has been crouching in a pickup topper they’ve got lying in their back yard. (If you click on the picture you can see the poor pup.) We called the Animal Control people when we first saw the dog there. They said they’d send someone out to check on things. We called them the next day, too. Twice. After the third phone call they finally came out to see the dog. (I have to admit, I’m peeved that it took them so long to check into things.)

“Well, he’s got food and water,” the guy told me on the phone when I called to check on the situation.

“But the dog’s been in there for three days now,” I said. “He can’t even stand up – he has to crouch in there. And who knows when the owners are gonna come home?”

“Well, he’s got food and water,” the guy said again. “He seems healthy. There’s nothing we can do.”

So the dog’s still in the topper. He’s been lying down for the past day and a half, not moving much. I’m worried. I really, really hope the neighbors come home soon!

The New Van

I mentioned yesterday that the company bought a new delivery van. They decided to go with a flame motif for a paint job. It’s certainly eye-catching! I had something completely different in mind… Oh well. My buddy Drew did a good job with the flames, though! They’re pretty.

Dog Daze

Yesterday as I was walking home from work (all good hippies walk to work you know) I heard a yowling in my neighbor’s yard. I stopped and peeked around, but other than the three piles of garbage, two garbage cans laying in the mud, five flat basketballs, kitchen chair, grocery cart and the pickup topper laying in the corner I didn’t see anything. I shrugged, looked at my privacy fence (which the neighbors have broken several times) in dismay, and went on inside.

Today, on my way home for lunch, I heard the same yowling. This time I spotted the yowler. A pair of forlorn eyes gazed at me from inside the pickup topper laying in the corner. Yep, my neighbors put the dog inside the topper, which is sitting on a patch of mud in their yard, and blocked it shut with bricks. The poor pooch doesn’t have enough room in there to stand up, so he’s just sort of crouching there, yowling and staring at the world.

I called the Animal Control people. They said they’d send someone over to investigate. I’m curious whether the doggie will be there when I get home or not.

The sad part is that the dog belongs to a little kid, I think. The boy doesn’t seem to have much, other than five flat basketballs and a mother that yells a lot, so I hate the thought that the adults in that house are not only being such bad role models that they abuse dogs, but through that action they’re going to cost a boy his dog. It makes me sad. But not sad enough to let the dog be neglected.

That reminds me, I have to change the kitty litter tomorrow, no matter what! The poor cat’s about at wit’s end, and I’m out of fresh sand for him…

Van-dalism

The bosses bought a new delivery van today. For the past few days I’ve been mentally designing the paint job… I finally settled on something, and e-mailed them my proposal this morning. Somewhat subtle – press gears on the side, our logo, and our phone number. On the other side was pretty much the same thing. It had a neat graphic on the back… My thought was to go with something catchy, but classy. The graphic didn’t really need to be recognizable as a printing press, but something that indicated sophisticated machinery at work.

The bosses decided to go with flames. “Hot off the press.” Catchy. Or is that kitschy? So they’re getting flames painted on the van. It doesn’t look bad – just not what I had in mind. (The photos here are my proposals. I’ll see if I can get pictures of the flames later…)

“Too bad we can’t park it here at work,” the boss said. “We’re going to let the delivery guy take it home with him at night.” I asked why. “Why?” I asked.

“The first delivery van we had, we parked it here by the loading dock at night. Within a week all the hubcaps were stolen…” (Does anyone know why people steal hubcaps? When’s the last time you bought a hubcap from a guy off the street?)

In the past few years, the company van has had the hubcaps stolen, we’ve caught a homeless guy pooping behind our loading dock, the side door’s been jimmied, I saw a cop chase a robber through our parking lot, and we’ve been hit with graffiti four or five times. It’s a good neighborhood to raise a family in…

Ouch! Right in the shorts!

My wife called me just a bit ago. “Oh, I’m mad,” she said. “I called that dumb CableOne place to see why our bill is so high. They raised our rates eighteen dollars a month!”

“You gotta be kidding me!” I expostulated. “That’s not fair! They didn’t tell us they were going to do that!”

“I know,” agreed my beloved Viennese Snowflake. “The lady said it was explained on our bill.” We have it set up so they just take the money out of our account; we’ve gotten out of the habit of reading our bills unless there’s a price change. “We must have missed it.”

So, we’re paying almost twenty bucks a month more for the same service we’ve always had. I’m upset that they didn’t warn us better – they could have sent us an e-mail, or mailed us a flyer, or sent a message through the TV menu, all of which they’ve done before to tell us about deals they offer. So now I’m going to find a way to reduce my bill by twenty bucks. I just don’t wanna pay it!

We use the Internet quite a bit (I update and maintain several websites, and we spend several hours a day on the net for various other activities – ordering digital photo prints online, doing the occasional crossword, reading the news, blogging, etc.) so we’re loath to lose our high-speed cable modem. I’d switch to a different company or go to DSL if I could, but all the research I’ve done tells me that CableOne has a monopoly in my area – I have no option. I’m constantly getting junk mail from Qwest and Earthlink offering me high-speed DSL, but neither seems to want to deal with my neighborhood. It may be simple logistics (I think you have to live next door to the phone company for DSL to work), but I really wish I had an option. If anyone in Sioux City knows of any other high-speed Internet providers in the area, please let me know!

That leaves me cutting twenty bucks worth of programming, which doesn’t bother me in the least. I pay about that much to get the Science Channel, which I enjoy, but they really only show three shows a day – they just repeat those three over and over again. I can live without the Science Channel. I’m just sad that they raised the rates without any warning…

Upset, I am. Upset. Kinda like pulling up to the gas pump with five bucks in your pocket, putting five buck’s worth of gas in your car, then finding out at the cash register that they raised the price of gas while you were standing in line and you now owe them seven dollars.

Iowa Tobacco

I just read on the Woodbury County Democrats’ blog that Iowa House Speaker Christopher Rants received $138,497 from RJ Reynolds Tobbacco’s political action committee. Mr. Rants has been consistently blocking state legislation to raise the tax on cigarettes. The cigarette tax increase is supported by a majority of Iowans, and is also supported by our governor. It seems, though, that Mr. Rants is getting enough money from tobacco companies that he doesn’t need to concern himself with issues in Iowa any more. He certainly does not represent me or my values.

We gotta remember stuff like this when we go vote.

The Poll Star

I woke up this morning just in time to hear the TV proclaim, “Sixty-five percent of Americans support wiretapping phones to prevent terrorism.” No kidding. To say otherwise would be to appear unpatriotic, especially to those on the Republican side of the room. That poll is misleading, and has Carl Rove’s fingerprints all over it.

What would your answer be? “Do you believe the U.S. government should use electronic surveillance to track Al-Queda activities?”

How about this? “Do you believe the U.S. government should be able to place wiretaps on American citizens’ phones?”

Or this? “Do you believe the U.S. government should be able to illegally eavesdrop on your conversations with neither search warrant nor reason?”

Personally, my answer to the first question is yes. To the second question, I’d answer an unequivocal “Um, I dunno.” To the third, I’d answer “No, and any government that would try should be removed – it smacks of Nazi Germany or the cold-war-era Soviet Union. We don’t do that here.” (Unfortunately, though, we do do that here. Now what are we going to do about it?)

My point here is that it is my contention that out government is twisting public opinion through vaguely-worded polls. They’re doing this to bolster U.S. President George Walker Bush’s image in defense of his policy of spying on American citizens. They’re doing it to get Judge Sam Alito nominated to the Supreme Court. They’re doing it a lot. Unfortunately, the other side does it too. When you see one of those “quick polls” flash up on the TV screen, please don’t believe it until you analyze what the results really mean.

Do I support anti-terrorism? You betcha! Do I support a sneaky government putting bugs on my phone? Heck no. Please, ask me that question in a meaningful manner and make me think.

The Best Ex

I saw former U.S. President Jimmy Carter on TV this morning as I was slurping my daily cuppa coffee (Cub Food generic instant – try it, it’s really good). Mr. Carter has always impressed me, but, as has been pointed out myriad times before, he may be a better ex-president than he was a president. Since leaving office, he’s done a LOT for charitable causes, has written numerous books, and has won the Nobel Peace Prize for his work overseas. Clearly a man who thinks.

Mr. Carter disagrees with Mr. Bush’s policies.

Cleaning Day

Today is cleaning day at our house. Dagmar’s been busily dusting, straightening, folding, washing, moving, and cleaning for the past three hours or so. I’ve been busy working on a project on the computer. So, no more time to blog right now… With luck I’ll be able to write more in a few hours. I have things what need sayin’ – some important, others not so important.

Things that make me happy…

As always, you can click on the photos to see a larger version. All the photos are either at my brother’s or in my neighborhood, such as it is. I like taking pictures. I put my camera in my “cigarette pocket” so I have something to fumble with when a craving hits. It’s worked well so far, though I’ve driven most of my friends and family batty by constantly flashing my camera at ’em.

The beloved Goddaughter.

A nice picture of my wife, my brother, and his kids.
Five of my favorite people in one room. Cool.

Things that make me sad…

Graffiti at work. It’s all over the neighborhood, including on my back door.

They tore out all the trees to widen Perry Creek, but the garbage is still there.

This is a park just around the corner from my house.
If you look closely, you can see a pretty “KEEP OUT” sign in the background.

Here’s a nifty barbed-wire fence around the company kiddy-corner across the street from my house. It makes me sad that they feel they need barbed-wire in my neighborhood.

Hooray for Me!

Yesterday marked my six-month anniversary. No cigarettes for six whole months. Half a year. Oddly enough, it’s getting easier, though I still have some mighty powerful cravings. The good thing is that the cravings are relatively short. Most of the time if I distract myself for just a few seconds I’m fine.

It’s still hard to drink beer, though. Luckily enough, I don’t drink beer all that often.

Elections

I was watching the news yesterday as they reported the Palestinians electing Hamas into power. U.S. President George Walker Bush seemed pretty flummoxed by that turn of events. I don’t remember the exact quotes, but I heard him say something like, “Democracies don’t start wars.” Tell that to Iraq. He also said something to the effect of “No government dedicated to the eradication of another nation should be recognized,” meaning that the U.S. will not recognize Hamas because of their desire to take over Israel. I guess Bush’s own administration didn’t really eradicate Iraq, they just took it over and rebuilt it in it’s own image…

Something that I found interesting was that there were a bunch of people there watching the elections, making sure everything was fair. Outside observers. We need those. We absolutely, positively need to have outside observers at the polls in our next few elections – especially 2006 and 2008. Most especially 2008. I think the Democratic, Libertarian and Green Parties should get together and make sure there are United Nations people hanging around the polling places. I never thought I’d see the day when the United States of America would need outside observers to make sure our elections are fair, but that day is here. It was already too late in November, 2000. And much too late in 2004.

Common Sense, Ain’t It?

We should pay our politicians differently. They should get paid the average salary of their constituency. They should get two weeks’ vacation a year in their first term, three weeks vacation in their second. If they take more time off than that, it’s unpaid. They should get the same medical benefits (or lack thereof) their constituency gets.

We’ll fly them back and forth to Washington D.C. a few times a year for free (coach) – if they need to travel more, well then, they get to take their own vehicle. We’ll give them eighteen cents a mile or whatever the going rate is, but they must get the trip okay’d first. Actually, now that I think of it, maybe ALL government travel should be by public transportation or military transport (not the fancy kind – the kind enlisted men and women in uniform use). Maybe that’d make the trains run on time…?

I’ve worked at the same job for twelve or thirteen years, and I get no retirement package, no 401k, nothing. Why should our politicians? I’m not sure what retirement package (if any) they get now, but I do NOT think working at a job for a mere four years should count for much. Granted, we’ll provide ex-presidents with whatever security they need, unless they make more than, say, $250,000 a year on their own. Then they can afford to take part of that responsibility on.

Just a few rather grouchy thoughts on a nice Friday afternoon…

Art with Dirty Fingernails…

Hoo boy, that was fun! Yesterday Dagmar and I wandered uptown, donated some old clothes to Goodwill, and headed to Historic Fourth Street for a nice frosty beverage.

“Do you tink ve’ll be able to find a place to park?” my beloved asked me. “Dey have the Swap Meet at the Convention Center, the new motorcycle exhibit at the Art Center, und there’s a rodeo or something at the auditorium.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. You know what bothers me, though? They plan all these things to happen on the same day, but yet they tore out the only parking lot in the area and built yet ANOTHER movie theater there. Now there’s really no place to park.” By this time we were on Fourth Street, scanning back and forth. There are at least six bars on the two blocks of Historic Fourth Street, and three or four restaurants, not to mention the other shops and stores. It’s a busy place. Each establishment has three, maybe four parking spaces out front. So, there really is no place to park… And of course, there are the people who actually live in the apartments there, too – they need to have somewhere to park, too. So I wasn’t surprised when we couldn’t find a place…

“We can park in there,” said Dagmar, pointing to a private parking lot. “They let people park in there when the business is closed.” So, without further ado, I pulled into said parking lot and parked. “What do you vant to do?” asked my wife as we got out of the car.

“Well, I was thinking of having a beer and calling the Okoboji guys to see if they want to go to the Art Center when they’re done at the Swap Meet,” I said. A couple times a summer I try to hook up with the Okoboji contingent of the Vulcan Riders and Owners Club to go scoot about the countryside, terrorizing innocent gas station attendants with our nasty habit of stopping every thirty miles or so for chocolate milk and twinkies. I suppose I could hang out with the Omaha guys, but the Okoboji guys treat me nice and I’ve already learned some of their names, so I hang out with them when I can. “It’d be nice to see them,” I added.

“Dat sounds nice,” my beloved said, leading the way to the nearest drinking establishment. “Who came to Sioux City?”

By that time I was on the phone… “Hi Streak, this is HippieBoy…” (Ever notice that if you get a group of five or more guys together for more than half an hour, they’ll all come away with nicknames? Why is that?) I confirmed with Streak that they were indeed going to head to the Art Center and made plans to meet them.

“Which ones came to town?” Dagmar asked again, signaling to the waitress. “Rock?” I nodded. “Bartman?” I nodded. “Streak?” I nodded. “That guy with the hat that never says anything?” she asked. I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “I just know the three of them are here. I thought Kioti was here, but maybe not.” About that time our frosty beverages appeared at the table. Mine was beautiful, golden, bubbly, and had a lemon floating on the top. Dagmar’s was some evil-looking concoction of a thimbleful of beer mixed with about two gallons of tomato juice and olives. (Yes, she puts ketchup on her steak, too.) We put our attentions to our drinks for the next few minutes, paid our bill and headed for the door to meet the guys.

“Shall we walk,” asked my wife. “I doubt we’ll find a parking place again…”

I nodded assent and up the street we strolled, hand in hand. A mere four or five blocks later we were at the Art Center. I had to suppress a grin when we went through the front door – the lady at the desk looked like she was about to have puppies. I doubt she’d seen so much leather and so many bearded gents in one room before… We paid our ten bucks (never had to pay at the Art Center before, oddly enough), found Streak, Rock and Bartman wandering around the atrium, and off to the bike exhibit we went.

It was well worth seeing! They had a good number of bikes on display – most borrowed from local people (I was happy to see my buddy Ed Anderson’s chopper there). The majority of the bikes were either old-school choppers or the newer “half-melted” choppers that are popular today. About a third of the bikes there were old Indians, antiques, drag racers and bikes deemed historically or artistically important. All of ’em were pretty! I am going to make it a point to go back again and take more time – we got there at four and the Center closes at five, so we were a bit rushed.

“Where’s Streak?” I asked as we wandered out of one of the third-level exhibits. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Oh, that poor man,” answered Dagmar. “He has de flu.”

I looked over the railing and peered down to the atrium, just in time to see a green Streak bolt for the restroom. “Oh.” I said. “Poor guy…”

With that we wandered down the stairs to the atrium, where we eventually hooked up with Bartman and Rock. By this time the green Streak was sitting on the bench, looking a shade or two paler than before.. So we all sat there for a while, gawking slightly slack-jawed at the bikes around us until we all wandered over to the door and started on the four-block trek back to the Convention Center. (By the way, if you poke at the pictures with your mouse they get bigger and you can actually see what they are.)

“Where’s Kioti?” asked my Austrian Snowflake. “He’s usually around somewhere if you guys are here.”

“He and his wife were here earlier,” answered Streak. “They had their grandkid with them, so they didn’t stay long.”

“What about dat other guy?” asked Dagmar, stepping off the curb. “That guy who wears that hat and never says anything. Where’s he?”

“Oh, Mag? He couldn’t make it. Neither could Bonzzo.” We fell to talking about various members of the informal group until we got to the Convention Center, where the Okoboji guys bid us a nice fare-thee-well and tootled off to get Streak back home before he started turning colors again.

With that, Dagmar and I wandered back to our car and headed off to Da Kao, where we proceeded to munch, nibble and slurp our way through a Vietnamese soup and a Mongolian beef ‘n onion concoction. (Why do they give you chopsticks with soup?) It was a good day!

Lungs

“Do you have a smoking history?” my doctor asked, poking through my paperwork.

“Yeah,” I answered. “I just quit about six months ago.”

“That’s right,” she said. “I remember now. You were at a pack a day, weren’t you.” She riffled through my paperwork some more. “I just want to make sure that the pneumonia has cleared up,” she continued. “We’re going to have to take an X-ray…” She busied herself listening to my chest with her half-frozen stethoscope, and I busied myself breathing deep. “Well, your lungs sound clear,” she said. “How did it go with the quitting smoking?”

“It sucked,” I answered. “I took those no-smoking pills for a while. I gained a little weight, too.”

“I noticed,” she said. “Well, it’s better to be overweight than to smoke.”

It wasn’t until I was sitting in line, waiting for my X-ray to be taken, when that last phrase filtered through my remaining brain cells. Overweight? Me? What? I used to wrestle at 105 pounds… In high school. How can I be overweight? Sure, my belly’s been pooching over the top of my britches lately, but I am pushing forty after all… Don’t I get some sort of credit for that? Hmmm…

“Next,” hollered the X-ray lady, breaking my fat-centered reverie. I made my way through the procedure and went back to the little waiting room to cool my heels until the doctor remembered I was there.

“Hey, Chris, come here and look at this,” said the doctor, poking her head in the door. I grabbed my coat and followed dutifully along to the place where you look at your X-rays. “This is your lung,” she said, pointing to a blob. “Everything looks good, except for this.” She pointed to a shadowy line on the blob. “I think what happened is that your lung may have collapsed or compressed when you had pneumonia and hasn’t quite expanded back to normal yet. It looks like that’s just a bit of flattened-out lung there.” I nodded while she continued. “Or it could be scar tissue. That happens sometimes. But, with your history of smoking…” I felt the blood drain from my face at this point. “I’d like you to come back in again in a month for another X-ray. If that spot’s gone, good. If it’s still there, it’s scar tissue. If it’s bigger, we may not have gotten all the pneumonia… Or… Well, let’s hope it’s not bigger.”

Spooky.

Good Neighbors

I just got a phone call from my dad. Seems the guy who lived a farm or two down the road from the family farm passed away yesterday. Good guy. When I was growing up I walked beans for him and I spent a lot of time playing with his kids… I was always impressed with the whole family’s work ethic. It made me sad to realize that I’ve not seen any of those particular neighbors since I graduated from high school twenty years ago.