This friend of mine at work is well know for coming up with, or remembering, little quips and sayings that are at best funny.  I really need to write a book and include them along with the experiences he has had as a water man (not to be confused with  a plumber).

We got to talking about things and started naming musicals that almost were, but didn't quite make it.  (I looked up the def. for on who plays the cello.  Cellist)  They aren't in any particular order, nor is the list complete.  

1:   Cellist on the Roof  

2:   Nebraska

3:   North Pacific

4:   Mice

5:   Larry Poppins

6:   East Side Story

7:   The Wizard of Ooze

8:   The Noise of Music

9:   Automotive Lubricant

10: Willy Whackout and the Candy Factory

11:  Apparition of the Opera

12: More Miserables

13: The Lion Jester

14: Your Unjust Woman

15: The Czar and Me

El Toro Negro

Jesus on My Floor

I have never given much credence to that special group of people that see the super-natural in ordinary, everyday objects.  That is until today.

You know the people I am talking about.  The woman who found Mary in her pancake.  Didn't she sell the pancake on eBay for an enormous amount of money?  Or the the guy who dropped a small metal bowl, making a dent in it, only to find a cross in the indention.  And the elderly woman who was feeding her cat(s).  She plopped out a can of fancy feast on a glass dish for one of her cats and found a complete replica of da Vinci's The Last Super.  She immediately became a Catholic and joined a convent as a nun.  No one has seen her since the cats were taken away by those animal police on that TV show.  

Today I am babysitting for my wife.  She has gone into town to do some shopping, eating out and may even hit the spa while I am here with the two little ones.  

We have faux wood floors.  (Sorry about the French reference.)  They have a rustic, wood grain pattern on them, complete with knot holes.  Today I noticed that one of these knots looks like the face of Jesus.  I can't believe it.  Could this be coincidence?  Surely not.  I took these pics just as soon a I realized what I had on my hands, and in case it morphed back into an ordinary knot.  You can clearly see the Saviors face.  I went around the rest of the floor looking to see if it was a repeating pattern.  You know, like in wall paper.  I can find duplicates of other portions of the floor, but I can only find on miracle knot.  What to do now.

I am thinking about cutting this piece of floor out and selling it on eBay.  Would that negate the miracle?  Would whatever good I am about to surely receive vanish.  Or I am supposed to sell it and use the money to build a lair, invent a cool costume, build dozens of super gadgets (including a super car), and fight crime and injustice.  Dang, I would need an underground cave for that.  (Underground cave.  Is that redundant?)   I wonder if my wife would notice the absence of a chunk of floor.  

There is the option of donating it to science, or rather super natural science.  They could study the effects of the knot on humanity.  Perhaps being in the same room as the knot would change the mood of those in the room for the better.  A calming effect.  Hey, maybe Hillary can use it in her new cabinet position as Secretary of State, when she meets with foreign dignitaries.  I bet the Israeli-Palestinian thing get solved right away.  She could just carry it in her pocket during her meetings.

Let me know what to do.

El Toro Negro

Super Friends Heros vrs. Barney

                                                               
Having 37 years behind me, I can remember cartoons such as Bugs Bunny, Superman and his Super Friends Heros, Batman, etc.  I have never been leery of bragging to my kids about how much better "my" cartoons are than theirs.  I still enjoy watching the "classics".  

I have six kids with the youngest two being 3 and 1.  At my house we still watch some Barney.  This got me thinking.  Are my kids going to be able to brag about Barney to their kids when they are 37?  Me, I don't think so.  What is their to brag about?  He has never fought evil.  He has never saved the Planet from destruction.  He can't fly, breath under water, shoot lasers out of his eyes.  What super powers does he have?  Nada.  I guess he knows how to become extinct.  He isn't even mutated.  Teaching kids to brush their teeth and turn out the lights?  Holding hands and swaying back and forth, singing I love you, you love me. Please.  Where is the glory in that.  He should be a green dinosaur instead of purple.

Think about it.  How many kids out there, if ever on the Jurassic Park Island, are going to try and give the T-Rex a hug, hold it's hand, and sing a song to it?  All that watched Barney.  "Mommy, why did Barney eat little Billy?  Is it a new game?"  

I would love to pit the Super Friends Heroes against Barney and his prehistoric friends.  The Super Friends would kick their butts.  I doubt Barney can even make a fist.  Heck, even Bugs could easily Kick his butt.  And Elmer Fudd.  "Kill the Barney"  Maybe there is a new cartoon brewing.  

El Toro Negro

No more room.

Just wanted to post this pic to illustrate the seating arrangement in the Suburban.  There is a little girl's (blonde) head poking up on the right side of the picture.  The reason that there isn't a pile of luggage in the rear (usually there is) is because we pulled the trailer.  

On the way I asked my wife if she would drive.  I don't know why she does this, but she keep a pile of stuff at her feet when we go on a trip.  This is what I had to deal with at my feet.  Somehow she can sit Indian style for long periods of time.  

El Toro Negro

I GOT to have my Big Mac

We were on our way back from the Thanksgiving fiesta and you know that the kids can't go more than a few hours without wanting to eat.  We were easily persuaded.  We didn't want to fix anything when we got home.  

We took the trailer with us because my wife's parents bought a new house and gave us a bunch of stuff they didn't want for our upcoming garage sale.  So we were parked on the drive thru side of the McD's parallel with the drive thru line.  My wife and several kids go in to order etc.  

I am watching the kids and look over at the cars in the line and noticed this car come around the corner.  This lady didn't seem to care that her car was riding or it's rim.  She acted like nothing was wrong.  I guess some people's cars lean.  She got her food and left the Mcd's, turning on to the highway in front of the store, like nothing was the matter.

I guess that some people NEED their Big Mac, no matter what it takes.

El Toro Negro

Crazy Dog Bloggers

I like to look at other people's blogs.  Blogger has a place where you can click next blog.  I think it goes to random blogs they sponsor.  

I hadn't really planned on posting today, being Thanksgiving and all, but I saw a blog that I just had to comment on.  It falls right in line with my crazy cat lady thoughts.  The blog was called, I think, my life as a dog.  It was nothing but pictures of their dog.  Pictures in the park.  Pictures in the snow, mud, trees.  Pictures at the beach.  Pictures of the dog running, playing eating and going BIG.  I didn't see any people.  Probably because the person taking the pictures has no friends.  Only a dog.  Must be that anyone can get a dog, even social outcasts.

I guess it is good that people like that can get a dog.  I just find it crazy that their blog (and more than likely their life) revolves around their pet.  Don't these people have a life?  I am always annoyed by the people that think animals, any animals, are equal to that of a human, no matter how big a loser the human is.  Like these PETA people.  Most are wackos.  

Don't get me wrong.  I love dogs.  But they are more or less expendable, at least in comparison to people.  I have had many.  I once was an avid raccoon hunter.  Max was my favorite hunting dog of all time.  He ended up getting killed one night on a highway.  Dead.  Sad, truly.  But don't lose sense of what is really important in life.  Get the collar and then a new dog.

Isn't it great that we can all have different opinions.  It is just that some of us are right and some of you are wrong.

El Toro Negro

Get Shorty (I've never seen the movie)

OK.  I told you that I had to prove to my wife and fans that I am the most normal guy in the world.  Case in point.  I have a pair of shorts.  I have had them for quite a while.  I like these shorts.  They feel RIGHT.  The are my shorts, near and dear to my heart.

Well, they have a little age to them.  But hey, you don't throw out your spouse when she gets a little wear to her?  I know, some do.  For some reason my wife hates when I wear these heirlooms.  I can't understand it.  I only wear them around the house, and maybe to the local grocery store.  Nothing shows or hangs out.  What's wrong with them?

El Toro Negro

My Reality

What does it mean when several unrelated people tell you that there should be a reality show made about you or you and your family?  That has happened to me.  These people said it independently, on different occasions.  What is going on?  Am I not normal?  Does my family really resemble a reality show?  And the biggest question, can I make some cash out of the deal?  

I claim to be the most normal guy in America.  My wife, however, thinks differently.  Thus this blog was born.  I am proving to the world that I am just like anyone else.  I need to ask these people what it is exactly that causes them to say that.  It has to be something my wife or kids did.  Surely not me.  I don't really know.

What I do know is that I like my life, my wife, and my kids.  I hear all the time from other men how they can't stand their wife or kids.  What the heck is up with that?  I don't understand.  And when did kids become such a liability?  When I tell people we have six kids they can't believe it, or say something crazy like "I don't even want the one I have".  Sure, some things could be different in our life, and we work or some of them all the time.  But by and large I am a happy man.  I love my family.  I love being a husband and dad.

El Toro Negro

Mi Novia

With so many kids (my wife's fault) it is hard to get time to ourselves, except perhaps at 10 pm, and then I am sleep walking.  When we were in college (she is class of '96 at A&M too) we would got to the Hall of Fame with friends once or twice a month to dance.  We enjoyed it quite a bit and weren't too bad either.  We (I took lessons with a girlfriend before I married my wife) even did a bit of jitterbug.  

I have a calling at my church to oversee the program for the young men in our congregation ages 12 to 18.  One of the activities that we participate in are a type of area dance with other local congregations that take place about once a month.  It is really interesting to watch these kids dance.  I'm not talking about the goofy line dances or the spastic gyrations during the fast songs.  While they are fun to watch too, I get a kick out of watching the slow dances.   I swear that sometimes they are going to wear a hole on the floor.  They stay in one small spot, waddling back and forth, like penguins, stiff legged.  

The church we attend has a dance once a year for the adults in the area.  Last night I took my wife to eat and then "dancing".  It was very relaxing to be able to eat by ourselves.  No "I got to go potty" or "He won't leave me a lone".  I had forgotten what that was like.

The dancing was a bit funny.  It had been so long that I took me a minute to remember how to do the two-step and waltz.  The fast dances, well, we left those alone for the most part, content to romance with each other on the slow songs.  Over all it was a great evening.

This is a picture of us before we went out.  I bought here a corsage.  What a surprise.  I don't do the flower thing very often.  She wouldn't pin it on.

El Toro Negro

Mr. Popularity?

The phone is not one of my favorite pieces of technology.  Sure I have a land line (mostly for the fax) and a cell phone.  My wife (mother in law too) hates it that I won't answer the home phone.  Most of the time it is for my wife or someone selling something, even after the no call list!  The people I talk to most have my cell number and they can call that if they need to.  

Today, however, I got a call that was pleasantly surprising.  It was a high school classmate.  Seems that our reunion is coming up next year and he is looking up friends to get them caught up on the party.  It was good to talk to him and I look forward to the reunion. 

After the call I started to remember back to the old high school days.  Friends, events, football games, trips, skipping school, pep rallies, and pranks.  I was not a popular person at the start of high school, a nerd really, but I had the good fortune of signing up for a debate class, and there I met my best friend for the rest of my time in school.  We did everything together.  He was in the cool crowd, and by association, I got to at least hang around some of the "in" kids.  I miss this friend, a lot when I let myself think about it.  He was good for me.

What I really wanted to write about is this idea of being popular.  I heard it a lot during those years.  Who is popular and who is not.  Cheerleaders (see my other posts), jocks, class clown, head bangers, those with money, etc. all vying for a place on the popularity scale.  It seemed so important to a lot of the kids.  Some were obsessed with moving up the scale.  I am not sure why I didn't worry about it that much.  Perhaps it was because I thought I never had a chance to get very far up the ladder.  I like to think it was because I had loftier values or ideals, or that I knew it wouldn't always matter.  Maybe I just didn't care.  

It is funny looking back now.  I haven't heard the word popular in twenty years, not in the terms like I did in high school.  It is a nonissue in real life, yet we were so concerned with it back then.  I suppose that every teenager is.  They are worried about fitting in.  I have one teen now and five more that will be there soon enough.  I do take the time to try and assure them that their value as a person is derived from other things than that of being popular.  

I have been told that I am a bit "different".  I think they are sugar coating it for my benefit.  I don't know anyone that is concerned with being popular.  Not at my church, my work, non of my friends.  What happened.  Did I leave that world behind?  Does that world still exist, outside of high school?  Not for me it doesn't, and good riddance.  I don't feel a loss in any way.  Quite the opposite.  There are too many important things to concern ourselves with besides popularity.

I do suppose that those people obsessed with it are still out there.  It reminds me of the recent presidential election.  It has turned into a popularity contest.  They were never intended to be, and that is one of the reasons we we set up as a republic and not true democracy.  Imagine the most popular person in your high school being president.  WOW.  Not so appealing.  

I guess that another group that couldn't let it go are the hollywood types.  Just look at the magazines on the rack in the check out line.  Remind you of anything?  Who is doing what and with whom?  What did she say about her hair/dress?  Did she steal him from her?  And we are eaten up with worry over what happens to these people.  What a load of hooey.  We are more worried about who will win American Idol (I watch it) than what will happen when the next Supreme Court Justice retires, or where the tax rate will end up come January.  I can't stand the hollywood/music/tv attitudes and view of life.  But what I can't stomach even more is that we care so much.  What have we become as a people?  

El Toro Negro

Little Darling

I know that you have heard the slogan of No Child Left Behind.  Not a program that I am in favor of, at least not 100%.  I have seen and know kids, usually in their teen years, that need to be left behind or at least removed from the "main stream" of the teaching that goes on in our schools.  Their are kids that are so disruptive as to necessitate being removed.  There are also children that do not need to be forced to go through all the classes that are required by the State.  For example.  I know of kids that do not need four years of math, only to struggle the entire time, because their passion lies in hair dressing or delivering packages.  

Closely related to this No Child Left Behind is the idea (I think it started with soccer) that all participants are "winners".  I know that this has been going on since I was a kid because I always got the "participation" ribbon.  My kids always get a trophy at the end of their season, even if their team was in dead last place.  Dang, a kid can have a trophy room that is huge by the time he gets to high school and never have won anything.  What are we doing?  

I hear tell that this line of thinking comes from a philosophy that we in no way can harm the so called self esteem of or kids.  So we coddle them, baby them, let them rule our homes and tell us what they are or are not going to do, let them set their own boundaries.  They talk back and make demands.  We, of course, can not, will not, do anything that will harm their self esteem.  

So what does this mean?  We get kids that are advanced through school and graduate that can't even read and write, much less do the simplest of math tasks.  I bought some blinds for our new house about a year ago.  I went to Home Depot to get them.  They needed to be cut to length.  The little girl that was helping me couldn't even put them on a simple jig and subtract the undesired amount and measure it out.  I had to wait until the next day when the manager would be there.  She had worked there for over a year.  

What this means is that we are churning out high school graduates that can't read or do math, but sure do think a lot of themselves, because mommy and daddy and their teachers have always told them that average or below average, or that to loose, was ok, you are still a "winner".  

Kids need to know that they have a place in the home and that place does not supersede the parents.  They are not the boss.  We should not do "anything" for our kids.  I get sick of parents that storm up to the school to berate a teacher or principal because their little Johnny shouldn't be punished or get that zero.  After all, it wasn't his fault.  Plus, it might make him feel bad.  They need to know that there are levels of acceptable accomplishment and that marks under that level are not tolerated, even if you gave it a "good try".  They need to know also that there are boundaries of behavior not to be crossed.  They should be taught the rules and be held accountable.  

Now I don't want to sound totalitarian, but that is about what it comes down to.  I also think that our kids should also be loved unconditionally.  They will defy us at times, and that can not be tolerated.  But they must always be loved, and told so.  All I have to do is ask my kids "You know what?"  and they will say... "awe dad, I know, you love me".  They hear it often.  They see it often.  

I had better stop.  I could ramble on forever.

El Toro Negro

Old Cat Lady

We all know one, or at least have heard of them.  

So I was in Wal-Marts (for all the Hallies), doing my time in the checkout line, when I realized that the lady in front of me was buying nothing but cat food.  Not the bag of dry cat food for $5.99, but the "Fancy Feast" crap that was $1.39 for a can about the size of a tuna can.  She didn't just have a few.  She had many, many dozens.  Enough that I couldn't quickly count them.  Of course she had a variety of other cat treats.  I quit looking at the prices that were ringing up because I was a bit sick at the thought of spending that kind of money on a cat.  But who am I kidding.  You know she had at least several (or more) cats living/ruling her smelly, hair ridden house.  

So I leave the store and have to run an errand for my wife.  (I am beginning to regret showing her craigslist.  She has bought twice as much stuff on there as I have sold, and I get to be the one that has to go and pick her stuff up.)  Some lamp that matches the decor and fung shwe of our living room.  I arrive at the door of this lady's house that has the lamp and what do I see through the side room window.  A cat dormitory, complete with enough carpet covered tubes and posts to keep at least a dozen cats busy.  And of course I would happen to ring the door bell (no sing) and piss her off.  You scared my cats.  The door bell scares my cats.  We don't scare the cats.  Well crap, lady, put a note that says don't ring the stinkin' bell.  Thankfully only the feet of the lamp have to have cat hair removed from them.  

I am not one to tell a cat loving freak how to spend her money, or how many dozen cats she should have.  If you earned it, spend it how you want to.  But it just seems strange to me to live that way.  I can just imagine how many cat boxes she has to clean and how many loads of cat feces she has to haul out, not to mention how many bottles of febreze she must go through to keep the smell down (if she even tries).  I wonder also what her lint roller bill each month is (if she even cares to remove the hair from her cloths).  

And what about when she entertains?  I always hate when you go to someone's house for a social party, or to dinner at a friends house, and you sit on the couch after the meal only to get up and leave later with more back hair than sasquatch.  Might as well toss your cloths when you get home.  I sure don't have the extra hours of time required to pull off all the hair.  All the washing machine will do is get it on every other thing in the load.

And why are all the crazy cat lovers women, usually single women, unless their husbands are PW?  I have yet to have or know of a single guy that lives with and cares for 15 cats.  Do they exist?  I don't think so.  It must be because a cat's personality and a woman's are closely related.  They are both utterly unpredictable.  You can be scratching her behind the neck, her purring like crazy, one second, and the next she is trying to scratch and bite your hand off.  I've seen cats that do that too.  And just try and explain something them.  They just look at you like "yah right, I'm going to do that.  I'll do what I please".  I just don't get it.  

El Toro Negro

Smelly Smell

One thing that I have noticed is that women smell.  Now ordinarily that would not be a compliment and I'm not really sure it is now, other than to say that women generally smell more pleasant than men.  As we prepared to leave for church I quizzed my wife on the smell subject.  It seems that she always puts on her smell stuff rather strong.  The reason seems to have something to do with that you have to put it on really strong in order for it to last.  

I'm not sure how it is calculated.  Do you put on twice as much as you need for two hours of "smell good" in order to get four hours worth?  What the heck do you have to do to get eight hours on smell good?  My wife puts it on fairly strong in the morning before the half hour ride to church and the three hours we are there.  My wife wouldn't give me the formula to calculate the application rate.  I have to assume that it is a closely guarded secret.  I just feel sorry for the first few folks that have to smell it so strong.  I think that that is part of the formula which reads something like this. 

 "Be sure to adjust the application rate for the number of people you are not trying to convince that you always smell this way who will smell you before you get to the people you are trying to convince that you always smell this good, for they will dilute or absorb some of your smelliness, lessening the amount of time that you will have the smell good ora.  This adjustment in application is critical in order to keep smelling until you have seen the last person that you want to think that you smell this way always.  You must also factor in whether men or women are the last ones you are trying to impress, for men are much easier (to impress), given the sharp contrast in their smell and yours.  If the end smeller is of mixed gender you had better go extra strong, just in case."

I can only imagine the rest of the calculating formula. But for the record, I am glad that women smell good.

El Toro Negro

Post Election...

Well, I'm not sure what to say about the election results.  That might be hard for some of you to believe.  It seems that I always have something to say.  Perhaps it is just that I am so fatigued from the whole campaign/election process.  obama is not my choice, but since he won, I just have to hope for one of two things.  

I hope that he will govern from the center, like he promised he would do.  This, however, might not be realistic.  I mean, the guy is so far to the left that I doubt that even barak could afford a ticket to the center.  With the House and the Senate having a Democrat majority why should he move to the center.  When has he ever told the truth.  I realize the as a candidate he said a lot of things to get the votes, as do all candidates.  But when do the Dems compromise?  When do they make bipartisan gestures?  Never.  That is one of the reason why the Republicans are where they are.  They have been the ones that have continually made the moves to "work together", and in so doing, have caused a great many conservatives to leave the Republican Party.  What we want is to have a candidate that runs unashamedly on true conservative ideals, not on promises to "work with the other side".  

If he does not rule from the center, I hope that we will be able to fight his socialist agenda and stop (or slow) it.  If the Congress won't do it I hope that as a people we will make our voice heard, as we did on the immigration bill that we stopped.  I hope that not too much damage is done before the next Congressional elections or the next Presidential election.  

I guess that I must admit (I am embarrassed to do so) that I have lost some of my faith in this people that make up America.  I thought there were more of us out there that could see what barak is and not allow him into power.  I guess that we will get what we deserve for choosing such a man.  

God Bless America

El Toro Negro  

Chichen Itza

Here are some of the pictures from our trip to Mexico that have been requested.  These were taken at Chichen Itza.

This is an old lady that was selling little handkerchiefs.  Very sweet lady.

The next three were taken at the court yard.

Notice the first one is a player in pads, knees, elbows, etc.  What else is he holding in his left hand besides a playing stick?

This one is a bit worn on the left side (of the picture) but you can see that he has a club/ax in his right hand and he too has something hanging from his left hand.

This guy is kneeling on the ground.  In front of him is a ball with the picture of a skull in it.  What is this guy missing?  Hint.  Look at where the seven snakes are (one snake is missing).  Are they spewing out of his neck?

The next two we are in the courtyard.

And here we are in front of the largest pyramid.

El Toro Negro

Mastication Addicts

I am not a hollywood fan in the least.  In fact, I think that most of what comes out of hollywood is trash, detrimental to the moral fiber of this country, leading us down a path that ends up with a people numb to violence, sex, and reality.  Not the outer space, zombie, giant spiders eating bulidings kind of reality, but the what really goes on in the life of most of us.  Some would call us the fly over states or the "clingers".  

What I used to hear was that hollywood was only making a representation of the world around us.  I contend that hollywood has always pushed where the edge of extreme is.  Identify what line society finds too much, and then make a show or movie about what takes place on the other side of that line.  It might even be a promotion of what line they think the world of "lessers" should accept.  ( This would be the same opinion that the oboma fanatics have.)

But this post is not about the crap that oozes out of the butt of the US.  (I once thought that New Orleans was the butt of the US, at least until it was wiped clean.)  It is about something much more important.  Chewing gum.  Not the type of gum but the chewing of gum.

You see, everywhere I have gone where there is at least a little bit of properness expected, I have noticed that there are still people that chew gum.  So what's the big deal, right?  Have you ever noticed someone chewing gum.  Not just noticed someone that was chewing gum, but watched them chew gum.  It is really annoying.  A person looks really stupid chewing gum.  Like they can't finish eating.  Now in everyday life, shopping at wal-mart, you don't really notice it.  But in a sit down, be quite setting, it is really noticeable.  The next time you go to church just quietly look around.  You will see them.  They will be there, masticating themselves silly.  

I once thought it was the younger generation, teenagers and younger.  But after a while I realized that it is not limited by age.  It is, however, prone to a certain group of people.  That group is women.  The young and those in the "in crowd" are the ones who do it most.  I would imagine that if you started a conversation with one of these women it would include the word "like" an awful lot and center around what someone is wearing.

What in the world does this have to do with hollywood.  Alright, I know that I just went off of that place and those people, but they can teach us a little bit of properness, if you can believe it.  If you will pay attention the next time you are riveted to an almost daily awards show in hollywood, or even in a movie, you will not see them chewing gum.  Oh, there are exceptions.  If they are in the South and are portraying a red neck they will chew gum in a most obvious way.  But when they are walking down the red carpet they will not be caught chewing gum.  At least they know how stupid a person looks when they chew gum.  Perhaps we can take what little good we can find from these people and put it to practice.  

El Toro Negro

High Riders

I know that you have all been in a restroom where it is handicap accessible.  I think that there has been some mandate that has required all bathrooms in the world to be able to handle a wheelchair.  I need to know something, well, a lot of things, but the thing I want to know about these bathrooms is why is the toilet seat is SO high.  Wouldn't it be around the same height of the seat of the wheelchair?  Just slide from one to the other, right?

But what I have noticed is that these seats are made for Andre' the Giant.  Who in the world wants to GO BIG with there feet hanging, not reaching the floor?  That is unless you are three.  How are you going to be able to push properly if there is nothing to push against. It makes more sense having these in the homes of old people.  I've seen them for sell on TV.  I think that they have a hard time getting up from a sitting position and these booster seats keep them in an almost standing position while they...  I even saw one that was motorized.  Like the recliner that the old folks have.  It raises them to where they can just walk away from their chair.

I'd better stop and apologize before my wife starts hollering about my subject matter.  I write about the things I am doing or going through, or things that I notice or are brought to my attention.  And these high riders are everywhere, plus we are potty training.  For the sake of my wife's sanity and the excitement of my night life I will not write about peeing off the back porch.  At least not right now.  

El Toro Negro

Who's Your Daddy?

I need to dispel a myth that has been perpetrated ever since I can remember.  Actually it is several myths.  It involves potty training and girls.  Remember that I have two girls and that one is already potty trained.

The first myth is that girls are easier to train that boys.  I will say that my oldest girl was easy to potty train, as well as several of our boys.  They were all easy, really.  We did have one boy that had to take off ALL his cloths in order to go.  But all in all they were easy.  

Then there is my youngest girl.  I don't know what the heck is going on with her.  We have read all the books.  All the signs of readiness were there.  We started her and she did very well, for a few days.  Then total collapse.  So we waited and read some more books.  Followed the advice of the best of the best and combined it with or experience.  We started again.  She did great for a day or so.  Then nothing.  A pattern evolved, for a while, where she would do ok and then not.  Now, she just doesn't do well at all.  It is a battle at times, then other times, we sit her down and she goes right away.

We tried the "get candy" routine.  We tried the sticker chart.  After each potty she gets a sticker.  After so many stickers she would get a BIG toy.  Well, it wasn't long before she figured out where the stickers were.  She waited until we were not in the room and climbed, got them, and before long there were stickers appearing on the chart that she didn't earn.  And that's where we are right now.

The other myth, and the one that was dispelled tonight, is that girls aren't messy when they pee.  Do not get caught standing in front of your little girl when you are trying to potty train her.  Listen.  I have been married for 15 years.  I thought that I had gained a little bit of an understanding of where certain things are on a female.  On a little boy you had better make sure it is pointed down when you sit him down.  My wife had assured me that with a girl it was different.  Sure, theirs is naturally "pointed" down.  Well guys, don't believe that lie.  I got the shins of my legs sprayed tonight.  The seat was drenched.  It points down, it points down!  I  just stood there in disbelief.  What had just happened.  Oh , to be a father.

El Toro Negro

Here is the answer to the last picture.  It was a blow up of where the leg meets the body.

The Unselfish Act

So I'm sorry already.  The last week has been very rough.  My wife was on her deathbed, or at least she said so.  She ended up having strep throat.  She went to the doctor twice before getting the right medicine to clear it up.  As well, two of my kids were sick the last week and I have been sick this week end.  I think the worst has past.  

Yesterday, my wife took some of the kids to our small town PTO carnival.  They have a game where the kids can win a goldfish.  This is not my favorite game and I think they should outlaw it from the carnival.  Our kids have a long history of winning these fish and having them live forever.  This year, however, it was different.

I woke up this morning to fix breakfast, as I always do on Sunday, while my wife stayed in bed.  I am not sure how I acquired this chore, every time, especially since I get up at 3 or 4 am during the week, but I'm sure it has something to do with me doing it once.  Now it is expected, or else.  So I am walking into the kitchen, flip on the light, and there is the fish, on the floor, dried out and stiff.  It had been put in a clear glass bowl and placed on the counter.  I can't say that I was totally disappointed.  I put it back in the bowl thinking that we would have a ceremony when my daughter woke up and be done with it.  To my dismay, I looked at it a few minutes later, and the dang thing was breathing again.  Not long after that it was swimming.

I said that we have had a long history with these carnival fish and that they have normally lived for a long, long time.  We (my wife) have put them in the cabinet and forgotten about them for a few weeks, without food or light, only to find them alive and well.  We have put them on the back porch in the winter over night to find them frozen solid in the morning.  Great, right?  Well the goofy thing was ok after thawing out.  What is the deal with these things?  

I guess that statistically speaking there would be one that would die easily out of the ones we have gotten over the years.  This was that year.  After coming home from church we found the fish floating, dead.  Really dead.  Now he resides in the back pasture, ready to complete the circle of life by being eaten by some raccoon or other critter.  What an unselfish sacrifice.   The ultimate act of giving.  Thank you little fish.

El Toro Negro

Now for another quiz.  What is it?  (It's not grandpaw Frank's ear.)

Not in My Sync

We have been married for about 15 years.  One of the things that I love about my wife is her hair.  It is long and thick and not yet gray.  One of the things I don't like is that she sheds... like crazy.  

In our last house we had one bathroom.  Only one.  For eight of us.  I knew that their was a hair problem because fairly often I would have to clean the drain.  Not a fun thing to do.  It is really slimy with all the soap.  My question is how in the world does it get in the sink?  Shouldn't it come out in the tub or shower?  I don't recall seeing her stand over the sink and shake her head.  But with three girls,well, I should have expected it, right?  

I thought in our new house I wouldn't have to deal with this issue quite so often.  In our bathroom we have a his and her sink.  She has this sitting area where she can do her makeup and hair.  What I never expected was to find these really long hairs in MY sink.  I really am beginning to think that she is sneaking in when I am not around and placing her hair in my sink for me to find.   

We have been in this house about six months and I have already had to clean out her sink.  I don't know what to do to fix this problem.  My wife claims that there is no fix.  It just happens.  Well, love knows no bounds.

El Toro Negro

I am adding this just to see if y'all can guess what this is.  It is driving my wife crazy.

Say What?

I went through some of the photos that we took of the A&M game we went to a few weeks ago.  I found something very interesting.  

At first glance there isn't anything wrong.  But check out the ref.  What the heck is he doing?  Is he in pain?

Maybe he has a bet with his ref buddies that he can make a lewd gesture during the game and get away with it.  It is possible that he has a lewd gesture during a collegiate sporting event fetish and couldn't help himself.  It's a disease.  I tend to think he is heckling the line judge on the side.

I just happened to catch this.  Think how many times this goes on and no one knows about it.  A epidemic.  WOW.

El Toro Negro

Our Pet

You already know that we have an embroidery business.  With that comes some shirts that we, usually me, mess up.  With me it is usually the wrong color.  Normally, we will keep these to use when we need to sample a new design.  We will sew it on the tail of the messed up shirt.  These shirts are kept in a big tub under our sewing table and from time one of our kids will ask for a shirt for some "project" that they have going on.  

My wife's father has, or had, quite a few mounted animals.  He gave my second son a stuffed squirrel that is most likely twenty plus years old.  He loves that squirrel.  Not my father in law, my son. 

Not long after he acquired the animal he came to my wife and asked if he could have a shirt out of the tub, and also asked if he could cut it up.  It was a shirt that had an A&M logo on it.  We really didn't need it so she told him ok.  It wasn't long after that that he came and asked for a needle and thread.  We weren't sure what he wanted and with Jake there was no telling.  She gave him the tools.

What we soon found out was that he was making a shirt for his little friend.  This son is one of the ones that can sit and work on a project building something for hours and never look up.  He loves to build and take apart.  He is a funny dude.  I never thought we would have a pet like this one.

El Toro Negro

Round n Round

I wanted to try this out, putting a video on my blog.  Plus, I think my boy is cute.  He makes me laugh.

El Toro Negro

Barack and His All A's Program

My oldest son will soon be 14.  For about the last year he has been on us about buying him a cell phone.  I know that some of you will think that that qualifies as abuse, but it has been our rule so far.  Hey, I know of a seven year old that has her own personal cell phone.  

So we made a deal.  Our kids have always been required to make at least an 80, in each class they take, to avoid punishment.  That's where the bar is set from the time they enter school.  The deal was brokered.  If he made all A's for the school year we would buy a cell phone for him.  If even one B was on his report card the deal was off.  He, to my great surprise and pleasure, has taken this deal and ran with it.  He has worked very hard and has earned great marks in all his classes.  It has already taught him other things.  How to study and be prepared, and how to keep up with where he is grade wise, so he doesn't get in a position where he doesn't have enough time to bring a grade up before the grades come out.  He is talking with his teachers about his performance and how he can improve.  All things that will help him in the future.  Now he is even wanting to be the valedictorian of the 8th grade.  Of coarse I didn't even know there was such a thing.  Then there is the idea that someone needs to "graduate" from kindergarten.  What the heck have they accomplished.  The skill of finger painting.    

The thing that causes me to write is a lame idea the school is tossing around.  It seems that there are kids, more likely parents, that feel bad when their friends or classmates earn higher scores than them.  Apparently it hurts their feelings.  SO the school is proposing to take the all A student's grades, the kids that have any A's, and give them all C's.   They then want to give the kids that have D's and failing grades all C's.  Sort of average them all out.  No one needs to feel bad.  Everyone is the same.  I am so mad I can spit nails.  What the heck are the administrator thinking.  Those kids, A's and F's alike, EARNED those grades.  Why should the ones who have worked hardest have to take less while those that have worked the least or not at all be given more.  Grab the torches and pitchfork, right?  Remind you of those games (usually soccer) where they don't keep score?

Well, they aren't really wanting to do that, at least not yet.  What I want to illustrate is a point that Hank Williams Jr. made about barack obama and his comments to Joe the Plumber.  It makes about as much sense to take the wealth of someone that has worked hard and earned it, and give it to the welfare brood, as it does to take a kids A's and give it to the kids who didn't want to achieve, and earn F's.

One thing that I hate a great deal, is the idea put forth by some, that someone can't "make it"  in this country without the help of the Government.  This country is not great because of it's Government.  It is not the greatest country ever because of diversity.  It is the greatest country that has ever existed because of liberty and opportunity.  In is conception, the Government was to stay out of the publics life except in very specific instances.  The Government was to ensure the availability of opportunity, not this idea that everyone should have the same amount of wealth.  It was to provide fairness through the opportunity of success and the possibility of failure.  

The limit being discussed, right now, is $250k.  At that point you are rich and will have what is rightfully yours taken from you and given to someone else.  Someone who more than likely is POOR.  You know the ones.  Those that get food stamps (here in Texas it is called the Lone Star card) but have manicured nails, and satellite TV.  Those that pay no income taxes at all yet get a refundable tax credit (meaning that they paid no income tax at all but are somehow getting a refund of their tax money) but have a cell phone, high speed internet, spinner rims, an LCD flat screen 52" HDTV, and are 5'8" and weigh 350lbs.  

Sure it sounds great to those that don't produce.  "You mean that they are going to give me more money?  Sure I'll vote for you."  What happens when the Government programs somehow cost more that "projected"?  That ALWAYS happens.  Well, the threshold for "rich" suddenly drops to $100k.  Crap, a husband and wife raising a couple of kids who both make $50k are suddenly rich.  With day care, house payment, a couple of car payments, food and electricity, etc., it ($) goes fast.  

El Toro Negro

Your Right or Not

I need to tell you about something I heard on the radio.  I mostly listen to talk radio.  Mostly Boortz and Beck just because they are on when I am driving home from work.  On the way to work, at 3-4 am there isn't much except for the alien station, Coast to Coast.  

I think it was on Boortz that I heard a clip from the Howard Stern show.  They had a guy go on the streets of Harlem to interview obama supporters. Funny thing was that after he determined that they were for obama he would ask them questions like "So you are ok with Sarah Palin being Vise President?" or "Do you like obama because he is pro life or because he thinks we need to stay in Iraq and finish the job?".  You would not believe the responses.  They would say something like "Yah, they need to stay there and get the job done."  I know the cheerleaders are saying right now, "What is wrong with Sarah Palin being Vise President, you don't think a woman can do the job?".  These people had no idea what obama was about.  How incredibly scary.  To not even know who the Vise Presidential candidates are.  I bet these are the same people that leave a chad hanging.  You can see these interviews on youtube.  www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5p3OB6roAg

To be fair I will say that the same thing might happen, I haven't found it yet, with McCain supporters.

The thing I have to comment on is the "Right" to vote.  Ask someone where it states that we have the right to vote for President of the United States and they will most likely say the Constitution.  It is a myth that there is a Constitutional right to vote for President of the United States.  It is true.  It was left up to the states to decide how to choose their electors. (Senators weren't to be elected be the general population either.)  You know, the ones who really vote for President.  If they (the states) want to they can have a lottery or choose the oldest people in their state, or the ugliest people to be their electors.  It just so happens that every state has chosen to use a popular vote.  The result?  That is why we have the ultra uninformed voting for President.  That is why we have great masses voting for Presidents based on their good looks or color of their skin (can go for or against).  

Maybe before we go into the polling booth they should ask us who the Presidential tickets are.  If you can't even name the top two party's candidates then perhaps those people shouldn't vote.  How hard is it to learn a few names.  It's not like being asked to learn where they stand on their political philosophies.  But, if we did that, we might not even have 538 people that could answer correctly.  It would thwart the entire political process that we have come to know as the Presidential Election.

El Toro Negro

A Picture's Worth a Thousand?

I have to start out by apologizing for taking so long to post anything new.  It was Homecoming time here and we do a ton of stuff (hats, shirts, and sashes for the duchesses) for the occasion, not to mention all the other orders that had to be done.

My wife has been planning a trip for a while.  She has made our appointment and has been prepping us for a week, and today is the day she has been waiting for and we have been dreading.  Today, well, today is the day we go to the Sears portrait studio and do the deed.  Take family pictures.

I have to tell you that for years I have not enjoyed taking pictures.  I guess when I was a kid I didn't have a choice.  The funny thing is, now that I am grown and married, I still don't have a choice.  But at least now a days the bribes for cooperation are better.  

I never knew there was so much involved in getting a picture shoot together.  The "outfits" that we will wear (for each pose) have to be chosen.  The cloths have to be ironed and pressed and gone over with a fine tooth comb.  Someone might see the piece of lint on the lower left elbow area of the baby.  What shame.  I never would have known that you had to have an "outfit" to wear on the way tho the studio.  This is just in case one of the kids, or myself, get something on the real "outfit".  And what IS an "outfit".  Is there such a thing as an "infit" or an "out unhealthy"?  I don't get it.

The naps for the little ones, and me, have to be planned.   You know you can't feed the baby between the time you  dress him and the time the pictures are taken.  I don't care how hungry he is.  Haircuts were done a week ago.  Seven days is the exact perfect amount of time to look your best after a haircut.  I won't even start on the intricacies of where to place everyone.  And with nine people to place, it truly does become mind boggling.  What ever happened to tall people in the back and short people in the front?  

You know the strangest thing about this thing is that just last week I bought a new digital camera.  Go figure.  I don't like being in pictures but I do enjoy pictures of my family.  

El Toro Negro

Best Friends Forever (BFF)

I have a boy that is almost one.  I believe he was born in November.  The other day I was feeding him (I did it once and...) and noticed something very enlightening.  A pesky fly had gotten in the house.  While feeding the boy the fly landed on my knee.  Well, he happened to see it.  We were about done eating so it all stopped at that point.  He was mesmerized.  He would slowly reach for the fly and of coarse it would fly a short distance and land.  He followed this thing and tried to catch it a hundred times.  Well, in my mind I saw babysitter.  

What an idea.  If I had only thought of it five kids ago.  If you can get the fly to hang around your kid, he becomes their best friend.  They will play together forever.  It is a great toy for the kid.  Think about it.  I know that flys are dirty, but really, what are the chances that he will catch it?  YOU try and catch one.  With one hand.  Moving as slow as a toddler.  If your kid is moving around, crawling, they can play chase.

Now the trick is to keep the the fly close and interested.  I have experimented with several possibilities.  If it is a short term thing nothing is needed.  Just put him close to the fly and chances are that the fly will land on or close to him rather quickly.  At first I wondered why this was. I thought it was just general curiosity on the part of the fly.  "Hey, let me check this out" kind of deal.  But then I realized that flies aren't that social.  They need incentive.  That's when it hit me.

I would need something that the fly likes to keep him around for longer periods of time.  What do flies like?  First thing that came to mind was dead or rotting meat.  It might be different in your case, but my wife put a stop to using this one.  They will eat a variety of things, depending on species.  Here is what I have found to work.  Any thing that your child has recently eaten.  Instead of using a wipe (and I'm sure killing some tree somewhere) to clean him off, let him be.  He will like it better anyway.  If your kid or flies are into changing things around, try tree sap, nectar or blood (left over from your ground beef pack).  If you have a problem with putting this stuff directly on your little cutie you can apply it to something and keep it close to your kid.  I don't like this method because it defeats the whole babysitting idea.  If you have to constantly keep this thing close, you might as well watch your kid. Try a bracelet.  It goes where they do.  

Now, I know you are asking why the fly would play with my son before the additives.  The short term play.  Well, I decided that it was because kids always have additives.  That is to say unless they have just been given a bath.  But nine times out of ten they will have part of their latest meal on them, somewhere.  It may be invisible to the naked human eye, but the fly can see it.

One word of caution.  You will want to be careful when you do this outside, especially in the country.  If their are lots of flies around they could gang up on him.  Not that they want to do any harm, but too many might confuse your kid.  "Which one do I play with."

El Toro Negro

Here a Butt, There a Butt

I want you to do an experiment that I do every time I walk the streets of any city.  It doesn't seem to matter where.  It is even true in the rural towns.  When you walk from one place to the next, take a look at the ground.  Especially the street corners.  Or while you are picking up cans along the side of the road (what, to sell and give the $ to PETA) just look at the ground.  What you will find is an unbelievable amount of butt.  Cigarette butt.  What the heck is the deal.  

Why do smokers think that their butt is something that they can throw out the window or toss on the ground.  Aren't these people smart enough to know that it IS litter?  Wait, I used smart and smoker in the same sentence.  These butts are made of acetate fibers, not biodegradable.  The planet is said to have 1.2 billion smokers.  A pack a day and you get 24 billion butts.  If only one percent makes it to the ground that is a crap load of butt per day.  They all should go in a landfill.  Or better yet, smokers should be made to smoke the filterless cigarettes.  

Now let me make it clear that I am no greenie weenie.  I can't stand those people that say "We can't drill here because we might hurt a polar bear."  I say drill right through their dead carcass.  Even with that said, I am a planet lover.  I think there are some incredible places that God has blessed us with.  I also think he will hold us responsible for how we treat this gift.  I know he gave us this planet for our benefit, to use, to care for.  I don't believe in trashing the environment just because no one is looking.  I am an Eagle Scout and I do my best to leave no trace.  I clean up my mess, and it sickens me when I see some smoker toss his butt out the window.  They have no shame.  They don't even try to hide it.

Cigarette butts are just the most obvious form of litter that I notice.  There are plenty of other offenders.  Coke cans, beer boxes, Wal-Mart bags galore, bolwn out tires.  I can't say that I have never had something blow out of the back of my truck, but I do try my best to make sure that I don't.  And yes, I do pick up cans along the road (I can't stand PETA).  I have also participated in road cleanup, voluntarily.  

El Toro Negro

Third Thing's The Charm

So I work part time at UPS.  The center where I work is about 35 miles from where I live.  I start work between 4 and 5 in the morning.  With the price of gas what it is, I try and do the grocery shopping and other errands after I get off work.  Sounds reasonable, right?

The problem is that my wife thinks I am capable of remembering great quantities of useless lists.  She will tell me, the night before, about 27 things she needs at the store and 2 other places with accompanying tasks she needs me do.  What in the world is she thinking.  It is 9:45 and I am getting ready for my five hours of sleep and she unloads this mountain on me.  

It came to the point that I had to make a husband rule.  If it is over three things, places to go or things to buy, combined, I have to be given a list.  My mind can't be cluttered with useless things.  I only have so many brain cells.  Oh, the fact that China has more English speakers than the US is not "Useless" information.  You might need to know someday that a group of fox is called a shulk.  Dreamt is the only word in English that ends in mt.  What if someone walks up to you on the street and offers you some wad of cash if you know that tidbit of info.  

So now I call her ever day after working, blank note pad in hand.  I have had to ask her to try and consolidate the days she asks me to go places.  Not that I mind at all.  I LOVE shopping.  Right.  All for the love of a good woman.

El Toro Negro

A Toast To Grandma!

When I was a kid my mom would cook breakfast for us before we went to school.  I didn't learn until I was about 8 or 10 that there are several different types of breakfast toast, and not all are made equal.  

The first type I learned about is the type that is made in a toaster oven.  We always had one growing up.  The little box that sits on the counter and is like a mini oven.  She would butter the bread and put it in and push the button that says toast.  The element comes on and melts the butter and you have toast.  The edges get crispy and the top soggy.  I don't know how many I ate before I learned of the second kind.

While spending the night with a friend I learned of the second type of toast.  This is where you toast the bread first and then butter it.  I remember wondering why we couldn't butter the bread first.  So what if the butter runs down and pools in the bottom of the toaster.  This is the kind of toaster that "pops" up when the bread is done.  This type also makes tons of crumbs.  Loads of crumbs.  If you cook with bread crumbs this is the way for you to make your toast.

I don't know why it took so long for me to learn of the third way to make toast.  Perhaps I knew of it from the time I was born but didn't realize it until I was 8 or 10.  My grandmother made the best toast that I can ever recall eating.  She would butter the bread, put it on a cookie sheet, and put it in the oven.  The secret to this is that she would put the oven on broil.  This would turn on the top element, making a crust like top that is out of this world.  This can also be accomplished in a toaster oven, I learned, if it has a broil function.  

To this day I sometimes get a hankering for toast and use this method to satisfy my craving.  I will be honest and admit that I do have the pop up kind of toaster.  Sometimes I fell guilty using this method.  Like it offends my grandmother.  But, the over method is a bit more lengthy, and with six kids chomping at the bit a breakfast time...  Lets just say that for safety's sake I try and calm the crowd quickly. 

I confess that when I do eat  grandma's toast I go overboard.  I can eat a whole loaf when I get going.  Normally I use honey to top my toast.  But I have an adventurous side (just ask my wife), and have toped my toast with sugar or cinnamon, or on crazy days, both.  

One word of caution.  The difference between great toast and black top is very little.  You MUST watch the toast carefully, making sure to take it out when it reaches that golden brown.  A few seconds more and you may find yourself scraping the black stuff.

Lastly, I purposefully did not include french (little f on purpose) toast for a couple of reasons.  First it is french.  I have a problem with them at this time is history.  If they would just call it something different I might could overlook the fact that the french came up with it.  Second I don't really consider it toast.  It flys in the face of all that I know to be toast.  I'm not even sure if it has butter on it.

Give it a try.  Let me know how you like this toast.  

El Toro Negro

Are we really THAT different?

I can't take credit for all of this post.  I have a buddy that I talk to all the time, everyday.  I bounce a lot of stuff off him and he has some interesting feedback.  I'm trying to get him to be a guest author, but I'm not sure if or when he will show up.

So let me begin by asking if we have any cheerleaders or moms of cheerleaders reading this?  If you are, please raise your hand.  Good.  If you have your hand up you might want to back away from this blog.  Just stop right here.  This can only piss you off.  I don't want any OMG's or WTF's (or a series of "like" this or "like" that-got to be the most over used and abused word) hurled at me.  So just stop now.  And you can put your hand down now.

Do you remember reading about or seeing a history channel show about the cultures that would sacrifice their Virgins to the gods?  When we went to Chichen Itza (the big pyramid on the Yucatan peninsula) , it reminded me of the people that would take the most beautiful girls to the top and sacrifice them to their god.  If I remember right, the families of these girls thought it an honor and privilege to be chosen to give their daughter for this purpose.  From the time these girls were very young they would be prepared, in hopes of being chosen.  

We as a people of "modern" society look back at these primitives and say to ourselves, "How could a culture do such a thing?".  I wonder what the people of a thousand years from now will say when the look at us and our rituals.  I highlight one that has been brought to my attention by my buddy.  

There are fragments of our society, that starting at a very young age, take their daughters and begin teaching and training them.  They spend a great deal of money, give them special cloths to wear, and teach them how to think.  They teach them that they are a chosen group, and often, that they are better than the rest of their peers because they are pretty and popular.   They teach them chants that they can use to entertain and impress.  And after they learn these things, they are taken in front of a great crowd of the general population (usually made up of mostly fanatical men), dressed in very little, and paraded in front of the old and young men of the area.  These men yell and holler, encouraging them to dance and yell.  I am speaking of the cheerleader.  

Will the people of future millenniums, looking back, ask themselves "How could they do that to their little girls?"?  Will they marvel that we counted ourselves lucky if our daughters were a part of this chosen group?  Will the stereotypes of today, that cheerleaders are saddled with, be counted as fact?

It seems to be the be all and end all of their lives, to be a cheerleader. I went to a Jr. High last night and noticed several things.  They seem to be perfectly on a cheer schedule.  They must have a timer, and when that timer goes off they have to do a cheer.  It doesn't matter if there is a timeout going on or not.  It doesn't matter if we are winning or loosing.  It doesn't matter if we are or offense or defense.  Yesterday, we were being beaten 20 something to zip and or cheerleaders do the cheer of were #1.  The best is when we have about 30 seconds left and are down by 20+ and they break out the "We can still win!" cheer.  One of my personal favorites is the "Hey Gang, Say Gang" cheer.  I can't stand it.  You know the one I'm talking about.  Hey gang, say gang, listen here. This is Brittany. Lets give her a cheer.  She's a whatever grader.  They all hold hands, swinging their arms.  I have yet to see anyone in the crowd pay attention.  It is a classic third quarter cheer.

I also noticed yesterday that after every cheer, without exception, they would congregate in front of the stands to gulp bottled water.  I admit, it was about 90 degrees.  And they had jumped once or twice, and, oh, clapped their hands.  The knee braces are even better.  Not one of them can do the splits or a back flip, but they somehow have managed to injure themselves.  

El Toro Negro

Fast Forward

Alright, after receiving the 10 millionth forward I have to ask "What the heck is the deal with forwarding?"  Do these people think we really want to see all of this junk.  Is it a mindless ritual?  Their hand just hits the forward button.  " I must forward.  I must forward."  I actually took the time to read one today that had the subject The Bail Out.  It was talking about the $85 billion that was used to bail out AIG. They stated that if we assume that there are 200 million adults in the US, and that we take the $85 billion and divided it up among the adults that we would each get $425,000.  Oh how that would be a much better solution to the financial crisis.  What would people do with that money?  Pay off their mortgage.  Pay off their cars and student loans, saving the economy.  Why not do that instead of giving it to the fat cat big business men?  

Think about it a minute.  Yes, it didn't seem right to me either.  If we gave every adult a buck we are at 200 million.  Ten bucks we are at 2 billion.  You see where we are going.  It ends up being $425 and not $425,000.  This guy went on and on about the genius of his plan.  Even after taxes we would have a ton left.  Hasn't this guy heard of google.  Just type  85 billion divided by 200 million and you get 

85 billion divided by 200 million = four hundred twenty-five

I am not in favor of the "bail out".  I think it stinks.  The market is smarter than a room full of economists.  The market has a way of punishing bad behavior and rewarding good behavior.  And I am sick of hearing that there is a possibility that we (the people/government) can make money on this deal.  If it walks like crappy loans and smells like crappy loans chances are that they will be crappy in a few years.  Why are these defaulters all of a sudden going to start paying their mortgage bills?  If it is such a good deal why aren't the rich Saudi kings (or whatever they are called) or Chinese buying up these great deals.  There is money out there.  

No one will make home loans.  Oh really.  There is a bank in the small town in which I live.  I can think of several others.  They are always able to make loans.  Not the zero down, 5.0 interest, no employment or income verification loans, but loans that are based on sound lending practices.  I would bet that there are thousands of these across the country.  When we got the mortgage for our new house we didn't use them.  They couldn't compete with these brokers.  The reason.  They weren't willing to compromise their principles.  Now these big guys are going down and my local bank is still rock solid.  

El Toro Negro

Paper Tigers (or pirates,panthers,bulldogs,raiders,hippos,etc.)

So it is Friday football season across so much of the country.  Every High School in America, or at least most, from the class 1A small town, play both ways, to the super/mega 5A High Schools where they have their own security force complete with bomb squad, has spent weeks (and probably millions of $) preparing for these rituals that supersede practically everything.  How many tons of iron have been pumped, how many dummies (the slide things) have been pushed across practice fields, how many swimming pools full of Gatorade have been gulped, how many $40 under-armor shirts have our tax dollars purchased, how many tons of fertilizer and ant poison have been applied to fields of play, how much carbon have we emitted driving to and from away games, how many pounds of artery clogging fat have been gained by consuming chili cheese fritoe pies at halftime, how many parents of teenage girls have dropped a thousand buck on a cheerleading camp and uniform (how so little material can cost so much) to teach their girls a couple of four word cheers,  just to give us the ability to live vicariously some long ago dream of being the town super stud?  But if we didn't put so much into it I suspect we would be bailing out the baton industry about now.

Please don't misunderstand.  I do enjoy Friday football.  My kids play.  At least my 13 year old plays Jr. High ball.  What I don't like the disproportionate amount of time, money, and reverence that is place on the "Game".  Does the world really revolve around the High School gridiron?   What really is the likelihood that your Johnny is going to play in the NFL?  

Enough of that, for now.  What I started this to say, is, that I find it funny that we send our team out onto the field, the field where boys are made into men, where life's lessons of determination and grit are ground into or boys one tackle at a time, through a portal of paper.  The band is playing, the crowd is screaming, cheers are being volleyed at the other stands, and here comes our team, ready to scare the living bageebees out of the other players, sending them into a state of panic.  And what is the culmination of all of this.  They bust onto the field through an enormous banner of paper.  PAPER.  Oh, but it has something clever written on it.  Couldn't it be a sheet of aluminum siding or something?  Something they had to claw their way through.  That would scare the crap out of me.   Nothing says "We're going to be District Champs" like bursting thru a giant sheet of paper.  

El Toro Negro

Water and Fire

So you know that I work part time at UPS and that my buddy, the one I quote so often, works there as well.  We work part-time and own businesses.  He sells water.  That is to say that the business that he owns services a small town with drinking water.  If you move there and are within his service area, you call him to hook up your water (or drill a well).  The town he services is probably a blog unto itself because of the unique makeup of its residents, known as Hallies.  

They come from all over the country, coast to coast.  They are old and young.  Some have several kids and some are grandparents with their kids moved out.  A great number of them will home-school their kids, some will go the the closest public school.  They all love dogs.  Lots and lots of dogs.  Most of them living with them.  Actually they love animals.  Goats are a favorite, but they have horses and cats too. 

They have a few things in common.  They more than likely are truck drivers (or are the friends of truck drivers that already live there).  The other thing is that they all bought their "ranchette" from a man with the last name Hall.  Hallies.  This man advertises in trucker magazines and promises easy financing.  Usually he will finance the property on a contract for deed arrangement, sometimes selling them site unseen.  Many are used houses, not pre-owned.  Pre-owned would be upscale.  Many are sub standard in construction and unfinished.  

The worst thing about the whole deal is the buyers.  Most of them are hard working people that think they have found a great deal and move to this town only to find the truth, and it is not as good as was promised.  The other side of the story is that this deal also attracts a small sub section of our country that live in a manner unknown to most Americans.  The kind of people that can't afford a car but some how manage to buy a riding lawn mower and then use it to "drive" the two miles to town, trailer in tow (for the groceries).   I will address this sub section from time to time.  

OK  I tell you all of this to get to the point that my Buddy has to deal with this unordinary group of people.  And oh, does he have some stories to tell.  I have the privilege of hearing these stories, whether I want to or not.  You see, we work across a conveyor belt from each other.  During the entire time we work he relates the interactions he has with the Hallies.  

Now water and fire.  My buddy, in the past, did not charge the local fire department for their water at the fire station.  If I remember correctly, he has to provide water for a fire/emergency.  But at the station he would donate the water, that is until he realized the extent they go to keep the fire engines clean.  Super clean.  It got to the point that he was donating the equivalent of many, many hundreds of dollars a year to the fire department.  

So what IS the deal with keeping them so clean.  It is not unique to my buddy's town.  I have seen it other places too.  Does the dirt create such a drag that their response time is diminished?  Does the incredible shine in some way reflect the heat, protecting the firemen?  Or is it a pride thing?  "Hey Freddy Joe.  I saw your truck on channel twelve last night.  Can't seem to keep it clean, can you?"  

I suppose it is more of a boredom issue.  They need something to do to pass the time.  Haven't they heard of sudoku?  Or TV?  Whatever it is it seems excessive.  

El Toro Negro

Do it once and...

My buddy at work is about ten years older than me.  We seem to think along the lines and it has been my blessing to learn from some of his advice.  If I had only listened.

He warned me a while back to be careful of what chores I help with at the house.  Before the ladies get angry I am not saying that the guys should have no chores.  Ask my wife.  She has not done dishes in 15 years.  What I do believe is that men and women don't have to share all chores 50-50.  Some things a woman is just better at doing and vise versa.  My friend meant that once the order of things had been established to be careful what I help with.  If you have drawn any lines be careful not to erase them.

Example:  We have three boys, then two girls, and then another boy.  I changed my share of the diapers with the first three boys.  When our first girl came I was a bit leery of changing her diapers (too many creases and not sure how far to wipe).  So I decided that I would stick to the boys and my wife could handle what ever girls we had.  I did really well until our second girl came.  I'm not sure how it even happened but I screwed up.  Out of the goodness of my huge understanding heart, and the fact that my wife was having a bad day, I changed a diaper on our daughter.  That was it.  That was all my wife needed to see.  It was like blood in the water.  From then on it was, "you changed her yesterday."  I think that the only time she changes a diaper now is if I am more than ten miles away from the house or at work and can't come home.

I not sure why but it NEVER works the other way around.  I can't even get my wife within ten feet of the lawn mower.  Even after I bought one of those zero turn machines.  No pushing.  The garbage, forget it.  Cook on the grill, never.  Change a lightbulb, no way.  Spray round up on the weeds,change a light bulb, get something down from the top shelf (even after I bought her two step stools), squish a bug, heaven forbid.  But somehow I'm not supposed to be embarrassed to buy her "stuff" at the grocery store.

So to all the guys.  Be careful!  Your wife is lying, waiting for you to do something that she normally does, so it can become YOUR job to do and she can call her girlfriend (or go to Becky's Grill, or to the PTO meeting, or whatever).  Do the things you do and do them well.  Hold fast and live well.

El Toro Negro Ha Hablado