To Dream the Impossible Dream

Hey, kids!  Difficult to believe I haven't posted in over two weeks. 

Okay, difficult for me, perhaps.  I know, however, that I've had these gaps before.  You've heard me mention before that I have no concept of the passage of time, and oh, how it's flying.  Of course, the last two point five weeks have held lots of excitement and little miracles.  I became an uncle on St. Patrick's Day.  Sure, I had nieces, my brother-in-law's children, but this is my sister's first and she's adorable.

Last weekend?  Our daughter gave went into labor and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy in less time than it takes us to drive from here to Wisconsin.  Three hours less, to be exact.  He was so brand-spankin'-new when I held him for the first time, and he's perfect.  I'm a proud grampa, can you tell?

This is not why you're here, though, dear reader.  I'm just making excuses to lengthen the post.  Think I ever had problems meeting those word-count requirements in school?

I had a dream the other night where I was working. This isn't unusual for me, for my job to creep into my REM-time. (Or when I'm sleeping, exhausted from my interpretive dance of 'Shiny Happy People'.)


But this was different, as it wasn't MY job, but instead a fabulous new opportunity. I was working at Waffle House.

I love the Waffle House. I take unabashed pride in my adoration for La Casa de Waffles. Breakfast, 24 hours a day. Seven days a week. Fifty-two weeks a year. Several years back, Lori and I celebrated Christmas Eve at the Waffle House. We took friends and family there, like it was some unholy mecca for all things waffled and delicious.

My dream gave me unlimited access to the biggest Waffle House I'd ever seen, or at least unlimited access to the parts I've already seen as a customer. Giant griddles, kettles of grits and gravy, waffle makers, it just makes me want to call out: "Mark: drop two, scattered, smothered covered, three scrambled raisin. Plate." I don't know just what I'm saying, I'm probably getting cheese and onions on my waffle and a raisin omelette, but hey, it's my dream and I'm ordering properly.



 Strange the pleasure I was able to take in wiping tiny fingerprints from the glass doors, in washing dishes and scraping grills, simply to be a part of the grand Waffle House experience (which I envision like the Jimi Hendrix Experience, with more carbs and less acid.)

Sure, it's an odd 'dream' job.  And I don't think I have the ability to learn a brand new vocabulary at this point in my life.  But I can dream.

We are bereft of waffle-y convenience here in the O-Hi-O, they exist but they're not at impulse distance anymore.  In my quest to make dreams a reality, I found that one cannot purchase a Waffle House franchise.  Every Waffle House in the world is still owned by the family of the original founders.  And there's no indication that they might consider changing that.  Good for them.

How about you, dear reader?  Dream job?  Amusing waffle-related anecdote?  Discuss.

The Great Wall of N

I like older homes, homes that have some character to them. I understand that 'character' usually means 'expense', and sometimes means 'big mess'.



When we moved to Florida, we rented a newer home, with a contemporary layout. This meant that all of the main living area, while technically divided by a half wall, was really one big room, and the secondary bedrooms and garage combined occupied less square footage than the master suite. Really. I could have stored the Spruce Goose in our master bedroom, and yet we had to walk sideways through the garage if we ever parked a car in there. Our neighbor would work on his truck at three A.M., and one time while I was on the road for work, the alarm system, which we never activated or armed, went off early one morning until Lori was able to rip the plug from the wall. Our yard shared its rear boundary with an open road where teens would drag race in the wee hours of the morning, because somewhere along the way, Floridians decided they no longer wanted big, private yards.

In contrast, the first home we bought after we were married was built in 1952 by Lori's grandparents. It was a beautiful home, with proper scale, division of public and private spaces, and views of the lake. It killed us to sell it. However, when we'd get a heavy rain, the window wells would fill up at the back of the house and flood the basement since the yard was dense clay sloped to the house. There was a fair amount of asbestos in the flooring, which wasn't an issue unless you ripped it up. We did. But the windows were original to the house, and better insulated and less drafty than newer replacements ever could have been. In winter, our roof was the only one in the neighborhood with a perfect blanket of snow instead of long icicles and patterned patches of bare roof. On those cold winter days, I chopped wood and we cozied up by the fireplace. We had great neighbors, every one of them. And it was home.


The next home we purchased, in Florida, was built in 1971. Again, the rooms were properly scaled, you could sit and read in the living room without being blown out by the television in the family room and the private spaces were separated from the public spaces. The public spaces all faced the side and back of the home, so there was never that 'on display' feeling that you get with some homes. And it wasn't perfect, but we did things to make it ours, made plans for additional changes, planted trees and flowers and had a certain level of home-y comfort surrounding us. The neighbors who made an effort to interact were great neighbors. It was 'home', for lack of anything better. But some of you may remember last December's plumbing fiasco. There went the Christmas budget.


Now in Ohio, we're renting again. The home was built in 1966, but refurbished before we moved in. It feels like home. Same pattern as above, separation, privacy, et cetera, nice yard, nice neighbors. We've done a little landscaping to make the front of the house more inviting, make the rear deck lush. We've bought other little things to make the house feel like ours.


But the deal with renting, the BIG deal, is all the little things. Our landlord is engaged, responsive, and seems to have a vested interest in our residential experience. The work he had done before we moved in was impressive. And when our wall oven died, when it just wouldn't light after 44 years of dutiful service, he had a service tech at the house that week. When it was determined that parts no longer exist, a new wall oven, an unusual and non-stock size was ordered. And when Jim and Jim showed up to install the new unit on Saturday, he was there as they finished to check out their work and settle their bill. He was there to call the landscaper, when the lawn wasn't coming in like he expected. He was there to call his handyman when an outlet proved to be dead. And all of these things come along with my monthly rent.


Sure, I enjoyed home ownership, but many of the aspects I enjoyed don't require ownership.  I mow my lawn, because I enjoy it. We planted plants and a Japanese maple because we like those items and it makes it feel more like home to us. We put up drapes, we're hanging pictures, I ran cable to the family room for our television, but in the end, any investment we make in our home now is our choice, and any of the big things can be deferred to a higher power. I don't have the stress of unexpected costs like the oven dying or a clogged main sewer line or a hailstorm ripping off shingles or the garage door coming off the track.


Because that's what rent is for.

Movin' movin' movin', keep them doggies movin'

When all is said and done, I think my hide may end up being raw, as well.  

This is the week of the big move.  The 'entrust all you own to someone who did a great job last time, but still worry that it won't get there' move.  The 'don't forget something, because you'll never see it again' move. 

And Florida's weather is cooperating nicely, achieving 95% humidity and 95 degrees every day.  The mutant Cuban tree monkeys frogs were out last night.  Thanks for helping me not miss you, America's Wang Sunshine State.  

We are, as I may have mentioned, Ohio-bound.  This will be a long but worthwhile week for us, as we caravan to the new home 1100 miles away.  

Talk amongst yourselves.  I'll be back soon, I've been working on a quiz for a while, but given as I don't have time to moderate my comments or reply to everyone's witticisms, it seems best to let that go for now.  Sad, since I've just hit 50 readers, and now there's no content-rich posts for them to read.

But hey, you could use the free time too, I imagine.  Consider it a gift.

Movie Mania Monday - Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains

A big hearty congrats to Mary, for officially identifying last week's quote from Bull Durham.   Of course, Samsmama, despite 'never watching movies', dropped a pretty big hint in the comments to indicate that she knew the film too, but refused to take credit.

I may not agree with her politics, but damn, did Susan Sarandon's legs look nice in this movie.  Oh, and there was some baseball, too.  Either way, if you haven't seen it, you probably should.

The weekend was kind of a bust, weekend-wise.  Worked on a few projects, which meant I spent about 15 hours staring at a computer screen without the benefit of a high score or viral YouTube goodness.  It was 85 and sunny on Saturday, less so on both counts Sunday.  But we're in peak allergy season in Florida, so it's not like I'm craving the great outdoors, anyway.  It has actually rained so much already this past week, the pool is within half an inch of overflowing.  I always wanted a 'negative edge' pool, but not this way.

Faithful readers are used to this by now, but we must always review for anyone just tuning in. Identify the film being quoted below using only your noggin. No Google, Bing, Altavista, Yahoo, Ask Jeeves, the like. If you're first, you win the peoples' ovation and fame forever, along with the coveted title of Iron Quote Guesser. Voici la quote de la semaine:

We just clipped a Piper Cub. Pilot's okay, I just saw him parachuting.

Allez guessing!

Movie Mania Monday - Just cut them up like regular chickens

Saturday was a beautiful, sunny Florida day. Tough to appreciate that when mulch was on sale, and buying 50 bags that have to be loaded onto a cart, into the truck, into the wheelbarrow, and then into the flower beds, that's 200 or so lifts. Check out my abs! (No, you don't really want to do that...)

The yard looks much nicer, though, and the roses are in full bloom out front. Still not sure what the deal is with the bush in back, it keeps growing and growing, but it just won't bloom despite fertilizer and encouragement. We lost so many tropical plants with the hard freeze this winter, though. I keep hoping a few more will re-emerge, the yard looks so plain. Another plus, though? Mower started on the first pull, even after sitting for four months.

Of course, I figured I could finish up the rest of the mulch on Sunday, once I was done with some work projects I've been fighting with during the week. Of course, after all the lifting on Saturday, I could barely move. Plus, it rained most of the day, and nothing says biting insects like rain and wet tree bark.

Today is our daughter Melissa's 21st birthday. Amazing how time flies so quickly by, I remember her and Steph being so tiny, so bright-eyed and innocent mischievous. Now Melissa tells me the beer I drink is nasty and that Bud Light is the be-all and end-all of deliciousness. She's young, she'll learn. Of course, at least as of when I wrote this, nobody ventured a proper guess last week's quote. What a shame. Netflix, anyone?

On to this week's contest. Once again, kids, let's review the rules. Identify the film being quoted below using only your noggin. Don't Google, don't Bing, don't Yahoo, don't Ask Jeeves. If you're first, you win the peoples' ovation and fame forever, along with the coveted title of Iron Quote Guesser. Voici la quote de la semaine:

The rose goes in the front, big guy.

Allez guessing! If this happened to be on over the weekend, I apologize for making life so simple for you. I picked the quote two weeks ago, as I did with next week's quote as well. Consider it a 'gimmie'.

Fun Fact Friday - Talk Amongst Yourselves

I'll give you a topic...how has the Internet allowed the world to become smaller, making my cross-country moves nearly insignificant in the lives of most people with whom I interact? Discuss.

Forewarned is forearmed. So are these guys.

I start a new job in less than two weeks, 1000 miles from our current home. We are selling our current home, and trying to find a nice place to live in parts unknown, so we can be full-time Ohioans by the second week of May. Before I start that new job, I have lots to accomplish in the current one, to make my departure less painful. (That's my ego, they're probably planning the party already.)

As such, I have no 'fun fact' today. Because nobody has taken advantage of the email button in the upper right to Ask the Nerdy Fat Guy the 'question of the ages', and because I'm a little preoccupied, there's very little in the way of content today.

Go read a book or two instead. It's good for you.

Please take this as an apology, dear reader. You mean the world to me, expressing your joy at each and every one of my new posts (unless it falls on a Saturday.) However, because of the amount of travel and work coming in the next two months, posts may be sparse. Some of you may be called upon to take up the torch, to fill in the gaps, nerd-wise.

On the up-side, my sister, who claims I currently "write too much" for her to keep up with, might actually start reading CDS again. One can only hope.

If she does, I'll be verklempt.

Check it out...

I may have mentioned, once or twice, that Lori is a photographer, something she pursues with great passion and talent. She recently started a '365 Days of Photos' project on her blog, and last week we moseyed out to the fairgrounds to get a night shot of the Cavalia circus tent.
Between posting that shot Monday night and checking her email Tuesday morning, Cavalia's national marketing firm (based here in Tampa) saw the shot and invited her to today's press review. This meant an almost private performance, and she was in heaven.

Go check her blog. Check it now. And don't be afraid to follow her, you'll be rewarded every day. Go!

Movie Mania Monday - Right. Now pay attention

Ah, finally a Floridian weekend to savor! Beautiful weather outside, LOTS of James Bond movies inside. This includes The Spy Who Loved Me, identified last weekend by the steel-trapped mind of Ms. In addition to Barbara Bach, TSWLM featured the second-best Bond car ever, beaten out only by the irreplaceable DB5. I mean, amphibious Lotus Esprit? Very cool, but it's no DB5. Just sayin'.

We went to the Florida Strawberry Festival on Saturday, horrible waste of time and money. Ten dollars apiece to get in to an over-sized midway alongside hordes of purveyors of the deep-fried arts. Even with that cover charge, they were still charging $5 a pop to ride the rides! I did have some excellent strawberry shortcake, a great piece of strawberry Napoleon, and 'Hog on a Log'. Great in concept, but not quite where it needs to be in the 'Food-on-a-Stick' developmental stages. Nicely grilled pork chop, bone-in, with a skewer run through it. In order to actually eat much of it, I had to pull it off the stick and eat with my hands. Mmm, sanitary. The most fun I think I had was watching the old guy make cinnamon rolls, forty at a crack.

We even wandered through the boring civic center. Oops, sorry, the (Arthur) Boring Civic Center. Appropriately named. A few vendors, a few thousand human cattle, and some of the worst FFA displays a three-year-old with a paste allergy could come up with.

Sunday was another beautiful sunny day, so Lori and I did about sixty miles on the bikes. I have the sunburn to prove it, too, my head feels like a lit match. Grilled burgers and chicken, watched some more Bond, and came into my office to wrack my brain over this week's quote.

This really is work, kiddoes, I don't just phone this in. Sure, there's a formula to it, but the art of finding a movie that's obscure enough that you won't get it right out of the box, offset by my need to be fair and not make this too difficult, it really does try the mind.

On to it, though. First, the rules. Movie quotes should be simple, so you may not consult the great Oracle of Google, or any of the other search engines on this fine planet. This is a long-time favorite film of mine, it brings back happy childhood memories. First person to correctly identify the original film source of the quote wins the peoples' ovation and fame forever, along with the coveted title of Iron Quote-Guesser. No movie characters quoting other characters, we want the original film source. Voici la quote de la semaine:

"Well, look here! You put more water in it next time!"

Allez guessing!

Movie Mania Monday - Call me some time when you have no class

Another nice weekend in America's most suggestively-shaped state. It was a beautiful sunny day today, and Lori and I took a drive up north, stopped for barbecue, then up through Dade City (one of the 100 top cities in the U.S. to retire in) and Trilacoochee (town motto: "With a name like Trilacoochee, who needs a motto?"), and discovered that Florida actually has some rolling hills. Who knew?

Congratulations to La Bev for correctly identifying last week's quote from Back to School. The '80's were a glorious time. Rodney Dangerfield at the peak of his career, and a nice Wisconsin backdrop. Dangerfield, Kinison, Vonnegut, Downey Jr., so many greats, now dead.

Wait, Robert Downey Jr.'s not dead? To be fair, he doesn't really qualify as 'great', either. It's not acting if you really are stoned out of your mind.

Now, onward to this week's quote. For those of you newbies, there are some rules. First person to correctly identify the original film source of the quote wins the peoples' ovation and fame forever (or for a week, we're fickle...), along with the title of Iron Quote-Guesser. No movie characters quoting other characters, but the original film source. No Googling, no asking Jeeves, either you recognize the quote and the film or you don't. There will be more quotes, don't give up. Snarky comments are always welcome, as long as they're accompanied by a guess. This week's quote:

What can I offer you? Sheep's eyes? Dates? Vodka martini?

Allez guessing!

Movie Mania Monday - You broke my heart. You broke my heart!

Ah, the incomparable Ms, identifying last week's quote from The Godfather: Part II. Excellent movie, tremendous locations and sets. I get sucked in every time it's on.
Sadly, though I teased some of you with Florida's beautiful weather yesterday, and announced my plans to go riding, Reuby just wouldn't start. I had the bikes out a month ago, and everything was just fine, so now with a fully-charged battery we'll try again at lunchtime today. That's more than I can say for Blogger this morning, it's being quite uncooperative.

Now for this week's quote (if it actually posts...). If you're new here, there are some rules. First person to correctly identify the original source of the quote wins the peoples' ovation and fame forever, along with the title of Iron Quote-Guesser. No movie characters quoting other characters, but the original film source. No Googling, no asking Jeeves, no Bing (you'd have to dig him up), either you recognize the quote and know the source, or you wait on the sidelines for your turn. Snarky comments are welcome, but should be accompanied by a guess. This week's quote, another easy one:

"Bring us a pitcher of beer every seven minutes until somebody passes out. And then bring one every ten minutes."

Allez guessing!

Rodgers and Hammerstein never saw it coming

As a child, the Wisconsin State Fair was always about the animals, and the WonderKnife demos, corn on the cob and then the cream puffs. I don't even remember eating anything else there as a kid, except for the one time I thought fried rice from a trailer seemed like a good idea.

It wasn't.

This year, we decided we should make the effort to make it to the Florida State Fair, it being, presumably, our last year in Florida. What we encountered was light years from anything either Lori or I have ever seen in our lives.

Wisconsin holds their state fair in August, a nice, summery month where we can wear shorts and enjoy cool lemonade and not get hypothermia. Florida, contrary to popular northern belief (or at least mine), is not this way twelve months a year. What started out as a tolerable 55 degree day descended quickly to 40 when the sun dropped. Thankfully, we were dressed for it. Our parents raised us well, and Wisconsin weather means you ALWAYS expect it to be colder than you think it could ever get.The fair did have the original Batcopter, and for $30 apiece you could get a 45-second ride around the fairgrounds. Sorry, but unless I actually get to use the Shark Repellent Bat Spray, it's not worth $3, let alone $30. They had removed the wings, too, so it wasn't until we were right up at the booth that we even knew it was anything other than an ordinary helicopter.

Upon entering the fairgrounds, though, the first thing we encountered was Cracker Country. The purpose of the exhibit is to preserve and celebrate Florida's rural pioneer heritage. Am I the only one who thinks this might be a wee bit racist? Just me? Okay, then. Old turn-of-the-century buildings, craftspeople, overpriced touristy crap, ideal. Kind of like Old World Wisconsin, only without the diversity. I must admit, it was tempting to send our friend Bob, the whitest white guy I know, a postcard from the Cracker Country post office.Once out of Cracker Country (and am I the only person relieved they elected to keep the traditional spelling?), we emerged into the sea of food stands that comprises about 80% of the remaining fairgrounds. If it can be deep-fried, you can buy it from about 200 different vendors. Elephant ears and funnel cakes shared space with the more modern deep-fried Oreos and Twinkies, and the 18" corndogs shared their batter-dipped goodness with Swedish meatballs, bratwurst, Polish sausage and more. The fried green tomatoes were excellent, but I didn't try the deep-fried pickles from any of the vendors offering them up. Fried cookie dough, battered and fryolated bacon, fried butter, Hostess cupcakes, Ringdings, Mars bars, Pepsi Cola, potatoes both French- and spiral-cut, tons of pizza, tacos in a bag, barbecue from all regions of this fair nation, strawberry pies, shortcake, cheesecake (which could also be had deep-fried or chocolate-dipped on a stick), and grilled Italian, German and Polish sausages with peppers and onions, cheesesteaks, and a vendor making a killing selling cheap frozen burgers, fried and mashed into a Krispy Kreme donut for $6.50. For another $1.50, you could add cheese and bacon, but I will not sully my first Lutherburger experience by going on the cheap. Deli sandwiches from far and wide, including the ubiquitous Cuban. There were more turkey legs than I've ever seen, piled high next to grills and smokers. There was a pork chop on a stick. There was even the official 'Fried Wisconsin Cheese' wagon that usually graces the south entrance of the Wisconsin fairgrounds.

Disappointed was I, denied gator on a stick, denied any signature 'Florida Flavor', some gimmick that would suck me in for something unique, something that won't appear anywhere else.

Surprising, too, was the ratio of elements. Five Ferris wheels, but barely a sampling of livestock. Had we not been so tired from our six hours of wandering, we would have made it back to the freak show, with the world's tallest man, the gorilla girl, and one of the original Oompa Loompa's eating fire, all 39" of him. We missed the world's smallest horse, because I think $2 a person is too much to ask for a goat with a mane hot-glued to his head. There were funhouses and Whizzers and Himalayas and all manner of spinning, shaking nauseaters. When the nation's carnival companies winter in your back yard, I suppose there wouldn't be a shortage of rides, (ahem) scams, weight-guessers and side-show attractions, would there?

There were some animals, exotic chickens and lop-eared rabbits, goats and sheep and llamas and Watusi cattle and a six-day-old Guernsey calf, we saw a few horses but everything is so cordoned off, not like Wisconsin where we spent our childhoods walking right up to animals to pet them. We saw newborn piglets suckling with fury, fighting for prime position. They had exotic animals, wallabies and giraffes, frantic to eat the overpriced carrots being sold.

More than anything else, Lori and I got sucked into the mechanical bull riding tent. It's insane how much money this thing makes! $7 for your chance to ride the bull, for as long as you can or until the barker decides you've used your $7 wisely. Little kids, teens, grown men and women alike, $7. Make your eight seconds? You're done. Next? It was nice to see he was gentle with the little ones, let them enjoy themselves until they couldn't hang on any longer. Want a photo? That's another $7. Want a DVD of your eight seconds of glory to show to all your friends? $10. Lori and I watch for better than half an hour, for sure.

Every state fair should have one.

Movie Mania Monday - Okay, who brought the dog?

I feel for so many of you, dear readers, I really do. Even growing up in Wisconsin, I couldn't conceive of a 40-inch snowfall. Let's hope those of you who've been shoveling all weekend get a bit of respite. It's been cool here, at worst. We had several glorious days of 70-degree sunniness, and I even grilled burgers last night like it was summer. Charcoal's where it's at, people.

Last week, Samsmama was the first of many to identify the quote from Ghostbusters, and probably did so while wrapped in her Snuggie. A brilliant film from my childhood and yours, 1984 was a great year. Just ask George Orwell. It was a great retro-movie watching weekend, too. Saw bits of Striking Distance, before the 'disenchanted police officer with a heart of gold' character became too cliche for us to endure another Bruce Willis movie. Watched Hard Target, John Woo's first American film and featuring everyone's favorite action hero, Wilford Brimley. Oh, and Jean Claude Van Damme was in it too. Finally saw American Psycho last night, uncut on IFC and exquisite. Makes me want to go buy a Huey Lewis cassette or two and have new business cards printed.

Lori baked another pie this weekend, since we polished of her cranberry apple masterpiece on Friday. This time she drew a recipe from the 'Retro Pies' book we received as a shower gift from our friend Julie. I wasn't sure about it at first, but I think it could be a winner. Virginia Real Whiskey Apple Pie is somewhere between a custard tart and a liquored-up panna cotta, and I've never had anything quite like it. This is definitely not an office pot-luck pie.

I had a productive weekend, can you tell?

Ah, but here we are, finally, at the new week's quote. You've been so patient, dear reader. Remember the rules. First person to guess correctly the original source of the quote wins a prize - no movie characters quoting other movies. No Googling or asking Jeeves, either you know the quote or you don't. The prize is a Major Award and consists of the people's ovation and fame forever (and the title of Iron Quote-Guesser):

"I don't know what we're gonna do with all these rabbits..."

Because I don't want to seem cruel, I'll give you some hints. They're probably not helpful hints, but they're hints all the same. The film in question has been referenced in a Random Acts of Thursday quiz from last October that nobody even tried to answer. The actor who spoke this line has spoken at least one other Movie Mania Monday quote this year, a pretty small window. These don't narrow it down much, but it could be of some assistance if you do your homework correctly.

Allez Guessing!

And what is the Ponz? He's cool.

Correctamundo.

The times, they are achangin' here at Cheesehead Displacement Syndrome. Once upon a time, the concept was that blog tags would allow you, dear reader, to find those items of greatest interest to you, to neatly flag and categorize my brilliance. Click on a tag for 'bacon', for example, and you get a list of salty, smoked belly goodness.

However, much like the obvious 'Contents may be hot' label on a McDonald's coffee cup, we will be discontinuing the use of the 'nerd' tag for the duration. Because really, I feel like I've been overusing the tag, resulting in an overwhelming mountain of posts for anyone searching the nerdosphere.

As an example of my ever-present nerdiness: After reading news articles, I've come to the logical conclusion that hard work is for suckers. I live in want, a victim of our materialistic society instead of one of its beneficiaries. Where's my reward for a life of ease and shortcuts? How can I best profit from the human need for something for nothing, leveraging both humanity's greed and inherent laziness? After all, one of my co-workers just pulled in with a brand new shiny BMW 7-series this morning, while my old Buick is becoming increasingly temperamental in this un-Floridian cold snap.

As such, I'll be starting a Ponzi scheme immediately, consequences be damned. On December 26, 1919, after spending two whole years trying to earn an honest living, Carlo (or 'Charles', if you prefer) Ponzi established a firm called The Security Exchange Company. He boasted a return of 50-percent interest in 90 days, and the world wanted in on it. And who wouldn't? Paying old investors this return from funds given to him by later investors, Ponzi didn't invent the scam but instead perfected it. He took in $20 million in a few short months, equal to $222 million in current dollar values, and when he fell, six banks crumbled with him.

However, until he was arrested, Ponzi lived the high life. As did Bernie Madoff, who sustained his house of cards for decades before being called to task. And whoever this guy was.

Granted, I'm not looking for 300 cars, a pair of luxury yachts, penthouse apartments (or models) or anything of the sort. But a little taste of the easy life would be cool.

Please send large denominations, non-sequential bills, unmarked and wrapped in a leather jacket. I'll make it worth your while. Really.
Aaaaayyyyyy.

Number 4 - Crunchy Frog (updated)

A little one, yes. Not even sealed in a succulent Swiss quintuple smooth treble cream milk chocolate envelope and lovingly frosted with glucose. Just a little frog, frozen to my pool deck yesterday morning.


And then when I got home from work and took the Dammit outside, there was another. Lori informs me that one has managed to move a whopping ten feet during the day. But the little one has entered a hibernatory (or dead) state right on my pool deck, where I found him yesterday morning.

I know that in my general state of 'All God's Creatures, Great and Small', that it's probably wrong of me to giggle with delight. But that hasn't stopped me. These are the same frogs that inhabit my patio umbrella all summer long, that keep me up all night with their croaking, that are covered in poisonous slime and coat my entire pool with their sticky, slimy black eggs.

Take that, nature.

*****UPDATE*****

Both frogs in question are dead, Jim. As is the third one, frozen mid-leap and stuck to the solar cover of the pool. I'll have to take on the unsavory task tonight of frog disposal, including likely removal of additional frogcicles from under the closed umbrella.

Fun Fact(ish) Friday - Smells Like Teen Spirit, Tastes Like Chicken

Ah, the first post of a new year. Yesterday was long and painful, I managed to dump my little airline cup of Diet Coke into my crotch on the first leg of our trip home, where I was firmly planted in the middle seat. That was pleasant, at least I know what I'll look like when I'm eventually old(er) and incontinent. As will the next person who got that seat after me, I suppose.

The Popeye's Chicken in the Atlanta airport has the best chicken of any I've found so far, it must be the copious amounts they sell so I always get freshly fried chicken. Mmmm, chicken.

We landed just before midnight, it was fun to see all the fireworks going off around the city from that vantage point. We got home and, to be celebratory, opened the bottle of 'Asti of Unknown Origins', since it's nothing I'd ever buy purposely, and found that I have misplaced or given away our champagne flutes. They might be in a box, along with many of our other possessions.

But oh, what greater pleasure is there after a long trip than coming home to a clean, quiet house and sleeping in your own bed, with your own pillows and your own surroundings? I'm still a little crispy-fried from the trip, trying to rehydrate and make this throbbing headache subside. The rain is plopping and glorping against the concrete outside, and it sounds like an active deep fryer against the solar cover on the pool.

Happy new year, dear readers.

I'm not a plumber, but I'll take a look...

Author's note: Your regular 'Random Act of Thursday' will not be seen today. Instead we bring you the following heartwarming tale of home maintenance.

I hate the smell of sewage in the morning. Smells like…failure.

Lori called me yesterday to tell me that the dishwasher had backwashed and flooded the sink cabinet with its leavings, thanks to some previously inept plumbing work. I touched the hose from the dishwasher to the disposal, which promptly fell off the disposal into my hand. I tapped the sink trap, which promptly dropped from the disposer and out of the wall.

We’ve been fighting with a minor clog for a while now, but I couldn’t figure out how one side of the sink would work just fine, and the other did its best to attract mosquito larvae by standing for long periods of time. I tried fixing this myself yesterday, and finally broke down and called the plumber when my 'Junior Plumber Fix-It Kit' snake couldn’t get past the resistance in the drain.

This is not the first time we’ve had to call a plumber for this sink - click here for last year’s saga.

Forty feet of professional drain snake later, the sink was draining, swirling away all Coreolus-like, and all was well with the world. I managed to scrub the stink of failure (and sewage) from my hands, cough up $175 for his time, and went to sleep thinking we were groovy.

Cut to this morning, nice hot shower, refreshing, new day has dawned, and the like. However, when I opened the shower curtain, I saw the lake where once was our bathroom floor. The water going down the shower drain was forcing its way back up through both toilets and running over the wax rings. Sixty feet of larger scale professional drain snake from the street (and $200) later, we can once again flush with minimal trepidation. Ah, the joys of home ownership.

Can’t you just hear Wagner playing in the background?

It's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care.

So I promised everyone over at Bev's place that I'd show you my official workspace, where I do the stuff that goes with that whole employment thing I have going on (and sometimes things like this that don't).


So here goes.

Yes, there are two cups on my desk. What you can't see behind the monitor are two water bottles and another cup. I'm down to one stress ball on the desk, the rest have been safely hidden away in one of the drawers. To the right is my perpetually-knotted headset. Mustn't forget the blatant product placement hanging on the wall! You can't see the second stapler, the black mark at the very left of the desk, which is my Milton-tribute Swingline. For looks only. The plastic fork is for jump-starting my little desk fan when it decides not to spin. And yes, I'm one of those ergonomic keyboard nerds.


Like you're surprised.

And then there's my Get Fuzzy collection, things that make me chuckle when I'm feeling blue. And a business-card-sized piece of Velcro. If I knew why, I'd tell you.

And I think I may have mentioned the leaky ceiling. Maybe.

Because this is my workplace, I don't have copies of my unfinished novels lying about, those are in the other office. My desk used to be far worse clutter-wise, but since I travel as much as I do, I try to keep it tidy(er). We also have a new 'clean desk' policy, requiring anything potentially secure to be locked away at night. In my case, if I put something in a drawer, it ceases to be useful, and will eventually go into the locked shred bin.

Because that's how I roll, yo.

Sunny Funday Foto Festivus

We already know I have the photographic skills of a deformed tree sloth with the DT's. Well, thanks to Bev, you get to visit some of the other shortcomings in my life. Namely, my 'office'.

I've mentioned this elsewhere, but there's a reason I do most of my writing on the laptop, either sitting at the coffee table in front of the television or at the kitchen table. Having a secure wireless network in the house is a great blessing.

Yes, in lieu of a desk, I was typing on top of my (fully stocked) wine storage fridge.

In the closet of my office.


I don't take all the blame for this, though I suppose it is much my fault. I am a hoarder, though I reduced the number of useless things I save before we moved to Florida. Doesn't change the fact that we don't have a basement.

This pile consists of both Lori's and my collected library of a few hundred volumes, many hardcovers; many of my childhood collections; Lori's lighting rig for when she converts her office to studio space; assorted holiday decorations (including enough ornaments to decorate five trees), extra kitchen chairs, luggage, drapes, unhung artwork, empty bins...
And portions of my bone collection.

Feel free to revel in my crapulence. I do have a desk, it's currently in a dozen pieces in the garage until I can get it sanded, polished and laquered. Eventually, there will be 'after' pictures. Prepare to be amazed, just don't prepare too quickly. For contrast, check out Lori's office just so you know we're not just crazy 'shack-and-manifesto' people.

On a completely unrelated note, is it just me, or are they running Christmas ads earlier than normal this year? Couple that overload with yesterday's 80-plus sunny, breezy weather, and I'll be lucky to get in the holiday spirit at all come December.

Serenity now.

One miserable, murky Monday

Because cloudy is the weather. Both out there, and in my brain. I leave for Ohio shortly, and even though I've known about this trip for a month or more, I just booked my hotel this morning. I can only hope I get the scenic overlook of Lake Erie the city boasts.

However, the weekend was bliss. We had clear sunny days, cool crisp evenings, and a lot of fun. Thursday we started the Florida Wildlife Watch after picking up Bob and Diane at the airport and heading to dinner overlooking (and overhanging) Tampa Bay. The restaurant lights the water, and since I'm sure plenty of people feed the fish off the patio, it attracts swarms. Huge catfish and a little manta ray.

Friday started off a little slow, because the Dammit had to go to the vet for scratching a hole in the side of his head. Like he needs another one of those. "It stops the scratching of its skin, or else it gets the cone again!" We now have a cone for regular use, and he's also on antibiotics and got a cortizone shot. Dammit the high-maintenance doggy, and the reason we can't have nice things, apparently.

Saturday we wandered about Busch Gardens, and since Lori and I hadn't been there since 2008, there were lots of new things to see and do. I don't do roller coasters, since if given the choice, I don't even do elevators, but Lori and Bob got to ride them all to their hearts content. And I got to do the Land Rover Safari, though the river segment was 'closed'. I have always taken this to mean 'non-existent but it sounds cool', since the ride has been closed every time we've gone. Still fun, since I could almost pet the zebras we were so close. Even got to grill out, big juicy burgers and fresh sweet corn. It was just like summer!

Yesterday we spent the whole day driving along and shelling at the beaches along the Gulf. Growing up swimming in Lake Michigan, I'm still in awe that I can set foot in the ocean in mid-October and not lose a toe to frostbite. We were late, so all the retirees had hit the beaches and snapped up the best picks already, but everyone still found a few gems. We also got to watch the little baby clams feed along the shore and then bury themselves in the sand as the waves came in. Oooh, nature. Sweet, delicious nature.

It was great to have friends visit, especially since it seems we won't be in the Sunshine State much longer (and that's a good thing, it really is). It was nice to take advantage of it from an outsider's viewpoint again, because of course, being a tourist is the best part of Florida, and we could actually enjoy it for a change.

Fun Fact Friday - Snot clots are not hot

Friday, Friday, Friday! Weighing in as bright and sunny, another beautiful day in the desert. And bonus, another dead wrestler trading blog!

This time, it's the clash of the politically incorrect ethnic stereotypes!

Fritz von Erich, the Iron Claw...

...versus Wahoo McDaniels!

Trade with your friends! Fun for the whole family, except for your creepy uncle Francine. Void where prohibited by good taste.

I have yet to see 'The Wrestler' with quintessential everyman, Mickey Rourke, but I saw him talking about the cutting that went on to make the matches more exciting. Because blood equals excitement.

Come on, you HAVE to love The Crusher!

Couple that with my visit to the Nevada desert this week, when I'm not yet accustomed to the dry air. My sinuses spent the first five days of the trip crusted with dried blood. This is, of course, normal. Unusually dry climates, especially when one's body is unfamiliar with a lack of humidity (gee, thanks, Florida!), can cause the tiny little vessels in your sinus cavities to rupture, causing nosebleeds.

Of course, the more common cause of nosebleeds is slightly less analog. As in "more digital"...

Yes, I have my nerd hat on today.

And I've been waiting for ages to use this picture:

Notable nosebleeds in history include Attilla the Hun, who drowned in his own blood after suffering a nosebleed in his sleep. And people say history is boring.