LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE.......

Ears.... all Ears.... Dakota update

2010-06-28T22:05:00.003-05:00

Dakota Update.....

The little fuzz ball is no longer a little fuzz ball. He sure is growing and looking like a real puppy.

We take a walk almost every morning and meet all our friends and neighbors walking their dogs. This is Dakota’s favorite time of the day since he gets to see all his buddies, both 2 legged and 4 legged.

Dakota has to be carrying something in his mouth all the time. Any stick will do – or a leaf – or even a rock.

One morning after a good rain we took a walk. The angleworms were out on the street. Dakota looked so funny when he picked up an angleworm and continued on his walk – the worm swinging back and forth with every step he took.

Even though Dakota has captured our hearts and the hearts of everyone in The Gardens, he must realize that the house he lives in does not belong to him exclusively. He must realize that he has to share the house not only with Irene and Me, but also with Pudge.

Pudge is the cat – well named from the beginning when she was just a kitten. As she grew in stature and girth, I stared to call her “Porkchop” - Soon the name “Sumo” seemed more appropriate. Now some of our neighbors have been calling her “Buddha.” I think you get the picture; the cat is huge - tipping the scales at just under 15 lbs.

During the day, Pudge has her favorite place for catnaps, right on our bed. Since the dog and the cat must share the same dwelling, it was best to get them acquainted. Here is “Pudge, The Monster Cat” when she got caught in the middle of a hisssss.......

This was not the least bit daunting to little Dakota, and he decided that the cat would make a dandy “chew toy.”

Soon Pudge was at least tolerating this little pest and trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

It seems like it was only a couple of days before the cat and dog actually started playing together. Dakota has his house, and Pudge loves to jump on top of his house and tease him. What a zoo we have.

Stay tuned…. More Dakota antics will be coming your way.......

Man's Best Friend

2010-06-13T21:19:00.007-05:00

Man’s best friend….

….is such an overused expression, but those of us who have the companionship of a dog relate to this expression in a very personal way.

A dog owner knows that “A dog is the only animal that loves you more than he loves himself…..”

Irene and I have been blessed with the constant companionship of Gizmo for almost 12 years. I say “Constant Companionship” because Gizmo is a Papillion (French for butterfly – the ears).

A expression Papillion owners are all familiar with is “Owning a Papillion is never having to go to the bathroom alone again….” This is so true since a Papillion is a very social dog and will follow you anywhere…. even into the bathroom.

All good things must come to an end, and so it was with Gizmo. She had been doing poorly for several days and the Vet said it was just a matter of time for the poor little girl.

Irene was visiting her grandchildren for a couple of weeks. I called her in Wall, South Dakota and told her that it was time for Gizmo to leave us. There were tears on both ends of the phone that morning as a feeling of loneliness and emptiness filled our hearts. Irene and I were not even together to comfort each other.

About 2 hours later, Irene called back….

“What would you think about a little boy?” she asked. She explained that she had been checking the paper in the Crossville area for several months for Papillions, knowing that Gizmo was not doing well.

“Tim, it’s fate.” She exclaimed. “I just opened the local paper here in Wall South Dakota and in the classified section is a picture of the cutest little Papillion you ever saw. I think it is meant to be and I have an appointment to meet the breeder tomorrow morning.”

And so it was that "Dakota" became part of our family. He will never take the place of Gizmo, nor should he- we will have fond memories of Gizmo for all times.

Was it too soon to get another Papillion? Not at all. “Dakota” took the heartache out of loosing Gizmo – I would call Irene a couple of times a day to get a “Dakota” update. She took pictures of our new baby on her cell phone and sent them to me. I was in love with the little guy before I ever met him.

This was the first picture I got of Dakota. Irene was holding him in one hand when she took the picture.

Of course, everyone in The Gardens soon heard about our situation (The Gardens is one big family – no secrets) and wanted to know when the new baby was coming home.

Dakota has been home now a little over a month. In such a short time he has taken over the house and captured the hearts of everyone in The Gardens.

Check back soon to get a puppy fix and your "Dakota" update.....

Feeding the calves as a young boy…..

2009-12-09T08:51:00.003-06:00

For me “Life in The Slow Lane” means taking the time to do things that interest me.

I enjoy writing and like to share my stories so when a ‘Memoir Writing Class’ was offered at the church, I eagerly joined. I would like my children and grandchildren to share my life in a simpler, more innocent time.

I recall feeding the calves as a young boy…..

The Bully Calf
by: Tim Mangan

Our home in Cadott was just on the edge of town and must have been part of a farm at one time, hence the big red barn out in back of the house. Dad owned a feed mill in town and made the most of this barn. He would buy calves that were only a week or so old and raise them for veil.

Since I stood head and shoulders above the calves (I was not very old at the time), Dad figured that I was big enough to take care of them. My job was to feed and water and add fresh straw to keep their bedding clean and dry.

As soon as we got the calves Dad would have the local Veterinarian come out to vaccinate them. The Vet would first feel the definition of the muscles in the neck. When he was satisfied with the correct muscle, he rubbed disinfectant on the injection site and pulled out the largest syringe that I had ever seen in my entire life. This instrument of torture must have been a foot long. Add to that; the needle, which was about the size of a 10 inch spike. I tried not to watch while with one deft motion, he stuck the gigantic needle deep into the neck of the calf and pushed the plunger. The calf did not react in the least and did not even flinch. I was convinced that calves have no feeling in their neck.

Feeding the calves was always an adventure. Since they were so young, they needed a milk supplement at least twice a day. The powdered formula was mixed with warm water that I carried from the house and dumped into a ‘nursing bucket’ – a special bucket with a large rubber nipple that hung on the side of the calf pen.

When a calf is nursing, the calf will butt the mother’s udder. This is a natural process that gets the milk flowing and doesn’t hurt the cow in the least. This instinct followed through to the ‘nursing bucket’. I had to stand there and hold the bucket on the railing of the calf pen. If I was not vigilant, the bucket was butted off the railing and I would have to start all over.

One particular batch of calves proved to be a real problem for me. One of the calves was several inches taller than the others. This animal had a size and weight advantage over the others and used this advantage to the maximum at feeding time.

We only had one nursing bucket so I would make sure that all of the calves took turns. This was usually not a problem, except with this particular calf. And…. he sure loved the milk supplement. Loved it so much he would bully the others, push them away from the bucket and drink their share.

He was a monster of a calf, standing almost as tall as me (I was a young boy at the time). He would lower his head and his hoofs would paw the ground in a menacing way. Bellowing and snorting, smoke would pour out of his nostrils while lightning flashed in his eyes. One whip with his gigantic tail would raise welts on the skin of any opponent. Yes, this was Beelzebub reincarnate; indeed a beast to be reckoned with.

It was difficult enough having an extra hungry calf, but stealing the nutrition from the others was unacceptable. And too much of a good thing gave him diarrhea. Words should not describe the utter horror of working in the same pen alongside Beelzebub when he had a bad case of diarrhea.

When he was in a feeding frenzy I had my hands full. I tried feeding him first, thinking that he would get full and not steal the other’s milk, but no …. this just gave him a taste of the good stuff and whetted his appetite for more. I tried hanging the pail in the corner of the pen, and then jumping into the pen and blocking him while another calf got his ration. This seemed to work and I thought I was onto something.

The calves were growing rapidly and in only a week or so my blocking technique was no longer effective. To make matters worse, one of the calves was not developing at the normal rate –he needed his supplement more than ever.

One day the small calf was just starting the nursing pail when Beelzebub, deciding he was extra hungry; came in and pushed him away. This was the start of a battle between man and beast – or I should say ‘boy and beast’.

Pound for pound Beelzebub probably outweighed me, putting me at a disadvantage from the start.

He bullied his way to the pail – I pushed him away. He came back again to claim his prize and I pushed him away again. I was getting angrier all the time. When he came back a third time, I screamed at him and beat on his back with my fists. I was in tears I was so helpless and angry.

On his fourth assault, and in a fit of desperation and rage, I bit him. Yes, …..I bit him. I bit him right on the back of the neck. Biting had always worked when I was angry with my older brother. I bit Beelzebub as hard as I could and in return simply got a mouth full of foul tasting, wiry calf hair. My biting attack did not bother him in the least, reinforcing my belief that calves have no feeling in their neck.

What's it like to get old?

2009-12-04T09:23:00.005-06:00

I received this as a forwarded email. Some things are just too beautiful to keep to yourself, so enjoy the thoughts.

The question:
What's it like to get old?

The Answer:

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not makingmy bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 &70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers,or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever,but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day(if I feel like it).

MAY OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART! MAY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A RAINBOW OF SMILES ON YOUR FACE.

Electronic security, GPS and Cell Phone

2009-11-01T13:00:00.003-06:00

Thanks to Tim Wilson from The Gardens....

This gives us something to think about with all our new electronic technology.

GPS.......

A couple of weeks ago a friend told me that someone she knew had their car broken into while they were at a football game. Their car was parked on the green which was adjacent to the football stadium and specially allotted to football fans. Things stolen from the car included a garage door remote control, some money and a GPS which had been prominently mounted on the dashboard.

When the victims got home, they found that their house had been ransacked and just about everything worth anything had been stolen.

The thieves had used the GPS to guide them to the house. They then used the garage remote control to open the garage door and gain entry to the house. The thieves knew the owners were at the football game, they knew what time the game was scheduled to finish and so they knew how much time they had to clean out the house. It would appear that they had brought a truck to empty the house of its contents.

Something to consider if you have a GPS - don't put your home address in it. Put a nearby address (like a store or gas station) so you can still find your way home if you need to, but no one else would know where you live if your GPS were stolen.

MOBILE PHONES...

I never thought of this.......This lady has now changed her habit of how she lists her names on her mobile phone after her handbag which contained her cell phone, credit card, wallet... etc...was stolen.

Twenty minutes later when she called her hubby, from a pay phone telling him what had happened, hubby says 'I received your text asking about our Pin number and I've replied a little while ago.'
When they rushed down to the bank, the bank staff told them all the money was already withdrawn. The thief had actually used the stolen cell phone to text 'hubby' in the contact list and got hold of the pin number. Within 20 minutes he had withdrawn all the money from their bank account.

Moral of the lesson: Do not disclose the relationship between you and the people in your contact list.
Avoid using names like Home, Honey, Hubby, Sweetheart, Dad, Mom, etc....And very importantly, when sensitive info is being asked through texts, CONFIRM by calling back.Also, when you're being text by friends or family to meet them somewhere, be sure to call back to confirm that the message came from them. If you don't reach them, be very careful about going places to meet 'family and friends' who text you.

Meals on Wheels

2009-10-21T07:39:00.004-05:00

Every Tuesday I am a volunteer driver for "Meals on Wheels". This is a rewarding experience and not without a laugh or two. The following was posted on the kitchen wall where the drivers pick up their meals.

"Heavenly Meals on Wheels...."

After a long and difficult life the old barn cat passed to a better place. He was greeted at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter.

“Welcome to Heaven” said St Peter. “You have been a good cat all your life. Is there anything special you would like in Heaven?”

“Why yes,” answered the cat. “All my life I have had to sleep on the hard barn floor. I would like a soft pillow to sleep on and a blanket to keep me warm.”

“Done.” Replied St. Peter and the old barn cat found himself lying on a soft pillow lovingly covered with a warm blanket.

The next day two mice were greeted at the Pearly Gates.

“Welcome to Heaven” said St Peter. “You have been good mice all your lives. Is there anything special you would like in Heaven?”

“Why yes,” answered the mice. “All our lives we have had to run very fast to avoid the old barn cat. We are exhausted. We would like roller skates to get around in Heaven.”

“Done.” Replied St. Peter and the mice found themselves wearing a fine set of roller skates.

A couple of days later St. Peter checked back with the old barn cat.

“How is everything in Heaven?” he asked.

“Everything is just grand,” purred the cat. “I have my old friends to play with, a fluffy pillow and blanket to keep me warm and comfortable, and the ‘Meals on Wheels’ are simply delicious.”

Tennessee Fall Colors - The Cherohala Skyway

2009-10-14T15:39:00.013-05:00

We were sure looking forward to the Cherohala Skyway bus trip with the church. At the last minute I got a call and the trip was canceled. Oh well, we decided to go by ourselves.

Prepared with our trusty GPS and a Tennessee road map, we started out. The starting point of the Cherohala Skyway is in Tellico Plains, TN which is about 75 miles SE of Crossville. From there the Skyway twists and turns its way to Robbinsville, NC some 50 miles away.

Arriving in Tellico Plains we scouted out the Visitor Information Center and armed ourselves with pamphlets and maps of the area and the Cherohala Skyway. It was going on lunch time so we pulled into the Nut-N-Fancy Family Restaurant. This turned out to be a great place for lunch. They featured inside and outdoor seating. The menu was just plain “Down to Earth” with very reasonable prices. I had a Reuben with homemade potato chips that they fried up fresh in the back kitchen. What a treat.

Our perky waitress was dressed in bib overalls, her pockets stuffed with extra paper napkins and drinking straws. She turned out to be as much a tour guide as a waitress. She knew everything about Tellico Plains and the Chreohala Skyway and told us that the colors were just starting to change. The peak color would be in about two weeks and color at the higher elevations was more pronounced.

About fifteen minutes into our trip we came to the road leading to Bald River Falls. This is where the Bald River joins the Tellico River. Our waitress/tour guide recommended the scenic six mile side trip to the falls. It was well worth the side trip, the falls was indeed beautiful.

The Skyway drive was something to behold. The highest elevation was 5390 feet in North Carolina, offering spectacular views for miles.

Nearing the end of the Skyway we decided to head north around Lake Santeetla on NC 1134. This took us to Hwy 129 which we followed north to the infamous “Tail of the Dragon” – a stretch of road with 318 curves and hairpin turns in the eleven miles. “Tail of the Dragon” is a favorite for motorcycles and sports cars. We were passed several times (double yellow line) by daredevils riding their “crotch-rockets”.

Not all ends well. In the eleven mile stretch of road we came upon two accidents – both motorcycles. The first was someone who lost control and landed in the ditch (no injuries) but the second accident was not so lucky. He was lying on his back surrounded by his biker friends while they waited for the ambulance. Every year there are several fatalities on this stretch of road as crazy drivers cheat death and see how fast they can navigate “The Tail of the Dragon.”

On the way home we stopped at a BBQ restaurant for supper. We got home about 7:30 and got an enthusiastic “welcome home” from Gizmo and the two cats. We sure look forward to doing it again next year.

More photos at http://twitpic.com/photos/rvhomeyet

The Maytag Repairman.........

2009-09-21T14:27:00.005-05:00

A couple of days ago I was enjoying “Life in the Slow Lane…..” by attending “Pioneer Days” at the Cumberland County Fair Grounds. There were many exhibits of old time living, including a Maytag gasoline powered washing machine in full working condition.

Memories from the tender age of 9 or 10 came rushing back. This antique Maytag had the same kind of engine that powered our "Maytag-Mobile" over half a century ago.

Enjoy the video and listen to the Putt…..Putt……Putt…..of the gasoline engine on this antique washing machine.

As a young boy growing up in a small farming community, my brother and I had our share of gadgets and important “Boy things”. One of these things was a Maytag washing machine engine. I don’t remember where or how we acquired this treasure, but it gave us many hours of joy and even more hours of frustration.

Back as early as 1915 Maytag was making washing machines powered by a gasoline engine. Our Maytag engine was a cantankerous old thing and pretty much ran when it wanted to and quit when it got tired. In all probability, “The Maytag Repairman” or a small engine repairman could have tuned up this engine to run like new.

This was a one cylinder two stroke engine with a kick starter and a large flywheel. I would guess it was manufactured between 1927 and 1937.

Once we got it started it would Putt….Putt…..Putt….like an old John Deere Tractor. It did not have a throttle but would increase the firing speed run smoothly and as soon as resistance was applied to the flywheel.

Now, the only honorable thing to do with this engine (since we did not get a washing machine to go with it) was to craft a fine race car to put this in.

Our custom made "Maytag-Mobile" was a sight to behold. It was made entirely of wood – the frame was some scrap 2x4 lumber we found in the barn. After we scraped off the pigeon droppings it was just fine.

The floor boards came from the pile of poplar lumber in the back yard, full of slivers and knot holes. We actually found some bolts in the tool shed and bolted the 2x4 frame together – plain old nails were good enough for the floor and sides, but the frame needed bolts for extra strength.

Mr. Olson at the blacksmith shop was kind enough to dig through his scrap pile and found a couple of old steel rods. He also was kind enough to fit one of the rods with a v-belt pulley. We offered to pay him, having saved a couple of bucks from our allowances over the course of the month, but kindly Mr. Olson declined our offer. He asked only that we drive or pull our race car around to his shop when we got it done so he could see what (those darn fool kids) were up to.

We had the axels and things were coming along quite well.

For steering we simply attached the front axel to another 2x4, and attached this 2x4 piece to the wood frame with a single bolt - right in the middle. To steer, we attached ropes to the outer ends of the front axel and pulled the ropes – just like riding a horse. Oh….. the ingenuity of a couple of clever young boys……

We mounted the Maytag engine on this wonderful wooden platform with wheels, and nailed it down – we had run out of bolts.

Now came the most challenging part - engineering the drive train. We ran a v-belt from the engine to the v-belt pulley that Mr. Jenson had installed on the back axel. This v-belt was loose so no power was transferred to the drive train until the belt was tightened. With an ingenious combination of pulleys we were able to rig up a device that would tighten the v-belt.

After nailing on a wooden orange crate for a seat, we were ready for a test drive. We pushed our race car out of the shed and onto the oval test track – the loop of our gravel drive way.

After several kicks on the starter peddle, the "Maytag-Mobile" came to life with a steady Put….Put….Put……

I got in the drivers seat (sat on the orange crate) and took the reins of the proud steed.
Applying a steady pressure to the foot peddle I tightened the v-belt. The Put…..Put…..Put….. changed to a steady roar as resistance was applied to the flywheel. The "Maytag-Mobile" was actually moving…..

I must say, our "Maytag-Mobile" was a high maintenance engineering marvel. This race car spent more time in the service pit than it did on the test track. There was always something that needed attention, sometimes something as minor as nailing down a couple of loose floor boards.

My brother and I spent most of the summer trying to improve on our race car (actually it was more like trying to keep it from falling apart).

One afternoon after several hours of Grand Prix racing, the end came. I was hard into a turn when I hit a rock and the left front wheel came flying off. The frame hit the ground and I followed the wayward wheel. At the same time the Maytag engine decided to come loose of the frame. Still running with a steady Put….Put….Put…. it bounced around erratically – dodging and weaving every time the flywheel hit the ground. It was as if this hunk of hot metal was possessed by some demon. It was surely bound to do us great bodily harm if it took the wrong bounce and hit one of us. The engine finally came to rest against the side of the garage where it finally quit running.

Our beloved "Maytag-Mobile" was over by the house – and over by the machine shed, and in several other locations all at the same time. AND .... the engine was over by the garage.

We decided that it would take major repairs to put everything back together, so we put the pieces in the barn and left it for another summer.

More Blankets needed for Project Linus

2009-09-17T13:25:00.004-05:00

During August, Prudential Real Estate in Sun Prairie delivered its 500th handmade blanket to the University of Wisconsin Hospital as part of Project Linus-Madison, and more blankets keep coming in.

Prudential Real Estate has been a blanket drop site for Project Linus since 2007. Project Linus is a non-profit organization with a two-fold mission: to provide love, a sense of security, warmth and comfort to children who are seriously ill, traumatized or otherwise in need through the gifts of new, handmade blankets and afghans created by volunteer "blanketeers"; and to provide a rewarding fun service opportunity for interested individuals for the benefit of children.
　
Over 300 chapters of Project Linus exist with more than one million blankets delivered worldwide.

"Helen Vickerman brought it to me," said Trish Baehr Schaefer, owner of Prudential Real Estate in Sun Prairie.

"The neat thing is that it's handmade blankets, and we've gotten a lot of involvement from the community. Bethlehem Lutheran Church has given many blankets, they've done wonderfully with their donations. And the local 4-Hs, and some of the schools have taken it up as part of their home economics projects, and the student councils."

Vickerman said she learned about the program in 2007 after hearing something on TV about it. After researching Project Linus, she took the idea to Baehr Schaefer.

"Trish was all for it right from the beginning," Vickerman said. "I started making them and I ended up making 100. Now I am on to hats." Hats are donated to the UW-Hospital and given to cancer patients.

"I told [Helen] about how awesome it was that my sister got to pick these free hats. Next thing you know, [Helen's] making 50 hats," said Baehr Schaefer.

Vickerman said she has over 60 hats waiting to be delivered.

Over 500 blankets have been dropped off at the Prudential Real Estate offices in Madison and Sun Prairie, but according to Baehr Schaefer, the need in Dane County is 300 blankets a month.

To help fill that need, Hannah Marshall, 8, and Kaylan Marshall, 10, both of Sun Prairie, donated blankets they made on Aug. 28. The fleece knot blankets were the girls' first attempts at making a blanket. "I thought it would be a good idea to make it," Kaylan said. The girls were introduced to Project Linus and taught how to make the blankets by Vickerman.

Anyone can make and donate blankets, which can be dropped off at any local fire station or any Prudential Real Estate office. The only catch is that blankets must be handmade, new and washable. Blankets are given to children permanently.

"I had a gal drive from Wisconsin Rapids to drop off 13 handmade blankets," Baehr Schaefer said. "It's surprising. We had a gal from Tomah come in and drop a couple boxes off. We don't really know how they're hearing about this as the drop spot. But it's nice to see people get involved."

For more information on Project Linus-Madison, visit http://www.projectlinus-madison.org/.

Prudential Real Estate offices are located at 2001 W. Beltline Hwy., Madison, WI 53713; and 3392 Brooks Drive, Sun Prairie, WI 53590.
　

Sun Prairie Star for the complete article with pictures.

The Big Move

2009-09-15T09:04:00.003-05:00

Irene and I had been looking in the Madison area for a new home – where we could park the motorhome right in our driveway. Even after looking for almost 2 years, we were not able to find the perfect property.

750 miles southeast of Madison is Crossville Tennessee, a relatively small community on the Cumberland Plateau. We found “The Gardens RV Village” a couple of years ago quite by accident. The homes in this community all have garages large enough to hold a motorhome and a car – Wow….. just what we were looking for.

We purchased a building lot in “The Gardens” in January of 2009. In late February we stopped in on our way back to Madison from Florida and finalized floor plans. We were all ready to sign the building contract.

Upon our return home I got a clean bill of health from my oncologist and Irene’s check up turned out fine also. It was decision time. We signed the building contract and started to get our home ready to sell.

I must admit I had an inside track using Prudential’s “Online Seller Advantage”. With this state of the art technology I was able to generate detailed reports of the real estate market conditions in our neighborhood and received a daily computer update showing new listings, price changes of existing properties, and sales in my area.

Using the data that I had collected I was able to price our home just right. I put our home on the market in early May. Even in a down real estate market we got an accepted an offer within 21 days – truly a testament to Prudential’s cutting edge technology. I certainly did have an “Online Seller Advantage”.

On July 13 the moving van came and loaded all our stuff and we left for Crossville in the motorhome. The movers arrived here on July 20 and everything went into storage where it remains till our home is completed. Irene and I, along with our dog Gizmo and the two cats, are living in the motorhome and watching our new home take shape.

Costello Calls To Buy A Computer From Abbott....

2009-05-08T11:09:00.006-05:00

I know EXACTLY how this feels

You have to be old enough to remember Abbott and Costello, and too old to REALLY understand computers, to fully appreciate this. For those of us who sometimes get flustered by our computers, please read on...If Bud Abbott and Lou Costello were alive today, their infamous sketch, 'Who's on First?' might have turned out something like this:

COSTELLO CALLS TO BUY A COMPUTER FROM ABBOTT

ABBOTT: Super Duper computer store. Can I help you?
COSTELLO: Thanks. I'm! setting up an office in my den and I'm thinking about buying a computer.
ABBOTT: Mac?
COSTELLO: No, the name's Lou .
ABBOTT: Your computer?
COSTELLO: I don't own a computer. I want to buy one.
ABBOTT: Mac?
COSTELLO: I told you, my name's Lou.
ABBOTT: What about Windows?
COSTELLO: Why? Will it get stuffy in here?
ABBOTT: Do you want a computer with Windows?
COSTELLO: I don't know. What will I see when I look at the windows?
ABBOTT: Wallpaper.
COSTELLO: Never mind the windows. I need a computer and software.
ABBOTT: Software for Windows?
COSTELLO: No. On the computer! I need something I can use to write proposals, track expenses and run my business. What do you have?
ABBOTT: Office.
COSTELLO: Yeah, for my office. Can you recommend anything?
ABBOTT: I just did.
COSTELLO: You just did what?
ABBOTT: Recommend something.
COSTELLO : You recommended something?
ABBOTT: Yes.
COSTELLO: For my office?
ABBOTT: Yes.
COSTELLO: OK, what did you recommend for my office?
ABBOTT: Office.
COSTELLO: Yes, for my office!
ABBOTT: I recommend Office with Windows.
COSTELLO: I already have an office with windows! OK, let's just say I'm sitting at my computer and I want to type a proposal. What do I need?
ABBOTT: Word.
COSTELLO: What word?
ABBOTT: Word in Office.
COSTELLO: The only word in office is office.
ABBOTT: The Word in Office for Windows.
COSTELLO: Which word in office for windows?
ABBOTT: The Word you get when you click the blue 'W'.
COSTELLO: I'm going to click your blue 'W' if you don't start with some straight answers. What about financial bookkeeping? You have anything I can track my money with?
ABBOTT: Money.
COSTELLO: That's right. What do you have?
ABBOTT: Money.
COSTELLO: I need money to track my money?
ABBOTT: It comes bundled with your computer.
COSTELLO: What's bundled with my computer?
ABBOTT: Money.
COSTELLO: Money comes with my computer?
ABBOTT: Yes. No extra charge.
COSTELLO: I get a bundle of money with my computer? How much?
ABBOTT: One copy.
COSTELLO: Isn't it illegal to copy money?
ABBOTT: Microsoft gave us a license to copy Money.
COSTELLO: They can give you a license to copy money?
ABBOTT: Why not? THEY OWN IT!

(A few days later)

ABBOTT: Super Duper computer store. Can I help you?
COSTELLO: How do I turn my computer off?
ABBOTT: Click on 'START'...............

In the box just below this post is a link to “Comments”. Climb aboard “Life in the Slow Lane……..” Click this link and share your life and thoughts with me, or just drop a note and say “Hi.”

Come on Endorphins.....

2009-04-23T21:00:00.005-05:00

LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE is indeed very enjoyable. It is learning to live and enjoy life one day at a time.

I took a new look at life back in October of 2004 when I was diagnosed with cancer. I had surgery in October and started chemotherapy in Jan 2005. My oncologist told me that I would not feel good and would be quite weak during chemotherapy, so same my strength for something I liked.

In May of 2005 I was able to time my good days and bad days (chemotherapy) and drove to Kansas City to take a BBQ course that was sponsored by the Kansas City BBQ Society. That’s all it took – I was hooked.

“Doing the Q” is in itself very relaxing. Once everything is in the smoker, it is just a matter of watching the temperature and the smoke being produced. This watchful vigilance lends itself very well to a folding lounge chair, cold libation, and the company of friends and neighbors who stop by to talk smart and tell lies, and sample the BBQ. Why..... in the course of a couple of hours my neighbor and I can solve all the problems of the whole world.

One of the side effects of the cancer drug that I have to take for 5 years is weight gain. This, along with a more relaxed lifestyle and eating lots of good BBQ has done a number on me.

I started going to Weight Watchers with my older brother when I was in Florida. When I got back to Madison I continued going to the meetings and following the program. I am happy to say that it is working and I have already lost 22 lbs.

I am told that weight loss without exercise is possible, but an exercise routine sure helps to tone the muscles and take off the pounds. That being said, I am here to announce that I am not one to step foot inside a gym. Been there – done that – never again.

That leaves me to my own devices for exercise.

Take Gizmo for a walk every day. It is just short of a mile from our driveway, up to the corner, around the block, and back home. That would seem like a decent walk, except for Gizmo. Not only does she have to “stop to drop” but she has to sniff at every fire hydrant and every other canine community message board. And, of course, she has to leave a “Pee Mail” for all her buddies in the neighborhood.

A walk around the block with Gizmo does not get my heart pumping fast and give me any sort of work out.

I considered taking up jogging – but after wrapping my mind around the idea for less than a minute, I dismissed that as a bad idea. My knees would not take the pounding, AND…. I have never seen a jogger with a smile on his face. Sure says lots about the sport, doesn’t it?

Now it comes down to taking a walk – without Gizmo. That I can do.

Somewhere I heard about East Towne Early Morning Walkers and decided to check it out. East Towne Mall opens at 7 AM every day (8 AM on Sunday). From the time the mall opens till the time stores open, the public is welcome to walk the mall.

One full lap around the mall (including all the extensions) comes to about 3/4 mile. 2 laps equal about a 1 ½ miles, and 4 laps equal 3 miles.

I have been walking there for about 3 weeks now and have worked my way up to 4 “Go rounds.” On any particular morning I will find between 30 and 50 people making the rounds inside the mall. There are several people who walk with a cane, and one regular Early Morning Walker carries an oxygen tank. This is just a group of people who are using the mall to get their daily exercise.

McDonalds opens early in the food court, so the walkers can get coffee, juice, and breakfast. About 7:30 AM some of the tables fill up. People are finished with their walk and sit around visiting with their friends. There is even one table that has a cribbage game going almost every morning.

These people are enjoying “LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE…….”

Now, about the endorphins………

Endorphins 101 – your guide to natural euphoria. By: Melissa Walker and reviewed by: David Slotnick, M.D. is an entertaining read about endorphins. This explains the natural high from the release of endorphins.

http://yourtotalhealth.ivillage.com/endorphins-101-your-guide-natural-euphoria.html

I find that the first round at East Towne is a drag but after that it gets better. On the second “Go round” I start breathing a little faster and my heart rate increases. By the halfway mark of my third “Go round” I am starting to feel a little light headed. For my fourth “Go round” I try to pick up the pace and walk as fast as I can. By the end of the third mile, I am feeling more light headed and a little on the giddy side. Is this endorphins starting to kick in? Probably not, but I am still waiting for the euphoric high.

What is truly amazing to me is that something that I approached in fear and trepidation is now an enjoyable part of my day. It gets the blood flowing, the lungs working, and seems to clear the cobwebs to start the day off right.

The best part….. Unlike jogging, this is something I can do with a smile on my face. In fact most of the East Town Early Morning Walkers smile and greet each other with a cheery “good morning”. What a great way to start the day.

In the box just below this post is a link to “Comments”. Climb aboard “Life in the Slow Lane……..” Click this link and share your life and thoughts with me, or just drop a note and say “Hi.”

Bran Muffins....

2009-04-09T22:43:00.002-05:00

The couple were 85 years old, and had been married for sixty years. Though they were far from rich, they managed to get by because they watched their pennies.Though not young, they were both in very good health, largely due to the wife's insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last decade.

One day, their good health didn't help when they went on a rare vacation and their plane crashed, sending them off to Heaven.

They reached the Pearly Gates, and St. Peter escorted them inside. He took them to a beautiful mansion, furnished in gold and fine silks, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath. A maid could be seen hanging their favorite clothes in the closet.They gasped in astonishment when he said, 'Welcome to Heaven. This will be your home now.'

The old man asked Peter how much all this was going to cost.

'Why, nothing,' Peter replied, 'remember, this is your reward in Heaven.'

The old man looked out the window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever built on Earth.'What are the greens fees?' grumbled the old man.

'This is heaven ,' St. Peter replied. 'You can play for free, every day..'

Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch, with every imaginable cuisine laid out before them, from seafood to steaks to exotic deserts, free flowing beverages.

'Don't even ask,' said St. Peter to the man,

'This is Heaven, it is all free for you to enjoy.'

The old man looked around and glanced nervously at his wife.

'Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods, and the decaffeinated tea?,' he asked.

'That's the best part,' St. Peter replied,

'You can eat and drink as much as you like of whatever you like, and you will never get fat or sick. This is Heaven!'

The old man pushed, 'No gym to work out at?'

'Not unless you want to,' was the answer.

'No testing my sugar or blood pressure or...'

'Never again. All you do here is enjoy yourself.'

The old man glared at his wife and said,

'You and your blasted bran muffins. We could have been here ten years ago!'

KIND OF BRINGS A TEAR TO YOUR EYE DOESN'T IT?

The Dash -

2009-03-29T05:19:00.004-05:00

In July 2006, a short 3-minute movie was launched on the Internet called The Dash . Since then, over 40 million people from around the world have watched it; and over 20,000 a day continue to watch it as a result of people passing it along.

The movie has been more successful than we could have ever imagined. More importantly, however, it has inspired many, many people to reflect on their lives and ask that all important question,

'Are my priorities where they should be?'

I hope you enjoy this movie and share it with those who are close to you.

Click This Link to View:

http://www.dashpoemmovie.com/

The Saga of the Salamander.....

2009-03-18T09:46:00.004-05:00

Enjoying Life in the Slow Lane in southwest Florida is not without incident.

Insects and other forms of low life (pun intended) are always present. Usually we take everything in stride since they were there first and we are just visitors in their world.

On warm nights we leave the windows open in the motorhome and enjoy the fresh air. This presents a problem at times because of the insects. Swarms of small flying insects will gather around any light source. These insects do not bite but sure are an annoyance – they are small enough to come right through the screens. Many was the night when I took out the battery powered hand vacuum and vacuumed the bugs off the ceiling and light fixtures. All the while back home in Wisconsin the wind chill factor would dip to -40*. I’ll take the bugs any time.

Another creature that we learn to live with are small lizards. They are everywhere. They are kind of cute little fellows that remind me of the Geico Gecko. These harmless little guys are usually only 3 – 4 inches long. They will hide in any vegetation and are very quick and hard to catch.

Irene got a staghorn fern at Wal-Mart garden center. We hung it in the orange tree that we planted a couple of years ago which seemed like the perfect spot and the fern did well.

Time to pack up and head back home to frigid Wisconsin. Of course we would take the staghorn fern back home.

On the way home we stopped in Tennessee for several days to visit friends. It got quite cold a couple of nights with the outside temperature plunging below freezing, all the way to +19*. We were warm enough in the motorhome although we used a lot of propane for the furnace.

We were parked facing southwest and the staghorn fern was hanging above the driver’s seat. One afternoon it got quite warm from the sun and I noticed Pudge, the cat, looking intently at the fern. Upon closer inspection, I found that we had a hitch hiker that came along from Florida, a lizard.

The next day Pudge started batting the fern back and forth and the hitch hiker jumped off, landed on the floor, and hid under a piece of trim – the cat in hot pursuit…… That lizard was never seen again.

When we got home we hung the fern in a southern facing window. About a week later Irene put it in the kitchen sink to give it a good watering. Ahhh….. out comes another lizard. What were we to do?

We hung the fern up again and put a small piece of banana in the basket. This was to provide fruit flies for the lizard to eat. We were hoping that we could keep it alive until we go to Florida again in the fall.

This morning Irene found what looked like a twig on the dining room floor. Upon closer examination it proved to be the dehydrated carcass of our ill fated lizard…… Irene wrapped it in a burial shawl (piece of paper towel) and we gave it a proper send off into the garbage can.

I wonder if we will ever find the carcass of the first lizard that jumped off in Tennessee.....

Amos and Cookie….. Gospel Singers......

2009-03-08T22:06:00.005-05:00

Attitude is everything……

In early February at the RV Resort in Punta Gorda Florida we were entertained by Amos and his wife Cookie. Amos and Cookie are Gospel singers who travel around South Florida singing and entertaining wherever they can spread the word.

Amos told us the following story……

Mary is known by all to be cheerful and upbeat even in the face of adversity. Now she is being treated for breast cancer. Along with chemotherapy come the usual side effects including loss of hair.

One morning Mary woke up and discovered that she had only three hairs left on her head. She said a silent prayer thanking God for another day, and said to herself: “I think today I will braid my hair.”

A couple of days later Mary woke up to discover that she had only two hairs left on her head. She said a silent prayer thanking God for another day, and said to herself: “I think today I will wear pig tails.”

A few days after that Mary awoke to find only one hair left on her head. She said a silent prayer thanking God for another day, and said to herself: “I think today I will wear a pony tail.”

Again Mary woke to find that she had no hair left on her head. She said a silent prayer thanking God for another day and said to herself with a smile:

“Gee…… I don’t have to fix my hair today.”

BBQ 101

2009-01-25T05:36:00.006-06:00

We have been fortunate to escape all of the horrible weather in Wisconsin. We got to Florida long before the bad stuff hit.

Back by popular demand - on Tuesday January 13th I put on a BBQ class that was eagerly attended by 7 daring BBQ cooks. Last year we had high winds the day of the class and had trouble keeping the temperature up in the cookers.

Since the Weather Man had forecast gusty winds and heavy rain as a cold front came through, I set up the class in the campground gazebo.

Monday was a busy day for me. It started by sweeping out the gazebo and washing down and sanitizing the counter tops and campers sink and then setting up my cooker.

I picked up the meat on Monday and I also picked up some bags of smoking wood chips from Fire up the Grill outdoor kitchen store in Port Charlotte. Dave, the owner, was kind enough to get us started with samples of some of the smoking woods he sells in his store.

On Monday afternoon I prepared a brine mixture for the 13 lb packer cut Brisket. I brined this hunk of meat overnight in a mixture of salt, sugar, and spices.

Tuesday morning I fired up my smoker about 7:30 – it was up to temp (a perfect 250*) by the time the eager students showed up at 8 AM.

I wanted to get the brisket on as as possible, so I demonstrated how to trim the brisket, showed the way the grain of the meat ran in different directions, seasoned it with my own special rub, and into the smoker it went.

Next I demonstrated how to trim and season a Boston butt (does not come from the butt of the pig and has nothing at all to do with Boston). Then it was hands on for the cooks as the students took their turn at trimming and seasoning 3 more Boston Butts.

I put on 3 or 4 Turkey drumsticks for tasting samples for lunch. They turned out so good that we had Irene go to Wal-Mart and get a dozen more. For additional tasting samples, I made up a couple of pounds of pork sausage which was great with the sweet hickory smoke flavor.

Next we trimmed slabs of ribs into Kansas City racks of ribs. All were seasoned to perfection and into the smokers they went.

The weather man was right on the mark. Mid morning the winds picked up so we put the tarps up on the gazebo to block the wind. All day long the weather got worse. In mid to late afternoon the heavy rains came through. It sure was good we had the shelter of the gazebo.

All in all, the class was a resounding success. Everybody had fun and picked up a few new tips. In total we cooked a 13 lb brisket, about 20 lbs of pork butt, 12 racks of ribs, 2 lbs of sausage and over a dozen turkey drumsticks. Everybody went home with a 20 page class handout and plenty of “Q”.

of Woolly Bears and “Honkers” and catching young robins……

2008-10-25T21:01:00.009-05:00

Fall is in the air......

The breeze is quite strong and there is a hint of snow in the air. Some trees are brilliant shades of orange and red while others have yet to blush and disrobe to barren nakedness. Fall is here, the Woolly Bear caterpillars are finding shelter and the Canadian Geese are starting to flock for their migration south. Their constant honking as they flock brings back memories of my childhood.

I was about 5 years old when I learned about Woolly Bears and “Honkers”. We lived in a huge house (perhaps not huge but remember, I was very little) on Lake Okauchee in the Oconomowoc area.

My father had an answer for just about everything. He knew everything there was to know in the whole world; he even knew how to catch a robin. He told me that if I sprinkled salt on their tail feathers they would not fly away and I could catch them.

Of course, my father would never tell me a lie – I still believe in Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny.

One day in early summer I saw a young robin under one of the pine trees. Quick as a flash I ran into the house and got the salt shaker off the kitchen stove. I followed that young robin around the yard until I cornered him near the house where I was able to get close enough to sprinkle the salt on his tale. That was all it took for the terrified young bird to make his escape. Hopping away and flying a few feet at a time, he was finally able to find safety in the neighbor’s yard.

When Dad got home from work that afternoon he was greeted by a sobbing young 5 year old who had his entire belief system shattered by a young robin.

Dad quickly took care of everything. He sat me on his lap and explained that it takes a lot of salt. I admitted that I was barely able to sprinkle the salt before the bird outdistanced me. He told me that I probably just did not get enough salt on the bird’s tail. With that, my belief system was restored.

Gee…. isn’t it amazing how fathers can fix things like that with a hug and a kind word?

But I digress….

I was always curious why Canada Geese honked when they were in flight. Dad explained it as only a father could. He told me that flying is hard work for the geese. He explained that when I ran around the yard chasing my brother I would start breathing hard. To get enough air, I would breathe through my mouth rather than my nose. It’s the same with geese. They breathe through their mouths to get enough air. When they are in flight with their mouths wide open, they often get too much air. This fills them up like a balloon and when they get too full of air, they have to burp. Dad told me that a goose burp sounded much different than when I burped. That’s what we would hear when the geese flew over the house. The Geese were burping……. This made complete sense to a 5 year old.

Dad must have had a good chuckle at that one. He did not, however, count on taken so seriously. That very day my brother and I started practicing to see who could fabricate a high pitched burp that would sound like a goose.

Mom was the one who taught us about woolly bears and how they predict the severity of the coming winter. The wider the orange stripe in the middle, the milder the winter. Mom considered The Farmer’s Almanac to be the final authority on things like that.

So this morning I found a Woolly Bear with a very wide band. It is going to be a mild winter. The geese are burping as they fly over the house…… All is well……….

Mystical Monsters and Rusty Red Ravens

2008-09-24T16:15:00.012-05:00

Once upon a Sunday, fair, a hint of autumn in the air,
I came upon a place of wonder, sheltered from all prying eyes.
This place was guarded by a raven, tall as I in all his splendor.
The fearful bird was made of iron, rusting red and statuesque

“Tell me what the simple name is - of this place you guard the best”,
Quote the Raven,

“Evermore......”

An enjoyable day trip from Madison took us to the land of Mystical Monsters and Rusty Red Ravens. Prompted by a news flash on the local TV, Irene and I set out. I checked the internet first to find the correct location.

On the west side of Hwy 12 in the vicinity of the Badger Ordinance are huge sculptures of birds and monsters, standing 20 feet tall or more, all made out of scrap iron from a junk yard welded together and painted in whimsical colors. We had arrived at Delaney’s Salvage yard. I have been to Delaney’s many times. It is fun just going through their store and seeing what they have. It sure seems that if they don’t have it, you don’t need it.

The newscast showed pictures of “Evermore Sculpture Park” and scores of magnificent pieces of art. How could a park that large be hidden from view? “It’s out in back through the junk yard.” quipped a young employee.

A short walk through the junkyard brought us to the park. It was a place right out of a fairy tale. In the middle was the “Forevertron” a grand machine weighing over 300 tons, standing over 50 feet tall. It was designed to transport Dr. Evermor back into the heavens on a magnetic force beam.

Everywhere we looked were birds, insects, alligators and whatever, all made out of scrap iron. Some were only a foot tall and others were 10-15 feet tall. Under a tree was a frog band.

Over in the gazebo sat a large man who I recognized from the TV news as the creator of the park. I walked over to meet Tom Every or “Dr. Evermor” as he calls himself now. A few days earlier he had celebrated his 70th birthday.

Dr. Evermor said he would normally be sitting under the tree with the frog band, while he worked with his welder, but he was taking time off to visit with people who may have seen the new cast. He was charming in every way and I left wondering if the wheel chair he was sitting in was something he was going to turn into a work or art, or if he was confined to the wheel chair.

Buckets of Fresh Oysters......

2008-09-14T16:12:00.010-05:00

Continued from (click here) St. George Island

Apalachicola Bay is noted for oyster farming. I say “farming” because that is what the oystermen do. Decades ago the oysters in the bay were abundant to no end. The fresh water flowing into the bay from the Apalachicola River reduced the salinity of the bay and created the perfect environment for the shellfish.

When the natural oysters started to be overharvested, the oystermen found that they could actually cultivate the oysters to sustain the harvest. Thus, oyster farming was developed. Today the oyster industry is in danger again from reduced fresh water empting into the Gulf due to the draught in Georgia and other states north of Florida.

Even with the decline in the oyster harvest, Irene and I thought there would be enough left to give us a good sampling. Off we went in search of the best oyster bar we could find. The lady at the park welcome center told us that Eddy Teach’s Raw Bar was the place to go.

Into town to the stop sign, take a right, take another right and follow the winding dirt road for a half mile and you get to Eddy Teach’s.

Sophisticated? – definitely not. High class? – nope. Dress up? – not in the least.

This was more an open air eating and drinking establishment and a great local hang out. Everyone was welcome from hippy bikers with long beards and tattooed bodies to the Snow Bird Tourist carrying her miniature poodle in a fancy beaded tote bag. It was a place to “let it all hang out”.

We were the only ones there at three in the afternoon and we were welcomed by the bartender wearing a Bret Favre jersey. He was a retired transplant from Menomonie Falls WI who enjoyed tending bar and the atmosphere of Eddy Teach’s. He was able to give us lots of tips about the area – sure was more informative than any website travel guide.

The oysters were fresh every day and were prepared in every imaginable way. We tried several different recipes. Bret Favre told us that even though we thought they were great, they got even better later in the season when the water temperature in the bay cooled down more.

Off we went to explore the rest of the island.

A great place to get information is a Mom and Pop dinner. We found one on the main drag that advertised pies as their specialty. That is just what we needed after platters of oysters…. The key lime pie was exceptional and the waitress told us about That Place on 98 – where we could sit on the porch overlooking the bay and have lunch or just a tall glass of iced tea. This sounded great but would have to wait for the next day.

Back at the campsite we enjoyed soup and sandwiches on the picnic table for supper.

I started a fire in the fire ring and as the sun sank slowly into the west, we enjoyed one of the best sunsets I have ever seen. This promised to be the perfect ending for a perfect day.

Off in the distance we heard the hoot of a horned owl. An inquisitive chipmunk joined us momentarily at the campfire looking for crumbs and other tasty morsels.

There is something mystical about a campfire at dusk. As I stared into the flickering fire it was hard to keep my eyes open. The rustling of the breeze in the trees, the sweet smell of the pines, and the quiet loving presence of my soul mate had a hypnotic relaxing effect and transported me into another dimension. A perfect dimension of complete relaxation - with no cares no worries, no schedule to keep.

This was truly “Life in the slow lane……”

The next morning was cloudy and it looked like we could get some rain. This would be a perfect day for exploring Eastpoint and lunch at “That Place on 98”.

Off we went over the 5 mile bridge into town. We found a couple of antique shops that had some fascinating nautical artifacts. I reminded Irene that this was “Lookey….Lookey….. but do not buy” since we were at critical mass with the motor home storage.

A couple of blocks down was Highway 98. The waitress had told us to take a right on 98 and go down a couple of miles. “Watch carefully” she said, “or you will go right past it”.

Sure enough, we would have missed it. “That Place on 98” looked like a modest private home on the waterfront. No roadside advertising and just a small discrete sign above the door. There was parking for 3 or 4 cars in front of the home; a half dozen around the side, and the rest of the parking was in the grass on the other side of Highway 98.

We parked in the grass and strolled across the highway. This was a lazy highway with almost no traffic that wound its way through the lazy little town.

The restaurant was every bit as wonderful as the waitress described. We were ushered out to the bayside porch for the best seat in the house. The restaurant was perched on the hillside, perhaps 30 or 40 feet above high tide. This provided some protection from a storm surge from a hurricane, and it also provided an exquisite view.

The crab cakes were out of this world, as was the house specialty, Coconut Cream Pie. We sat on the porch high above the water and enjoyed our lunch as we watched the oyster boats in the bay.

Not more than a couple of hundred feet east of the restaurant was a fish house where the oystermen were unloading gunny sacks of freshly harvested oysters from their boats. I could see they had a retail shop so, of course, that would be the next stop.

There are some things that give you a real good feeling. Walking up to the fish house, I got one of those real good feelings when the door opened and we were invited in by the owner himself. His hospitality was equal to visiting Mom and Dad for Thanksgiving and ,for a moment I wondered if he mistook us for a friend or relative of his. He was thin, wrinkled and weather-beaten and viewed the world through thick glasses that needed a good cleaning. Although it was quite warm that afternoon, his clothing was layered; a colored T shirt, then a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, and lastly a green and black plaid flannel shirt. Yes indeed, he was ready for anything.

He was in no hurry to sell us anything and it seemed he enjoyed our company more than the thought of making a sale. He leisurely showed us his selection of fresh fish, smoked fish, and fresh oysters, all the while telling us about the history of the fish house which had been in his family for over 5 generations. He told us of the glory days of oyster harvesting when the bay supplied most of the oysters for the Gulf States. He had a sad look in his eyes when he described the present condition of the bay and the decline in the oyster population.

I selected some smoked mullet and told him that we also wanted some oysters to take back to camp with us. At that he called for his assistant who appeared like a genie from the back room.

Here was another colorful character. He wore a grey vest - no shirt. A baseball cap shaded his face but did nothing to hide the twinkle in his eyes. His full graying beard gave him the appearance of everybody’s favorite great uncle.

He was an oysterman and a fisherman. He had personally caught the mullet for smoking and it gave him great satisfaction to see his catch in my check out basket. We told him we wanted some oysters to take back to camp for dinner.

When we mentioned that we were camped on St George Island he got all excited. “That’s where I lost my teeth last year!” he exclaimed.

“Do you know where the old fishing boat is pulled up on shore for a historical marker?” he asked. We did indeed know the spot since we had taken pictures of it the day before.

“Well, last summer – in fact it was the 4th of July – I remember because the boss finally gave me a day off – quite a task master, he is.”

“I took my fishing rod over there to do a little surf fishing. In a couple of hours I had a nice catch and was ready to go home, have a cold one, and clean my fish.”

“I started up to the road to my truck and as I was walking past the old fishing boat, a bear came out of the woods and started coming right at me. I shouted at the beast but he was intent on my fish. The bear was only about 50 feet away when he started at a dead run right at me.”

“Let me tell you kids”, he whispered with eyes as big as saucers, remembering the terrifying attack.

“I was not going to argue with the bear. I dropped my fish hoping he would stop his attach. When I turned to run to the truck I tripped over a tree root. There I was face down in the sand with a hungry bear right behind me. When I fell, my uppers went flying and I was not about to look for them. I got back to the truck with my life, leaving behind my fishing rod, my teeth, and every bit of my pride.”

“The next day I went back and found my fishing pole but not my teeth. These new ones never did fit good,” he said clicking his dentures for emphasis.

After hearing that, we assured him that we would watch for bears and would be careful not to leave any food out at night that might attract animals.

He seemed glad to know that he may have saved us from a bear attack, perhaps even saved our lives, and he went to work sorting our oysters.

“You should probably have a half bushel for a nice dinner. I will make sure you get our best.”

“The females are the best for steaming.” he commented.

“How can you tell the females from the males?” I asked.

Without hesitation he quipped, “Well, they’re the ones that get all gussied up with lipstick and eye shadow.”

Boy…. did I step into that one……

On the way back to camp I stopped at the gate to ask the attendant about the bears. She looked at me in a puzzled sort of way, “There are no bears on the island. Never have been.” she said as she rolled her eyes.

Wow…… What a story……He was surely a master of tall tales and I believed every word he uttered.

I love to go back and look at the pictures and remember the day we shared the lives and stories of a couple of wonderful old men. Two wonderful old men who had indeed mastered “Life in the slow lane…….”

St. George Island

2008-09-13T05:11:00.003-05:00

We have arrived......

Continued from (click here) On to St. George Island......

I backed out of the dead end street and checked the maps. No more listening to “Toots” till we got back to State Highway 98. We hooked up the Toad without incident and headed down the road still following the winding secondary road that skirted the Gulf of Mexico. The view of the Gulf was awesome. We saw pristine white sand beaches gleaming in the afternoon sun. These beaches were off the beaten track and several of them were completely empty. We did pull off from time to time when the beach was close to the road. What a unique experience – having an entire beach all to ourselves.

A mile or so further down the road we might find mud flats where shore birds were busy digging for a tasty morsel.

It was sure different driving for miles along this lonesome road without seeing any waterfront development – no glitzy condos advertising the “upscale” life style. Here and there we would see a farm and some cattle grazing but all in all, it was old time Florida that most tourists never take the time to see.

What was this? There was a fork in the road and a Florida road sign “To Hwy 98”. After our little run in with “Toots” I felt secure in the decision to take to fork to the left. Sure enough, a mile or so further we merged onto Hwy 98. Another hour took us into Apalachicola. It was a little after noon and we wanted to get a good campsite at St. George Island State Park, so we drove right through town and on to Eastport. Here stretched a ribbon of concrete and steel running 5 miles out into Apalachicola bay to St. George Island.

We started to cross this bridge and were amazed by huge swarms of butterflies – hundreds of thousands of them. We had arrived during the annual migration of the Monarch Butterflies on their way to Mexico. The next day we drove back over the same bridge and they were gone.

St George Island is a Barrier Island. It is about 30 miles long but only about 1 mile wide at the widest point. The eastern end of the island is the State Park which was our final destination.

We pulled up to the gate house and were greeted by the park attendant who told us that the campground was 5 miles down the road. The best bet, she said, was to unhook and drive the car down to pick a good site then come back, register, and pick up the motor home.

The campground was one of the nicest we have ever been in. The sites were large and with the native vegetation, they were quite private. It took us about 15 minutes to back in, level the motor home with the automatic hydraulic jacks, hook up the water and electric and put out the slides. Our home was all set up and we were ready for fun and adventure.

We took the car to the beach since we were not sure how far it was. On the way we passed a small lake where we amazed to see an alligator sunning on the shore. I didn’t think that alligators got that far north since the winters in the panhandle can be cool, and frost is not uncommon.

The beach was spectacular – mile upon mile of silver white sand and only a handful of people. We enjoyed walking the beach and looking for unusual shells. The water was on the cool side, but still warm enough for wading and swimming.

On the other side of the road from the beach were the dunes. These dunes were formed by sand blowing off the beach. Over the course of years they would become 20 feet high or more and would help calm the effects of hurricane like winds and waves.

Hurricane Dennis did a number on the island damaging the dunes as water washed over the entire island. The State park was closed for a couple of years after that to repair the damage and allow the dunes to start to heal. Now there were signs posted to keep anyone from walking on the dunes and inadvertently damaging the fragile vegetation that was holding the sand in place. This was certainly a rugged and beautiful untouched landscape – preserved for all to enjoy.

The next morning we took Gizmo for her morning walk. So many interesting things to sniff, she was enjoying every minute. Three campsites down we came to a strange sight. This campsite was occupied by two Honda Gold Wings pulling trailers that actually opened up to be tent campers. I admired the bikes and we stopped to visit with the bikers. These two couples who were on their way back to Texas after touring and camping all over the eastern half of the country. They had an electric fry pan and a coffee pot on the table and were enjoying all the conveniences of power and water.

They related stories of their travels and sheepishly admitted that they stayed in a motel in the mountains when it got too cold. One of the bikers told of the camping he had done in previous years, including a luxury million dollar motor home. He sold it and bought the Honda Gold Wing.

Two fascinating couples, they were. The youngest of the four was one of the ladies who was 67. The oldest was one of the men at 78 - proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that old age is a frame of mind…..

Next...... buckets of fresh oysters........

A Gift....

2008-08-31T10:08:00.002-05:00

author unknown

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old.

Upon seeing my reaction, he was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let him know.

Growing Older, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be.

Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body ... the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the cellulite. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, and my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.

As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant-garde on my patio. I am entitled to be messy, to be extravagant and smell the flowers.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon, before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and then sleep until -- ?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's & 60's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old (if they're lucky).

I know I am sometimes forgetful.But then again, some of life is just as well forgotten and I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

I can say "no," and mean it.

I can say "yes." and mean it.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive.

You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So...... to answer your question, I like being older. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day... (if I want).

Today,I wish you a day of ordinary miracles.

Love simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Leave the rest to God.

44 Magnum vs Mouse

2008-08-24T19:56:00.002-05:00

Maybe it's all the smoke from the fires, but something's gotten into the intelligence factor of some folks out here in California. It's the kind of stuff that comedies are made of.

An unidentified 44-year-old woman was apparently disturbed by the sight of mice scurrying across her travel trailer floor. Rather than resorting to peanut butter and spring traps, she found the .44 caliber magnum pistol in her shoulder holster to be a tad bit quicker to get at. Enter the forces of gravity, and perhaps (peanut?) butter-fingers.

The loaded pistol fell to the trailer floor, whereupon it immediately discharged one bullet. With unerring--seeming fatalistic--accuracy, the gun's projectile then made a non-stop, through-and-through visit in and out of the woman's right kneecap. After departing the kneecap, the bullet traveled across the trailer, impacting a ring of keys.

Unfortunately, the ring of keys was attached to a 42-year-old man's belt loop. On impact with the keys, the bullet ricocheted off the key ring. From there the wayward bullet tore an entry hole into the man's pants, traveled across his body, causing what police described as a, "superficial wound" to the front of his groin. The bullet was later seized as evidence by police when it was found hiding out in the man's coin pocket.

On arrival medics found the woman lying partially in and partially out of the trailer. The report did not indicate in what position the as-yet-unidentified man was found in. Some might suggest it was possibly in prayer.

Folks, we don't make these things up. Further information appears in both the Santa Rosa Press Democrat, and the Lake County News.

On To St. George Island.......

2008-08-16T11:42:00.008-05:00

Continued from (click here)

Fluffy Landing and other fine places........

We are approaching the Gulf of Mexico and it was time to take a left hand turn onto Florida State Highway 98 and head for Apalachicola. Gee…. That’s a fun word isn’t it? Our destination would be the State park campground on St. George Island just off the coast from Apalachicola.

Since we had all the time in the world and this was supposed to be an adventure, we decided to get off the main roads. Highway 98 runs all along the coast but does not always give us a view of the Gulf of Mexico. There were local roads on the computer map that would take us off the beaten track and promised an adventure. “Toots” the GPS unit was interfaced with the computer maps so we had nothing to fear…..

It was so enjoyable getting off the highway. A couple of miles down the road we came to a little town, I am not even sure if it was a town or just a widening of the road. There on the right hand side of the road was a ‘general store’. I could pull off and park less than a block away.

Now you have to understand that to me, shopping is going into a store, picking out the item, and proceeding to the check out as quickly as possible. That’s just the way men are wired. To Irene, shopping is entertainment. After all the years together I still cannot rap my mind around that one.

While walking up to the ‘general store’ I asked her what we needed. She replied
“I don’t know, but I will know it when I see it.”

The store was right out of an old movie complete with a covered porch and a couple of comfortable wicker ‘whittling chairs’. The owners lived upstairs and the store had been in the family for almost 100 years. Store hours posted in the window were “8 AM till whenever” Closed Sundays. It was dimly lit, especially in the back of the store, and it smelled of leather and baking spices and other wonderful smells right from my childhood memories. Up on one shelf there were kerosene lamps complete with white glass shades, there were large blue and white porcelain coated canning pots on another shelf. Of course there was every canning, pickling, and preserving spice imaginable. And boxes and boxes of canning jars and lids. The store also had an ample grocery selection with fresh and frozen meat and seafood.

You could buy wool blankets, bib overalls, straw hats, and baby shoes - and the list goes on. Hunting and fishing equipment was on display - the guns were not even under lock and key.

I walked around the end of one of the isles and found the hardware and automotive department, with anything you would need for minor repairs and oil changes. Another corner of the store was devoted to the farm items, including a selection of barbed wire and steel fence posts.
I am sure this is where Sam Walton got his inspiration for the Super Wal-Mart stores.

This was indeed, a ‘General Store’. I found it simply fascinating and Irene found just what she wanted, a genuine rag doll for her granddaughter. Upon checkout the owner rang up the sale on a cash register where he had to push the numbered buttons in unison. It sang out “ka-ching…. ka-ching…..” as the cash drawer opened. I guess shopping really can be entertainment after all. What a change from the more sophisticated stores that caters to life in the fast lane.

Back to the motor home, let Gizmo out to do her thing, and back on the road – looking forward to the next adventure.

“Toots” on the other hand, didn’t have the same sense of adventure as us and she was always trying to get us back on the designated route – Highway 98. She would say “Turn left in ½ mile.” When I would pass the turn she would say “Make the first legal U turn.” She sure was persistent and wanted to have things her way. I hate arguing with a machine…. I hate it even worse when I lose the argument.

OK… time to get back on Hwy 98. I thought I would get “Toots” off my back and I turned left to get back to Hwy 98. This road was going to take me through a residential area, but “Toots” seemed to think she knew what she was doing. I looked at the road in front of me. There was a double yellow ‘no passing’ line running down the center of the road, and the road seemed to disappear into a valley. It sure looked OK from where I sat.

I came to the crest of the hill and saw what every motor home driver fears most. Just a half block ahead the road came to a dead end. Why? I ask myself, would there be a double yellow no passing line on a dead end road? There surely was no traffic to pass. It must be some sort of conspiracy to see how many people get trapped. And now “Toots” tells me again to “Take the first legal U turn.”

“Hey Toots,……” remember that our total length – motor home and “Toad” (RV’ers talk for ‘towed vehicle’ – my Saturn Vue) is pushing 55 ft. I am about the same size of a semi truck and trailer. There is no way I can make a U turn on a narrow two lane road. A semi truck could have backed up the 2 ½ blocks. I cannot back up at all with the toad attached without damaging the tow bar or the steering on the car.

An old man in bib overalls and a straw hat came out of one of the houses to sit on his porch and watch. I can imagine what he was thinking….
“Who in his right mind would ever drive a motor home with a Toad down a dead end street?” “Oh….. Wisconsin plates….. That explains things…..”

I will have to unhook the Toad and back the motor home out while trying to look cool all the time.

Even after unhooking the car, things are still not easy. Irene can turn the car around in a driveway. I will not even attempt to turn a 37 foot motor home around in someone’s driveway. I will take my time and back up the 2 1/2 blocks to get to the main road. Not so bad, I have great mirrors on both sides and the backup camera monitor on the dash make it fairly simple – if it were not for…… Gizmo......

Gizmo, our Papillion mix, has been with us for 10 years now. She was just a little pocket pet when we brought her home. Her ears stood up just like the main character in the movie “Gremlins”. We just had to name her after that famous animated creature – thus her name, Gizmo.

I still don’t know if she is a Momma’s dog of a Daddy’s dog. I sit down in my lazy boy – she can hear me put the foot rest up all the way from the other end of the house and she comes running to jump up on my lap. Now this is not just a normal dog run – this is an all out gallop – I swear it is faster than when she chases a squirrel in the back yard. Nearing her target, with one gigantic leap she is airborne. Fourteen pounds of flying dog land squarely on my chest. It’s enough to take my breath away.

When I take a nap she is right up on the bed with me. Everywhere I go, Gizmo has to follow. For ten years now I have been trying unsuccessfully to break her of following me into the bathroom. I would definitely have to say that she is a Daddy’s dog.

So……

Irene gets in the car and I am in the motor home with Gizmo and the cats. This is when Gizmo decides she is a Momma’s dog. Believe me when I tell you that a full blown case of separation anxiety is no fun in a motor home.

She jumps up on the passenger seat, jumps down, runs around the motor home looking for Mom, whimpering and whining, panting heavily and drooling excessively. Her anxiety attack causes her to “blow her coat” and she starts to shed. She was losing her hair faster than me during my chemotherapy.

Now I am trying to back the motor home out of the dead end street and she has to Jump up on my lap, panting, whining, clawing at my chest and drooling all over me. In a flash my freshly laundered shirt is covered with dog hair and slobber. What’s worse is that for some reason Gizmo’s breath and her slobber smell horrible when she is having a panic attack. On the positive side, she has not peed on the floor….or my lap… yet…..

Stay tuned for the next stop and enjoy....

"Life in the Slow Lane......"

Too good to keep to myself...... Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tales....

2008-08-12T14:32:00.004-05:00

Some things are just too good to keep to yourself. This is surely one of them.

Jasper and the Unbaked Yeast Rolls

author unknown

We have a fox terrier by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of 2001 from the fox terrier rescue program. For those of you, who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10-year-old child about whom you know nothing and committing to doing your best to be a good parent.

Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me.

Lest you think this is a bad case of 'no discipline,' I should tell you that Perry and I tried every means to break him of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200. But I digress...

Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family, extended family, and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the time.

I was assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend. I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance in the whole darn house that worked, thus the assignment. I made the decision to bake the rolls on Wed evening to reheat Thurs am. Since the kitchen was freshly painted, you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams #586, I put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise hours.

Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour. The rolls were ready to go in the oven. It was 8:30 PM. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty.

I called out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated. I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the rest of the night. God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than my kids did when they were sick. Suffice it to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night.

We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; put the dog out to relieve himself. Well, the dog was as drunk as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt, and most of the time when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the other half was either dragging the grass or headed 90 degrees in another direction.

He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time. When he ran down the small incline in our backyard, he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the fence. His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk. He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.

Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I loaded him up and took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the day. My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch, (10 to 15 minute drive). Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and me, we took off.

Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it.

Now he was beginning to let off gas and it smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip to Karen's, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did. Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's garage with the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness my drunken dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's latest endeavor to walk without running into something.

Of course, as the old adage goes, 'what goes in, must come out' and Jasper was no exception. Granted, if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind, but alas a dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave Karen's house. Having discovered his 'packages' on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor. This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the floor and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure. We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor. And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the darn dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed, too.

Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's sister's house. I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the worse for wear ... I presume.

I am also happy to report that just this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door. It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea. Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to: 'How to clean unbaked dough from the carpet.'

And how was your day????

Check out Pet Education
http://www.peteducation.com/article.cfm?cls=2&cat=1661&articleid=1030

The last item – There it is - yeast dough.

Fluffy Landing and other fine places........

2008-08-09T22:00:00.004-05:00

Snow Birds and Canadian Geese share one common trait. They are both migratory species.

When the air gets nippy and the clouds move in and threaten to block out the sun for the rest of eternity, it’s time to pack the motor home and “Git Out-O-Dodge”. Our final destination is the Water’s Edge RV Resort in Punta Gorda FL where Irene and I have our own private camp site on the lake.

Punta Gorda is where Hurricane Charlie, with sustained winds of 150 mph, made shore in mid August of 2004. The devastation was complete….. I will post pictures of the resort after Charlie on another post. For about 2 years the Florida State Flag was the blue plastic tarp……

The shortest route from door to door is 1416 miles and according to Microsoft Streets and Trips, we should be able to make it in 2 days, 4 hours and 13 minutes (driving 8 hours a day). Gee…. That’s not much fun…. and that’s definitely not “Life in the Slow Lane…”

Since we don’t have to make reservations, we can get there whenever we want. Last year we decided to take a different route and visit the Florida Panhandle. We wanted to see some of the beautiful white sand beaches that the Panhandle is famous for. First a quick check of the map to see any points of interest.

Whoa!!..….. Hold everything!!……..What’s this…..?

Right there on the map, not far from our anticipated route is Fluffy Landing FL. This is a real place – I don’t make things like that up, Folks. I told Irene that visiting Fluffy Landing would surely rival the fun and excitement of visiting Toad Suck Arkansas – also a real place worth visiting especially during “Toad Suck Daze” in early May of each year.

I tried to do some research on the web about Fluffy Landing, but there is surprisingly little to be found. The burning question is “What’s behind the name?”

When we are on the road going from point A to point B we usually stay in a “Super Wal-Mart Campground”. Many years ago Wal-Mart made a corporate decision to allow overnight parking for RV’s. It sure was a good decision for them and they enjoy the genuine support and business of the RVing community. They have good security and everything we need for supplies and all the last minute things that we always forget when packing. We can even fill the gas tank before leaving the next day.

After a full day on the road neither of us feels like cooking. We go in to the camp ground store (Super Wal-Mart Store) and pick up something from the deli. Back to the coach, turn on the generator, heat up dinner in the microwave, and sit back and watch the local weather and news on the TV before turning in for the night. It sure is wonderful staying in your own home and sleeping in your own bed while on the road.

Wal-Mart camping works great for Gizmo and the cats too. No strange motel room to stress them out - they are in familiar surroundings all the time. Come bed time, all the animals have their own special place either on the bed or at the foot of the bed.

We always carry a full tank of fresh water. That way we can use the toilet, take a quick shower, make coffee, cook, and wash the dishes. Since we have a washer/dryer combo in the coach, Irene could even turn on the generator and do a load of wash while we were going down the road. All the waste water goes into the holding tanks. How’s that for convenience?

In the morning it’s “Up and at ‘em…” long before the sun pokes up in the east. I turn on the gas water heater and start the generator to make coffee. While the shower water is heating I take Gizmo for her morning constitutional. She sure loves sniffing all the strange smells and she has to leave a "pee-mail" for all the other dogs that come along. In the meantime Irene has been getting ready; she makes the bed, puts some oatmeal in the microwave and some English muffins in the toaster for breakfast. Milk and fresh fruit for the oatmeal is right there in the refrigerator.

When we stop for the night in near a big city we always try to hit the road by about 5:30 in the morning. We can take the interstate right through or around the city with no commuter traffic to worry about. This means getting up about 4:30 and it does have a downside. By 10:00 AM my eyes are starting to droop. Not to worry – we simply pull into the next rest area and I take a nap on my own comfortable bed (Gizmo has to jump up on the bed and keep me company and the two cats seem to think it is a good time to go punchy punchy on my stomach). I simply don’t have the heart to close the bedroom door and keep the zoo up front with Irene.

While I am taking a nap Irene will be on the internet checking the road conditions and the weather. All the time we are on the road I have the computer turned on and connected to the internet on my Verizon Air Card. The computer rides on the work station in front of the passenger seat. I power it with an inverter that plugs into the 12 volt system. I can drive all day long using the computer maps and the GPS and never lose my internet connection.

Lunch is always an enjoyable interlude. We pull into a rest area – quite often parking next to and visiting with other RV’ers. Gizmo gets to go sniffing and do her thing. Irene and I can walk around and stretch our legs. The first day on the road on the way south, we are in cold weather all day. We have soup and sandwiches in a nice warm coach while thinking about others who are waiting in the drive up lane at McDonalds, only to eat in their car and spill their French fries. And…….. isn’t it odd how the French fries seem to navigate (seemingly on their own power) to a dark place under the driver’s seat where they are impossible to find. They hide there for months giving off the odor of rancid fat. Ah ha…… you’re smiling…… You’ve done that too………. Wonderful, Huh……?

After lunch I will check my email, make a few phone calls and get caught up on office correspondence. How is that for telecommuting!!

And our journey continues. What a wonderful way to travel. Climb aboard and enjoy “Life In The Slow Lane…..”

Next stop…….. St. George Island State Park.

"My Momma Didn't Raise No Dummies"..................BBQ Wit and Wisdom.....

2008-08-05T07:46:00.006-05:00

A couple of years ago I entered the Illinois “Field of Dreams” BBQ cook off in Shannon IL http://www.ilstatebbqchampionship.com/. This is a Kansas City Barbeque Society (KCBS) sanctioned event and there were perhaps 40 or more teams competing for top prizes. The KCBS rules were enforced and the winners were decided in a double blind judging by a team of certified KCBS judges.

I was getting set up the afternoon before the judging when a particularly jovial gentleman strolled up to visit. He was dressed in jeans held up by a pair of wide suspenders, a plaid shirt, cowboy boots and a straw hat. His deeply tanned weathered face and graying hair gave him a gentle, kindly look. By his belly and size of his pants it was obvious that he had eaten a lot of “Q” over the years. I introduced myself and asked him where he was cooking and what team he was on.

This kindly old gentleman replied in a heavy Southern drawl.

“Son, my Momma didn’t raise no dummies.”

“I came all the way up here from Huntsville Alabama. You see…. you and your lovely wife are going to light a fire in your cooker about 7:30 this evening. You will be going to go to the cooks meeting at 8:00 PM. By the time the cooks meeting is over at 8:30 PM your cooker should be hot and the temperature stabilized. That’s about the time you are going to start cooking your beef brisket.

Tonight you will sleep in a lawn chair, waking up every hour or so to tend the fire and check the brisket. You will have a cold, miserable, mosquito filled night”.

“I, on the other hand, will be sleeping in the motel just down the road. At 7:00 tomorrow morning when you are putting drops in your bloodshot eyes, I am going to get up and take a hot shower. I will put on clean clothes that don’t smell like grease and smoke. I will arrive here tomorrow morning about 10:30 and will find a comfortable chair in that tent over there (pointing to the judging tent). At 11:00 AM tomorrow you will bring me my food.” He held his ample belly that shook as he laughed.

“You see, Son, my Momma didn’t raise no dummies.

I’m a Barbeque Judge!”

Can You Read This?

2008-08-02T19:49:00.000-05:00

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can. i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

Unbelievable - almost spooky

Post a comment if you can read this

Motor Home Driving School

2008-07-30T20:34:00.002-05:00

As Promised in the Strawberry Onions post.

So there we were at Lazy Days RV dealership in Tampa FL. We were on our way home to Madison from our winter home in Punta Gorda and decided to take the motor home driving course Lazy Daze offered.

My hope was that with some driving instruction Irene would feel comfortable behind the wheel and give me a break from time to time. If nothing else, I wanted her to be able to drive in the event of an emergency. As with most motor homes we tow a car behind the motor home. I was able to find a Saturn Vue which can be towed with no special equipment.

When the car is hooked up, it is an impressive sight. The total length of the RV and the car is about 55 ft. Now that’s a lot of equipment to be driving down the road at a high rate of fuel consumption.

The driving school was divided into classroom and road work. The classroom work was a real eye opener. Bob, our instructor, showed us how large the blind spots are all around the motor home. As it turns out, when I am sitting in my normal position in the driver’s seat, the blind spot in front of the coach is about 17 ft. I cannot see anything on the road closer than 17 ft to the front bumper.

Bob showed us a couple of little tricks to be able to gauge where the front bumper was in relation to a mark on the road. He also showed us how to put mark on the rear view mirror to help show where the fuel cap is located in relation to the gas pump.

Bob stressed that it is important that not to pull in too close to a fuel pump. When pulling away from a fuel pump we have to watch the rear end of the motor home. Because of the wheelbase, the rear of the coach can swing as much as 3 feet the opposite direction when making a tight turn. Be careful and do not take out any gas pumps….

Making a left hand turn does not present too much of a challenge because you can ’swing it wide’. Making a right hand turn onto a two lane road can be a little tricky. You have to swing wide so you don’t run over the curb with the right rear tire (looks pretty foolish, it does – it does) – and turning wide can put you in the oncoming traffic lane.

In most cases you would just wait till there was no traffic to interfere with your extra wide right hand turn. That’s when Bob introduced us to reality. There are going to be times when I will want to make a right hand turn into an intersection that is controlled by a stop light. What do I do when my light changes to green, but the far lane that I need to make my wide swing is occupied by traffic waiting for their green light?

Bob had the answer to this too. Pull about half way into the intersection to where you are about to swing into the oncoming traffic that is waiting at the light. Once you are half way into the intersection just wait for the light to change. The traffic will clear in the lane that you need to make your wide swing and everything will be OK.

All this time you will be blocking the intersection. Bob said we could expect to make a lot of new friends as everyone would be honking at us, shouting greetings to us, and waving with friendly hand gestures. We should just smile and wave back to then. He said that if we thought any of our new friends were offended or angry about the blocked intersection, not to worry because we would probably never see these people again in our lives.

He sure spun a great yarn. Perhaps he was practicing for his “Strawberry Onions” story that he told at brake.

Bob assured us that in city traffic most of the time we would be the largest vehicles at the intersection and most people try to accommodate us. He said another way to get more consideration is to put a sign saying “Student Driver” across the back of the motor home. Surprising how people stay clear.

The driving school was very informative and well worth the time and effort. Two days later out on the interstate Irene took the wheel for a couple of hours. I felt comfortable enough that I reclined the passenger seat and took a nap.

What a life…. "Life in the Slow Lane….. "

Big Mud Puddles and Sunny Yellow Dandelions

2008-07-27T06:39:00.004-05:00

When I look at a patch of dandelions, I see a bunch of weeds that are going to take over my yard. My kids see flowers for Mom and blowing white fluff you can wish on.

When I look at an old drunk and he smiles at me, I see a smelly, dirty person who probably wants money and I look away. My kids see someone smiling at them and they smile back.

When I hear music I love, I know I can't carry a tune and don't have much rhythm so I sit self-consciously and listen. My kids feel the beat and move to it. They sing out the words. If they don't know them, they make up their own.

When I feel wind on my face, I brace myself against it. I feel it messing up my hair and pulling me back when I walk. My kids close their eyes, spread their arms and fly with it, until they fall to the ground laughing.

When I pray, I say thee and thou and grant me this, give me that. My kids say, "Hi God! Thanks for my toys and my friends. Please keep the bad dreams away tonight. Sorry, I don't want to go to Heaven yet. I would miss my Mommy and Daddy."

When I see a mud puddle I step around it. I see muddy shoes and dirty carpets.
My kids sit in it. They see dams to build, rivers to cross, and worms to play with.

I wonder if we are given kids to teach or to learn from?

No wonder God loves the little children! Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.

I wish you Big Mud Puddles and Sunny Yellow Dandelions!!!

Strawberry Onion Salad - The Real Thing...

2008-07-24T20:03:00.005-05:00

This recipe calls for red onions, not strawberry onions.

Irene just had to try this. The color and presentation was excellent and the flavor combination was exquisite. Gee…. Strawberries, onions and blue cheese?

Whodathunk?

I just had to take a picture of this one.

INGREDIENTS

· 1/4 cup mayonnaise
· 1/4 cup sour cream
· 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
· 1/3 cup white sugar
· 1/4 cup milk
· 1/4 cup Crumbled blue cheese
· 2 tablespoons poppy seeds

· 1 pint fresh strawberries, sliced
· 1 head red leaf lettuce, rinsed and torn
· 1 red onion, thinly sliced

DIRECTIONS

1. In a small bowl, mix together the mayonnaise, sour cream, red wine vinegar, sugar, milk and poppy seeds. Set aside.

2. Divide the lettuce into individual salad plates. Sprinkle strawberries over the lettuce, garnish with the onion slices, and crumbled blue cheese on top. Pour dressing over salads just before serving.

Strawberry Onions - An Adventure in Nutrition

2008-07-24T08:34:00.005-05:00

Irene and I winter in Punta Gorda Florida where we have our own private campsite at the Water’s Edge, a 55+ resident owned RV Resort (life in the slow lane….)

We usually leave Madison when the weather turns yucky and the clouds get stuck in the sky for the remainder of the season. Something about being overcast and cloudy almost every day really gets me down. We leave Madison for Florida about November 1st and head back to Madison about the middle of February. Yup, I’m nuts to come back then, but the spring Real Estate market is starting to heat up about that time.

Last year we decided to stop at Lazy Days in Tampa for a couple of nights on the way home. Lazy Days is one of the largest RV dealerships in the country and a fascinating place to go “Window Shopping”. They have an inventory of hundreds and hundreds of units from small travel trainers to the largest luxury motor homes that carry a price tag well over a million dollars.

Wow….. can you say “Power Ball Jackpot…..”?

Lazy Days has its own campground and offers free motor home driving lessons to anyone who stays with them for two nights or more. This would be a perfect opportunity to pick up some tips and pointers and I wanted Irene to be able to drive the motor home in the event of an emergency.

The driving class was excellent - “Don’t touch that dial…” stay tuned and watch for that adventure in another posting….. Motor Home Driving School

During one of the breaks our instructor was commenting about some local attractions and points of interest. He mentioned a farm just up the road that sold “Strawberry Onions” at their produce stand. The instructor explained how these onions are planted around the edge and between the rows in the strawberry fields to help keep bugs and other pests away. They are very mild and pick up a tantalizing aroma and sweetness.

We just had to try these wonderful onions and a couple of miles up the road we found the produce stand. The farmer had only of few Strawberry Onions left, so we got two of them along with some other fresh produce. You would have thought these onions were made out of gold, the price he charged for them.

That evening was going to be liver sausage sandwiches on rye bread with a thick slice of Strawberry Onion. What a meal…. what an adventure in nutrition… these onions were some of the strongest I have ever eaten. Tears rolled down my cheeks the minute I started peeling them. Even with the exhaust fan above the stove and the roof vents fans going, the smell overwhelmed us. Our dog Gizmo and the two cats ran for cover and hid in the back bedroom. I don’t think the onions did any permanent damage, but they sure cleaned out my sinuses in short order.

Were we snookered? To this day I am really not sure. The internet has several posts about Strawberry Onions. Perhaps they do exist… perhaps the farmer sold us something else…. In any case, half the fun was listening to our driving instructor spin this yarn and describe the sublime flavor of these magnificent vegetables.

Senior Citizens - Don't You Just Love 'em?

2008-07-21T08:25:00.007-05:00

Hi ah,.... Hummm let me think ,...why did I post this......don't tell me it's coming to me.....Oh ya.....Senior citizens are constantly being criticized for every conceivable deficiency of the modern world, real or imaginary. We know we take responsibility for all we have done and do not blame others.

HOWEVER, upon reflection, we would like to point out that it was NOT the senior citizens who took:

The melody out of music,
The pride out of appearance,
The courtesy out of driving,
The romance out of love,
The commitment out of marriage,
The responsibility out of parenthood,
The togetherness out of the family,
The learning out of education,
The service out of patriotism,
The Golden Rule from rulers,
The nativity scene out of cities,
The civility out of behavior,
The refinement out of language,
The dedication out of employment,
The prudence out of spending,
The ambition out of achievement, or,

God out of government and school.

And we certainly are NOT the ones who eliminated patience and tolerance from personal relationships and interactions with others!!

And, we do understand the meaning of patriotism, and remember those who have fought and died for our country.

Does anyone under the age of 50 know the lyrics to the Star Spangled Banner? or O Canada?

Just look at the Seniors with tears in their eyes and pride in their hearts as they stand at attention, on veterans day and our great country's birthday .

YES, I'M A SENIOR CITIZEN! I'm the life of the party...... even if it lasts until 8 p.m.
I'm very good at opening childproof caps... with a hammer.
I'm usually interested in going home before I get to where I am going.
I'm awake many hours before my body allows me to get up.
I'm smiling all the time because I can't hear a thing you're saying.
I'm very good at telling stories; over and over and over and over...
I'm aware that other people's grandchildren are not nearly as cute as mine.

I'm so cared for --- long term care, eye care, private care, dental care. I'm not really grouchy, I just don't like traffic, waiting, crowds, lawyers, loud music, unruly kids, Jenny Craig and Toyota commercials, barking dogs, politicians and a few other things I can't seem to remember right now. I'm sure everything I can't find is in a safe secure place, somewhere. I'm wrinkled, saggy, lumpy, and that's just my left leg. I'm having trouble remembering simple words like.......

I'm beginning to realize that aging is not for wimps. I'm sure they are making adults much younger these days, and when did they let kids become policemen? I'm wondering, if you're only as old as you feel, how could I be alive at 150? And, how can my kids be older than I feel sometimes? I'm a walking storeroom of facts..... I've just lost the key to the storeroom door. Yes, I'm a SENIOR CITIZEN and I think I am having the time of my life!

This wonderful piece is from Liberty (Missouri) High School Class of '56. Complete with music and animation http://www.libertyhigh56.net/special%20pages/seniors/seniors.htm

Barking Pig BBQ - What's In A Name?

2008-07-20T14:51:00.009-05:00

What's behind the name Barking Pig BBQ?

Read this carefully – there’s going to be a quiz.

First, we have to examine the term “BBQ” and then we have to examine “Barking Pig”.

BBQ……In some areas (sad to say even some areas in Wisconsin) a BBQ dinner is nothing more than a Sloppy Joe and potato chips. Gee.... to make it real special a big dill pickle is added.

Or your neighbor might invite you over for a BBQ. This is nothing more than getting out the grill - which he might also call the BBQ - and burning some hamburgers, or brats * or chicken or steak or any other combination of meats and veggies. This is done with great fanfare and braggadocio.

* For those of you in Toad Suck Arkansas, (a real place) a Brat (rhymes with cot) is short for bratwurst which is a German Sausage. A brat is not the neighbor’s unruly child (but I suppose it could be). A note of caution – much as you might like to, don’t set the unruly child on a hot grill. The kid would make a lot of noise and you ain’t going to eat him anyway.

Ask a competitive BBQ chef and we all agree that Barbecue, Barbeque, BBQ, or simply “Q” (used as a verb) is not sloppy Joes or burned hot dogs, but a method of cooking meat over a slow wood or charcoal fire for long periods of time.

Barbecue, Barbeque, BBQ, or simply “Q” (used as a noun) is the meat itself.

Confused?.............. You will be…………

Remember the wonderful smells of your Mom’s kitchen when she was making ‘pot roast’?

She started with a tough, mean, ornery, cut of beef. She put this in a cast iron pot and cooked it all day long. The low cooking temperatures performed magic and the meat came out wonderfully moist and fall apart tender.

A similar magic is used to make good “Q”. As a BBQ Chef, I use tough, mean, ornery cuts of meat.

Beef brisket is probably one of the meanest, most ornery cut of beef there is. In the early years of American History, the plainsmen were known to dry the beef briskets and use them to re-sole their boots. The brisket fell out of favor in the footwear industry with the invention of synthetic soles. Now, the brisket is usually reserved for corned beef.

When brisket is seasoned to perfection and slowly smoked at a low temperature for up to 18 hours, it comes out wonderfully tender and moist. A comfortable folding patio lounge chair and a blanket are essentials for this kind of cooking – you’re going to pull an all-niter.

And then there is everybody’s favorite, “Pulled Pork”. This again is one mean, ornery cut of meat. I use a 7 to 9 lb. Boston Butt or Butt roast – it comes from the shoulder of the pig and has nothing at all to do with the pig’s butt, or anything to do with the Butt of anyone living in Boston…….. Go figure………

I first start by trimming as much fat as I can from the roast. I may slather mustard on the butt, or I may not – depends on my mood and whether I have mustard in the refrigerator. I then sprinkle on some “Butt Rub” (careful there - this is a noun) which is my own secret blend of 11 different herbs and spices.

I regulate my smoker-cooker temperature to stay at 225* to 250* and cook this hunk of meat for 10 – 12 hours, or until the internal temperature reaches 190*+. At that temperature the sinew in the meat has broken down and it is "fall off the bone" tender.

Are you still with me ..............? Hang in there, we’re getting to the good part…..

About 4 hours into the cook, something magical starts to take place. A black crust starts to form on the meat. Don’t worry…….. It ani’t burning….. It can’t burn at a temperature of less than 250* This black crust is a reaction between the Butt Rub, the smoke, and the heat. It may be the sugar in the rub caramelizing…. This black crust is highly prized and simply delicious. It has a heavy smoke flavor and a concentration of spices and it is called ….. BARK ! ! !

We’re almost there……………

During one of my first cooks, I lifted the lid on my cooker and gazed with affection and pride at the beautiful butt in front of me. It was turning black. I proudly announced….

“My Pig Is Barking……”

So........... What’s behind a name….?

Aren’t you glad you asked…….?

www.BarkingPigBBQ.com

Big Green Egg BBQ Grill

2008-07-19T21:41:00.002-05:00

Ah...... the wonderful flavor of Johnsonville Brats right off the grill.

This morning I savored the delectable aroma and taste of brats and chicken breast expertly prepared on the Big Green Egg http://www.biggreenegg.com/. Kessinech's of Madison http://www.kessenichs.com/ had a demonstration of these wonderful cookers. I have seen top BBQ chefs walk away with top prizes using these amazing grills.

I would love to have one of these cookers but for now must put it on hold. I already have a Weber Smokey Mountain Smoker, a Weber Kettle, a Caldera Tall Boy (computerized smoke house) and a Holland Companion table top grill. Irene keeps telling me I have too many cookers - I keep telling her that cookers and grills are like bungee cords - you can never have too many of them.

It's about time to "Do the Q" again. We just finished the last package of pulled pork. When I get the Caldera Tall Boy going, I will slowly smoke (at about 250*) 30 lbs of pork butt for 12 hours or so. It comes out fall off the bone tender and wonderfully smokey. I usually put on a couple of racks of ribs for supper.