For Everyone Who Ever Knew a Dog

Canis fidelis

When my toes are not exposed
On my fingers you do linger
With your little lapping tongue.

When my door is not ajar
With your paw you make a scar
An echo of your tiny “Let me in.”

When my day is not the best
In my lap you ask to rest.
Tell me all is well my warm and furry friend.

If you could you’d crack a grin
Instead, your leg begins to bend
As you roll and ask to have your tummy rubbed.

And when the day turns into night,
You don’t bark nor do you bite.
You know exactly where to lie and be on guard.

You were my fine and faithful friend.
We were together in the end.
I hope the same is said of me when I am gone.

For God’s Sake, Don’t Google That

My three-day bout with some sort of nasty bacillus-er-other has come to a close. Thank y’all for the many get-well wishes. What ever this thing or things was, presented a new symptom every day. I won’t go into the gory details, but to say, “For God’s sake, don’t Google your medical symptoms.” I did and it really messes with your head.

The body’s natural defenses have to get rid of all those nasty bugs so it’s natural that things smell differently at some point. I plugged in “odor” into Google and its handy “I’m guessing what you’re thinking based on things other people searched” feature filled out all sorts of weird guess. Just a side note, people who use Google, and that means everyone, are curiously dreadful people, including me.

After visiting a couple of the the top hits, I determined that I have one of the following:

• Celiac Disease though I’ve never had it before and it’s a genetic disorder.
• Advanced, Stage 3 liver cancer though you’d think I’d have noticed some other symptoms before now.
• Any one of several heavy metal poisonings from eating large amounts of certain fish which I don’t eat.
• Am possibly pregnant. Call the National Enquirer.

For now, I’m going with “it’s just my body getting rid of all the nastiness.” But all this got me thinking. It sure would be helpful if there were people out there who could make heads or tails out of all this mess. Sure, it might take a little more college to learn this stuff, possibly four years or more. In the end, these people would be able to help us figure out what’s ailing us and maybe even help us get well. They could even dress up in funny costumes like white coats and whatnot. Yeah, probably a pipe dream. Besides, when you’re sick, you don’t feel like getting out to see people anyway.

So kids, learn from my mistakes and stay off the Google for medical advice. If you believe everything you read on the internet, you’ll be doing surgery on yourself with a power drill and Swiss Army knife in your garage out of the fear that some ganglionic mass has taken over your pituitary gland. All because WebMD said you may have Nakajo syndrome. Well House, if you do have Nakajo syndrome, your parents were siblings and no amount of warnings will dissuade you from your self-surgery.

As for the rest of you, be well.

Oh, and if your armpits smell like tacos, the cure for that is “take a shower.” That’s a freebie from me to you.

Well, We’re Movin’ On Up

I’ve bemoaned my crappy digital camera for about as long as I’ve had it. The whining didn’t fall on deaf ears, either. My wife is a good listener and when she saw a good deal on a Kodak M420, she thought that would make the perfect “that’ll shut him up” Xmas gift. I’m glad she told me about it because I was about to buy a new camera for Xmas.

I was concerned that this one would be a piece of junk, too. You see, the one we have is one she got a really great deal on, too. So Xmas came early when it was delivered today. We needed to take if for a test spin so we would know whether to return it during the 30-day trial period.

In just four snaps, I was convinced to keep it. Not that any camera would have to do much to be better than the crappy Mustek we have, but this Kodak M420 takes pretty decent pictures.

It has:

• about 20 pre-set modes for various situation
• a tight/wide toggle under the right thumb
• a 27 second video w/ sound recorder (sound isn’t great)
• a big 3.5 inch (diagonal) LCD screen
• and best of all, a motion/blur stabilizer

The blur stabilizer is the feature I like best. With the old Mustek, I had to hold my breath for 5 seconds to get a decent shot. Plus, the Kodak takes much better close-ups than my old camera. Getting a good close-up is invaluable when putting pictures of items for sale on the web, which I do for my daughter’s craft site.

For a comparison here is a shot of my then-newly planted Angel Trumpets shot with the Mustek from about 4 feet away.

Angel Trumpet

Here is one of the Angel Tumpets today shot with the new Koday M420 using the zoom from about 18 feet away

Angel Trumpets in Bloom

Keep in mind, this was the third picture I took with my new camera, but I can already tell it’s going to take better pictures than my old one. Obviously, it’s not a professional’s camera or even a great personal piece of equipment, but when you’ve struggled for as long as I have with that Mustek P.O.S, anything is a step up.

I wish I had taken some before pictures of my chimney repairs, but here’s the after. You have to look closely to see that the side, which was what was replaced, isn’t exactly like the old siding (on the left and under the light). Much thanks to my cousin who gave me a family discount on the job.

Chimney Siding

Where Does the Crap in My Head Come From?

Seriously.

I woke up this morning with song lyrics in my brain. Woke up, mind you. I did not acquire these from my recent environment. I haven’t heard this song in years. Yet, there it was spewing out of my mouth as I made coffee, as I read my email, as I showered. It wouldn’t stop.

This brain worm would be understandable if it were something recent, but this song was released in 1968. It got jammed into my cerebellum sometime in the 1970s, probably from an album (yes, vinyl) I inherited from my sister. Why did it decide to produce itself fully formed this morning?

Now here’s where you laugh. The song is Tapioca Tundra. Never heard of it? I’m not surprised. It was written by Mike Nesmith. Yes, that Mike Nesmith of the Monkees. So I still have to wonder, why is there a Monkees’ song stuck in my brain at 6:40 AM?

Maybe because it’s really good poetry. Maybe because I was exposed to it as an impressionable youth. The specific lyrics I woke up with are:

And softly as I walk away
In freshly tattered shoes.
It cannot be a part of me
For now it’s part of you.

Sunshine, ragtime
Blowing in the breeze.
Midnight, looks right
Standing more at ease.

That’s all I could remember until the shower water hit my head. Then suddenly the first verse started gurgling out from under the water:

Reasoned verse, some prose or rhyme
Lose themselves in other times
And waiting hopes cast silent spells
That speak in clouded clues.
It cannot be a part of me
For now it’s part of you.

I was sure that no one else in the world remembered that tune. I had to be the only one who ever heard such an obscure song. So I went to our modern repositories of all things cultural, Google & YouTube. There were the lyrics as big as day on multiple lyric’s sites. YouTube is devoid of any original Monkee’s recordings, but a few covers exist there.

I’m not alone in my insanity. That’s comforting.

A Perfectly Lovely Day, Ruined by Starbuck’s Via

During my Saturday errands, I had the opportunity to stop in my local Starbuck’s coffee shop. Stop in, mind you, not drive through. My visit coincided with Starbuck’s launch of their new instant coffee, Via^®. I bypassed the taste test table and made straight for the counter.

I placed my order for a four-shot cappuccino. When counter-girl asked if I needed a receipt, I told her, “It is unnecessary for this transaction to included paperwork.” (I’m a big fan of Foamy the Squirrel). True to her training which I’m sure consisted of a 30-minute video complete with a speech from a Starbuck’s VP, counter-girl asked if I had taken the Via^® taste challenge. I politely told her that I have never found an instant coffee that tastes good. Her corporate-programmed response was, “Everyone says they can’t taste the difference.”

I’m not a coffee snob. I can’t tell a Kenyan from a Colombian, except I know one of them is in the White House. I even drink the weak, cheep Maxwell House^TM filter-pack brewed stuff provided at work. I only bought a bean grinder this, my 45th year, on the planet. My primary prerequisite for coffee is dark, strong, and hot. If there is sugar nearby, so much the better. That’s the extent of my coffee expertise, but I have never had instant coffee that tastes anything close to coffee.

I reiterated this fact to counter-girl, but the training video was stronger than the brewing espresso. She suggested that while I wait, I take the taste test. And since Starbuck’s grinds their beans under the cloven hoof of Beelzebub while you wait, I had a few minutes to kill.

Taste-test girl asked me if I’d like to take the test hot or cold. I told her, “Hot, but I’ve never tasted instant coffee that was any good.”

She replied, “Oh, everyone says they can’t taste the difference.” Now where have I heard that before?

She poured a paper shot-glass of a dark, black liquid. It was good…nectar of the god’s good. She poured another shot-glass from a different carafe and handed it to me. Being the expressive person I am, my face contorted and my body spasmed with the first sip. I was overtaken by the spirit of Shakespeare, clutched my throat, and cried, “I am poison-ed!”

Truly crestfallen, taste-test girl’s now long face asked, “You can taste the difference?”

“Dear God, yes! Number one was rich, delicious coffee. B was some sort of powdered gym sock extract suspended in hot water.”

I believe the looks I got from the Starbuck’s corporate drones were the official “banished to the drive-thru” stare. I was issued an ankle bracelet that automatically locks the doors of any Starbuck’s thus prohibiting my entry into any of their fine world-wide establishments.

If you find yourself in possession of Starbuck’s Via^® instant vileness, dispose of it as you would nuclear waste. You mustn’t let even one granule of this chromosome-damaging powder escape into the eco-system. And if you find yourself locked out of Starbuck’s, simply ask me to back away 50 feet.