...what counts is a new creation...
I have been a life long professional navigator starting with ocean going cargo ships, then went on to US Navy jets. After changing careers from cargo operations in the maritime industry in 2007 I have been focused on creating easy to use WordPress websites and training organizations how to use them to effectively attract more people.
I forgot today was April Fool’s day, what with a church leadership team meeting this morning and all.
Fortunately I don’t live anywhere near Sarah. Being a card carrying chocohaulic I would have been completely fished in if I’d been there. This is proof positive that evil lurks in Provo, UT.
Note to self: Not everything that looks like chocolate is yummy.
I want to buy stock in the company that invented this – “Device warns you if you’re boring or irritating“!
Think of the other markets this could be used for. People need this device! Think about the uses…
We could start by issuing one to every telemarketer out there. I remember more than a few teachers who could have benefited greatly from this technology. There are preachers I’ve heard that I’d be more than happy to give one to! The market opportunities might be endless!
Oh, yeah. Perhaps I should get one for myself while I’m at it…
Yesterday I did a bad thing. Not bad as in evil, certainly. More like bad as in perhaps a little unwise. You see a good friend of mine started working in a bike shop down in Jacksonville recently. I figured that since I was down there for a job anyway, why not stop in and catch up. Seems like a reasonable plan, doesn’t it?
Now I like motorcycles. I’ve owned a few in my day. My two favorites were an early model one of these and the older one of these that I had back in my Navy days. I am definitely more of a cruiser guy than a sport bike guy. I always figured my dream bike would be something along these lines. But I never really let myself look at them because purchasing one would create a cash flow issue in our household. I am not willing to finance that much of a toy. Besides Gorgeous and I have an agreement. I’m not getting a bike until we can afford to get two because she’s even had a bike back in her day and she has no interest in riding on the back of one. (Hers was more like this one she says.)
Now here’s the link for my buddy’s bike shop:
I figured I was safe going in there because, along with not being much into sport bikes, choppers don’t do much for me either.
I may have miscalculated somewhat.
I didn’t realize that a couple of the models were much more cruiser-like than chopper-ish. And boy were they just enough to bring back those memories of being out on the open road. And apparently these guys down at Big Bike Motorcycles are perfectly able to modify nearly anything about a particular bike to make it into exactly the dream machine you envision. And they are eager to do it too.
The whole experience with these guys was very impressive. And more than a little tempting.
Fortunately I remembered that the cost of buying a motorcycle yesterday would have been far more than a monthly payment that we can’t afford right now. Gorgeous would not have been, shall we say, happy if I had done something that foolish. And she would be totally right to feel that way about it. The knowledge of the potential conflict I would have brought on my self for doing something as silly as buying a motorcycle on impulse kept me in check. That knowledge was good accountability.
But did I mention it was tempting?
I’m on the road quite a bit with my job (hence the company car). There is a good chance one of you might see me on the road if you are out and about along the I-95 corridor here in the Southeast. For example I’m heading down to Jacksonville for a job today. Because there are such good odds that you might see me out there in your journeys at some point I wanted to give you a caution:
Do Not Be Alarmed.
If you happen upon me, say, waiting at an intersection for the light to change color, and you look over to see that I appear to be convulsing uncontrollably, shaking my head, flailing my arms around the car and screaming, maybe even to the point of tiny bit of spittle spraying about – Do Not Be Alarmed. I am neither demon possessed nor suffering from a medical condition. What is going on in my car is a little ritual I refer to as “singing.†Everything is really OK in the lane next to you. Just consider yourself blessed that my windows are rolled up.
If you see me approaching and you happen to notice that I am talking on my cell phone while eating a biscuit, drinking a cup of hot coffee, changing the CD in the dash as I merge into rush hour traffic from the 25 MPH entry ramp without taking my cruise control off of 65 – Do Not Be Alarmed. I know you are there and I promise that I will miss your car by at least 12†as I slide past you to merge directly into the left lane. You see I have undergone extensive training years ago by the US Navy during flight school to hone my skills at multitasking. Basically you could say I’m a trained professional. (Of course this skill doesn’t seem to apply to listening. I can only hear one thing at a time. Sorry Gorgeous. You are either going to have to turn that good song down or wait until it is over if you want me to hear what you are saying.)
If you happen to look in your rearview mirror and notice that you can’t see the hood of my car below your back window because I appear to be attempting to land my car inside your trunk – Do Not Be Alarmed. My eyes are fixated alternately on your brake lights an the traffic up ahead that I can see through your windshield while my brain is computing an improbably complex series of equations that involve such diverse and comprehensive variables as your vehicle’s velocity and acceleration, my foot position in relation to my accelerator/brake pedals, the current road surface moisture content, the proximity to the nearest rest stop, and the quantity of coffee remaining in my travel mug. Keep in mind that you could ease your own frustration significantly by simply sliding over into the right hand lane to let me pass. I assure you I’d get completely by you before you were even firmly established in the right lane. Besides, I’ve only ever rear-ended one person on I-95 and I wasn’t tailgating him.
That about sums it up for this morning. I’ve got to hit the road!
Whoah. I was over on Terry Storch’s blog and saw that he had found a place to generate a nifty email icon. Trouble is his source didn’t list my email provider, BellSouth. However, with a little Google-Sleuthing, I found this site here with a much more comprehensive listing of providers. Cool beans.
There’s been a lot of talk lately from the appeaser crowd (the “Bush lied†and the “Saddam was a great guy, just misunderstood†wing of our political scene – you know who you are) about how we never should have taken any action in Iraq. I guess, with their complete disregard for historical facts, they believe we would be better off if we could “feel better†by having the rest of the world “like us†more. Me personally, I’m more in favor of having fewer people dying because evil tyrants are no longer in power to perpetrate mass murder, invade their neighbors, and encourage terrorists to blow innocents up around the world. But hey, I just happen to believe that war, as horrible as it is, sometimes is a “less bad†alternative than not going to war.
Anyway, with that in mind, I just got the below emailed to me. Being a student of history, I couldn’t help but share it. I don’t know who originally wrote it, but it’s worth the read…
The British are feeling the pinch in relation to recent bombings and have raised their security level from “Miffed” to “Peeved.” Soon though, security levels may be raised yet again to “Irritated” or even “A Bit Cross.” Londoners have not been “A Bit Cross” since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorised from “Tiresome” to a “Bloody Nuisance.” The last time the British issued a “Bloody Nuisance” warning level was during the great fire of 1666.
Also, the French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from “Run” to “Hide“. The only two higher levels in France are “Surrender” and “Collaborate.” The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France’s white flag factory, effectively paralysing the country’s military capability.
It’s not only the English and French that are on a heightened level of alert.
Italy has increased the alert level from “shout loudly and excitedly” to “elaborate military posturing“. Two more levels remain, “ineffective combat operations” and “change sides“.
The Germans also increased their alert state from “disdainful arrogance” to “dress in uniform and sing marching songs“. They also have two higher levels: “invade a neighbour” and “lose“.
Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual and the only threat they worry about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.
There are an awful lot of butterflies out this year. I don’t have any scientific proof for this. I’m just judging by the numbers that are smashing themselves against my windshield at 75 mph. They are so big that I can see them coming. I end up doing this weird head bob, gyration thing as if I could somehow steer them into missing. If someone in a car passing beside me at that moment were to look over and see my little butterfly dance, they’d be sure to think I’m whacked.
I really hate it when butterflies hit the windshield. I mean they do tend spread pretty colors around the glass with all their guts. Even though they are colorful smears, they’re pretty big and really make a mess when the wipers spread them around. Sometimes they pass by at a near miss and don’t make a mess in my field of view.
The trouble is that they are big enough that I can often see them in the rearview mirror after they pass by. I’ll see them fall straight down into the pavement behind me. Sometimes I’ll even see the wings flap. As a former aviator, I know those steep impact crashes aren’t going to be walked away from. It’s depressing.
And then there’s the scraping them off the windshield at the gas station. There’s nothing worse then pulling up to tank up and find the station doesn’t have any of those little squeegee things. Unless it’s reaching for one only to find they are all drier than my yard after two weeks with no rain. (I’ve heard they make this thing called a sprinkler…)
How are you supposed clean off the butterfly guts with a dry bones squeegee? And there’s no way you can get the job done with a little Windex and a paper towel when you get home.
Bottom line is there are just too many butterflies this year.
Last night we got home pretty late and a little stressed. Gorgeous saw an opportunity to give Fat Boy a puff tail. Since its always great fun, she took it.
For those of you who don’t know, cats have unique feature. Whenever they get suddenly freaked out the hair on their tail stands straight out so that it appears to be about four times the normal diameter and looks like a bottle brush. The interesting thing about it is that the tail puffs up in an instant but takes some time to come back down. Just like gas prices.
The puff tail can give you a good read on who knocked over the picture in the other room. This weekend Low Rider came tearing into the bed room up onto the bed. He landed squarely on a couple sheets of paper that Gorgeous just set down on her way through the room. Apparently Low Rider wasn’t expecting that texture or the slide across the comforter just then and viola, puff tail.
It always gives me a sense of accomplishment when I am directly responsible for the puff tail.
Like when Low Rider was eating breakfast a week or so ago and my toast popped up in the toaster. Puff tail.
Or a month or so back Low Rider was in the kitchen sink licking some butter off a knife. When I saw him there about four things happened nearly simultaneously.
Low Rider knew he was busted because the boys are absolutely not allowed up on the counters. Or the tables. Or the dressers. Fat Boy pretty much respects those boundaries because he’s not smart enough to know when I’ve booby-trapped them with masking tape. Low Rider can usually tell when its safe, and when he’s going to end up skulking around the house trying to shake that icky tape off a paw with me chasing him feeling guilty but laughing too hard to actually catch him and get the tape off.
Fat Boy’s not that smart so he generally stays down. Its safer that way.
I try to sneak up on them to scare them from time to time, hoping for a puff tail. I’m not as good at it as Gorgeous. She is sneakier, I guess. My victories are usually unintentional, which makes them all the funnier.
That’s how she got Fat Boy last night. The two boys were stalking each other after we got home. It is easier to get them when they are distracted. Of course Fat Boy isn’t very hard to get destracted because he’s not so smart. Actually I’m being nice, he’s quite stupid.
He has repeatedly tried to jump up from the back of the couch only to misjudge the jump, smack against the back of the couch, and then slide down because he’s got no front claws. It looks like Wile E. Coyote to me every time he does it.
He is also prone to try to jump to the front of the couch from under the glass coffee table. The sound of a cat head hitting the underside of a plate glass table at full force is one you don’t forget. I’m giggling just thinking about it. His eyes are more crossed than usual after trying that.
My final proof on Fat Boy’s stupidity (I mean other than the fact that Low Rider was out smarting him at eight weeks. We new he was in trouble then since he was seven.) is that he can fall from the couch and land flat on his back, again repeatedly. I didn’t know cats could do this. I think he is breaking a law of physics. Otherwise how would this perpetual motion machine work?
He’s one of kind all right. That’s why we keep him around. Besides a good puff tail is guaranteed to please!
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