Let's Play A Game

I know the last thing you want to think about right now is politics.  We just went through what most people consider one of the strangest elections anyone can remember.  My views haven't been a secret in the past, and they still aren't.  I'm not going to go into ideology here.  I am, however, pleased and hopeful with the results.

This post is going to be a game.  It has been my experience that people will behave in certain ways because of the way they think.  They will display stickers or make purchases based on their belief system.  Many may accuse me of stereotyping and I'm ok with that.  There are reasons for stereotypes, and that will be proven with this post.

This pic is one I took shortly before the election.  As soon as I saw two of the three indicators (I've purposfully left one out for the game)  I knew exactly what type of person owned this car.  I want to see if y'all can make the connection.  Based on what you can see in the pic I want to know if you can tell what make and model of car this person drives.  I am not trying to say that this car or maker is bad.  I drive a car made by this company (hint) and I have 230k miles and still going strong.  But when you put the other things together, too, it all makes so much sense.  I could have given you the school sticker and the model of car and then asked what candidate's sticker would have been on the car and the results would have been the same.  You get the idea.

There are other conclusions we could make about the owner of this car, too, but we will leave that for another time.  If you want you can leave your conclusions in the comments.

El Toro Negro

Just Bag It

It's that time of year again where we are beginning to think about the Christmas season.  The mornings are cooler, leaves are falling and Walmart is in their third month of displaying Christmas trees and snow flakes.  If we are kids we begin to think about the gifts we want.  What is the latest and greatest video game?  Another toy gun?  Maybe a remote control car?  And if your my eight year old, you start making lists of the "as seen on TV" items you want.

Adults have it a bit different.  We have to make lists of people we really don't want to give gifts to but society says we should.  The list (by no means exhaustive) will include (or you will be ostracized for life) your hair dresser, hair shampooer, hair receptionist, nail salon professional, postman and UPS man and FedEx guy, pool man, gardener, lawn boy, handyman, mechanic, the eight teachers each of your children have and their aids, all school administrators, the school librarian, lunch staff, cross walk guards, school security guards, your minister and everyone at church, your meter reader, and your barista.  Daunting to say the least.  Given the magnitude of the list it is no wonder that gift wrapping has become the area we cut to save time.  That brings us to the gift bag.

There was a time, in the not so distant past, where people would take the time and energy to wrap a present.  With love and feeling we would choose the perfect paper.  Perhaps the one with frosty the snowman.  Yeah, thats the perfect one for her.  Then we would meticulously measure, fold, cut and lovingly tape in order to get the right representation of just how much we care for the recipient.  This was no joke!  Mess up and you either have to begin again or risk being ridiculed at the next PTO meeting or girls luncheon.  But mistakes were seldom allowed to slip through.  We just cared that much.

All thats changed now.  We either just don't care, have become lazy, or are overwhelmed by the sheer number of people we have been convinced we have to give a gift to.  Or maybe it's a generational thing.  I like to think that we just care too much.  We just don't want to upset anyone.  So we trade the time for the bag.  And the toilet paper.  We can't forget the thin, colored, toilet paper looking stuff that we stick in the bag with the gift.  We use this because it makes it appear as if we spent more time on it than we actually did.  It's all a misdirection.

There are, however, people capable of making way more out of bag gift giving than they should be able to.  There are tutorials and detailed instruction lists on exactly how to place the toilet paper in the bag so it looks fluffed and acceptable.  No kidding.  Just youtube it, I mean, pinterest it.

This gift bag giving has spilled over into ever other gift giving occasion you can think of.  Yes, it has invaded all aspects of our lives.  I just try and close my eyes to it all.  But let me tell you one thing I do know, if you do happen to get a hand wrapped gift, be it Christmas or another holiday, you should consider yourself very loved.  You were worth the time and effort.  You are special.  And what does it mean if you didn't get a gift wrapped present from the people you consider your friends?  It might just let us know who our real friends are and that perhaps an unfriending is in order.

El Toro Negro

I Don't Need the ***

One thing I never thought I'd do is text.  When it first came on the scene I thought it was dumb.  People getting these huge bills for the thousands of texts they sent each month.  Why couldn't they just dial the number and use their voice to say what needed to be said.  I'd have never thought that I would be one who prefers to text over call.  How things change.

There are no more per text charges and people can not only send words in their texts, but balloons, voice, music, pictures, invisible ink, cartoons and even play games, all right within the text.  Along with all these advancements has come the jargon, the abbreviations and made up words specific to texting.  They are mostly made up by kids, I assume, but I guess I use them too.  Then the auto correct and the humor that can add to a conversation.

Speaking of auto correct, it often doesn't get the word right.  While this, for some, adds humor, for others it's frustrating.  They can't stand to see a word sent that isn't exactly right.  Add to this that most texters are typing fast on a tiny electronic touch screen and you get typos, usually "sent" before they are realized.

Enter the *

I see this from time to time.  Someone sends me a text.  I get the text, read it, understand it.  Quite simple, you'd think.  Then, very shortly after the first text, comes an additional text to the first text, and it starts with an *.  It goes like this.  The sender wants you to know something.  They compose their message and send.  They then take a half a second to read what they just sent and realize they (or auto) sent a word that wasn't right.  And then ***

I'm thinking there could be a couple of reasons for the arrival of the *.  

The sender might just have a disorder.  They can't stand to have anything grammatically associated with them that isn't correct.  Never mind that they are conversing with a childhood friend or their spouse.  Not their boss.  Not a potential boss.  Not the President.  Just one of probably hundreds of little snippets of thought, most likely of little lasting consequence.  

Or the sender could be worried about your ability to figure out what they are trying to say.  You might not be of sufficient mental acumen to read past the omitted apostrophe or missing space between two words to understand.  And you must understand.  It is critical that you know, that you do not misunderstand, how they feel about the latest hollywood breakup.....  or something equally as important.  

I'm not trying to say that accuracy in spelling and grammar aren't important or that an * isn't needed sometimes, but there is a place a time for worrying about it, and your everyday text (or blog) isn't one of them, at least for normal people.  I don't need the ****

El Toro Negro

Some Like It Hot

Some like it hot and some don't.  Me?  I like it on the cooler side.

I built a house a few years ago on some land my parents gave me.  Ten acres in the country.  It was a chance to include any options that I wanted.  There was a guy named Mike that was more or less a consultant for me.  I asked him questions about house building.  He made suggestions about house building.  Two suggestions I'm glad I followed.  1) Put in a zoned A/C system and 2) use spray foam insulation.

A zoned system is just what it sounds like.  I have three zones in my house.  Upstairs, downstairs, and my bedroom (also downstairs). I can set them at different temperatures, and I do.  I keep my bedroom on the cool side, especially when I sleep.

Spray foam insulation is great at maintaining my desired temp.  It allows me to keep my house cooler than I might be able to afford otherwise.  Sure, it was a bit more money to install, but the electric bills have been great.

There is just something wonderful about climbing in a bed, with blankets piled on, when the room is cold.  Not those junky blankets, but the heavy ones that are noticeable when you are under them.  My mom made one such blanket for me years ago.  Maroon and white.  It is perfect for winter bed cover.

Sometimes, when I first get in, I have to thrash my legs from side to side to warm up the bed slightly.  Some might say it looks a little weird, but I'm sure we all do it. Another thing I like about cold sleeping is when I move my body, or more specifically, when I move my legs (after the initial warm-up).  It's like moving in and conquering a new territory.  My legs are cold again and the sensation is fresh.

Sometimes I don't move.  I can't move.  I am just a still as I can be, on my back, enjoying the cold.  Maybe it's like that calm you get before you freeze to death.  I have heard that after a while, before you die, you just want to go to sleep.  Maybe it's like that, but you don't die.

My wife will disagree, but you just sleep better when it's cold.

Surface Area

There are many things that make a house a home.  Bedrooms, kitchen, utility room, bathrooms, and closets are just a few of the places that create a living environment that is warm and comfortable, inviting.  Our home is no different.  I love our home and enjoy passing time there with the family.  

Unavoidably, in any home, are surface areas.  These are the flat surfaces of the home, and there are tons and tons of them.  Hundreds and even thousands of square feet.  Just ask the person that gets the chore of dusting.  We know that these places are used to store our stuff.  Just think of every flat surface in your house.  

Take a closet.  It has a dresser with a top that people put things on.  It might be a jewelry box or earring tree.  It might just be a place to put your purse at the end of the day.  Then there are the drawers of the dresser.  There is a flat surface at the bottom of every one.  Cloths, supplies, or spare purses might be placed here for storage.  The closet will also have many shelves that have storage space.  People put nicknacks, old shoe boxes, or secondary purses on these shelves.  They may also have boxes on them that contain cloths for a different season.  So when you think about it, a closet will have a multiple of the floor space in total surface area that is available for putting things.  The whole house is that way, every room.  The piano top, the night stand, the entertainment center, the kitchen table, the computer desk, the end table by the couch, the pantry shelves, the china cabinet, the top of the washer and dryer are all examples.  Even the toilet bowl gets a doily with a box of Kleenex.  They are everywhere.  Our house has about 3000 sq ft of floor but i'm guessing that there is two or three times that in total surface area where things can be placed.

I have come to realize that there are cosmic laws that govern how this surface space is allocated in a home, and only women understand these laws.  From what I can tell, after twenty years of being married, the wife gets 77.5 square feet of surface space to put her things, to every single square inch of surface space that the husband is allocated to put his things, and that is subject to change at any given moment.  

I just want a few square feet to put my wallet, my phone, and maybe a few miscellaneous items.  Nothing major.  I always put these things in the same place.  I always know where they are.  It the normal way that a man opperates.  Simple.  Well, you would think it would be simple.

For reasons unknown to me, and presumably governed by the cosmic laws that only woman seem to comprehend, these few places that I am given have to change at random intervals.  I come home from work one day and things are normal.  I can find my things just fine.  They are where I always put them.  Then the next day I come home and my space has been reassigned.  It may be across the room or just one foot to the left or right.  Sometimes a portion of my space is requisitioned, confiscated, for the greater good, I suppose.  Just gone.  Another purse purchased, and I have to make do with a bit less space.

Just leave me the eight square inches I get in the bathroom to put my toothbrush and deodorant.  

El Toro Negro

Gown and Out

For as long as I can remember the women in my life have worn what they have called nightgowns. In the evening, after the days activities are done and after they bathe, they put on their nightgowns and relax before going to bed. Sounds pretty normal, right? At least for women. (Yes. I realize that men and boys have been known to wear nightgowns.) There are a few things that I have never been able to figure out about nightgowns.

Why a long, loose fitting "dress"? What is it that makes a gown the preferred type of clothing for relaxing and preparing for bed? I understand that a hundred years ago, or longer, left over or scrap material could be fashioned into a gown, thus saving money. People just didn't pop into their local super mega store and pick up lounge wear. They had to make it out of whatever they had. We have all heard the flour sack stories. But today we can have just about anything, for pennies. What about some soft comfy shorts and a t-shirt? Winter? Sweats and a sweat shirt.

Another thing I don't really understand is why women in these gowns can't be photographed. I can't tell you how many times I have been about to take a picture and the woman in the room says to not include her because she is "in her gown". Just the other night my daughter was doing something cute with my wife and I wanted to capture it for posterity's sake, so I could print it and put it in a scrapbook with some of those stickers that I love, but I had to be extra careful not to include my wife because she "was in here gown." Like people a hundred years from now won't know that women wore gowns because there are no photos of women in them. It reminds me of those peoples that thought their souls would be sucked out if their pictures were taken. Why when you wear a gown does it keep you from being in a picture?

Is it because of a sense fashion? Do these gowns not meet the level of fashion required to be photographed in? If so, why not make gowns out of an eye pleasing, fashionable material that people would not be embarrassed to be photographed in? We can put a man on the moon. We can send images through the air, thousands of miles, to be received and viewed by others. Surely the clothing industry can make a cloth that is of a current color and pattern that can be made comfortable and worthy of being in a picture. I am sure that a nip here and a tuck there could be done, at little expense, to aid in the look of the gown, without sacrificing comfort. Women have no problem being photographed in a t-shirt. So the t-shirt is floor length. Put a flower design or some of those blingy shinny bead looking things on it and, lo and behold, you can now have your picture taken in it.

Coon Eyes

As a kid I read the book "Where the Red Fern Grows" about a thousand times. It was because of that book that I wanted to coon hunt. I did a bit as a kid. I went a few times with friends, but mostly I just dreamed about coon hunting.

It wasn't until I was grown and married that I started to coon hunt with a passion. We had bought some land in the country. One day a dog showed up that was covered with so much mud it was hard to tell what breed he was. He was also badly cut up, bleeding and almost dead. I felt sorry for the animal and did something that I have rarely done in my life. I took him to a vet to be patched up.

I don't recall how long we was at the vet, and it was touch and go for a while. Once better, I called the number that was on the collar. The owner was nice. He lived a few miles from me through the woods. It was decided that this dog had gotten loose and got into a pack of hogs or maybe coyotes. The owner asked me if I would like to have the dog, and at first I was a bit leery of a give away dog, but he said he had the papers on the dog and would send them to me. And thus "Mighty Miracle Max" entered our lives.

I was fortunate to have a very good friend in the same town that coon hunted a lot. I started going with him, and to my surprise, Max showed promise. I went hunting quite often. Several times a week. Max just got better and better. Sure, we had to break him off hogs and deer, but that is to be expected.

I started hunting him in competitions, and he won. I took him all over the state. I took him all the way to night champion. Max lived to hunt coons. He loved it more than I did, I think.

The objective of a coon hunt is to tree a coon. The dogs cause him to climb a tree as they get closer and closer. When you arrive at the tree you try to locate the coon, and must do so in order to score points in a competition. This is sometimes very difficult, but is made easier by shinning a light into the tree as you make noises. The coon will often look at you and the light will reflect, letting you know you have found the coon. Just think about the last time you saw a coon on the side of the road. If he looks at you in the light his eyes will shine.

I say all that because something happened this weekend that reminded me of those times. I went to a wedding. As you know, an inordinate amount of pictures are taken at weddings. The one below has to have something to do with Max. Perhaps this is his way of saying hello. You see, he died several years back. He was on a hunt and got hit by a car on a remote road in the middle of no where.

But that is another story.

El Toro Negro