For No REal Reason

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!

I was told recently by a member of the other side of the gene pool that men make noises when they are tired of waiting.  I didn’t know that.  I must have missed school that day or was late getting back from the playground when we had that lesson.

It appears from what my friend said there are a series of noises which indicate varying degrees of impatience or “let’s move along dear” sounds.  Some are little grunts, and she didn’t go into detail of what others might be.

I checked on Amazon to see if I could order a “Set of Noises Men Make When Tired of Waiting” but nothing was returned in the search results.

This has left me for my entire life using alternatives.

• I bring a book or magazine to read
• I find a seat or bench in the store
• I find a place up front by the door and count the tile or ceiling squares
• I wait to see how many people leave the store before “We” are ready to leave the store
• I count how many people go through the security thingy before someone sets off the alarm and doesn’t quite know what to do.  Some Freeze, some go back with bags open, some ignore it like someone’s car alarm just went off.

I never thought of making noises, low, guttural or otherwise.

After a life time of alternatives I don’t know if I could adjust to the noise making routines.  Especially if I was already using an alternative.  Just sitting on a bench in the mall making noises might be construed as something else especially if they were grunting sounds, low or otherwise.

It was like an annual rite of passage. The snow would fall and continue to build up in the ditches as the snowplows would come down the road as fast as they could navigate and giant plums of snow would cascade from the front of the plow at times appearing to blind the driver!

Every year it seemed a driver would get too close to the ditch and would take out (destroy completely) the mailbox and post.

Over the years dad tired a variety of different configurations.

• Set the pole back further
• Raise the pole up and extend an arm
• Paint the pole a bright red
• Get a bigger box (easier to see)

None of these seemed to work every winter same ritual.

It was after I had left home and gone off to college I noticed once again Dad had a new mailbox and post.  But this wasn’t just a mailbox post it was like he had sawn off a 12″ tree and mounted the box on top of it.

There was a slight curve to the post putting the box exactly where the mailman (yes, back then they were all called mailmen) could reach it easily from their mail truck.

When I got in the house I asked Dad about the new mailbox (always a bone of contetion.  He said last year it was snapped off as usual and this past fall he had to cut down a large locust tree.  (Locust trees are hard wood and back in Ohio the bark is stripped from them and they make exellent fence posts.)

He decided it was going to be his new mailbox post instead of fuel for his stove in the garage.

He cut it so it was almost 10 feet long and dug one very deep hole and poured cement around the post and mounted the mailbox on top of the post.

I ask him if he thought this one would last.  He said “Yep, I think this one will last.”

I asked why he thought so, here is what he said.

“About a week ago we had a couple of snow storms and the trucks were coming down the road every couple of days.  Then we had one really big storm and the ditches were already getting pretty full.  I was watching from the window when the truck came down the road and I could tell he was going to hit the mailbox post.  He did, and when he did his truck spun right around in the road and landed in the ditch.  My mailbox post never moved.  I don’t think he will be hitting my post again.”

When mom and dad moved from Ohio to Tucson that mailbox and post were still at the end of their driveway.  It was never hit again by a passing snowplow : )

I hear a lot about print media being a dead media. For some advertising I can see why this would be said.

I also wonder about some who spend their advertising dollars in a media where they are brutalized by the publication. For Example: Would the Beef Council advertise “What’s for Dinner Tonight” in the PETA monthly magazine?

But it is obvious to me there are some things you can advertise in local print media which will still catch your eye.

So how many times did you look? Did you count them?

Did you find this post hard to read or were your eyes drifting to the “Print Media”?

This is how I win at Scrabble.

• I Play a Dog,
• I Bore the Dog,
• I Distract the Dog,
• I Win.

Simple, but effective : )

I know it is hard to believe with the price of gas, milk, bread, eggs, rice rising so quickly it slipped up on me that Dino Dung was more than doubling in price. Some would say buying dino dung, even fossilized 130 million year old dino dung was a waste of money.

But look what a good investment it would make. The estimated going price for two small pieces of dino dung was $450 and they sold for $960. Almost $1000. Who would have thought 130 million years ago it would be worth this much today?

None the less, I’m worried, with this rapid inflationary effect upon Dino Dung it doesn’t bode well for the price of food or kitty litter.

I saw this ad for Seniors with hip and knee replacement therapy needs. But the wrapped part of my sense of humor kicked in and I took the title and created this card. If you read it and someone you know comes to mind. Go ahead and copy and send it to them. I don’t mind, honest. : )

I don’t look anything like Ralphie, do I? I was looking through my first photo album as a photographer. The picture was taken in Apr. 1959 when they would print the month and year in the white fancy cut border around the photo.

Please tell me I don’t look like him.

I have the glasses and the haircut it is combed back like his.

I had the bb gun. But I never shot my eye out. I never had a pink bunny suit either. It must be those socks, that’s it.

It isn’t me, right?

I don’t know why I thought of this while eating breakfast this morning but when I did it made me chuckle. 

When I was in the 5th grade choir was “MANDITORY”  Yep everyone went to choir and I hated it.  The big Christmas program was coming up, (not sure it was Christmas, maybe another reason to sing) and we had all these special assemblies to get ready for it.

It was at one of these large gatherings in the gym that I noticed one of my best friends wasn’t there.  The next time I saw him I asked “Hey where were you during choir today?”  He said he didn’t have to go any more.  His voice was changing and they let him stay in the home room during choir practice and read or study or do homework.

So what was this voice is changing deal I inquired, he said his voice just started cracking and he couldn’t sing high notes anymore.  Holy Cow that’s all.  The next time we had choir practice guess who’s voice started to crack and suddenly was singing off key?

The teachers were very nice about it.  They apologized to me as the escorted me from the gym and said it was all very natural and I would be okay.  I was FREE, I never had to go to another rehersal.  I had no idea what this was all about, but I loved it.  I’m sorry Mrs. McClelland, but I hated choir and singing and stuff.  I faked it. : )

Most of us know the Chinese proverb:

“Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”

I think a modern variation on this theme might be:

“Feed a man a fish you feed him for today. Teach him how to fish and he will wonder why you want him to work.”