Dalmatians are an interesting breed of dog. They’re noble looking, sleek, and groomed to run along English carriages of the 18th and 19th century. They’re famously inbred to attain the perfect blend of black spots and white fur, and they tend to be skittish and ill-tempered, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.

I gave a dalmatian the circumstances this morning. Proceed at your own risk »

(Get your mind out the gutter, potty mind. I’ll explain below.)

On the ride to work the morning, a couple of things caught my eye and made me say, “Hmmmmm.”

The Carson Nugget installed some new electronic slot machines called, “Trailer Park Party.” These machines have a characature of a chubby white guy with a beer and a sleeveless (torn) white t-shirt. What are the manufacturer and the Carson Nugget thinking? What’s next? Barrio Boogie Nights? Get-down Ghetto Gala? Those examples may be a little extreme, but so are the slot machines.

Proceed at your own risk »

Had a good ride this morning. Went to Smith’s to get healthy stuff and shampoo, having left my other one in the gym last week, and rode with intermittent spurts of energy. Funniest sight this morning: big, honking semi-truck hauler walking his itty, bitty little dog who was wearing on orange t-shirt (the dog, not the dude).

After the Big Move yesterday, my back was again reminding me of its existence, so I go up early this morning so I could soak in the spa at the gym (which is right next door to where I work). As I write this an hour or so later, I’m still not quite awake after the soak. Since work is not challenging right now, all is good.

Proceed at your own risk »

Today is Aunt Lilly’s birthday, and what better way to honor her than spend it grunting and groaning over some heavy frinkin’ furniture? Well, wasn’t doing much else, anyway.

Liz and I finally got motivated around 1000ish and drove both vehicles over after taking the center seats out of the van (which are still in the garage…somewhere). We got on a roll with the twenty or thirty bins, loading them up and unloading them in the garage. For the last trip, we shoved as much as we could in the van and packed it tight. Then the darn thing’s engine wouldn’t turn over. It was dead.

Proceed at your own risk »

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Aunt Lillian Musclebound Fruitbat!!! Girlfriend, you may not agree but you look damn good. In my mind, you’ll always be, in some way, the college undergraduate who visited us at Fort Lee in the 1960s. You were (and are) the coolest thing on four wheels (I still remember your VW bug and Sunny). :-)

That’s Aunt Lilly’s baby picture and she’s the blonde in the picture from yesterday’s blog.

Low and slow this morning, getting ready to go over to storage. Gotta do some grunting, masculine lifting. Maybe later I’ll head over to the gym later for a long soak in the spa. And a crappy movie. Love crappy movies.

Another prescription when you’re down: big, honking stacks of pancakes. Maybe they’re not the healthiest thing in the world, but the world looks a lot brighter after some fried flour, the sap from a thousand trees, and a gallon of solidified, churned cowmilk melting all over the place. Did that last night for dinner. Yum.

Time to get rolling.

Funny how memories are inspired by a piece of cloth, a spoon, a piece of paper, a smell…

Liz is organizing the garage like crazy, getting ready for some of the stuff from storage. I opened an old picture frame and smelled the old house. It took my breath away and buckled my knees, and I had to walk around for few minutes to get back on track. Tomorrow promises more of the same.

Things did get done today, but not as much as I wanted. Started working on class stuff, but the college’s web site doesn’t have the critical stuff I need to put a class together (like a current part-timers’ guide), and my rosters page was empty. Along those lines, Liz found a box of my stuff from my WNCC office when I left in 1997. Emptying that was an unwelcome trip down memory lane.

One upside is I got the basic OFFL Web Site done. No real bells and whistles this year, and it’s only a matter of time before I get tire of the minimalist look.

I’m out of words right now. More later.

Awesome picture from Damaris B. Sarria’s blog.

Just mulling around the house right now, not doing much of anything except blog writing, which my loved ones know is my learned response to having too much to do. These things will build up then BANG! I will work like a Republican stealing money from the church till five minutes before Mass starts. Along the way, I will do my best to make everyone on the planet feel my misery (except for the one billions citizens of the Chinese mainland, who have yet to give a rat’s ass about me) and I will consume copious amounts of caffeine to make up for the late nights working on things I could have been working on while the sun was shining. I’m already feeling the tentacles of cold panic creep into my stomach which can only be purged through hard work and/or a death ride on Dollar. Not too hard to guess what I’d rather do. Writing all this allows me to flush the stuff through and organize it a little in my walnut-sized brain.

Took the 2.2 up Fifth Street after work and had a dinner of fruit and yogurt and low-fat chocolate ice cream. My aura feels much cleaner when compared the eggs and bacon I had for breakfast, but not nearly as yummy as I felt when Liz dropped off a small garlic chicken pizza for lunch. Not the healthiest of choices, but sometimes one must live to eat instead of eat to live. (You have to say that last sentence in snobbish tone of voice.)

I bought a new web domain because I’ve always felt a little guilty about using an .org, which is supposedly reserved for charitable and non-nonprofit organizations, though the violators of the rules are many (well, many minus one now). In the near future, look for me at www.bbkld.com.

How did I live without DSL and ITunes?

The Bob Moore Automotive Group of Oklahoma City owns the bobmoore.com domain, plus bobmoore.net. I sent Mr. Moore an email asking if he’d like bobmoore.org when I drop it in exchange for a small donation to a local elementary school (the email is at the new site). I suspect the response will be (1) silence, or (2) “We already support a gazillion charities.” They will then wait a short time for the domain to become free, then pick it up off the free market at practically no cost. Oh well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

A shout-out to my saintly Aunt Lillian Musclebound Fruitbat who is going through some personal stress with other loved ones in the family. Aunt Lilly: I said it privately and I repeat it publicly: you’re right and sometimes being right sucks. Stay the course and be strong.

Eldest got a call for a job interview. Excellent. Middle is nearly set for the fall semester, which began today … Friday … WNCC is so weird. (Prison classes start two weeks late. OMG, that’s two weeks from today. (must type faster)) Youngest is taking a P.E. class where she’ll be assisting physically challenged kids, and she starts her WNCC construction class next week. Wow.

Saturday is Organize My Brain Day, in which I’ll be living in front of the keyboard and preparing for the semester. I repeat this here because I know I will wake up tomorrow and want to do absolutely anything else other that be the responsible adult. I will be strong. I will do what’s right. I wonder who the Cubs and A’s are playing. Is that Dollar calling me to go outside and play?

Parents in Kansas: Beware The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. It could soon be a part of your child’s K-12 curriculum.

Sunday is Drag Boxes and Bins to Lynne Street Day. Yuck. Forgot to call for the furniture pick-up. Dang!

Somebody started “The Worst Joke Ever” thread over at the Bicycle Forums, and some are bad enough to make your toes curl the other direction. Most run along the ‘tasteless’ vein, but this one is cute:

A stranger rides into a western town and notes people gathered around the town’s gallows, anticipating a hanging. The stranger rides up to a townperson and inquires who is getting hung that day, and the townperson replies, “Oh, they’re hanging Brown Paper Joe today.” “Brown Paper Joe?” asks the stranger. “Why in the world do they call him Brown Paper Joe?” The townperson replies, “Well, ’cause he wears brown paper shoes and brown paper hats; sometimes he even wears brown paper shirts and chaps — that’s why they call him Brown Paper Joe.” The stranger then inquires why Brown Paper Joe is being hung, and the townperson replies: “‘Cause he was rustlin’.”

I didn’t say it was good.

“Beloit College releases the Beloit College Mindset List, which offers a world view of today’s entering college students. It is the creation of Beloit’s Keefer Professor of the Humanities Tom McBride and Director of Public Affairs Ron Nief.” The list which makes many of us feel instantly old can be found here. It’s only a matter of time before we read how “Frank Sinatra was always the Voice of Tampax” or something equally cruel.

The Internet is evil and takes me away from the responsible things I should do. Yeah. It’s the Internet’s fault. Right.

That’s a catfish. (Subscription required)

Having a “low word volume” morning. Don’t have anything to zing about. Will be on the laptop all day tomorrow getting ready for the semester and working on the storage on Sunday.

Had a good ride this morning. Need to stop having the $2 special at the Nugget. The food tastes good for five minutes, then I feel yucky for about two hours.

Somebody just lost their job at Northern Nevada Correctional Center. This will make teaching there a little more difficult.

And speaking of crime, this is the 25th anniversary of the bomb exploding in Harvey’s Casino. Twenty-five years.

Today is my two-year anniversary in this job. Amazing. Unbelievable. The last time I lasted this long in a job was at TMCC is 2000. The good news is I automatically get a payraise because I go up a step which translates to about $30 more a week. Party time.

“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade more, one ray less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!” -Byron (I think)

Rode home and nothing of note happened, except I was spaced off while riding, missed a turn, and ended up taking the easy way home instead of the calorie-burner like planned. Next time.

Got to rip off another band-aid in the next couple of weeks: Grama’s furniture needs a new home. She has some good pieces but no one has room for them. Gonna have to suck it up and move them out next week.

And I haven’t done anything to get ready for my classes which begin in two weeks. Academic panic is a good motivator.

It’s funny how the most obvious things slip under the radar when your mind is elsewhere. I mentioned at Grama’s memorial at how two of her grandsons had jobs that linked them directly to her (doctor and world traveler), but I forgot to mention the third grandson (me) who teaches in higher ed, just like Grama and Grampa used to. I missed that completely. Weird.

I named my bike, since women seem to think men name everything (especially the steely stuff between our legs)(my bike, you potty mind). You may call him Dollar, since I always seem to be spending money on it. The other, more truthful reason, is it was this actor’s favorite horse and appeared in more films with him that any other ride.

I managed to stay off the bike for about 24 hours, but I got antsy last night and biked to Safeway for some yogurt and fruit. The original plan was to go the back way to Albertsons via Ormsby/Ash Canyon/Winnie/College Parkway, but the damn wind was blowing really hard and I couldn’t make any headway. I turned off Ormsby at Washington and took Mountain and Winnie to Safeway. It was a good ride.

And what is up with the wind and how can it always be in my face? I was riding on all four compass points last night, and the wind was directly against me on three of those (north, south and west). Two directions I can understand, but three and sometimes all four?

At Safeway, just as I was leaving, an elder driver was trying to park in the far left handicapped spot and was having troubles lining his SUV up. He was getting no help from his wife who was standing beside the car and ripping him for stopping on the left line. And not a light rip: we’re talking Marine Corps Drill Sergeant ripping. She was in his face with her index finger. As he backed the SUV up to try again, she turned to me with a big sigh and gave me a “What am I going to do with him?” look. I turned 180 degrees around and showed her my back.

I rode in this morning on the 2.2 mile route and was reintroduced to an old friend: wind chill. Yikes! And the faster I peddled to try to keep warm, the colder I got. Thank God for hot showers.

Here’s an old tribute to our forces in the Middle East (not for dial-up). I always tear up when I watch it and now knowing my daughter will be one of them…

From the internet. If my body were a car:
- If my body were a car, this is the time I would be thinking about trading it in for a newer model. I’ve got bumps and dents and scratches in my finish and my paint job is getting a little dull, but that’s not the worst of it.
- My fenders are too wide to be considered stylish. They were once as sleek as a little MG; now they look more like an old Buick.
- My seat cushions have split open at the seams. My seats are sagging.
- Seat belts? I gave up all belts when Krispy Cremes opened a shop in my neighborhood.
- Air bags? Forget it. The only bags I have these days are under my eyes. Not counting the saddlebags, of course.
- I have soooooo many miles on my odometer. Sure, I’ve been many places and seen many things, but when’s the last time an appraiser factored life experiences against depreciation?
- My headlights are out of focus and it’s especially hard to see things up close.
- My traction is not as graceful as it once was. I slip and slide and skid and bump into things even in the best of weather.
- My whitewalls are stained with varicose veins.
- It takes me hours to reach my maximum speed.
- My fuel rate burns inefficiently.
- But here’s the worst of it: almost every time I sneeze, cough or sputter….. either my radiator leaks or my exhaust backfires.

Richard Simmons was on ‘Who’s Line Is It, Anyway?’?