Gigi and I have been apart since Sunday and I’ve started doing very stupid man stuff.
Last night I ate one of those tiny boxes of something you throw in the microwave and nothing else. Gigi would have fixed a salad and maybe a roll, set the table, and had a civilized dinner while we watched some girly type sitcom.
I ate the hot stuff from the box and drank a beer.
I switched over to the NFL channel (not on Gigi’s watch) and there was some fantastic footage of games gone by. Why not another beer? Damn I’m still hungry.
So I looked in the cabinet and realize that I am too lazy to even heat a can of anything. What’s that…chipped beef?
I pop the jar of chipped beef and enjoy the salty dried concoction as I drink beer, watch football and fall asleep on the sofa.
What was I thinking, salt, beer, my back is sore, can you say bloated and dehydrated?
Most of these folks I was with enjoy wine, but they are all novices.
I was away from the table when they poured. When I came back I asked, “How is the wine?”
There were a few half hearted smiles but you could tell no one liked it. I took a sniff and a tiny sip…whew! The bottled had been corked and no one knew it. They just thought it was supposed to taste like ass.
I felt like such a wine snob when I called over the waiter and had the staff collect the undrinkable wine, set out new glasses and poured a most delightful chardonnay.
The whole reason you do all that sniffin’ and sippin’ at first is to make sure that wine is okay before you guests taste it. It’s not to see if you like it.
I had a wine sommelier tell me once that sniffing a cork was useless. Not in this case. The cork smelled like a moldy basement that had just burnt down next to a baby diaper laundry. This was an extreme case of stanky cork.
It makes me mad when I ask someone to repeat a statement and they only repeat select words. Think I will understand what you said better with an incomplete sentence?
It makes me mad when a company tells you that they have a certain policy about something and there is nothing that they can do. I want to tell them I have a policy of coming over to them with a baseball bat to the head and there is nothing I can do.
I makes me mad when I go to a restaurant and they tell you it will be an hour before you can be seated and they take pleasure in that fact. They are trying to discourage you by exaggerating the wait. I tell them I’ll wait and take the first available. 15 Minutes later they call you and stick you in the smoking section…never in the non-smoking as punishment for waiting.
I plead my case via email, and was just freed from the penalty box.
I am purchasing long term care insurance soon so I will be assured that someone will wipe my butt if I cannot.
We have a big weekend planned. Tonight is a big wine dinner at the club. These are always fantastic. Then we take the RV to Southport, NC. I come back Sunday and leave Gigi and three dogs.
I had to order a new antenna for my Jeep. The CD works great but the radio fades.
I have absolutely no problem parallel parking.
I would rather jab a sharp stick in my eye that have to see the movie Hairspray.
One other thing…I prefer store bought pimento cheese spread to any homemade spread.
Twice, I caught myself going down the highway with my turn signal on. No telling how long it had been on.
I tried to comfort myself by saying that I was in an open vehicle with music blaring.
Then at lunch I crashed my fork into my bottom teeth. This has never happened.
Soon I’ll be looking for white stuff in the corner of my mouth.
What the heck.
Yesterday I was running late for me. I had to meet a co-worker for a drink to discuss an issue, then I needed to drive my Jeep to East Charlotte to hook up literally with my truck and drive the two vehicles home in tandem.
First let me say that I had made a special CD for my Jeep stereo debut. The first track began, “Love in an Elevator” and I cranked it up for the volume test. I looked in my rear view mirror and could only see a blur. The in dash speakers were thumping the windshield enough to shake the mirror.
“Good enough”, I said.
Anyway, I hooked up the vehicles and headed to the grocery store to pick up one of those very thin frozen California Pizzas. I love those things. You can eat the whole thing and it might have 700 calories.
Anyway, I ate the whole thing.
I woke up at 3 AM and I felt like I was mummified. I reached for a bottle of water on my bedside, but none was there.
Darn, the case of water is still in the back of Gigi’s truck. Both of us were too lazy to take it out and now I am in full regret.
I managed to stagger to the sink and drank about 16 Dixie cups full of water, but it was like throwing a deck chair off the Titanic. 10 minutes later I did it again and was able to resume a decent amount of hydration.
I put in a solid 2 ½ hours myself on Monday, and Circuit City gave it a solid 2 ½ hours yesterday. The speakers are still in the box but the radio is in.
I went in to Circuit City late yesterday around 4 PM. Gigi told me to call her if the wait would be long and she would pick me up. I told her not to worry that there was a World Market, Lowes Home Improvement, and Dick’s Sporting Goods that could consume my time. Then I found a sports bar next door that looked like a winner.
There was an old college football game on, so I sat at the bar to order a draught beer. The female bartender said, “What do you want sweetheart”.
I don’t like a strange woman calling me sweetheart, darling or honey. We don’t know each other that well and it makes me blush. Plus by ordering, I was acknowledging that I was her sweetheart.
Anyway the guy called from Circuit City, “Mr. Hunnicutt (deep sigh), this is going to take much longer than I thought. We are going to put in the radio tonight and have to install the speakers tomorrow.”
So now I have a cool looking radio installed and a bunch of speaker wires hanging down ready for speakers.
I did however get to tow my Jeep into town with my pickup and that is always cool. I’ll drop the Jeep off at 11 AM and head back to work.
I hope this gets completed today.
I went through a long prompt system. Then a recording came on saying that they had unusually high call volume (at 7:30 AM?) and it may take a while for someone to answer. Maybe I should call back later…click…a real voice came on.
Suddenly a guy starts talking to me and it sounded like he was talking through a comb with wax paper. Remember doing that as a kid? It sounds all buzzed and such.
Then he paused and I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have a clue about what you just said.”
“Buzz buzz buzz buzz sir, how did you find buzz our phone number?”
Like that makes a crap. “On you web site”, I said.
“Buzz buzz can I help you?”
There was lots of buzzing and talking. I felt like it was having supper conversation with the fly family.
Eventually he told me to take the Jeep and stereo by any Circuit City before 6:00 PM and the stereo would be installed that day without an appointment.
Okay…today I shall hear music!
Let’s go back my friends to an earlier time that led to this exclamation…..
Today around lunch I got my UPS package that I had been tracking since last week. It was my new Jeep stereo with speakers. I have been daydreaming about installing this system, even more about listening to it.
I had convinced myself after talking with my nephew and technical support, that I was fully capable of installing this new system in my Jeep.
I looked at my calendar and I was free after 2:30. I called Gigi and told her I was coming home to put in the stereo.
I stopped by Radio Shack and bought some a crimping tool and some connectors, then proceeded home.
One sidebar here…When I go in a store, when driving the Jeep, I always take in what is in my vehicle since it cannot be locked. I toss my laptop case on my shoulder and in this case carried my UPS box in Radio Shack.
Employees always get defensive when they see me, like I am some fast Freddie salesman that is descending down upon them. At grocery stores they think I am coming in to do an audit or inventory…end of sidebar.
I got home and changed clothes and decided to start by removing the speakers. I laid head down, with my body in the seat and my feet on the head rest (if there was a head rest there) so I could see behind the instrument panel.
Let me tell you, there is a lot of blood that comes rushing down to the old head. I though at first if something happened to me, that no way would I have time to unfurl. It would be so embarrassing to die this way. I could see Gigi coming out 4 hours later to see me lying upside down and all bloated in the sun.
But I managed and carefully removed the rotting speaker. No wonder it didn’t work.
Next, I tackled the radio. I opened the instrument panel, carefully pulled on the radio followed by a rat’s nest of wiring.
Nothing looked like the illustrations that I was supposed to be seeing.
I called technical support and explained my problem and he said, “Oh shit, this is going to be difficult. Maybe you should find a qualified local installer.”
“Shit fire and apple butter”, I said in complete disgust.
I don’t care stupid person. You shouldn’t have done that, whatever it was. You certainly don’t need to be on TV in high definition glorifying your stupidity.
Have you ever seen a bad case of frostbite? It’s like something out of a horror movie.
Frostbite is 99.99% avoidable. I frequent latitudes where frostbite is impossible.
What a stupid person. I can see me telling Gigi, “I’m going to Antarctica to see if I can cross the continent by foot, and my fingers and nose may turn brown and rot off.”
What really gets my panties in a wad is when we send in 3 million dollars worth of rescue equipment just so the idiot will stay alive and remain in the gene pool. What a waste.
Other convertibles demand that you manually flip a few latches, and God forbid, lift and tuck you roof by hand in the back of the car.
A Jeep however is one step away from tent camping in the 1950’s.
The temperature should ideally be 71 degrees or warmer to take down or put up a Jeep roof. At this temperature or warmer the fabric is flexible enough to work with.
5 windows must be removed and untucked. Then they must be stored someplace other than your Jeep. Then the front of the top must be untucked and unsnapped before you can begin the process of collapsing the frame.
Being topless in a Jeep is a commitment. Hell, your windows are at home. You are 30 minutes away from getting the roof back on assuming ideal temperatures.
On Saturday I saw a 3 to 4 day window of good weather so I took off the roof. I’ve learned that scattered thunderstorms are more likely than isolated thunderstorms. Any chance of storms over 30% put me on high alert.
For today, I will enjoy the sun, blue sky, and fresh air with highs of 85.
I love the Saturday night program, Cops. I especially like it when there is a very belligerent drunk and the police have to taser him. Usually once is not enough, and they will taser him again. By then he is very polite. Somehow, I like the overwhelming force of a taser.
I once went on a paintball war game. It was exhilarating to be shot at and have people shoot at you. I took a shot to the ribs at close range and it was so powerful that it knocked me backwards. The paint was red. For a moment I thought I was really shot.
If I was the President of the United States, my first executive order would be to outlaw clogging. It is the most redneck of all the dances. I saw enough of that crap when I went to college in the mountains of North Carolina. I hate Blue Grass music too.
I just heard Layla by Eric Clapton on the radio. I can get lost in that song. It reminds me when I was a freshman in college in 1974. We would get to our favorite bar, Antlers, in Blowing Rock, North Carolina, and get the best table between the Ladies room and the 10X10 foot dance floor. The place only had a juke box and tons of other freshmen co-eds drinking beer and laughing. That song Layla would repeat about every 15th song. This was all before the dreaded Disco era.
In St. Croix it is legal to have an open container of beer and drive. It is not legal to drive drunk. You must wear a seat belt and you cannot talk on a cell phone. When I get to St Croix I get a beer ASAP and drive to our villa, mainly because I can.
I always love to look at that cheesy, seasonal stuff at the drug store. I went in CVS today and headed back to the seasonal isle and looked at cheap coolers, cheap fans, bug repellent, sun screen, plastic buckets and pails, and flip flops. I usually will sniff the sun screen. I didn’t today. I feel like a kid looking at that stuff. I’m sad when they change over to autumn stuff.
I still get a distraught panic feeling when I see back to school sales. It used to mean that was the end of summer and fun. I hated going back to school.
I once asked an Armenian friend of mine if he thought in Armenian or English. He thought for a second and said he thought in English. His English is not that good, just good enough to get by. I wonder if he thinks in broken English or good English.
I love bread. Isn’t it funny that stuffing/dressing is considered a vegetable on some menus? Its nothing but bread with tasty ingredients mixed in. I ate turkey with dressing and cornbread at Cracker Barrel on Friday, and didn’t feel guilty because one of those items was considered a vegetable. Vegetables are good for you, right?
I remember Rodney Dangerfield talking about the first time he had sex. He said he was so afraid…and all alone. I thought that was so funny.
This morning Gigi, Duke, Cedie and I rode in the Jeep with the top down and soaked up the sun. Cedie gets so excited that she’ll just bark in the air.
Both were very excited when we decide to stop by Wendy’s drive thru for lunch. Cedie can’t inhale enough when we get close to a burger place.
Yesterday was equally nice although we both classified it a St. Croix in February day. There were big puffy clouds and a nice warm breeze was blowing.
Next weekend we are taking the RV to Southport, NC. I will go down on Saturday, leave the RV with Gigi and most of the dogs. Then Haley and I will come back Sunday to work for the week.
Gigi can get some R&R and visit some with her mother at nearby Oak Island.
I’ll return to Southport late in the week for R&R and to drive the RV home by Sunday.
Sounds like a plan, huh?
Friday, some of the stuff arrived at my office after I had already made the 18 mile trek back home.
I decided that I would drive in this morning in the Jeep, have some breakfast at Jimmy’s, then pick up the Jeep parts at the office.
It was cool for this time of year, a huge break from the past few days in the high 90’s. I opened up the Jeep by taking off windows and such to get the full effect.
Gigi road in with me, complaining all the way about it being cold and her hair was going to get greasy blowing in the wind.
It was a partial order. The main thing in the box this time was a new roll bar cover.
The instructions required that I take the top down to begin. Believe it or not, I have never taken the top off my Jeep. It looked so cool all naked and bare.
Cedie getting ready for her Jeep ride.
By late 1972, I was classified 1-A, available for unrestricted military service and my draft number was 16. My goose was cooked when the time came.
Fortunately the war ended in 1973, “peace with honor”, and the draft was abolished.
Years later, my mother confided in me that she was not about to let her only son serve as cannon fodder in Vietnam. If the time came, she was fully prepared to support me in Canada as a conscientious objector to the war. I would have frozen my ass off.
I don’t think I would have gone to Canada to avoid the war. At 18 however, I was far from any military material.
Fast forward to 1980, I have a college degree, I am married to my first wife Gigi, and we are in the midst of a Jimmy Carter economy. The outlook for a good job was poor, and the thoughts of being an officer in the Air Force seemed appealing.
I mean, the dress uniforms looked really nice and as I understood it, you would fly over targets, drop bombs on targets, and go home and sleep in a real bed at night.
I went to the recruiter and discovered that yes they would like me, but my vision was too poor, even to be a navigator on a bomber. They suggested I go down the hall to the Navy.
Sounds good, my Dad was a navy man in World War II, and the dress uniforms, come to think of it, are bitchin’.
Oh yes the Navy wanted me, I would be an officer, get a cool uniform, and be underwater in a sub 6 months under the polar ice cap spying on the Soviet Union in a tube packed full of men.
This didn’t sound appealing to a newly wed so it marked the end of my quest for military service to my country.
Fast forward to 2007, and I am listening to a podcast from a St Croix, VI talk radio station. Their guest on the show was the local grand poo-bah with the United States Coast Guard Auxiliary.
United States Coast Guard Auxiliary is a group of civilian volunteers that act as the eyes and ears of the real Coast Guard.
The way he explained it, I could join and quit at my every whim, ride in very fast boats, and wear a uniform that differed very little from a real coast guard uniform.
I explained this to Gigi and she said, “Oh yeah honey, you’re going to look just like one of those young Navel Academy officers at Annapolis”, and she rolled her eyes.
Then she said, “What the hell am I going to do while you ride around in a fast boat?”
Maybe I should think about this.
I never understand when I suggest eating say, Chinese food on Wednesday, someone will say, “No, I ate Chinese on Monday.” What does that matter? Can you still taste it? Go brush your teeth, nasty. Some foods I can easily eat more than once a week…like any food.
I could eat pizza every day.
I hate it when I wake up in the middle of the night fully rested, ready to make the morning coffee and I turn over and see the clock says something like 1:16 AM.
I hate when I get up to do something, walk to where I need to be to do it, and stand there dumb as crap because I forgot what it was I was going to do. It makes me crazier when I go back, sit down, and then remember what I forgot.
To remember things, I repeat what I need to do three times in my mind in another person’s zombie like, monotone voice. I rarely forget if I do this.
You ever notice how goofy people walk when they are on TV and they are trying to act natural? I know I’ve done it before.
One time Gigi and I were interviewed on the local TV news station in the Charlotte Airport, one year after 9/11. They didn’t use any of my footage and had Gigi just yakking away on the 6 PM news. I guess it was because I walked like a goofball in front of the camera.
Gigi and I have needed to go to the emergency room before but didn’t either because it was very late or we didn’t want to wait in line. I “slept” one night on our bathroom floor with a kidney stone rather than go in the ER in the middle of the night. I went the next morning and had emergency surgery to remove the stone. In retrospect, I should have gone earlier. I would have slept much better without the stone.
My favorite time of day is when I get home from work, kiss Gigi and watch the dogs make absolute idiots of themselves in happiness. I feel very loved and very much at home.
Driving a Jeep puts you in a special brotherhood with other Jeep drivers and believe it or not, you are accepted by motorcycle riders as well, especially the Hog crowd. We’ll wave at each other, beep the horn, and lift an index finger in acknowledgement that we are a rare and cool breed of people.
Being accepted by the motorcycle crowd was a surprise to me. I guess they figure you are as hot and greasy as they are, so you are a brother.
The radio in my Jeep plays sometimes out of one speaker so it’s time to spring for a new radio.
The problem is that any audio store now is only interested in selling flip down TVs, and gigantic thumping stereo system that blast Rap.
I want a simple little system with an ipod input (still don’t have one), AM, FM, CD, and satellite ready that can blast Reggae and Classic Rock. You can get all this now with a removable faceplate for about $100. Throw in a couple of speakers at $50 each in the factory slots, and I’m maybe at $280 with installation, plus sales tax.
No one wants to bother selling me this modest little system. I am absolutely sure that if I buy the equipment, there is no way I can install it myself.
I’ve been to Circuit City twice and the guys’ wonders off when I explain what I want.
Yesterday by pal Ty, joined the Brotherhood of the Jeep by purchasing a 1998 Wrangler.
I had just sat down at my desk to eat one of those sealed bags of salmon, some saltines, and a diet Pepsi.
My phone rang and I heard Ty screaming on the other end, “YOU WANT TO GO TO LUNCH!?”
“I just started lunch at my desk”
“WHAT ARE YOU EATING?”
“A bag a fish,” I said.
“Why are you screaming?” I asked.
“I JUST GOT MY JEEP. WANNA GO FOR A RIDE?”
He was elated at his new found status.
His Jeep was quite fancy compared to mine. It had unmanly luxury items like carpet and air conditioner. Still we were both thrilled to have another Jeep in the fold.
I love the satisfying feel of a good sneeze. This sneeze was at the immature stage and needed development. I decided to pause a moment to let nature run its course.
I must have looked stupid nurturing along this sneeze when Gigi asked, “What’s wrong.”
Like a prairie dog running back into its hole, my sneeze retreated leaving me unfulfilled.
Okay head, you owe me one good sneeze…I mean a good one.
I live in a country and a state where executions are allowed for certain crimes. In North Carolina executions are carried out by lethal injections or the gas chamber.
I am fascinated by executions, I read about them in great detail. I want to know what they ate for their last supper and what they said just before they died. I want to know how they reacted to the gas, injection, electrocution or whatever.
You would think I am a big proponent of capital punishment since I am so fascinated with it. The fact is, I would prefer that dangerous people like Charles Manson be removed permanently from society by being locked up for ever.
Death is so permanent and life is so short. Life is God given. Man is too prone to mistakes and bad judgment in my opinion to carry out such a sentence.
I do think there are crimes that deserve death. You are really a terrible person if society thinks you better off dead.
I actually knew two people who were executed.
One fellow we knew seemed like a nice enough guy. He worked with my wife at Eastern Airlines. We used to watch NFL game together on Sunday.
Over time we drifted apart. One day I picked up the Charlotte Observer and saw he had been arrested for several serial murders in South Carolina. The police called us in and we were questioned about him and listened to eerie tapes of phone conversation by him.
Larry Bell was electrocuted by the state of South Carolina a few years later. I think it was strange how he chose electrocution over lethal injection. He used to be an electrician. I read about it in great detail.
I knew a guy who was executed by terrorists in Iraq. He was the brother of one of my co-workers. I met him a few times and he was the nicest guy and fun to be around. While working in Iraq, he was kidnapped with two other civilians and held hostage for a few weeks. The deadlines passed and a video of his beheading was released on the Internet. I didn’t watch it but his brother did.
I don’t understand the relief victims get from executions, yet I would attend one if invited. Most people think that is very weird. I know it would upset me greatly to witness one.
I guess it is my great respect for life that leads me to the fascination of facing death.
Prices is an institution in Charlotte, much like the Varsity is in Atlanta, GA.
At lunch time, garbage collectors stand along with bank vice presidents in one of six lines to get fried chicken, fried fish, or fried shrimp.
The chicken is so good that I have never ventured further down the menu. It is not over battered, nor over cooked, and it is always moist.
Its cash only, they do not take credit cards, and there is no dining area. The streets are lined outside with people eating in their cars or sitting on a nearby park bench to eat this marvelous food.
Well, that will do me for a few years on the grease, but it sure was good.
And about the gizzards…someone accused me recently of not being Southern enough. Give them a try Liv. They are wonderful. I’m taking the rest home to Gigi. She is a gizzard eating chick.
“Now take you right hand and draw the figure 6 in the air.”
Suddenly my legs started off on its own thing while my right hand just quivered in a useless way.
So did I. Now you give it a try.
Last Friday Gigi came home from Sams Club with some bananas.
I said, “Oh my, did you get these bananas at a roadside nuclear plant?”
They were huge! They were so long that they dragged on the counter from the banana hanger thing.
Yesterday I made a smoothie and Gigi complained that it had too much banana taste to it.
She asked, “How many bananas did you put in it?”
“Just one of your porn star bananas,” I said.
She almost sprayed the room with a smoothie. I love that woman.
We had a fly in the house last night that was flying very slow, and trying to land on my face.
Today I played golf and a mentally challenged fly was pestering us.
Don asked, “Does a fly puke, or crap on you when he lands?”
“I think he pukes”, I said.
“No, I think he craps”, said Don.
“Then, why did you ask if you knew?”
Somehow the thought of a fly puking on me was superior to the thought of him crapping on me.
I came out of Home Depot this morning and this wide guy was standing just outside the double sliding door being wide.
He wasn’t huge fat, just a little heavy and his arms didn’t hang down. His arms came out at angles and this took up more space.
He was definitely taking more space than he was entitled to.
My main fear was that he would decide to move and then would crush my toes. He caught me out of the corner of his eye and moved on. Thank you wide guy.
Then I’m heading home on our back country road. I live in the country so all roads are back country.
The road is 16 feet wide. There parked in the right lane is a flatbed trailer unloading a bulldozer.
Trying to flag me on was an overweight lady with gigantic protruding bosoms. She is standing beside the trailer waving for me to go around. I’m driving Big Red the pickup and it is 6 ½ feet wide.
Flagging 101 clearly states that you don’t stand in live lane of traffic.
I’m trying to figure out how to get around these boobs without messing up the only well kept lawn in the county. The lawn belongs to the only openly gay couple that lives in county.
So I’m trying to avoid hitting her boobs with my mirrors, and simultaneously trying to avoid any signs of gay bashing as I gently ride on their lawn to avoid titzilla.
I made it okay, no damage to the lawn and no boob collisions.
Almost all native white southerners call a soft drink generically, a coke. Native black southerners call soft drinks sodas. I still laugh inside when I hear a soft drink called a pop.
In the South, we call a pizza, a pizza, not a pie. I remember in college a friend from New Jersey asked me if I wanted a pie. It was midnight. I thought it was a strange time to want dessert.
My aunt Martha started smoking cigarettes at age 10, and smoked until she died at 76. Cigarettes didn’t kill her either. She instructed me to bury her with a pack of cigarettes and a good lighter. She was a good soul and very funny.
When I was about 3 or 4, my sister Judy showed me some fist size quartz rocks that she had found. I asked her if I could have one. She gave me the ugliest one. I picked it up and hit her on the forehead with the ugly rock in protest. I regret that.
When we were kids we used to keep a bottle of Witch Hazel in the refrigerator. It sure did smell funny. My mother put some Witch Hazel on Judy’s head after I hit her with the rock.
When I was a kid we used to keep a big bottle of tap water in the refrigerator. My father loved drinking that cold water and would make a face when he did take a glass full. He would do most anything for a good laugh or smile.
I am so glad that butter is acceptable to eat now rather than all the fake stuff we ate for years. I love butter. Some butter is better than others. I like to taste local butter and try to discern the flavors. In St Croix they have sealed butter patties from Holland or some far off place at their fancy restaurants.
I am a terrible speller…so bad that even spellchecker doesn’t know what the hell I’m doing sometimes. I can never spell some words on the first run. Restaurant is one of those words. Sauce is another.
I wanted to be a geologist. I love rocks, dirt and water. When at was at Carambola in St. Croix, I would spend hours looking at the outcropping of the mountain plunging into the ocean. They had igneous rock, sedimentary rock, and metamorphic rock with quarts intrusions, all in the same place. I could watch a volcano go all day. I still remember the different types of lava, and far too many details about rocks and formations. My Dad said, “Son, you and I both know that you aren’t smart enough to go to college another 4 years to get your PhD. Why don’t you major in business?” And so I did.
Most of the time, I listen to a song only for a part of it, or just to hear the chorus. I just listened to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard and could care less about anything but the chorus.
I once went to Cape Canaveral, and watched a Saturn V rocket launch the space station, Skylab. The launch was an absolute awesome display of power. It shook the ground and made sound concussions three miles away. It was the very last Saturn V launched. The Saturn V was the rocket that launched all the moon missions.
You ever had one ear just shop working for a minute or two? Then gradually the sound comes back to normal. It’s like one of your ears booted and did a restart.
I have to take medication twice daily for epilepsy since I was 21. My epilepsy is completely controlled. I had a bunch of tests a few years to see if I could come off the medication. The doctor said, “No way Reggie. Your brain is like a hurricane of electrical activity.”
Last night, I was watching something on TV…Lawrence Welk, or Hee-Haw, or whatever comes on Saturday night.
I loaded up harbor cam in Christiansted on the PC and noticed big doings going on in town. (No one invited me)
I captured a photo and sent it to Terry and asked what was going on.
By chance, it was Terry, Michael, Peter and friends in the picture.
I’m watching you guys! (Twilight Zone theme playing)
I am suspicious of people that don’t drink coffee or at least a caffeinated drink first thing in the morning.
I absolutely hate waiting in a line of any kind. I have left groceries in the basket before rather than wait in line to pay. I avoid going to banks and gas stations that are crowded.
I do not like self serve check out. Something always goes wrong and guess what? I have to wait for someone to come and scan a card to get it running again. I should get a discount if that make me work too.
I don’t like drive thru anything…except the drug store. I don’t like to stand around with sick people. You can’t see what is going on in a drive through. I like to see people running around and working so I can mentally critique their efforts.
I love the way an ice cold Diet Pepsi burns your throat when you take that first big swallow. It makes your eyes water.
I love the earthy stink of low tide along the coast of NC, SC, and GA.
I love the smell of treated wood, especially old telephone poles and piers.
I used to love waiting tables, tending bar, or cooking in a busy restaurant. There is an art to efficient motion and good service. I wonder if I could still do it.
I love to snorkel and wish I had the option of doing it daily.
I love most any kind of stinky cheese. If it stinks, lay it on me.
I really want an Ipod but I am too cheap to buy one. However, I would gladly spend the same amount or more on a good meal with a friend.
I love the smell of Jekyll Island campground. It has a peppery smell for some reason. I could smell it yesterday as I cleaned and stored my camping equipment.
I love football theme music like Monday Night Football, Sunday Night football, etc.
I really want a flat panel TV but I am too lazy to make all the purchase decisions. I would gladly pay someone to have it all set up one day while I am at work and haul off the old TV. I’m going to Tweeter Monday and see if they’ll do that as long as I don’t have to wait in line.
I am ashamed to admit, this but the reason I drove the Jeep all week is I still have the RV connected to the truck. It must be parked and unhooked today.
I don’t think this would violate the Evelyn Wilson policy.
I'm going to let it rest tonight in the refrigerator and cook some dogs at lunch tomorrow.
I could easily triple this batch and have enough for several tailgating games this season.
Have you guys ever heard of Carolina Style hamburgers? You take a regular hamburger or cheeseburger and add some good hot dog chili, slaw and mustard. It makes for a wonderful and sloppy burger.
I'm going to do those too this season. Carolina burgers/Carolina Panthers, eh, get it?
They used to make hamburgers like that back in Chapel Hill and Durham when I was a kid. Our North Carolina Wendy’s have a burger called the Carolina Burger with Chili and slaw but they are not as good as the ones I remember as a kid.
She is an equivalent in personality to Peter, but female and better looking.
When you get in a room with her, expect her to fill it up.
Liv has fantastic control over her mind, and it always seems to be racing. She has great depth of vocabulary and a sense of humor that runs from dry to downright slapstick.
When we were deciding on who was the best person to type in our meeting notes on the computer, I simply told her, “Liv, I’m a hunt and pecker.”
Liv screams, “Whoa there cowboy, not so fast. Let’s take this a little slower.”
We share a common love of stinky cheese, wine, and Makers Mark.
Gigi and I enjoyed meeting you Liv. I enjoy reading you more now that I have met you personally.
“You think she’s gotta go pee?” I asked.
“Ya reckon?” said Gigi.
I staggered down the hall and let them all out to dump their night water.
They all came back in and insisted that I not go back to bed. Frankly, they were about as welcome as a boil on my butt. I’d turn one way and there was Haley. I’d turn another way and there was Cedie. They were constantly under my feet.
Finally I made a move to avoid Cedie when I heard a pop. Oh no! I broke the thong of my most favorite and coveted Sperry flip flops.
These shoes have been my traveling companions to many vacation destinations. I know they have been to St Croix at least 3 times.
On a lighter note….if you leave a jeep open all of the time expect a bird to crap in it. Thank goodness it was the passenger side.
I fired up the test kitchen this morning. While Terry and Michael test mango recipes I am trying to create the perfect hotdog chili.
Only two places on the planet have the perfect hotdog chili. One is/was Amos N Andy in Durham, NC. This was the hotdog chili of my childhood. The other is Greens hotdogs in Charlotte.
This morning a followed a meaty recipe that requires the chili to sit in the croc pot all day. I hope it turns out the way I want it to taste.
Hey Michael, can’t you figure a way to run some of that mango juice in your Rover? That is one huge mango tree you have.
Let me first say that the finest and best massages can be had from Ambrosia Body Care in beautiful St Croix, VI, by Terry and Michael.
I went into Massage Envy which is a national chain. I’ve done three introductory massages there for $39 an hour. Don’t worry, I tip good.
She asked me what was wrong and told me to take off my clothes and she would be back. They always tell you to be face down and under the covers. I guess some weirdo’s are sprawled out naked on top of the sheets unless instructed otherwise.
It takes me about 19 seconds to get buck naked, and that’s if I’m taking my time.
So I’m lying there with all the dim lights and tinkling water and bird chirping music playing.
“Where the hell is she?”
I waited, I relaxed, and I fell asleep.
Suddenly warm hands are massaging my shoulders and I am drooling like a rabid raccoon. I was startled, and almost farted.
I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Finally I came to my senses and relaxed. I did get some back and shoulder relief.
It was Michael’s blog. Michael is a talker in real life but not a regular writer. Terry is not a big talker but apparently is the family writer.
Meanwhile I have checked this blog for sometime, blowing on the smoldering embers of words, hopping that it would flame up to a fully functioning blog. It finally has.
Terry has something to say. Add another Terry to your daily read and find out about life in paradise.
I am now encouraging her to do a blog Podcast called, “I’m going to whoop your ass Podcast”.
I think I can figure out the technical stuff and a voice recording would be easier for her.
What do you think?
She gets a little sensitive about people poking fun of her accent, so she may or may not do this.
I had a tactile treat this morning. After guffawing at Gigi stepping in a steaming pile of dog pooh yesterday, I got the pleasure of having a warm dingle berry about the size and shape of a kidney bean drop on my bare foot as Haley entered the house. That was interesting.
I might give Zig and Ali a call soon. I’ve wanted to talk to them again.
We booked our favorite house yesterday for our winter vacation in St Croix. I love that house.
I was accused by Liv last weekend that I wasn’t southern enough. How could that be? I was born and raised in the south. I eat southern stuff and like all things southern.
As I came out of my camper the other day, Jeremy’s wife Rhonda fretfully told me she had dropped some chocolate in her chair. Actually it was my fabric chair, and plenty of beer, coke, wine, and who knows what else had been spilled in that chair already.
I said to Rhonda, “That’s okay.”
Rhonda remained fretful looking.
Peach Pod stepped in to translate, “No sweetie, she is afraid she will get chocolate on her clothing. She wants you to go back inside and get a wet paper towel so she can clean her seat. Then be nice and throw away the towel when she is finished.”
Rhonda was now all smiles.
I looked at Jeremy and his mouth was hanging wide open as was mine.
In unison Jeremy and I both said, “Then why didn’t she say that?”
“It’s just the way us girls talk. Now go along and get her towel”, said Peach Pod.
Jeremy and I were dumbfounded at how little was said, yet the meaning was so specific.
How will we ever understand women?
I was expecting my feet to scream too when I put on real shoes and socks this morning.
As I reflect on my “time off”, I can’t help but think about all the children I was exposed to over the last ten days.
Kids are kids and that is fun to me. But parents are so different in child rearing.
I must have stood in line behind countless mothers and fathers as they asked their 3 or 4 year old if they wanted item A, or item B. For goodness sakes people, its little child, make the decision for him or her please. The decision process is agonizing for me and the child. Buy them some McWhatevers and move on.
I ran into too many sissy acting fathers to. Good for them that they are taking an active role in raising their child but please avoid acting feminine when you are interacting with a child. Be a man, talk like a man, and act as a male role model. I heard too many wispy, girly voices coming out of the mouths of grown men. I wanted to do a back flip.
Keep in mind that I am ultra silly around kids, and I am not a father, and most likely not the best role model for kids.
With that said, that’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.
I was getting stress in the second traffic jam in South Carolina when I heard Gigi from the back seat say,” You know another good thing about tinting your weenie?”
Oh my gosh! Have we talked about tinting my weenie? Can you tint a weenie? I did have maybe a few extra beers last night…did I make some promise I don’t remember? What colors did we discuss?
Then one last time, I ran the brain filter and decided she was referring to the recently tinted windows.
“No honey, what do you like about the tinting?”
“I can stare at strangers in traffic.”
I’m glad I resolved that. Whew!
We headed back for some lunch of grilled hot dogs.
Later in the day Liv and her sister Susan got a wild hair and headed down here to meet Peach Pod. Liv and I lurk on each others blogs and rarely comment. We did want to meet since the opportunity.
The first annual convergence of bloggers.
Scene Opens: It was a dark and stormy evening, 6 bloggers, 1 friend, 4 border collies sat in a camper in SE Georgia.
To catch you up, Gigi has volunteered to whoop some ass anybody what come and knock on this door again.
Reggie has mentioned that he’s a hunt and pecker. Many comments ensued.
Liv, informed Reggie: “Ease up there, cowboy.”
PeachPod was nominated as secretary of this unique meeting of blogger greats.
Susan snacked and Monkey Boy sang and played video games.
At one point, 3 conversations were happening in a 8x8 space: one about cats, one about how they met and another about cartoons.
Liv suggests that we are given the opportunity to ask a question of a blogger you may have always wanted to know.
Reg asked Liv: “In real life you seem so real, but in your blog you seem kind of murky. Why?”
I think that I’m so elusive on my blog because I know that my husband and his skank hoar. Because of pending litigation I don’t want to stir up trouble.
A lot of my thoughts in general present themselves as murky. As a blogger you are given the opportunity to present yourself in the way that you want to be perceived.
The next question was from Sharon from Liv: “Do you think you’ll blog as much if you find happiness?”
I’ll still find things to be irritated about! No, really I think my blog will move to be more of thinking blog or a family who writes about the humor in her life. I think that I will always write about something, and I hope that it will always be insightful, thoughtful, thought provoking and funny. And I may never find happiness.
Liv asked Reggie: “I noticed that you write a lot about day to day living, I wonder if there is something that you are passionately about that may change the direction of your blog.”
I can’t write about my business because of federal regulations. I wish I could write about the nature of the people I deal with, but can’t due to privacy issues.
Liv pushed a little more to see if there was something deeper in Reggie’s nature. Nothing was found! Liv has dubbed him, Reggie, Man of Leisure. Liv followed up with, “Is everything at the Reggie and Gigi ranch as it is presented on the blog.
Yup. It pretty much is. Gigi has made sure that Reggie know that she would leave him penniless and penisless if she had to. We may not always like each other but we always love each other.
Some perceptions of each other:
Reg of Liv: I thought she would be more aloof.
Liv of Reg: I thought he would be faster. More of a good ol’ Southern boy.
Liv of PeachPod: Your photos of yourself are more of the intense Grace Kelly look. In real life, you are very much more animated. Your posts can be very up and down emotionally on your blog, but you are more up in real life.
Liv on Gigi: Words used so far have been ‘firecracker’ and ‘livewire.’ Gigi interjected between comments about ass whooping that she’s a ‘people pleaser.’
Other topics that were discussed during the evening:
How many of the 10 commandments we’ve broken
Made fun of the other trailers
Hatred of perky married couples
Love of Stinky cheese
Reggie freaked out over how short life is.
PeachPod was declared a smart ass.
Man who knocked on door had parked golf cart on our property. Monkey Boy takes over typing. Man knocks on door asking for PeachPod to move her car.
Gigi reminded me of this just a moment ago when she said alarmingly, “What’s that smell?”
I was worried it may be propane, or worse yet a dog pooped somewhere on board.
Worried I yell from the other room, “What does it smell like?”
“It smells like someone is cooking seafood.”
I like that smell, and wished I could smell it this early.
Oh well, I’ll just sit here and drink my tasteless coffee. I do taste the bitter part already. Apparently my bitter taste buds don’t go to sleep.
This idea appeals to me in the strongest way. I have attempted to do this activity since I thought about it on Wednesday.
This is not meant to be a social event for all the family. Very few of the people I am with like or even drink beer. Even fewer eat raw or nearly raw seafood. I happen to do both and rarely do I get the perfect convergence of beer, oysters, and sunset over the sea.
I can hear the place calling me now…Reggie! Reggie! Reggie!
But it seems that every time I want to head there some one diverts me or suggests I do something else. I told Gigi I was going to this raw bar tonight if I had to crawl over broken glass to get there. She suggested I go to St Simons Island where I’m sure you can find some oysters.
I don’t want oysters! I want oysters at that bar, at that location. The place I have fanaticized about now for three days.
Why is this so difficult? It must be a guy thing. I’m going to eat my damn oysters and drink my beer at this raw bar if it kills me.
This occurs when family members all make a plan, then fail to implement the plan that was just discussed moments earlier. Instead the members just disperse in opposite directions failing at the onset.
This has happened to us many times this week.
Gigi drove us all to the beach at sunset. Me and the other kids rode in the back of my pickup. Most folks don’t know the fun of riding in the back of a pickup.
This morning we went fishing and caught shark after shark. We did stop and pet some of the local dolphins. They are so neat and very affectionate.
Answer: The 4th of July.
I actually missed this question on a high school world history exam except it was referring to Bastille Day and the French. How stupid was I to fall for that trick question?
Today is Independence Day for the United States. 231 years ago, notorious drunkards wearing wigs and knickers, inked a document declaring all men are equal, except black men and women, and all other women. Oh well, it was a great start.
Americans are proud and obnoxious people. The more I look at us from the world’s eye, the more I can see why the world resents us.
My 80-something mother from the WWII generation told me recently that she thought we used to be the good guys. Now she is not so sure.
I wish we wouldn’t squander our wealth and blessings on forcing our will on the world.
I wish we didn’t trash our Constitution years ago. For example, you’ll never make me believe road blocks are constitutional no matter how noble the intent. All I can think of is Nazi Germany’s road blocks, “Your papers please.”
We ignore the massacre of 800,000 people in the Sudan and dwell on single individuals like Castro and Hussein.
I guess I wouldn’t be cynical about my country if I didn’t love my country. I get so frustrated at the vast separation between the ideals of our founding fathers, and the reality that we have made.
I will enjoy my day today and play golf with a friend, eat a big meal with my family, and watch fireworks tonight.
I am grateful to be an American.
We save our plastic WalMart bags just for the task of crap handling.
At home we bag the cat crap from the cat box.
When it comes to camping, we stuff WalMart bags in each pocket, go for a walk, and pray that said bags don’t have any holes in the bottom when its time to use them.
Dogs always go at the least opportune time. Peaches will crimp up at the feet of someone you are talking to. Then I must casually whip out a WalMart bag and grab the steaming pile and tie it off, all while acting like this is normal.
This afternoon all four went at once. Gigi was the crap master and bound it all up.
Now aren’t you glad I blogged about this?
I have been bitten several times already, mostly on my back through my shirt. Both times that I was bitten occurred in the morning while taking to dogs out to potty.
Once the dogs get their smell on, you can’t make them budge, so you are big time skeeter bait until they finish sniffing.
What I am trying to avoid is the mother of all mosquito bites…the ankle bite. For some reason an ankle bite itches more than anywhere else. I will scratch an ankle bite until it scabs and don’t care while I’m doing it. The scratching feels so darn good.
Yes, I’m vain. I don’t want scabby ankles, but odds are I’ll walk away from this place with skeeter legs.
This morning I rode my bike to the campground office looking for Teflon tape. On the way I would pass through zones of fantastic smells. First there was patty sausage, with smells distinctly different from link sausage, then the pleasant aroma of bacon, then coffee, and then the sweet smell of maple syrup.
Oh my, how lovely the smells without any of the fat.
What did I have for breakfast you might ask? A Dr. Oz power shake with protein and fresh fruit.
I have had that same picture of my head photo shopped on the body of Cary Grant from the movie North Vs Northwest. I never saw the movie but the picture represented how I feel about life, so I photo shopped my head on, and made it my own.
Wouldn’t a bi-plane chasing you be such a rush?
Anyway, should I update the picture or leave it the same?
Our RV has this big picture window in the back with two reclining chairs. I’m sitting here on the computer watching the Fine Living network and sipping a glass of Red Truck Wine.
There is a guy behind me setting up and I saw him looking at me all comfy and cozy. Sorry mister.
If you ever want an inexpensive red wine with good depth, then give Red Truck a try. It is a blended wine with several great grape varietals blended with some grapes you never see on their own like Grenache, and the rarely stand alone grape Cabernet Franc.
Changing gears here, I overheard a conversation yesterday about how much my brother in law and my cousin in law are enjoying retirement. Both are in their 50’s, and both still work nearly full time.
They now do more of what they want to do, and they now control their schedule.
I thought about this and realized that according to their definition, I have been retired for about 15 years. Yes I still work and I absolutely love what I do. Plus, I have almost complete control of my schedule.
It is a shame that so many people work in fields or jobs that they hate.
I am a lucky man. I have no intention of quitting work, ever. I guess I would reach an age when someone may not want to do business with an 80 year old. I should be so lucky to live so long.
The decoy "Human Organs" cooler to discourage people from stealing my beers.
I have never seen a pink flamingo in the wild. It flew by rather low over our threesome.
It was a tacky pink with interlaced white.
I forget there is so much wildlife walking around Jekyll Island.