I believe that beer snobism is a product of the last fifty years, brought on by the advertising industry. Please prove me wrong.
Why do I think that? Well, I have so many friends that will only drink one kind of beer. "Oh, sorry, I only like Miller Lite." And I kind of relate to that in a sense that you might have a particular beer you're comfortable with. But when I was a smoker, I realized that in a pinch, you would smoke someone elses' cigarettes, unless of course, you were a menthol smoker, but that's another essay altogether.
I have always just liked beer. My grandparents started letting me drink Jax or Falstaff by the time I was six years old. I have pretty much drank Miller High Life since I was in high school. But I like a lot of different brands and styles of beers. I don't consider myself a snob.
But like I said, so many friends will only drink one brand. I just don't think that would have come to pass if the ad industry hadn't told them that it was important to do so...
Friday, September 30, 2016
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
A Cruel And Heartless Society
I've been noticing the last few weeks how often I have to show my identification card. Not that I look young enough to be seriously carded when buying alcohol, but some places have a "card everyone" policy and you no got an ID and you no gonna drink. Stores often ask to see my ID before I can use my credit card. If the teller at my bank doesn't recognize me, she won't give me cash back from my deposit if I don't show her my ID with the picture of me on it. I asked the cop that stopped me what would happen if I didn't have an ID to show him and he said that he'd impound my car and take me to the station until they could sort out who I am. I've noticed that the post office makes homeless people show a photo ID in order to pick up mail sent general delivery.
And this set me thinking just how miserable it must be in this country to try and live with no means of identification of any kind. How hard it would be to do the most basic things in this country. To eat, to drink, to have electricity in your home. Or running water. To get a job or even the most basic of government assistance. What kinds of cruel, heartless people would allow this situation to exist.
It seems kind of hypocritical that there are folks who are willing to drive you to the polls to vote. But they can't be bothered to pick up poor people with no ID and take them to the Department of Finance and Administration to get an ID card. I hereby make the offer to anyone living in the Little Rock, North Little Rock area who does not have a valid identification card and has no way or means to get one, that I will personally take them to DF&A and pay the $5 fee for an ID card.
I challenge the Republican Party to offer the same program, nationwide. Maybe we can show those in need that actions are louder than words, and that we don't care about them only at election time. Not like some other folks...
And this set me thinking just how miserable it must be in this country to try and live with no means of identification of any kind. How hard it would be to do the most basic things in this country. To eat, to drink, to have electricity in your home. Or running water. To get a job or even the most basic of government assistance. What kinds of cruel, heartless people would allow this situation to exist.
It seems kind of hypocritical that there are folks who are willing to drive you to the polls to vote. But they can't be bothered to pick up poor people with no ID and take them to the Department of Finance and Administration to get an ID card. I hereby make the offer to anyone living in the Little Rock, North Little Rock area who does not have a valid identification card and has no way or means to get one, that I will personally take them to DF&A and pay the $5 fee for an ID card.
I challenge the Republican Party to offer the same program, nationwide. Maybe we can show those in need that actions are louder than words, and that we don't care about them only at election time. Not like some other folks...
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Blanche, buh bye...
The sad thing? The people of Arkansas are slow to anger and quick to forgive, they would have put up with almost anything Blanche Lincoln has done over the years to us. But when she lied to us about the health care bill and voted for something that 64% of her constituents screamed, "No, Blanche, No!", she literally threw her political career out of the window. I won't miss Blanche and her dismissive attitude. Next up? Mark Pryor...
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Dear Blanche Lincoln
Dear Mrs. Lincoln,
No "opt-in," no "opt-out." No public option, no socialized medicine. This congress has used up all of its credibility lying to us about the healthcare issues and trying to ram down our throats the things we don't want. Vote NO, Mrs. Lincoln, NO.
Insurance companies make obscene profits: Lie, NY Times reports average 2.2%, way down the list under even Clorox bleach in profitability.
People are dying with no insurance: Lie. Healthcare is available to all in any emergency room in the country.
30 million Americans are without insurance: Lie. Your solution is to automatically enroll those that don't want to be part of your government plan.
Stop trying to ruin our healthcare and take a leadership role: Introduce REAL legislation that allows health insurance sales across state lines like auto insurance. Allow non-profit organizations to offer insurance plans to their members. Go after the real greedy villains in this equation: tort reform/loser pays.
Represent Arkansas for a change, Mrs. Lincoln. You made it clear how you really feel about us when you shut out everyone but the public option folks from your so called "on line town hall meeting on health care."
No "opt-in," no "opt-out." No public option, no socialized medicine. This congress has used up all of its credibility lying to us about the healthcare issues and trying to ram down our throats the things we don't want. Vote NO, Mrs. Lincoln, NO.
Insurance companies make obscene profits: Lie, NY Times reports average 2.2%, way down the list under even Clorox bleach in profitability.
People are dying with no insurance: Lie. Healthcare is available to all in any emergency room in the country.
30 million Americans are without insurance: Lie. Your solution is to automatically enroll those that don't want to be part of your government plan.
Stop trying to ruin our healthcare and take a leadership role: Introduce REAL legislation that allows health insurance sales across state lines like auto insurance. Allow non-profit organizations to offer insurance plans to their members. Go after the real greedy villains in this equation: tort reform/loser pays.
Represent Arkansas for a change, Mrs. Lincoln. You made it clear how you really feel about us when you shut out everyone but the public option folks from your so called "on line town hall meeting on health care."
Friday, September 18, 2009
Observations on a week the wife is out of town…
The same roll of toilet paper lasts all week.
The covers never have to be turned down in order to get in bed.
That trash really won’t take itself out.
The television in the den actually gets channels other than the Hallmark Network.
There really ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone (it’s rained all week…)
Bachelors apparently only have to run the dishwasher once a week.
You can eat anything you want, but it doesn’t seem as fun as you thought it would.
The kids actually know who you are and want to talk to you.
You find that life starts to be measured in how many days/hours until her return.
The covers never have to be turned down in order to get in bed.
That trash really won’t take itself out.
The television in the den actually gets channels other than the Hallmark Network.
There really ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone (it’s rained all week…)
Bachelors apparently only have to run the dishwasher once a week.
You can eat anything you want, but it doesn’t seem as fun as you thought it would.
The kids actually know who you are and want to talk to you.
You find that life starts to be measured in how many days/hours until her return.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Loud and Proud
Sometimes a dinky bumper sticker is just not enough. Some days you just have to get up and scream to the world, "I'm as gay as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore..."
Monday, April 27, 2009
Iris Circabellum
It's hard to imagine, I know, that someone as hip, urbane and profane as my friend Biff would turn me on to something as down to earth, simple and plaintive as Iris Dement. But I had honestly never heard of this wonderful Arkansas girl (a redhead to boot!), and that was a shortcoming on my part for sure. You see, Iris is one of those artists whose work is nothing short of honest and heart-tearing. Of course I developed an immediate and profound crush on her.
Many of you remember the numerous crushes I've had over the past years, but this one is different. And I just had to figure a way to make Iris mine. Well, I'm happy to say after six whole months of intensive amorous pressure, Iris agreed to tie the knot with me and we were married in a simple ceremony in a small undisclosed Nevada town, not terribly far from where she lives. And she's coming back to Arkansas to stay.
Now, I have to figure out how to explain this to the little bride...
Many of you remember the numerous crushes I've had over the past years, but this one is different. And I just had to figure a way to make Iris mine. Well, I'm happy to say after six whole months of intensive amorous pressure, Iris agreed to tie the knot with me and we were married in a simple ceremony in a small undisclosed Nevada town, not terribly far from where she lives. And she's coming back to Arkansas to stay.
Now, I have to figure out how to explain this to the little bride...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tea Party - Little Rock Arkansas - April 15, 2009
I arrived at the Little Rock Tea Party right at 4:00, it having started at 3:30. I figure a lot of people had not arrived yet, waiting until they got off from work to go. I had to leave at 4:30 to make an appointment, and there were streams of people still coming. (Don't forget, clicky the picky to make them bigger...)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
This Is Not A Gloat
There’s a saying on the interweb bulletin boards that “if you don’t have pictures, it didn’t happen.” Therefore, this is entirely a work of fiction.
One of my best buddies called me up the other night and was all excited. He told me about a cache of hardwood lumber, stacked and stored in a garage of a retired furniture maker in an elegant lake community home. Almost 3,200 board feet of random width, ten foot lengths of maple. And it could be had for a mere $450.00 or about fifteen cents a board foot. Quite the deal since it normally sells for around four dollars a board foot. Did I want to go in halves with him he asked? Way too much wood for one person and probably for two, but I had visions of just building all kinds of crap out of this stuff because it would be cheaper than pine. I could build tool cabinets in my shop that would be the envy of woodworkers everywhere. I could replace all the kitchen cabinets cheaper than I could buy plywood. I could build some little pieces of furniture and get some practice with my hand tools. This is going to be great. Of course I said yes.
We made arrangements to take off work a little early the next day and make the hour or so drive up to the lake community near Heber Springs. “These kinds of deals never happen to me,” my buddy grinned at me. He and I shared the same vision of a carefully swept garage stacked with pristine planks of rough sawn maple, dutifully watched over by a bespectacled, white haired gentleman who had sold all of his tools some time back and now just needed someone to haul off the leftover materials from a lifetime of craftsmanship. Maybe his wife told him he had to clear out the garage so she could park in it. It was an intriguing thought.
We crested a hill and saw the sparkling water of Greers Ferry Lake in the distance, and turned into a well manicured road of elegant two story houses. Which one is it? We thought as we counted down the addresses on the rural mail boxes. Ninety-nine, One Hundred and Ten, One Forty-four… we looked at each other, puzzled, when we saw the mail box for One Eighty. It stood at the opening between the dense copse of trees with just a glimmer of what appeared to be a pile of junk in the distance. We turned into the lane.
A pot bellied man with a long white beard and a fierce stare came out of the ramshackle “house” with the slap of a screen door. Dressed in flannel and wearing a wide brimmed hat, I began to flash back to the scene in Deliverance… well, you get the idea. Piles of trash and junk adorned the porch and front yard. He motioned to a small, lean-to garage covered with a blue tarp. We stumbled across rotting piles of fence posts and clapboards to peek in.
And there inside were two saw horses with a small stack of boards on them. Lots of small cut-offs on top, a couple of pine 2x4’s sticking out, and a few nice wide and long maple boards. My buddy shook his head and muttered, “These kinds of deals never happen to me.”
How did you figure the board feet on this, he asked. The old man produced a tattered notebook with a column of figures on it. “Here’s the figures the guy wrote down when he delivered it to me.” We peered over them and took a few minutes to realize that these were the calculations for square inches of lumber. And yes, there were thousands. But when you divide that by 144 to get board feet, well… it turns out you only have about two hundred and twenty board feet. Less whatever the dude used out of it. And scarcely a pick-up truck load.
We wound up striking a deal amidst our dashed hopes and loaded up the lumber and headed back home. No, we won’t be replacing the kitchen cabinets. Probably won’t build all those nifty tool cabinets for my shop. I might build that little table I’ve been wanting to build.
As we wheeled back up onto the highway, I heard a mutter, “These kinds of deals never happen to me…”
One of my best buddies called me up the other night and was all excited. He told me about a cache of hardwood lumber, stacked and stored in a garage of a retired furniture maker in an elegant lake community home. Almost 3,200 board feet of random width, ten foot lengths of maple. And it could be had for a mere $450.00 or about fifteen cents a board foot. Quite the deal since it normally sells for around four dollars a board foot. Did I want to go in halves with him he asked? Way too much wood for one person and probably for two, but I had visions of just building all kinds of crap out of this stuff because it would be cheaper than pine. I could build tool cabinets in my shop that would be the envy of woodworkers everywhere. I could replace all the kitchen cabinets cheaper than I could buy plywood. I could build some little pieces of furniture and get some practice with my hand tools. This is going to be great. Of course I said yes.
We made arrangements to take off work a little early the next day and make the hour or so drive up to the lake community near Heber Springs. “These kinds of deals never happen to me,” my buddy grinned at me. He and I shared the same vision of a carefully swept garage stacked with pristine planks of rough sawn maple, dutifully watched over by a bespectacled, white haired gentleman who had sold all of his tools some time back and now just needed someone to haul off the leftover materials from a lifetime of craftsmanship. Maybe his wife told him he had to clear out the garage so she could park in it. It was an intriguing thought.
We crested a hill and saw the sparkling water of Greers Ferry Lake in the distance, and turned into a well manicured road of elegant two story houses. Which one is it? We thought as we counted down the addresses on the rural mail boxes. Ninety-nine, One Hundred and Ten, One Forty-four… we looked at each other, puzzled, when we saw the mail box for One Eighty. It stood at the opening between the dense copse of trees with just a glimmer of what appeared to be a pile of junk in the distance. We turned into the lane.
A pot bellied man with a long white beard and a fierce stare came out of the ramshackle “house” with the slap of a screen door. Dressed in flannel and wearing a wide brimmed hat, I began to flash back to the scene in Deliverance… well, you get the idea. Piles of trash and junk adorned the porch and front yard. He motioned to a small, lean-to garage covered with a blue tarp. We stumbled across rotting piles of fence posts and clapboards to peek in.
And there inside were two saw horses with a small stack of boards on them. Lots of small cut-offs on top, a couple of pine 2x4’s sticking out, and a few nice wide and long maple boards. My buddy shook his head and muttered, “These kinds of deals never happen to me.”
How did you figure the board feet on this, he asked. The old man produced a tattered notebook with a column of figures on it. “Here’s the figures the guy wrote down when he delivered it to me.” We peered over them and took a few minutes to realize that these were the calculations for square inches of lumber. And yes, there were thousands. But when you divide that by 144 to get board feet, well… it turns out you only have about two hundred and twenty board feet. Less whatever the dude used out of it. And scarcely a pick-up truck load.
We wound up striking a deal amidst our dashed hopes and loaded up the lumber and headed back home. No, we won’t be replacing the kitchen cabinets. Probably won’t build all those nifty tool cabinets for my shop. I might build that little table I’ve been wanting to build.
As we wheeled back up onto the highway, I heard a mutter, “These kinds of deals never happen to me…”
Monday, April 06, 2009
Maybe It Really Is All Bush's Fault
I’ve always been a curious person. I have a need to know as much as I can about life and the world around me. This runs the gamut from science to politics. And I guess I just don’t understand people that aren’t curious. Knowing the truth, the real story, that’s always been important to me. I’ve admitted that as a young man I was adamantly against the Viet Nam War. I wore long hair, peace symbols and bell-bottom jeans. I told anyone that would listen that the war was wrong and that we had no business in that part of the world.
It wasn’t until years later that I read about documents, declassified by the Vietnamese, that showed just how close we were to winning that war when we pulled out. [If you are a Democrat you will probably bail out right here because this is not sounding like something that makes you feel good.] You know, when we abandoned those that we had promised to help and left hundreds of thousands to die and millions others to languish in re-education camps. It made me ashamed.
I love reading both sides of the evolution theory. (Yes, there really are two sides). [Oops, bye-bye Liberals] I’m fascinated by the idea of extraterrestrial visitation even though I don’t believe it has happened (yet). [Gee, never thought I'd alienate the Ron Paul crowd] I’ve read the Gnostic Gospels. [Mainstream news reporters, sorry dudes, you'll be missed the rest of the essay...] I’ve read the Koran. I’ve chanted in a Buddhist temple. Even though I’ve always been drawn back to Christ for my faith I find no harm in learning about other religions.
What causes people to not be curious? Or to even stop being curious when confronted with ideas that don’t jibe with their own? I consider myself to be conservative in my politics and my lifestyle. But I listen intently to the words and arguments from the far-left and from the middle and from the far-right. And while I consider the far-right to be a little on the goofy side, the words of the far-left have so far always reinforced my core beliefs. I cannot for the life of me find anything in them that makes enough sense to change my mind. But I keep listening just in case. Well, and you pretty much can’t help but listen since that’s pretty much all you’re going to hear on NPR, CBS, ABC, NBC, CNN and just about any other news channels you turn to. Even FOX tends to spout some of that ideology from time to time.
So why would someone fix on a political ideology and not want to hear anything that disagrees with it? What makes one of your best friends, a person whom you endured listening to spew hatred and disdain during years of a certain past administration, suddenly have no interest in politics now that it’s a new administration? When you try to talk calmly and rationally about current events, what makes a co-worker threaten you with violence because they deem you too stupid to live? Why is it that when asked the difficult questions, they resort to shouting you down as if talking louder makes what they say a fact? Especially when presented with facts that dispute it…
What makes friends reply “unsubscribe Republican propaganda” when barbed in a friendly way about their politics? Why won’t anyone discuss this with me? I really want to know what’s real.
It wasn’t until years later that I read about documents, declassified by the Vietnamese, that showed just how close we were to winning that war when we pulled out. [If you are a Democrat you will probably bail out right here because this is not sounding like something that makes you feel good.] You know, when we abandoned those that we had promised to help and left hundreds of thousands to die and millions others to languish in re-education camps. It made me ashamed.
I love reading both sides of the evolution theory. (Yes, there really are two sides). [Oops, bye-bye Liberals] I’m fascinated by the idea of extraterrestrial visitation even though I don’t believe it has happened (yet). [Gee, never thought I'd alienate the Ron Paul crowd] I’ve read the Gnostic Gospels. [Mainstream news reporters, sorry dudes, you'll be missed the rest of the essay...] I’ve read the Koran. I’ve chanted in a Buddhist temple. Even though I’ve always been drawn back to Christ for my faith I find no harm in learning about other religions.
What causes people to not be curious? Or to even stop being curious when confronted with ideas that don’t jibe with their own? I consider myself to be conservative in my politics and my lifestyle. But I listen intently to the words and arguments from the far-left and from the middle and from the far-right. And while I consider the far-right to be a little on the goofy side, the words of the far-left have so far always reinforced my core beliefs. I cannot for the life of me find anything in them that makes enough sense to change my mind. But I keep listening just in case. Well, and you pretty much can’t help but listen since that’s pretty much all you’re going to hear on NPR, CBS, ABC, NBC, CNN and just about any other news channels you turn to. Even FOX tends to spout some of that ideology from time to time.
So why would someone fix on a political ideology and not want to hear anything that disagrees with it? What makes one of your best friends, a person whom you endured listening to spew hatred and disdain during years of a certain past administration, suddenly have no interest in politics now that it’s a new administration? When you try to talk calmly and rationally about current events, what makes a co-worker threaten you with violence because they deem you too stupid to live? Why is it that when asked the difficult questions, they resort to shouting you down as if talking louder makes what they say a fact? Especially when presented with facts that dispute it…
What makes friends reply “unsubscribe Republican propaganda” when barbed in a friendly way about their politics? Why won’t anyone discuss this with me? I really want to know what’s real.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Patron Saint of Real Estate
John over at Devil Queen begs the question as to whether burying a little statue of St. Joseph really works when trying to sell your house. And when we were selling our last house it really did seem to help. But I can't help thinking about burying the little statue without thinking of fish sauce.
Some of you know that I am a real fan of southeast Asian cuisine. And I had decided that I would try making it myself since there's not a lot of choices around here for such fare. So I got a cookbook and started to collect the ingredients. I dutifully went to the Asian store and asked the clerk to show me their finest bottle of fish sauce. And she showed me the most ornately decorated, largest and prettiest bottle of brown liquid you could ever imagine for $1.99. I bought it and took it home.
I was so anxious to see what this sparkling little beauty had in store for me, so first thing when I got home, I opened it for a taste.
It smelled so bad that I thought I was going to get sick. Panic hit me as I realized that our agent could schedule a showing of the house at any time. And having something that foul in the house almost guaranteed sooner rather than later. This stuff could not stay.
And if I threw it in the trash, the garage would smell like rotten fish, so I did the only thing a sane person would do. I buried the bottle in the flower garden out front.
Some months later after the new owners had settled in, I noticed driving by that they were having all new landscaping done in the yard. I couldn’t help but smile as I passed, thinking of young Jorge digging up my buried treasure and thinking it was some long lost bottle of fine booze. I’d pay for the experience of seeing his face when he un-capped that bad boy.
It wasn’t until later when I read Kasma Loha-unchit’s book on Thai cooking, Dancing Shrimp that I found out that a good fish sauce doesn’t smell like that. It smells like walking on the beach. And the brand I use now, Squid Brand Fish Sauce, smells just like that.
Some of you know that I am a real fan of southeast Asian cuisine. And I had decided that I would try making it myself since there's not a lot of choices around here for such fare. So I got a cookbook and started to collect the ingredients. I dutifully went to the Asian store and asked the clerk to show me their finest bottle of fish sauce. And she showed me the most ornately decorated, largest and prettiest bottle of brown liquid you could ever imagine for $1.99. I bought it and took it home.
I was so anxious to see what this sparkling little beauty had in store for me, so first thing when I got home, I opened it for a taste.
It smelled so bad that I thought I was going to get sick. Panic hit me as I realized that our agent could schedule a showing of the house at any time. And having something that foul in the house almost guaranteed sooner rather than later. This stuff could not stay.
And if I threw it in the trash, the garage would smell like rotten fish, so I did the only thing a sane person would do. I buried the bottle in the flower garden out front.
Some months later after the new owners had settled in, I noticed driving by that they were having all new landscaping done in the yard. I couldn’t help but smile as I passed, thinking of young Jorge digging up my buried treasure and thinking it was some long lost bottle of fine booze. I’d pay for the experience of seeing his face when he un-capped that bad boy.
It wasn’t until later when I read Kasma Loha-unchit’s book on Thai cooking, Dancing Shrimp that I found out that a good fish sauce doesn’t smell like that. It smells like walking on the beach. And the brand I use now, Squid Brand Fish Sauce, smells just like that.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Things I Have Learned By Being Stubborn
1. Schoolteachers will always win, even when they're wrong.
2. Girls worth having won't beg you to come back.
3. The boss at work will always win, even when he's wrong.
4. Other folks will pay a little more for something while you wait for a seller to come down on his price.
5. The cop that pulls you over will always win, even when he's wrong.
6. Your kids are going to become what they are no matter how hard you try to push them the other way.
7. You can tear a hole in your shirt trying to twist the cap off of a Heineken.
8. Your wife will always win, even when she's wrong.
2. Girls worth having won't beg you to come back.
3. The boss at work will always win, even when he's wrong.
4. Other folks will pay a little more for something while you wait for a seller to come down on his price.
5. The cop that pulls you over will always win, even when he's wrong.
6. Your kids are going to become what they are no matter how hard you try to push them the other way.
7. You can tear a hole in your shirt trying to twist the cap off of a Heineken.
8. Your wife will always win, even when she's wrong.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Going West, Young Man
Left the East, traveling West last night. Back from whence I came lo one year ago...
It's been a great year and I really enjoyed the "hot seat."
It's been a great year and I really enjoyed the "hot seat."
Monday, December 03, 2007
I Smoked Too Many Cigarettes This Weekend
"But you don't smoke," I can imagine you saying. And mostly you'd be right.
After a few years hiatus my Civil War selling partner and I decided to go to the Nashville show this weekend. I guess I haven't gone to one with him since I quit smoking in '02. And riding in a truck for five-plus hours, staying in a hotel room, and riding back with a chain smoker proved to be a little more stressful than I anticipated. I am so congested this morning, I can't quit blowing my nose and coughing. And my jacket smells like smoke. I wonder if I tumble it in the dryer with a static sheet if it will freshen it up?
I didn't buy anything at the show, but selling out of a briefcase turns out to be a pretty good strategy. In the past we'd always set up as dealers. And that makes for a long weekend, driving over, setting up on Friday and then manning the tables for two days, tearing down and driving back on Sunday. This time we decided to be "floor walkers." And I guess it adds a sense of urgency when you're showing someone something in your briefcase and they have minutes to decide about it before you walk off for good. It kind of throws a wrench in the "let me think about it and let you know later" strategy.
So I did fairly well at the show. We did some leisurely junking on the way back and got in about 9:00 last night. The little bride seemed happy to see me, and I surely was happy to see her as well. I think son1 was disappointed that I didn't bring him something to eat...
After a few years hiatus my Civil War selling partner and I decided to go to the Nashville show this weekend. I guess I haven't gone to one with him since I quit smoking in '02. And riding in a truck for five-plus hours, staying in a hotel room, and riding back with a chain smoker proved to be a little more stressful than I anticipated. I am so congested this morning, I can't quit blowing my nose and coughing. And my jacket smells like smoke. I wonder if I tumble it in the dryer with a static sheet if it will freshen it up?
I didn't buy anything at the show, but selling out of a briefcase turns out to be a pretty good strategy. In the past we'd always set up as dealers. And that makes for a long weekend, driving over, setting up on Friday and then manning the tables for two days, tearing down and driving back on Sunday. This time we decided to be "floor walkers." And I guess it adds a sense of urgency when you're showing someone something in your briefcase and they have minutes to decide about it before you walk off for good. It kind of throws a wrench in the "let me think about it and let you know later" strategy.
So I did fairly well at the show. We did some leisurely junking on the way back and got in about 9:00 last night. The little bride seemed happy to see me, and I surely was happy to see her as well. I think son1 was disappointed that I didn't bring him something to eat...
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Cranberries - not just a pop band anymore
My little bride looks great right out of the package. I think she's gorgeous dripping wet and straight from the shower. Her blue eyes are magnificent and her smile lights up the room. She doesn't need makeup, but somehow it makes her feel better. So, I abide it.
When she asks me if she looks alright, the answer is yes. But she only asks after she puts on the makeup so maybe she doesn't know that she looks wonderful before. Or maybe she doesn't believe me.
This morning as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed one of the little containers on the cabinet was labeled "concealer." Concealer? What is she trying to hide? I'm going to have to ask her about that when I get home tonight.
On another note, it looks like we're going to be hosting the fambly for Thanksgiving again this year. Yeah, mom and dad sold their house and moved into a retirement high rise, an old folks home of sorts, and they say I'm the only one with room for everybody. I think it's because my house is the closest to their new abode and they don't like to ride any farther.
So, I've got a great tom turkey thawing in my fridge, and most of the "emergency" remodeling done that the bride insisted had to occur before we have guests. I suppose that we're nearly ready. Certainly she will insist on some frenzied last minute house cleaning and life will be at a frantic pace until, oh, noonish on Thursday. When we all sit down together, I'm sure everything will be copacetic.
We thought about possibly putting a table out on the new deck in case some wanted to dine al fresco. The weather has been so nice this week. But the radio says this morning that a cold front is supposed to come through on Thursday so that sounds iffy.
As far as I know, there's still no cure for rabies, so there's that. And my new favorite word in the whole world is YIKES! Just saying or hearing the word yikes puts a smile on my face. How many words can you say that about?
When she asks me if she looks alright, the answer is yes. But she only asks after she puts on the makeup so maybe she doesn't know that she looks wonderful before. Or maybe she doesn't believe me.
This morning as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed one of the little containers on the cabinet was labeled "concealer." Concealer? What is she trying to hide? I'm going to have to ask her about that when I get home tonight.
On another note, it looks like we're going to be hosting the fambly for Thanksgiving again this year. Yeah, mom and dad sold their house and moved into a retirement high rise, an old folks home of sorts, and they say I'm the only one with room for everybody. I think it's because my house is the closest to their new abode and they don't like to ride any farther.
So, I've got a great tom turkey thawing in my fridge, and most of the "emergency" remodeling done that the bride insisted had to occur before we have guests. I suppose that we're nearly ready. Certainly she will insist on some frenzied last minute house cleaning and life will be at a frantic pace until, oh, noonish on Thursday. When we all sit down together, I'm sure everything will be copacetic.
We thought about possibly putting a table out on the new deck in case some wanted to dine al fresco. The weather has been so nice this week. But the radio says this morning that a cold front is supposed to come through on Thursday so that sounds iffy.
As far as I know, there's still no cure for rabies, so there's that. And my new favorite word in the whole world is YIKES! Just saying or hearing the word yikes puts a smile on my face. How many words can you say that about?
Friday, November 09, 2007
Hillary Loves Arkansas Part II
I told you a bit ago about Hillary Rodham's Clinton's headquarters here in Little Rock being in the basement, behind a rubber stamp company. You saw how she is showing us the love. You know, from her living here all those years and being married to the governor.
Today I did a doubletake as I drove by and saw the yard sale signs in front of her headquarters. I slammed on my brakes and ran in to see if they had some of Bill's underwear for sale. You know, some years back he itemized donations of underwear to the local Goodwill store for his income taxes. I think he valued them at $2 a pair or something like that. So I figured they probably need money since Hill's running for president or some office. I forget. And maybe they're selling their old underwear instead of donating it for a taxdodge break.
While I didn't find any of Bill's underwear, there was a pair of combat boots that I think may have been Hillary's. No, wait, she hates the military so scratch that. Probably Chelsea's.
I did see a guy down in front of the homeless shelter, two blocks down, that was wearing a pair of pretty expensive looking underwear on his head...
UPDATE: The LA Times thinks it's a good idea...
Today I did a doubletake as I drove by and saw the yard sale signs in front of her headquarters. I slammed on my brakes and ran in to see if they had some of Bill's underwear for sale. You know, some years back he itemized donations of underwear to the local Goodwill store for his income taxes. I think he valued them at $2 a pair or something like that. So I figured they probably need money since Hill's running for president or some office. I forget. And maybe they're selling their old underwear instead of donating it for a tax
While I didn't find any of Bill's underwear, there was a pair of combat boots that I think may have been Hillary's. No, wait, she hates the military so scratch that. Probably Chelsea's.
I did see a guy down in front of the homeless shelter, two blocks down, that was wearing a pair of pretty expensive looking underwear on his head...
UPDATE: The LA Times thinks it's a good idea...
Sunday, November 04, 2007
We live in a tough neighborhood...
Apparently these kids weren't trick-or-treating correctly...
...or maybe they didn't say "thank you."
...or maybe they didn't say "thank you."
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Hillary Loves Arkansas
Yeah, right.
I figured ya'll might want to see Hillary's Arkansas Headquarters. You'd think she might want it somewhere a little nicer than the basement in the back of a rubber stamp company. Or maybe that says something...
Oh, and all the cars in the parking lot? The parking lot belongs to the Little Rock School District and those cars are parked there even when the building is vacant.
I figured ya'll might want to see Hillary's Arkansas Headquarters. You'd think she might want it somewhere a little nicer than the basement in the back of a rubber stamp company. Or maybe that says something...
Oh, and all the cars in the parking lot? The parking lot belongs to the Little Rock School District and those cars are parked there even when the building is vacant.
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