Hell of a Guy
I find that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have. - Thomas Jefferson

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Pushing Seventy…


I realized last night I am closer to being seventy-years old than being sixty.  I really felt it last night.  Here are the details: I am in Dallas, and last night I was out late, way later than my norm.  I decided to have a beer at a place near my hotel named Humperdinks.  Actually, I had two.  Two Humperdinks IPA’s and a small pizza to go with them.  I was tired, probably because of the very early hour I got up and the very early morning hour I decided I wanted a nightcap, or was it a morning cap?  In any event, I drank my brewskis, ate my pizza, asked for and signed my check, bid a farewell to the bartender, and stood to leave.  This is where it gets good.

As I stood and pushed back on the stool, the back legs of it apparently caught on the floor tile somehow, the stool went backwards, my feet went forward, and my ass went up in the air, depositing me on the floor.  The stool hit the terra cotta floor with a very loud report, causing the entire population of the restaurant and bar to look in my direction.  Several bar guests rushed to my side, asking me if I was okay.  I was not.  My ego was hugely bruised, and my face a deep crimson with embarrassment.  Two beers, no buzz, but I was indeed very mortified.

I remember my folks falling more often as they aged.  Is this to be my fate?  I can tell you one thing, if this is going to be how it is for me, I sure as hell will drink more and really play the part of the “falling down drunk.”

And that is all I have to say about that…

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Big “D” Here I Come…


Window seat, 28,000 feet above the surface, right side – Row 16, American Flight 1614.  Summer haze and clouds make it tough to see the ground.  There even seems to be a haze above the plane partially blocking the sun.  We have just flown over the Mississippi.  It is a smooth flight, the seat-belt sign is off.

I am on my way to Dallas, and this is a pleasure trip, a pilgrimage of sorts.  I am on my way to “The Place That Shall Not Be Named.”  Yes, I know back in the beginning of the year I swore up and down not to mention that certain place in Dallas, and especially the reason I love it so.  However, this may be the only exception I could possibly come up with.  You see, a very good friend of The Nancy’s and mine is there doing what The Nancy and I did there about five years ago.  Mrs. B. is completing the second in a series of workshops on personal growth and development, and I am going for her graduation (more like the closing ceremony). 

Actually, I am going for me.  The Nancy and I had hope to do this together, but Mrs. B. was unable to attend with her first workshop comrades, and waited a cycle to do the second…I am trying so hard be innocuous.  Well, her plans foiled ours.  The Nancy is on her way back to The Farm from spending a few days in New York City with her daughter and granddaughter, thus, I go alone.

I really don’t mind making the trip as a bachelor; I have made the trip alone several times since my first trip in November 2004.  I can use the time to re-ground myself in the principles of “living in the present and being in the now” and “taking full responsibility for what happens to me in my life.”  I will be reacquainted with what it means to be head over heels in love with me – of who I am and what I am about, and how this and only this allows me to love unconditionally, and also not to judge others.  It will remind me I am the only source of my happiness.  It is the best day, ever.
It will also remind me that “Talk don’t cook rice.”  http://www.millennium3education.com opps!,  I forgot I was not to mention the name.  Sorry!

And that is all I have to say about that…

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Today it’s Pittsburgh…


I left The Farm this morning and drove 154 miles west to the ‘Burgh.  The drive from Beautiful Downtown Berkeley Springs, West Virginia is an easy one.  It is just a hop, skip and a jump up route 522 to I-70.  I-70 heading west becomes I-76 at Stanton, PA, and from there it is a stone’s through.  It is one of the prettiest drives you could want to make, and I just love it anytime I get to make it.  The route goes through the mountains of western Pennsylvania, and this is one of the best times of the year, other than fall, to make it.  The drive is therapeutic.

At this very moment I am sitting in my room on the 17th floor of the Hilton Hotel in downtown Pittsburgh.  The view outside my window is 180 degrees of my view from my family room at The Farm.  There I see flowing fields and gracious mountains.  Here I see people peregrinating the streets of Pittsburgh while monsters of concrete and brick and glass protect them from ever having to see the bucolic countryside.  This is a nice place to visit, as the saying goes, but I’ll be damned if I would ever live here.  I suppose not many of those little beings walking around seventeen floors down would trade places with me to live near a town with a population of just 711 permanent souls.  They probably think me just as crazy to live on a farm in West Virginia as I do of them living in this hustle and bustle, crime-ridden venue.  But then again, we do not have micro-breweries in Beautiful Downtown Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, population 711.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Monday, June 01, 2009



I was in Green Bay, Wisconsin awaiting the departure of United 5960 on Friday.  It was a beautiful day to be in Green Bay, and probably the most perfect time of the year to be there.  The sun was shining brightly and the sky was full of puffy, white clouds. It was in the 70s.  That part of the country is unbelievably flat.  There is absolutely no undulation in the topography.  But it is very green this time of the year, bright green to be exact. 

I was only there two nights, Wednesday and Thursday, and I enjoyed Green Bay, at least what I saw of it.  I did not get to see very much of the city, actually there isn’t a lot to see.  Green Bay is not a very large town, but I did go to the hallowed ground of Lambeau Field, home of the legendary Green Bay Packers, and the Titletown Brewery, home of legendary beer, according to the menu. 

Being more of a beer fan than a football fan, the brewery was the highlight of the trip.  I didn’t tell anyone my true feelings about beer versus football.  Here in Green Bay people worship football – it is almost a religion, much as beer is to me.  I also didn’t tell people here that they talk funny.

And that is all I have to say about that…