Bay Area Rapid FUBAR

Maybe I’m too simple. You’re the mass transit for the entire Bay Area. Every day thousands of people ride your service, and have been since 1973, yet, you still can’t get it right.

7 things BARF should pay attention to:

  1. At 5pm every day your service is flooded with commuters trying to get down to the trains. Have the escalators working.
  2. You are the only form of transportation for a lot of disabled people. Have the elevators working for them.
  3. Each train has one driver. It doesn’t cost any more to add cars. Why are you running 8 car trains during the commute hours?
  4. Clean the freaking stations.
  5. Why do BART cops drive at all? Shouldn’t they be on the trains? Take their cars away.
  6. Why do I have to walk down to the secret squirrel ticket both to get a high value ticket? $45 is $45. Can’t you program the machines to print out the same ticket I have to drive to Safeway to buy?
  7. How about some signs in the station, like downstairs that say “SF Train in 3 minutes”. “Dublin train in 5 minutes”. There’s nothing worse than busting ass to run all the way up or down three flights of stairs because your escalator is broken, only to find out that train sitting in the station is actually going the other direction.

Excuse me while I whip this out…

With the Broadway success of The Producers, I’ve heard that they’re bringing Blazing Saddles to the stage. I can’t imagine how that would be possible. However, last night Jan Wahl and Mike and Mary Colhoun brought Blazing Saddles to an outdoor screen at Mike and Mary’s winery, Landmark. I always really liked Landmark for their Chardonneys. Then I had their Steel Plow Pinot. A friend of mine described it as a “pretty wine”. It is pretty. Mike giggled when I told him that. Some drunk girl sang “Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life”, which was the answer to a trivia question, Jan asked while we were waiting for the sun to set enough to see the screen. The film originally came out when I was a sophmore in high school. So a certain set of jokes were very funny to a high school sophmore. What I found last night was that there was a whole another set of jokes that I didn’t have the life experience to get back then. Madeline Kahn might have been one of the most talented actresses ever. Really. Ever. A lot of the crowd knew all of the lines, and shouted them out. I knew about half of them.
For little things that make my day, as we were leaving, I decided to go back into the tasting room to use the restroom. Everything was pretty much winding down. As I left the tasting room, a pleasantly loaded Mary Colhoun stopped me and said “I don’t believe we’ve met”. No we hadn’t. I thanked her for a very enjoyable evening, told her I loved their wine and about the Doberman tile I bought in their tasting room. Of all places to find a large Doberman kitchen tile, I found one at Landmark. She went on about how her and Mike loved dogs and over comes Mike Colhoun. Mary wanders off and Mike asks which wine we were drinking. I told him that I love his Chardonney, but his Steel Plow is just a pretty wine. He tells me that they only make 1800 cases of it and that it’s organically farmed on the hill just over there. We agree that good wine is made in the vineyard and have a lovely chat about wine.* He tells me that he only makes 1800 cases of the Steel Plow. Well, Mike, after tonight, you’re short a little. We both laugh and I leave thrilled to death to have had a few minutes unplugged with Mike Colhoun. I also left with a standing invitation to bring Beau whenever I came to Landmark.

The Wine of the Day is anything made by Landmark.

http://www.landmarkwine.com

*This is always the point in the conversation where I really wished I had spoken more to my Uncle Alan about wine. He worked at UC Davis, I think forever, and I’m sorry that I didn’t learn what I could have from him before he left us.

Sure is hot out

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There was another mourning dove nest in the apricot tree right outside the newly installed patio doors. I realized that was why the mourning doves seemed to really care about the installation of that door. It kept me inside and away from their nest. There were two fledgings in the nest. Last year there was a mourning dove nest at Toyon in the mulberry tree. The first fledging was tossed out unceromoniously and could not fly. He sat in the freezing cold that April as I kept Beau away from him and hoped he’d make it. Taking him to Lindsey was out of the question as they euthanize if they’re over their quota for a particular species. I’m sure they have made their quota for mourning doves, so I felt if he were supposed to survive he would. Well, after a few days, he was getting weaker so I put him gently in a box with a towel and brought him inside. I tried to give him water through a dropper so that maybe he’d gain enough strength that I could put him out in the morning. He died overnight. So these new guys I watched like a hawk and admonished the mother to not toss them out until they were ready.

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Yesterday they were stretching their little wings and cleaning themselves. I figured it was in preparation for flight. I guessed right, they were gone this morning. Later in the day I saw a smaller dove walking around the front yard. He looked fine, just learning his way around. I told him he should watch out for Chester, the neighbor’s cat. I hope he does ok.

My slate and tile arrived at Home Depot Yardbird’s two days ago. I went in yesterday to pick it up. The kid brings out about half of the tile and the boxes are all torn up and tiles are falling out and some are chipped. OK, I’m a little pissy, and it’s 100 degrees and I need the rest of the tile and the slate. After a stern discussion he returns with a pallate full of slate, but informs me that they can’t find my bullnose. Well, son, I ordered the bullnose, I paid for it and I’d like you to take your sorry butt back there and find it for me. Thank you. Alex was the kid’s name. He’s a good kid, just lacks initiative. He got a schooling in initiative yesterday. Part of me wants to make him load the slate box by box onto the truck, the other part of me has already waited 45 minutes for him to find it in the first place, so a forklift will be just fine. So they forklift 2000 pounds of slate onto my pickup truck, which pushes it down onto it’s springs and I tell Alex I’ll be back in the morning to get the rest. God bless Alex for learning initiative so quickly. When I arrive this morning, Alex is quick to point out that he has found that one of the boxes of 12X12 tiles has been shattered. He’s brought it out so that the Department Head and I can see the damage. Apparently Home Depot’s distribution center in Benecia is the culprit. Apparently this is a regular occurrence. So I asked the supervisor to have the manager of the Distribution Center call me and explain to me which Ass Clown dropped my tile and then put the shattered remains BACK on the truck to be delivered to me. Did that little wanker go home that day and think he did a good job? What are they going to do about the fact that they have shattered a case of special order Brazilian tile that I need to start a job this week? Can I go and shower at that guy’s house since mine won’t be ready? I really want the little jerk off that did it to understand that there are ramifications to being a dumb ass. So far, no call from any manager. That not such a good sign. The longer it takes for them to call me back the worse it’s going to be for them.

On the upside, my cooktop arrived from Friedman’s today. Can’t wait to get that installed. The countertops go in next Friday. Today I sanded down the cabinets. I’d hoped to get a coat of stain on them but I ran out of time. I’m off to Landmark Vineyards tonight for a chuck wagon dinner, Jan Wahl and Blazing Saddles. It should be a hoot. They are my favorite Chardonney house, they also make the Steel Plow Pinot which a love. Someone is the heir to the John Deere estate, hence the Steel Plow. See? Wasn’t that informative?

This morning’s weigh in: 207

Passages

With the assistance of one of my unemployed friends, some major work occured over the weekend. The back patio door would not even close. OK, it’s worse in this picture, and my buddy is busy taking a time out. Slacker.

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Actually, she doesn’t want to drink water from the bowl like Beauregard has to and she’s just complaining. After much adeau (I’m sure my Mother will correct the spelling there) we got the French doors installed. They haven’t trued up yet, because we also discovered the real reason men don’t read instructions. The perceived reason is arrogance and machismo. The real reason is vanity and disorganization. Neither of us could find our reading glasses so we don’t know what the instructions said. So we guess and make jokes. And decide to surf the internet on Monday for instructions on how to true a door. Apparently shims aren’t optional. Who knew? So we moved on to the front door, after we got the French doors somewhat even, or more appropriately close enough for government work…well, better than that, they do close AND open. So we decided that 5 hours in 100 degree weather wasn’t a good day, we had to replace the front door too. Now, all friends volunteer longer than they should with the helpful addition of beer. Now with beer in place we take on the front door.

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If it is possible, the instructions were printed in #1 font. I’m pretty sure. Just like the French doors, we were unable to true the doors. Once again shims are not optional, but in spite of ourselves:

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It’s great to have good friends (who are also taller than you) to help with jobs like this. Tomorrow night, I will reset the front door with the Attorney’s assistance, and shim the back and I should be in business.

With all this excitement going on at The Farm, you might think I wasn’t following my Body for Life program. You would be wrong. Not only am I following it, but I’ve been to a Spin and Lift class. Sounds a little like doing laundry, but what it really does is 30 minutes of Spinning class followed by 30 minutes of weight training. No problem for the Powerlifter…right? Wrongo. This high rep low weight crap hurts. 3000 bicep curls. 800,000 crunches, I’m pretty sore in places I don’t usually work out. This week’s food:

  • Breakfast
  • Cereal, milk and 1/2 grapefruit
  • Snack
  • Beef jerkey and Yoplait ff yogurt
  • Lunch
  • Chicken breast on a whole wheat bun
  • Snack
  • Grapes and string cheese
  • Dinner
  • Swordfish, watermelon and asparagus
  • Dessert
  • Strawberries and ricotta cheese.

Happy Birthday to Elliot Richardson. I suspect someone will be asked very soon to do what you did. I hope they have the same respect for country and the Constitution that you did.

Damage was short lived…

The trick to blisters is to leave them alone. Switch up shoes until you find something that works and let it settle. Never drain them. Draining them makes a wound and then lets air into it. It takes longer to heal and straight up hurts more. I’m back in business and hoping to get to the driving range tomorrow morning.

Today I went to Wordcamp. I was hoping to learn about tweaking this page so it was better to look at. While it was interesting, I’m going to have to find that information someplace else…like looking it up. Still I found out about some hilarious other blogs, some of which I will link to when I’m not so tired. After Wordcamp I came home and went for a bike ride and then over and pulled up more of those damned staples. God bless the guy who did his job right in 1958, although right now, I wish he’d been a little bit more of a slacker, like say the guy that did my neighbor’s house. They didn’t have that many staples in the floor. Tomorrow a friend is going to help me so I think tomorrow will be the day to pull out the patio door and replace it. If in fact that occurs, photojournalism to follow.

This morning’s weigh in:

206…damage officially undone.

Home again, home again, jiggidy jog….

Don’t we all have stupid little things our Mother’s used to say? My Mother said that.

Kick it up a notch!

After the plane flight from Hell to Hawaii, I was relatively certain that I wanted to take a different route home. An upgrade to first class was $150. There would be no crying children for $150. There would be leg room. There would be elbow room. I would be able to reach down and actually pick up my laptop bag and remove what I wanted for $150. Really, it was $30 per hour. Actually less since the earphones, snacks and first two cocktails were free. So really, around $119 for the upgrade, around $20 per hour…it was totally worth it.

Reintstated.org

Ok, it’s a little radical, but when you’re staying on the West end of Oahu, that’s where the Hawaiians live. And they’ve got something to say. Currently there are two bills in front of the Hawaiian legislature. The Akaka Bill and Kanaka bill. The Akaka bill would make the Native Hawaiian people somewhat like the Native American (Indian) nations. Of course, Hawaiians are Native Americans and we could go around in circles for a long time on that one. The Kanaka bill has to do with reclaiming the sovereign nation, reinstating their political authority. They want their land back. They have bumper stickers that say Hawaiian culture is not for sale. I concur. On the West end you can feel the simmering under the surface. It feels like it could blow at any point. There are (according to a radio report yesterday) 920 homeless Hawaiians living on the beaches in West Oahu. Originally I thought, let’s get some housing and services and jobs down here. Then I watched some of them fishing one evening. And some more the next morning. And I saw a woman leave for work in her scrubs, obviously heading to the Waianae hospital that was across the street. Then I thought, is there a more pure way of living? I’m sure the emcampment has some problems, but the weather is generally mild enough that living on the beach is possible. The fish are good down there so living off of the land is possible. I just felt like there was a certain spirituality in some of the encampments that I wasn’t expecting. Would these folks prefer housing? I would think so, but there was something very pure going on down there on that beach.

Many of them have been displaced by the rising cost of real estate, which is a direct result of the tourism trade. I’m sure there’s been some hinky practices, not unlike the sub-prime hinkiness that’s gone on around here. The depth and complexity of the issue is staggering. I know a lot of the land is owned by our government, part of military installations. Some of those facilities are now closed and it seems to me that they should be returned to the Hawaiian nation. I know it’s not that simple, but it shouldn’t go to Dole or Trump or Starwood or Marriott or Hilton. Just saying.

Speaking of natives…

Native to the Makaha Valley, and really the whole freaking island are tons of critters. Critters we don’t see over here. Like mongoose. Imagine that? I saw a mongoose. And the cardinals are different with little red heads. They have light brown heads when their juveniles. Then the brown turns to bright red. Photojournalism to follow. There is a peacock family living at the Makaha Golf Club. Photojournalism to follow. Last night, I decided to go to bed a little early so I could get up at 5am and take this plane home. As I have gotten older, and our country has gotten stupider, I have become terrified of flying. In my mind the ball could be dropped with the engineer at Lockheed who made a mistake, the mechanic who didn’t do his job, the corporate wanker who decided to not follow the manufacturer’s recommendations on service to save money (remember the jackscrew?) the TSA guy who’s not paying attention, the clown that needs to make a name for himself, the list is really endless. I try to keep myself so busy that I don’t remember that I’m getting on a plane. It worked on the way out, but on the way home, I had time to think about all that could go wrong. So when I laid down last night and the curtains rustled and I heard a chirp chirp chirp going on back there, I was certain that a bird had flown into my room. I don’t mind birds, I mind them in the house. It’s one of those silly superstitions, and to me, it means impending death. Terrifying if you’re planning on getting on a plane across the big water the next day. I couldn’t function so I called the front desk and asked for the maintenance guys to come help. Somehow, if the bird didn’t actually fly around the room, my plane might make it home safely. If the bird flew around the room, I was changing rooms, and staying for three more days while I wrote my will and put my house back into my trust, made arrangements for Beauregard and gave my brother the secret code words to get into everything, because I was certainly not going to live through the plane ride home. I opened the sliding glass window and looked tentatively for the bird but found none. The maintenance guys arrive and shake the curtains, which shakes my very soul. Dammit boys! Don’t you know that I’ll die if that bird flies around the room? But after vigorous shaking, nothing emerges from the curtains. There is no bird lurking in the cathedral ceilings of the room. Yeah, I’m a dumb girl and you boys can go back to shooting dice under a banyan tree. They leave, I close up the room and go back to bed and Chirp Chirp! I can’t call them back. I can only call ATA and change my reservations. My heart is ready to jump out of my chest. I turn on all of the lights and open the window again. As I get back into bed, certain of my impending demise, I see a gecko scurry along the rail. It’s not a bird at all, it’s a gecko! My plane will be safe, I will be safe and we can all go home. I leave the light on beside the bed, because I know he’s as scared as I’ve been. I also know he keeps the spiders out of my room and I know that’s a good thing.

Photojournalism

The Makaha Golf Club view

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The flower lei that the lady gave me at the powerlifting meet

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A ridiculous tee shot, yeah, I had to drop a ball on this one…but I did tee off from the black tees…in my defense.

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From the 3rd tee at Ko’olau, which is now apparently owned by the Presbyterian church…the whole thing, not just the 3rd tee box

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And the results of playing way too much golf…or shooting a 139 at Ko’olau

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OK, and most people fret over the damage caused by vacations. Besides that toe, which was debilitating and resulted in the purchase of flip flops, the damage was…this morning’s weigh in:

Weight 212

Fat 36.0

BMI 36.1

On the upside, my weigh-in for the meet on Friday night was 207.2. I’m stiff from playing golf and the meet and sitting on a plane for 5 hours yesterday. I had to get up and stretch numerous times, but it was easy, since I was the only person in my row in first class. The best $150 I spent on this vacation!

I occasionally check to see how I’m doing in the various powerlifting federations. I will be ranked in the top ten of the WABDL after last weekend’s performance for the dead lift. I’d have been in the top 20 if I had just pressed the weight once. I am attributing that failure to either the lack of a massage after arrival (which also occured in Chicago) and/or the vicious spider bite I got on my arm the previous Tuesday. It was so bad that Dr. Elkind refused to adjust the elbow. There was a lump the size of a golfball under the skin and it was hot to touch and firey red to look at. It didn’t shoot up my arm, ruling out black widows and my arm didn’t swell up to twice it’s size, ruling out the fiddleback. So it was just a mean mofo that jacked up my arm. I forgot about it, but the lump was still there when I went to play golf on Sunday. It could have been a contributor, but at the end of the day, I didn’t do what I needed to, and will have to go back to the drawing board. I do hold eleven AAU records, currently nothing in USAPL. I know I hold some records in Scott Taylor’s APA, but he has forgotten to renew his URL, so I can’t see how many right now. Yes, the Big Dog lifts.

The problem with my hotel was that it was so far away from civilization. Waianae was down the hill but there weren’t any restaraunts down there. At least nothing more than a couple of Micky-D’s, a couple of KFC’s a Murder King and a Taco Hell. So I would have to drive for real food. Really drive. Like an hour. On the upside, the night before the meet I ate at the Honolulu Ruth’s Chris. I couldn’t figure out where to park in Waikiki and gave up. I had my typical pre-meet meal, petite filet, potatoes au gratin and 1/2 Caesar. I sat next to a guy who worked for the Speaker of the House of the State of Hawaii. Unfortunately, I had just arrived and hadn’t figured much out, so we ended up talking about UC Davis, where he went to school and Bay Area nonsense. If I had gotten that guy on the third night, WOW what a conversation that would have been. The next night I walked from the Sheraton Waikiki, where the meet was held to Roy’s Hawaiian, Waikiki. I sat at the bar and they didn’t hassle me for my gym clothes. I appreciate that. I know I wasn’t dressed properly, so I felt sitting at the outside bar would help the situation. They were cool. I had the blackened ahi appetizer. They didn’t blacken it and I’ve had better…at Patrick David’s in Danville. The first glass of wine, actually taste, was disappointing, so I told the bartender that I was a pain in the ass when it came to wine and just pick a good one. It could be anything from a Sauvignon Blanc to a Cab, but it had to be good. So this kid picks the Roy’s blend, made specifically for Roy’s Hawaiian, from Santa Barbara. I look at him incrediously, but tasted it any way. It was very good and it went with my dinner nicely. I also ordered the blue crab cakes, very nice, much better execution than the ahi. I ordered the tomato, goat cheese salad. Very nicely executed with thin sliced tomatos, a pate of goat cheese and olives and a spritz of greens. Then the boys talked me into trying the chocolate souffle. A very nice dessert, served warm with fresh ice cream. All and all an enjoyable meal, thanks guys!

Aloha

Raise the bar, Hey Judge, to 836 pounds!

Today was the Honolulu WABDL meet. It was in memory of Sonny Ronolo. I did not know him, but his daughter spoke so eloquently of him, you couldn’t help but feel his spirit. You can go to Hawaii, and then you can go to Hawaii. Spending the day with a bunch of Hawaiians, doing something they would normally do that day, made me have a whole new appreciation for Oahu. Oahu, that I had almost written off because of the congestion, and tourism, and abject poverty.

Dr. Lyn

Dr. Lyn was a powerlifter. I did not meet her either, but she had an aneurysm a few days ago and passed away, or went to sleep as they say here. I coincidentally ended up sitting with first, a group of her friends and then, her family came in and sat down. Life is a little fragile for powerlifters. Many vaper lock and go young. Lyn was my age. She coached a bunch of the lifters that were there. They were all walking zombies. I knew her name and she was a great lifter, but to see the influence she had on these women was particularly poignant. Some of them really seemed a little lost, I could tell them what they needed to do, but they couldn’t hear me through the grief. An older woman sat next to me. She was Chinese and her english was stilted. She went to Lyn’s gym. (I’m not sure if she owned the gym or just coached people there) The Mother, sister and cousin came in and sat next to us. I missed my first lift and the Chinese lady gave me a big hug when I came over to sit down. Then I missed my second bench and she told me I’d get the next one and reached into her bag and pulled out a flower lei. She had probably made them earlier in the day. She put it around my neck and gave me a kiss in the Island tradition. It was pretty cool. I still bombed out on the bench. I didn’t even make 198 or 203, both lifts I do regularly in the gym. I attribute it to either 1) jet lag 2) too much home improvement or 3) the lack of a pre meet massage.

Abject poverty

I’m staying at a golf resort in the Makaha Valley. It’s a ANA site and they’re busy selling time shares this weekend. Too bad they didn’t spend a little time putting coffee in my room. I’ve been up for 45 minutes with no coffee. Yeah, this is aggravating. The resturant isn’t much, but the golf course is beautiful. This place is way secluded and you don’t even notice the nonsense of Honolulu or Waikiki. It’s a 45 minute drive. Google called it 35, it’s 45 if you’re hustling and don’t get stuck in traffic. Apparently, they had a terrible homeless problem in Honolulu. So they ran them out. All of them. I haven’t seen a single bum in Honolulu or Waikiki. Waiainae is a totally different story. They’re all up here camping on the beach. Miles and miles of homeless emcampments. You can’t even go to the beach here. I just wonder, with all the money on this island, why can’t they just fix the problem. Get some alcohol and drug services, some job services and some cheap ass housing and be done with it. I saw six sheriffs down there the other day. That is either a raid or a death. Neither is good.

Golf on Oahu

Golf on Oahu so far has been pretty damned good. This course is pretty well known and gorgeous to boot. Today I’m off to Ko’olau. While having my tooth drilled out for a crown last week, my dentist told me about this course in Hawaii that was so tough that the lost ball penalty wasn’t two strokes. To lose a sleeve was nothing. To lose a flat was business as usual. I laughed, I was playing on the North Shore, so I thought. Not so much. Ko’olau is that course. I’ll be stopping at the Sports Authority to pick up a flat of balls to hit into the ravines.

Hey! What the —-!

When I dropped Beauregard off at the puppy resort prison, he’s usually just so fired up to be on an adventure, he doesn’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. And he’s a good dog so he makes the best of a bad situation, passes notes with the other prisoners, plans an escape, the usual. This time, I slipped off of his collar and she slipped on his nylon lead and he looked at me with the sort of alarm that can only say Hey! What the —-? Wait a minute! I am sooo not staying here without you Mom! Be safe little man, I miss you.

ATA

Could you ass clowns jam any more seats onto an airplane? I thank you for getting me here safely and please get me home safely too. Safe sans wet pants. That landing in Honolulu just about did me in. My palms were soaked, I broke out in a complete sweat and the gal sitting next to me said “typical Hawaiian landing”. I’m only 5’4″ and to fold me up to put me into a seat, I can’t imagine what a 6’4″ man does. Ridiculous Air Tran. I am soo not looking forward to folding myself up to get back home. The screaming baby was a nice touch. I really wish the attendant had done something besides smile knowingly. Like knowlingly picked up the little snot and walking him up and down the aisle until he went to sleep? There’s an idea. The parents were overwhelmed and out of their league on this one. And I need a license to have a dog.

Bon Mots and Cheap Shots

Ain’t nothing but a dog party!

The Fourth of July featured another dog party. I’ll have to quote the invite here, just because it’s brilliant and makes me laugh every time I see the email. It was entitled “The Liberation of Paris”

July 4th is on a Wedneday this year, and we should use the opportunity to commemorate, nay, celebrate Paris Hilton’s release from the clutches of the guv’mint. “Legally blonde” is more than a concept, it’s an affirmative defense, because everyone always thinks it’s so cute when blondes do goofy things…

Please bring your four legged friends (who, not being blonde, have always been smart enough to avoid violating probation, even to drive to a hamburger place) and join us for a BBQ in the afternoon, say 2 to 6. Anyone still around at dark can join us up on the hill to watch fireworks from a distance.

Yes, they’re all attorneys. It was 150 degrees out. Here is Beauregard in recline:

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He said it was “damned hot” out. I even got him to lay down in a wading pool, and we all know that Dobermans will melt if exposed to water. Kind of like the wicked witch.

Back at the Farm
I’ve been working like a dog on the house. It’s almost 7:30 on a Sunday, I should have gotten out on my bike earlier today and I just can’t move. I had to hire a plumber to replace the angle valves under the sink. They were so corroded that I was afraid of breaking the house. What they did was ridiculously simple and I’m pretty pissed off at myself for not being able to figure it out on my own. It was a $250 lesson. It could have been worse. It’s done, they did a good job and I learned something. I have carpet samples laying in the living room. I need to get over there and pull the rest of the nasty flooring garbage up. I’d like to get to the dump today, but that may involve employing a day laborer. If I get an email soon from Craig’s list wanting to buy the fridge, I’ll go get me a day laborer. Otherwise, I’m Fred Sanford loadin’ up the truck. The tiles in the entry were clay clear through so I’m going to salvage them for use in the back yard. After I finish the floors today, I need to take TSP to the kitchen cabinets and the paneled den. Then I’m going to rub it down with mineral spirits and it should be ready for new stain. I’m running by Kelly Moore this morning to get some. On the upside, if I run my ass off for the next four days, I can fly to Hawaii on Thursday with a clear conscience.

Maverick’s Sports

Maverick’s is the gym up near the new house. My old gym, Bally’s is clear across town and probably a 20 minute drive. At 5:00a.m., twenty minutes each way is too much. Maverick’s is 4 minutes each way. It’s a 70,000 square foot facility. And the jackass owner has been cutting every corner possible for three years. Now the County has shut down the pool. It was supposed to be remodeled three years ago. He’s been “remodeling” the men’s locker rooms for close to three years. It’s an 8 week project, dumb ass. You can smell the mold in the carpet upstairs. I promise you, it’s the wrong kind of mold. The whirlpool is down in both locker rooms. I guess it’s nice that the steam room is working, but slats are missing. Yet this ass clown wants $62 month in membership. The membership maven called me Friday after my visit and I let her have it. She took a deep breath and I believe told me the truth. She’s willing to get the district manager in there to talk to me. I think I will do it. I could rehab the entire facility in six months for under $750k. I’m sure of it. This owner is a joker. Let’s see what the district manager has to say about this. On the upside, a friend of mine designed the weight rooms and they are beautiful. Perfectly laid out, equipment properly spaced. The owner is an embarrassment.

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire…

This morning started with a bone crushing headache. Did that stop me? Nosireebobcattail. So off I went to the gym, sans my gym bag since my brain should have been in the ICU. I got to the gym “thinking” well, I can pretty much remember what I’m supposed to do. So I started my workout and realized about halfway through that I was going to throw up if I didn’t get out of there. So home I went. I laid down and slept for 45 minutes and when I woke up it was gone. Still shaky I decided ripping out flooring was a good idea. I barely remembered that the roofers were still working. Good news, they were using nailers and not hammers. Check out the boys working:

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The boys on the roof are doing a great job. Now Mike the Electricial was by today. He gave me a bid to replace this old gem:

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This is a Push-O-Matic electrical box. Look for this on ebay. The parts are impossible to come by and I’ll be replacing this one.

They say that some animals mourn and others don’t. Personally, I think Mourning Doves are stalkers. I think this is a hired assassin mourning dove. He just sat outside my office window. He’s just waiting to get a good shot off.

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About my golf game…two tournaments in a row and two Best Value awards in a row. I shot a 66 on the front and a 66 on the back. I owned the three-put on the back nine. I found my drive and lost my short game. Why do I play this game?