My 1st Landscape Water Color - It is really beautiful, isn't it? 

Photo by Tedd 04 

Man-purse; a rebuttal.

This will be the third attempt to get this post out. Blogger has failed to save the previous ones with the exception of the 1st 100 words or so. I write this post in response to a comment left by Dayna on one of my past purse blogs where she stated that I should get a man purse. I think it was because I was poking fun at women’s purses and the things they carry within. Perhaps she is guilty of carrying the large array of items I mentioned. I also mentioned that I had searched the internet and was unable to come up with any such items as a man-purse. Dayna found a web site and offered it up for me to check out. Interesting site to check out as the author gives a bit of commentary about the selection of man-purses such as "Many of the ones I've found also have a waist strap so you can use it as a fanny pack; I thought this would make it look less like a purse, but my wife insists that a fanny pack looks even dorkier than a shoulder bag. Go figure." Ya, go figure. I offer my photo entitled “Man-purse large”. I have been carrying this purse for 30 + years and I use it mainly to carry my camera and all of the supplies I need when touristing it up or out for a little photo session in the wild. Lots and lots of pockets for extra film, light meters and lens cleaners as well as an extra lens or two. The large, zippered top makes for fast retrieval of my camera in case I see a “cute” chipmunk sitting on a log or something. It actually holds 2 cameras and is quiet heavy so I use it in the “over your head” mode most of the time. This also provides extra protection from rogue bears and pickpockets. There is even room for a water bottle, a fingernail file, teabags and super glue in case the unthinkable happens. The woman’s jacket in the background is from a social gathering or something, my wife recently attended and brought home with her. She thought it belonged to a friend who is famous for leaving jackets places, but it’s not. She has been diligently looking for the true owner ever since. Every time a police car comes by she hides behind the drapes. If you know who the owner is please let me know. It is upsetting the household and not a very good example for our grandson. The second photo is of my man-purse that I use to carry my digital camera. I would have shown the digital camera in the photo but I used it to take the photo. It is of a nice black color, which is more fitting with my football player, submarine sailor, cop, contractor persona. It has a nice auxiliary belt loop on the back I can use when I want to be more personal with my camera such as the recent, now famous, Pinewood Derby that I covered for my blog. Carrying it that way kept me from laying it down somewhere and some, good intentioned, Cub Scout mom coming along and picking it up because she thought it might belong to a friend. Using it that way kind or resembles a fanny purse which would make this an oxymoron. I noticed that in the man-purse web site that they offer an Easpak Zippy man-purse that resembles the one I use. Mine is a little more compact at 6x6 but I still can fit in fingernail files, teabags and super glue in the front compartment. Well, there isn’t too many more things I can say about man-purses Dayna so “stick this in your pipe and smoke it”!

Large man-purse 

Small man-purse 

Hooray, I need some help!

Having a tough time coming up with a blog subject. Too busy I guess. Been very depressed since the Pinewood Derby as we didn't win. Sam didn't seem to mind as much as I did. There is always next year. Dayna chastised me for not going to my weigh-in at Weight Watchers, last week, just because I didn't lose any weight. I guess that is what it is supposed to be all about. My daughter told me that a different gal stripped last week and I missed it. What's a good strip without someone whistling and shouting encouragements. Think I just heard my wife saying something about "an old fool" again. This afternoon is art class day again. Hooray, as I need some help. Been practicing all week. If only weight watchers was going as well.

1st day of Water Painting Classes-I need a couple of more days of classes, I think 

My Buddy with his Freedom Racer 

The Big Dig

Just read my brothers blog Gary Writes. Didn't realize that he was so weird! He is starting a new service club called Densa, or something like that, and it is right down my alley and I signed up. Starting my own chapter here in Western MA [you know the part of Mass. That doesn't have the Big Dig in it that is now leaking quite profusely].

For those of you that have not been following the progress of the most expensive [13 Billion US Dollars] construction project in US history aka "The Big Dig"... it leaks! Not a little but a lot and they are making the contractors go back and try to fix it while all of the commuters are zooming through. "Why are they zooming through if the thing leaks", you ask? Because there is nowhere else to go. It seems that the Bostonian politicians were in such as hurry to get everything looking spiffy for the Democratic National Convention that they quickly had all of the bypass roads removed and made into parks and opened the tunnel. There is absolutely no where else to drive. Now an independent group of engineers have looked at the problem and say the tunnel is dangerous and should be closed. What to do, oh what to do? This could be the greatest boondoggle in history. The "fix" could easily cost 7 billion more. Do you know how many people 7 Billion dollars feeds? Do you suppose it could wipe out the Aids epidemic in the world? At least we can seek some solace and say "but we live in Western MA!". I think I smell a new Blog coming.

Had to stop the last subject on purses as I was starting to fear for my life. I searched the internet to find a "man purse", which was to be the subject of my next posting, but to no avail so I could not continue with my posting because I didn't know what I was talking about [more so than usual]. My wife sums it up nicely "There is no fool like an old fool". Got that one from her mother I think.

Didn't go to the weigh-in yesterday because I didn't want to see the results. I was bad last week. Even the though of being able to watch the young lady strip, to reach her goal, was not enough to make me want to go.

Purse toolboxes and much more!

Taking on The Purses is risky business, at best, but they are such easy targets because the users of these things keep giving you more and more ammunition. Keys and purses go together because you can always have a good story when the two get together. My wife reminds me, when I get to pointing out organizational problems as we stand in the rain waiting for the keys to appear, that “you have pockets and women don’t”. “That is only part of the problem” I respond. Granted pockets are a great thing as it allows me to carry my essentials: Keys; billfold or money clip; change; handkerchief [if necessary as the back of a sleeve works well also and doesn’t require use of a pocket]; pocket knife or clippers or both; comb [if hair is present]; box of breath mints; cell phone, maybe; pencil. Whereas with a woman the pocket requirements would be: keys; change; [and this is where the differences show up] package of Kleenex; Hair Brush; cell phone; address book; personal telephone directory; lots of money everywhere; enough change to keep as small restaurant in business; pens and pencils and notepads; makeup; lipstick [numerous colors]; large can of hair spray; teabags; scissors; fingernail file; super glue; nail polish; dozens of general credit cards [I carry one]; dozens of store credit cards [Penny’s, sears, Kohls, TJ Max, and I carry none of these]; inside the purse sub organizational items such as wallets, change purse, credit card organizers, cell phone holders [sans a cell phone] check book [without checks]; The list is endless. If even 1/3 of these items were carried in pockets there would be a bulge problem. Shirts with pockets, with things in them [such as a cell phone] just wouldn’t look right. Pants with wallet w/numerous credit cards in a rear pocket would certainly be unacceptable. It isn’t only the women that wouldn’t want it, neither would the men. Pockets are out for women.
We were at supper with friends, several years ago, at our favorite neighborhood tavern. Our friends had their daughter Lorie with them. At some point her Mom reported that she had a broken fingernail. It was rather nasty looking, as it was broken and tore. Lorie said, “I can take care of that”. She reached into her purse and out came a fingernail file, which she used to clean up the rough edges and remove nail polish. Next, out of the purse, came a teabag??? The bag was cut open and dumped and the bag was spread out. An appropriate sized piece was cut out with the scissors from the bag. This piece was glued to the nail, after a tube of “Super Glue” [???] was removed from the tool bag, and a generous amount was applied to the nail and tea bag. A lot of hand waving took place [told our waitress that we didn’t need her] and then the nail file was used to smooth everything back out. A tube of nail polish was the next item liberated from the tool apron[more hand waving and the wait staff was going nuts]. It was the wrong color but no problem as all nails would receive a fresh coat of paint before this rebuilding project was completed. Several coats were dried and filed to get the smoothest coat possible[wait staff all quit]. All of this was accomplished with hardly a break in conversation except by me saying dumb things like “why would anyone carry super glue and tea bags in their purse?” Duh!!! When the job was completed, there was absolutely no evidence that the nail had been ever broken. Testimony to the worth of a well stocked purse. For those of you that have not seen this trick before, you may want to clip this article and put it in your purse for future reference. Oh and don’t forget the tools in case you don’t carry them already. Next: dealing with an unruly, Canadian, blogger who thinks I need a mans purse!!!

Sheriff had to come and take him away

I start this blog with much trepidation, even fearing for my life as one of the consequences of this blog. These next few posting may even attract a stalker or two. I hope not. The subject that is causing such fear in me is PURSES. There I have said it. I have foretold my future. While trying to decide upon doing this, my wife and I took a trip to BJ’s Wholesale club. We purchased a few misc. items and a table. I was carrying my table around the place, out the checkout line to the security guard line. For those of you who have never been to a buying club: everyone must stop at the guard station; show your Members ID; have the guard inventory your cart against your receipt. If something is amiss I think the real police come and lock you up. Anyway, That is when it happened. The guard inventoried my wife’s cart against the receipt and checked it OK but when it came to my table she could not find the receipt as she paid for the tablet separately. Now we are only 50 feet from the checkout and have not gone anywhere since leaving the checkout. You know what happened to the receipt don’t you? THE PURSE ATE IT!!!!!! Now we are destined to stay there because she must show the guard the receipt before we can advance and everyone else behind us can advance. I only looked back once and saw about 8 carts behind us. Needless to say these are all New Englanders [except for the odd New Yorker and maybe a Canadian or two] and New Englanders grow impatient quickly. I was getting nervous as I sensed a riot mentality quickly developing. The lady behind me had her cart planted in my back and every few seconds I could feel her pushing it trying to get me to move. Her husband had a US Marine Corps jacket on and had a patch on his shoulder that said Marine Sniper , whatever that means. I had sized him up earlier and he didn’t intimidate me because I am a Submarine Vet and Marines know better than to mess with sailors. Finally after about 20 minutes, with about 200 people behind us, all booing and yelling, I heard her say “there it is” and I looked. She had a handful of receipts in her hand and on top was the table receipt. Hooray we are free. Right there and then I decided to broach the subject, take the risk and write the purse blog.

Yesterday morning I was on my way to church and told her I would start her car as we were taking 2 cars. She said “Great” and headed for her purse where she has two car keys. The smaller one is used when someone wants to warm up the car. Don’t you know, the keys are not where they are supposed to be. She checks all of the outside pockets and then all of the inside pockets. No key. She then proceeds to dismantle the purse checking after every handful of contents, to feel for the key. The key is absent. Suddenly I hear “there it is” and she hands me her key, like nothing happened. The purse material, for this blog, just keeps happening as I write. Stay tuned.

No guts - No glory

Things didn't go as well as I planned last night. I only lost 6 #'s, not 24 as I had hoped for. 6#/week is really going to drag this weight loss thing out a long time. I was hoping for better. My wife says that 24 is impossible. "Yeaaa, weeell, how about those people that have liposuction. Bet they loose more that 24#'s". "Doesn't sound so impossible now does it?" I told her "put that in your pipe and smoke it". Really told her, huh. The only enjoyable thing about this is that some of the girls get all upset about the weigh-in and start stripping to get something positive on the scale. One of the girls last night took her shoes off, then her warmup outfit and as she was standing on the scale, with only her underwear, sobbing until it showed she had lost .5 #'s. I in the meantime I was shouting and whistling, standing on my chair hollaring "take it off baby, take it all off!" My wife said I am an old fool a rebate or maby it was retrobate, when I told her about it because she was out of the room. She also said "In your dreams". She never believes me. Our speaker told us about things we could keep in our purse for emergencies. Last week I learned how I could buy this little clutch bag type thing that would fit into my purse so I could carry my calculator for points, a book on dining out and a book that tells me point values for common foods. No wonder I can't lift my wife's purse. I believe her personal best was a couple of years ago when she had 21$ worth of change in it. More than enough to buy snacks for the entire football team at half time. Her mother used to carry all of her bills, morgage papers, car loan etc. in her purse. Even pull out file folders sometimes. This has given me a great idea for some future blogging. This would carry forward with the theme of my last blog, "Rubbish". My wife refuses to read my blogs for some reason or other, refering to them as "Rubbish". She would never know but my daughter would probably rat me out. I already sense myself getting very deep here, in a real hurry. Perhaps over my head. Perhaps I am going where no man has ever tread before.......and lived. Hell I could do 3 or 4 postings just on the subject of lost keys. The time spent on that part of the subject would be infatisimile compared to the wait time I have suffered through as she searched for lost keys. Then when I am all done I could say [from my new apartment] "put that in your pipe and smoke it". Clever, huh?...............Naaaaa

D Day plus 1 week

Well here it is "Weigh-in Day" at Weight Watchers again. I have been fairly good on watching what I eat. Right now my temptation level is pretty low but I think in the coming weeks it will be harder and harder to stay on track but we'll see. Makes it much easier to keep focused when everyone in the family is on the same program. Everyone, that is, except my grandson. Pretty tough to see him munching on a bowl of chips, after school, and not want one. I am getting very skilled at walking up and diverting his attention and ripping him off for a few but I can usually only get a couple. Very savy young man, when I am around, at guarding his food.

I am figuring that I have lost at least 24#'s this week. In three or four weeks I should be at my goal and can leave this nonsense behind. I'll let you know.

A legacy?

It was not, this authors intentions to become flip with a very serious subject. The intention of this blog is to poke fun at the way our system works. It would be impossible to have a conscience and not be aware of the consequences of what we have done to our earth. The acid rain, the global warming, corporations operating without a conscience, wars, all lead to a very bad legacy that we leave to our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. My generation didn’t create the problem but we have done a lot to try and fix it. Hopefully, as a generation, we have not added to the overall problems. It will take many more generations of hard work to turn the damage around. For all that have worked on the solution, I tip my hat. For those of you that aren’t working on the solution, you must be part of the problem. Get with it! Recycling makes you part of the solution. ...“I’ll be watching out for ya” R/G 05 Thanks Dick Dickson 3/05

New England Garbage

I now leave South Dakota and move to Western Massachusetts with this story. In the intervening years, since I packed up the wagon and headed east with the wife and baby, 2 dogs and a hamster the world of trash, contamination, acid rain, corporate and government greed. definitely has grown. The nay Sayers and whistleblowers were right and we were killing our children and ourselves. It was a time of much needed change. The year is about 1980. I am now a contractor and have to haul things to the town dump, now and then. This one is not called the town dump but rather it has a real name being named after an adjoining road and is called “A Landfill” not a dump. “ The Senator Edward Kennedy Landfill” is the new name. Those New Englanders!! Right away I find that the landfill is full but it is being extended by the state so that it can grow higher and higher and because of new state and federal regulations there are few dumpsites oops landfill sites available. The problem being, our site sits right on the edge of Interstate 90, a.k.a. The Massachusetts Turnpike, a.k.a. The Main street of Massachusetts. Imagine how those government people felt when they drove by and saw all the papers blowing around and dirtying up Main Street. Of course you must remember that these will be the same people that will bring you, something called, “The Big Dig” in the future. “ The infamous Massachusetts Turnpike Authority”. [to be a source of material for thousands of more bloggers, including this author] I can’t stop now as my fingers are trying to explode. I will try and contain myself but I must tell you that the MTA will come to have its own little dumpsite problems and right here in our neighborhood. A dumpsite where thousands of animal carcasses, from hit-and-run accidents on the turnpike, are dumped without even a final word or and earthen covering. Others, where all manner of construction debris, including hazardous waste, are hidden from the public view. Enough about that as I move forward….. Finally the town oops City finds a good location and pays about 3 million for the big ravine. Now you can no longer just dump on the ground but you need to be dumping on a liner and you must collect all of the runoff because it is now hazardous waste and will head for the aquifer it you don’t. The City lines its new 3 million dollar “Landfill” which is now a 5 million dollar “landfill,” with water retention, testing wells, etc. etc. etc. The state says, “sorry but were not going to approve your new landfill and you can’t use It.” and what is more, they acknowledge that they never will approve it. It’s gone and it never even had a proper name. Back at the old landfill it is business as usual, growing taller and taller. Now it is made into a residential refuse landfill only, no commercial dumping, unless you happen to have a six-pack of beer in your truck. Well eventually the state shuts the old, ever growing, landfill down. Orders the City to cap it over and to take care of the now, rapidly expanding methane, bubbling out of the earth and to take their garbage to commercial dumpsites. I think Dr. Suess, who was our neighbor, wrote about all of this sometime ago. Reminds me of the Larax. Now all rubbish is trucked out of the city and we have developed into recycling fools. We have green bins for glass and cans and blue bins for paper, or is it blue for glass and green for paper? Every week the garbage trucks come and every 2 weeks the recycling trucks come. We have special pickup days for leaves where everything is in special digestible paper bags, special days to pickup Christmas Trees [if you can get them out of the snow banks], special days to haul your oil, batteries, and other household waste to collection points. $10 buys you a sticker to put on your refrigerator for pickup and I think computers cost $5 each. A few months age we all got issued our very own wheeled and serialized rubbish container. Every week a special truck comes around and dumps these wheeled containers so long as they are placed properly along the road. If you have too much garbage and leave a bag or two along side no one will pick those up and someone writes you a ticket [a big yellow one] and hangs it on your new dumpster. It all has to be in the big, new, serialized container. If you don’t like your container you can get a smaller one or a bigger one but you still have to put all of your rubbish in the new, serialized container and the container has to be exactly where the hydraulic arm can reach it or else you get a big, yellow ticket. What happens to all of the tires, tree stumps and tickets? I don’t think they sell stickers for those. There is just no one to leave a six-pack of beer with anymore. Maybe if I leave a six-pack or two with the secretary for the Health Department Director, she will ask the Director to have the driver of the new truck, with the hydraulic arm, to pickup up my tree stumps and tires. You Think? God I miss Shorty and his brother and the white rack with the three beat up silver cans.

Another, sad, garbage story

Damn! I missed the recycling pickup this morning. Spent to much time on the blog last night and decided to put everything out this morning. Were the 1st block picked up on recycling day and I forgot that they started 30 minutes earlier on the 1st of March. Summer working hours I guess. I had refused to put my trash out the night before because it attracted dogs, cats and professional garbage pickers. Professional garbage pickers, you wonder? Why those are the people that hid their new Cadillac's and mini vans on the side streets, dress in ugly clothes and pull a little red wagon around going through your trash and making a small fortune doing it. Probably are related to Shorty and his brother. I really shouldn't worry because the new serialized rubbish bins have secure lids and the skunks can't make it up, at least I don't think they can. There is nothing you can do about the pro's because your garbage, oops rubbish, bin is on public property. In the past, I have even tried to chase them away with a stick but that doesn't work either because they also have sticks that they use to dig through your rubbish and to chase away dogs. I still have a nasty three inch scare over my right eye from a little old lady I tried to chase away. Cops came and gave both of us the option of filling a complaint against each other and called me an ambulance and reprimanded me for threatening a little old lady. Called it the "Free Enterprise System". Told me if I didn't like the system then I should move to Canada where they still let you put tires in plastic bags and the garbage guys still pick it up. Said two brothers moved up from the islands and took over the entire garbage collection system for Canada. [If your laughing or crying it means you have been paying attention] Sorry but there is at least one more post coming on this subject. Dick

Town Fathers to the rescue

I left you with the picture of the town residents slowly being poisoned by the burning rubbish. Choking and gasping they begged the “Town Fathers” for relief. Relief came quickly as the Councilmen, reacting in a standard manner over 15 years, passed a town ordinance banning open burning of garbage. Hooray! Much of the reason everyone was choking was from burning tires. At our local skating rink, when I was a kid, someone would come down from the DPW and bring a tire and light it to keep everyone warm. It would burn for hours and if you stood on the upwind side it was ok. What else were you going to do with tires? I continue……
The Town Dump was full and a newer one was built in a bigger ravine even further from town. The Garbage Brothers were getting old and no one else was forthcoming about wanting to take over their business. When we stopped burning there was more garbage and the town moved into weekly pickups because no burning meant really smelly garbage cans in our alleys, all crawling with maggots and cats. The people wanted more and got more. The Garbage Brothers had their workload double overnight but refused to put on another crew or buy more equipment. They held firm that their success laid in the fact that they directly controlled their entire company. Come to think of it, I don’t think they ever had a company name except the Garbage Brothers. No stationary, no business cards, no secretary, no taxes or at least very little as all of their business transpired in the garbage areas of the alleys. They resolved any money collection problems they might encounter by simply not picking up the offenders garbage. Most delinquents quickly repented their ways. Their monthly fee was collected in little white envelopes attached with thumbtacks to the white racks with the three beat up silver cans in them. Occasionally you would see a son or nephew help out, as “Shorty” wasn’t getting any taller [in fact he was shrinking a little] and needed to be spelled on occasion. Remembering that they were now working a double shift and had been for years. When the Garbage Brothers did retire, the town decided, as all towns evidentially do, to take over the garbage business and make money. The Garbage brothers left town and moved somewhere else. We later heard that they moved to some island in the South Pacific with their wives. Worried about taxes I think. Well the new dump went high on a ravine, so high that the new dump road had 3 switch backs on it [for real]. They built a little shack for the DPW guard, and a fence with a gate and they called this “The New Town Dump”. The guard was there to insure that hot ashes were not dumped and everything was orderly. You could still dump there, yourself, but you had to pay the guard a fee or leave him a six pack of beer occasionally. Later we all found out that the guard was not suppose to be collecting a fee and our town fathers solved that problem by sending him out to work on another part of the DPW. The last that I was around the garbage collection trials was after my release from the Navy and I was now Chief of Police. The dump was a place for us to go shooting. Lot’s of Rats provided moving targets. One Easter Morning my dispatcher called and notified me that the dump was on fire and needed checking. I quickly climbed the three switchbacks and as I cleared the top I saw that we had a problem. The dump was burning and wind had taken it into a nearby stand of timber. The woods were tinder dry and the fire had immediately crowned moving across the ridge at 50 MPH and was surrounding my town below. As I looked back at where the fire had started and jumped to the crowns, two lumbermen [skidders] with their skidding teams ahead were racing their teams to safety, below the crown fire and as the fire started dropping down. I stood mesmerized by the life and death struggle taking place before me. Whoa…this is a whole different story, for another time in this blog. Leave it suffice to say that was my last contact with the towns rubbish problems. I now leave and move to Western Massachusetts with this story. [we leave the fortunes of Shorty behind us and move across the country to learn more about the adventures of fire starter, who has changed his name to Dick]

The Town Dump

Last week I was reading Dayna's blog, and I thought "garbage" was a great idea to expand upon. Not that Dayna's blog is garbage because it certainly is not. She blogged about putting garbage out and the terrible social pressure it put her under. Well worth reading. So I said to myself "you’re an old man dick and you know a lot about garbage so you should write about it." "You have 61 years of garbage in your background and someone might be interested". Not to many old people write about garbage, when they get old, rather they just contribute more and more to the subject. If I may be so forward as to steal a quote from Dayna's blog........poopie said..."Dayum girl...you've got garbage pickup? What a luxury!! I pack mine in the trunk of my car once a week and haul it to an undisclosed location :) Tires. I just burn." That is exactly where I am coming from. When I became 10 years of age I also became official garbage "fire starter" for my family. Back then [1953], in South Dakota, we had only a city dump supplied by the city. It was a pretty rudimentary dump as our city fathers had gone out and found a nice little valley in the hillside, that could not bee seen from the town or the surrounding farms and ranches, built a road to it and named it The Town Dump. That was about all the City Fathers wanted to be involved with. You could take anything there that you wanted. Tires, stumps, construction debris, washers and refrigerators were allowed. I always thought that the city burned all of the debris because it was always on fire but I later found out that was because people were always dumping live ashes from their fireplaces in the dump and catching it on fire. Back to becoming "fire starter". Anyone that thinks that I am a self-confessing pyromaniac would be better served by reading something else at this point. Being declared, "fire starter" was better than being family "garbage man" in my opinion. Being a "garbage man" required daily trips out back, lugging a stinky garbage can and then further sorting it outside, while being named "fire starter only required me to light the garbage on fire. Those of you who have carefully followed my blogging will right away realize that at 10 years of age I was seriously traumatized by my little brother Gary's birth and my subsequent banishment to the basement. Being declared, "fire starter" was probably appeasement onmy parents part to compensate for the psychological damage that had occurred to me. Back to my store as I digress too much. My main point is to explain to you, the vigilant reader, what garbage collection and disposal was like in my youth. In those days, houses had alleys and that is where rubbish duties took place. We had a big white garbage can rack, back there. The rack held 3 very beat up garbage cans. In front of the rack was an old 55-gallon metal drum, without a cover that was our incinerator. My next oldest brother [16 years old] was the "Garbage Man" and he would, upon my Mother's orders haul all of the trash to the alley. He would sort the trash, putting paper, boxes, etc into the incinerator. On top of all of that he dumped the gushy stuff [food scraps were given to the dog but what he wouldn't eat were put in the incinerator]. Cans with food still in them were also put in. Now it was my turn to start the fire. The purpose of all of this was to burn up the smelly food remnants and the labels and contents of food cans. When the incinerator got full, the family "garbage man" would tip it upside down putting the contents into the beat up metal cans in the racks. About once every 2 weeks, a private garbage man came around, with his brother shorty, and dumped the silver cans on his truck and took the contents with him to The Town Dump. I remember that his truck had 2x6 around the edges, to stop the garbage from falling out, but when the truck was full he left us about the same amount as he picked up. You are probably asking yourself "why not put higher sides on the truck so the garbage didn't fall out?" The answer to that and many other intriguing questions can be gleaned by rereading this posting. [Hint: Find the name of the drivers brother]. Hey this is a true story so let's not be falling asleep. In 1960 we moved to a nice home, on the edge of town, but we still had an alley, the garbage rack w/3 beat up cans, but no incinerator. The Fathers had outlawed the burning of trash because "It stunk" and people were tired of breathing it. There weren’t any ecological considerations being used, the burning garbage stunk and that was that. Sometime prior to this the garbage brothers had gotten a new truck. This one had a big white cylinder for a dump box and you could push a lever and all of the contents got compressed. Shorty was still dumping the trash and the brothers were now rich. {more about the exciting adventures of "Fire Starter" and "Shorty" in the next post}

I was tricked!!!!!

As I feared, Wife and Daughter deceived me. There was one other man. Some teacher that has to have some kinda disease because loss of weight was not his problem. Maby he was there to meet women as there were certainly a lot there. Big, tall, short, fat, young and old. My two gals are trying to explain this away as there were a lot of guys there last week. Riiiight! The trickery didn't stop there. My wife said she would pay my weekly dues for me, to help get me started. She paid for the next 10 weeks, so I have to go at least that long now. As part of the whole thing you are expected to sit through a weekly "pump up speech" of 45 minute duration [which was really 1 hour because of the dumb questions]. As a new member, you are expected to sit through a "Get Acquainted" speech of 45 minutes duration [which was really 1 hour because of really dumb questions]. I paid attention and learned how to work my scale, to count points, how to keep track and resisted all of the pitches for extra things such as a special holder to keep your daily points sheet, point guide, etc and fits right in your purse, snack foods, magazines, books, online "help aids" at $12.00/month, etc. etc. It wasn't a terrible experience as I've been to weddings worse than that. I knew I was in trouble when I got out of my truck infront of the "Womens Club" building. I had 6 points for breakfast today but I havn't lost any weight yet. Maby tomorrow. I'll let you know if I do. "I'll be watching out for ya"

D-Day has arrived!

Well here it is 8 hours from weigh-in. I was so nervous that I couldn't even sleep last night because of the nightmares. You know the ones, where the beautiful maidens in filmy gowns chase you round and round until you drop from exhaustion. While your there on the ground pleading for your life, the barefoot maidens gambol about holding their gowns outstretched giggling and laughing at you. You know the ones I'm talking about.......... Don't you? I figure that this is, just like the picture below shows, because I have, once again, become suave and debonair because of my weight loss and the young ladies will be crowding around me, congratulating me.
The funny thing is that I weighed myself this morning and I have lost 6 pounds. It is probably due to the fact that there is so much broccoli and cauliflower in the fridge. Either that or it is because I was sick Fri, Sat, Sun, Mon. Probably the broccoli as I have heard it wears off on you. I have, in the past, tasted both of these vegetables and found them....not so bad and I could eat them "if I have to", but you'll notice I have never, ever, uttered the dreaded "A" word lest it start showing up, on the dinner plate, also. Wife and daughter went, with the little guy, to "The Christmas Tree Shops" last night leaving me and Randy in charge, responsible for a, acceptable points, meal. 4 delicious Fillet Mignons [6 points] were left for me and I poured over the Weight Watcher books to come up with a dandy tossed salad [0 points], special whole grain "Wonder" bread [1 point per slice] bread, and a "Cajun Style", long grain, brown rice dish. Water was available for a beverage[I have already polished off two, hearty, glasses of a fine, single-malt, scotch and water by this time, and if that's what it takes to get me through this, so be it]. About an eight point supper. Pretty good for my first attempt.

I have read my wife's books and most of it I understand except I don't do very good with the calculator especially when the caloric value of the food item is over 300 calories. I can't keep the points straight in my either. I'm old you know, and shouldn't have to go through this. See you tonight!

This must be me after completing course 

Thursday is D Day

The count down is on. Thursday afternoon at 4 pm I am expected to present myself for a weigh- in at our local chapter of Weight Watchers. My weight is to be recorded, I pay my $10.50, get my books, be properly repremanded for letting my weight go, listen to a lecture about weight loss and pray that there is at least one other man in the building that I can visit with. I will be properly shamed and be expected to be fired up about the new diet plan at the same time [an oxymoronical statement, I believe]. I managed to elude last weeks weigh-in by being really busy at the last moment so I couldn't go. Actually I think my wife was feeling a little bit sorry for me and let me off the hook. My ace-in-the-hole was to be to sick to go but last week I got sick with a cold for real and it lasted 4 days. No one would buy another illiness in one week. Her and my daughter went and came back to report that there were lots of guys present and I wouldn't feel out of place at all. I wouldn't trust those two no matter what. I have lots of stories of them out and out lying to me about things just to get me involved. Pretend trips to get lunch end up with lunch being at the mall. Pleadings based on the deterioated condition of my knees and my bad back fall on deaf ears. Not to be trusted at all!
This has all happened because I have let myself get fat. The last 6 years have been especially bad because I have faithfully put on 10 #'s per year. A mere 1 # per month. 6 years ago I quit smoking and the food really started tasting good. Not that its an excuse because I certainly could have started losing 1 #/month, six years ago instead of putting it on. I am agreeing to this because my wife and daughter have asked me to. I have already had to start eating the diet because that is all that is in the house to eat. Broccoli and cauliflower are everywhere. My mother never made me eat those things so why should I have to now. George Bush #1 didn't eat them because his mother never made him eat them also. This will be a sad day for mankind on Thursday. I hope I escape with my manhood intact. Pray for me.

The latest on Randy. He ate my Sturgis Fire Dept baseball cap from Sturgis Motorclassics 2004. He managed to escape with his life somehow. He also ate a pair of my wife's glasses but that not my problem, if she wants to leave things laying around.