Archive | April, 2013

That Senator in the Headlights Look

30 Apr

This afternoon, my brother sent a picture of my nephew with Lamar Alexander, two-time governor and current U.S. senator from Tennessee. Alexander has been a major part of this state’s political scene since the 1970s and ran in the presidential primary in the 1990s. In short, he has long been one of the most powerful politicians in Tennessee.Lamar Alexander

This post is not about Alexander’s political career or about my nephew having his picture made with him. It is about a night that my friends and I had a “run in” with him.

Several years ago, we were driving to Knoxville to watch the University of Tennessee play basketball. My friend Jeff was driving, which is always a little adventurous. He was the one driving when we encountered “The Terror on the Plateau“.

Anyway, we were running late and pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before the game was going to begin. Jeff was whipping through the aisles trying to find a parking place. He rounded a corner at what felt like a blazing speed when his headlights fell upon a man walking from his car. The man turned with that “deer in the headlights” look and raised his hands for protection. Honestly, he looked like the one-armed man in The Fugitive.One Armed Man

Jeff slammed on his brakes and skidded to a stop. The man stood there. We sat there. That’s when I said, ” Jeff, you almost ran over Senator Lamar Alexander.”

When the shock wore off, the senator walked away as fast as possible. We found a parking spot and made it to our seats, where we could see Alexander sitting across the court. A few minutes before the game was over, we noticed that he had left. We assumed that he wanted to get out of there before that madman got back behind the wheel.

Thinking back on that night, I have often wondered how history would have been changed if Jeff had plowed into a senator.

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Sing a Sad Song

29 Apr

Thursday night, Necole and I went to the Schermerhorn Symphony Center to see B.B. King. Her Christmas present to me was a pair of fourth row seats, and I couldn’t have been happier with the gift. As we walked to the venue, I heard a George Jones song drifting from one of the honky tonks nearby. Only in Nashville will you find a symphony hall and honky tonks in the same vicinity.

The song made me think of the upcoming concert at Bridgestone Arena, which sits a block away, that was supposed to be the last for George Jones. Dozens of performers were coming to send the Possum into retirement. Knowing that he was in the hospital, I told Necole that I hoped he would make it through this final tour.

We made it to our awesome seats and watched an opening act before B.B. King came to the stage. He performs well for someone who is 87-years-old, but there were a few things that I noticed.

The band does the heavy lifting of the concert. They performed for ten minutes before he was helped to his chair at the front of the stage.

He tells a lot of stories between songs, which gives him an opportunity to rest.B.B. King II

Also, the songs are usually cut short of their original length, and he doesn’t play all the way through.

Please understand that these are not critiques. I was happy to see the King of the Blues and was happy that he is still able to perform. I just wondered why he is still performing. Does he need the money? Does he do it so the members of his band can have a steady income? Does he do it because he needs the music and the audience?

It could be the latter because he stayed on stage long after he was scheduled to leave. The bodyguards came to get him, and, eventually, the band stopped playing. All along he talked to the audience and greeted fans who came to the stage. He needed the experience to continue.

We, along with most of the audience, left while he was still there. We had seen the great B.B. King and heard his best known song, “The Thrill Is Gone“. As you can tell, it is a sad song, as most Blues songs tend to be. That’s one thing that connects Blues with Country, Nashville’s predominant sound.

Friday morning, news came across the wire that George Jones had passed away. Tributes immediately hit the Internet and other ways of getting the word out. I thought of the conversation that Necole and I had the night before and about the singer that the world had lost. It has been documented that George Jones lived a turbulent life and that he was, through the opinion of many people, the greatest Country singer who ever lived.George Jones

I don’t know where he ranks in the pantheon of Country, but I know that he epitomized the genre. He lived it, and he sang it. He sang the sadness that Country songs are supposed to be. The song that I heard coming from the honky tonk is considered by many to be the greatest Country song ever recorded. “He Stopped Loving Her Today“, written by a man in my hometown, is sung hauntingly by George Jones. You can hear the sorrow and the pain come through. Perhaps, he could sing that way because he could feel that way.

Last night, Necole and I went to Bridgestone Arena to see Jimmy Buffett.Jimmy Buffett

The Parrotheads were out in the finest grass skirts, sailor hats and coconut bras. As it is with every Buffett concert, the atmosphere was tropical and festive. As Necole said, it’s like he brings vacation to the people rather than the people going on vacation. He went through all of the favorites, and everyone sang along with him.

However, I noticed that several of Jimmy Buffett’s songs have festive music that covers up less than festive words. “Margaritaville” is about a man trying to forget a lost love. “He Went to Paris” is about the tragedies that an old man has seen in his life.

Even Jimmy Buffett sings sad songs, but he can also sing the sad songs of others. Near the end of a concert designed to be a beach party, he sang one of George Jones’, and he sang it in the arena where the Possum was going to have his last concert. That arena sits by dozens of honky tonks where sad songs by George Jones are sung every night.

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Is Rod Serling as Frustrated as Me?

27 Apr

Why are builders called contractors? Their job involves construction, not contraction. It seems to me that they should be called constructors.

That’s the kind of crap that’s running through my mind. I had this great post playing in my brain about last night’s B.B. King concert, but that one is going to be put on hold. This has been a frustrating evening, and the things that frustrated me have affected the B.B. King post in a couple of ways. First, it got my mind off track. Second, it made me start typing too late to give the subject justice.

Instead, we have a post about frustration. The other day, I bought Fort Apache on Blu-Ray. It’s the John Ford movie starring John Wayne, Henry Fonda, Shirley Temple and John Agar, who ended up being her real life husband.Fort Apache Two

It’s a fictional portrayal of George Custer and the defeat that he suffered. I’ve always thought it was weird that they placed a fictional cavalry against the Apache when they could have portrayed a real cavalry against the people they really fought.

The portrayal of a fictional story instead of a historical one is not what frustrated me. That came from the Blu-Ray player that suddenly froze up. My parents have a movie room that is designed to provide a great movie watching experience. Tonight, it provided a frustrating time of trying to figure out what was wrong with it. My dad had me call the guy that put the room together for them. On a Friday night. During his time off.

Finally, I texted my nephew who can fix anything. He sent back a simple reply – unplug it. That did the trick. Then, I was frustrated because I didn’t think of that.

We watched the movie, and I went home to get some work done. Part of that work involved emailing some pictures to my insurance agent. I won’t bore you with the details of insurance, but I will bore you with the details of my frustration. My school account would not email the images. I tried over and over. It’s a Gmail account, so I figured it could do anything. Apparently, it can’t.

That’s when I swapped over to my personal email. Hell, it wouldn’t even download the pictures. After that, I went back to my work email to send the pictures one at a time. Each email took forever. At the top of the screen it said:

Sending…

Still Working…

I don’t know how long it took each email to go through because I finally walked off. When I got back, they had been sent. Well, I guess they had been sent. They could be in The Twilight Zone for all I know.Twilight Zone

Sometimes, I think the world is becoming one big Twilight Zone. Look at the crazy things that happen. Some of it is serious, and some of it is downright ridiculous. Through it all, Rod Serling is standing out of sight talking about the signpost up ahead.

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Grading the Day

24 Apr

I just finished grading a big stack of assignments, and my eyes are a bit blurry. I can’t figure out why we teachers give assignments at the end of the semester. It just means that we put a lot of work on ourselves. At some point, I will realize that assigning something at the beginning of the semester is fine.

Most of the papers are graded, but my brain hasn’t fully recovered. I’m not even sure why I am typing. It just feels like something that I should be doing. Does that mean I am a blogoholic?

I guess so because I am typing up a post without really knowing what the post is supposed to be about. Words are just appearing on the screen. I wonder what’s going to appear next.

I woke up this morning after hitting the snooze button a couple of times. My iPhone is my alarm, and it is set on “De Guello“, a song from the movie Rio Bravo that stars John Wayne, Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson.Rio Bravo

I got ready for work and headed that direction. I am not a morning person, but I insist on having classes a 8 o’clock. I have no idea why. This morning I talked about Herbert Hoover and how his administration got steamrolled by the Great Depression.Herbert Hoover

A lot of people blamed him, but it happened a few months after he took office. That’s not enough time to cause all of that.

I had some office hours before getting a hot dog for lunch. I let my afternoon class go after a few minutes of discussion. The semester is coming to an end, but my lectures are coming to an end quicker. After more office hours, I picked up Necole’s daughter from school because she had an appointment with a doctor.

Eventually, I made it home to get ready for an awards ceremony back on campus. I got the award for Most Outstanding Faculty Member. It is an honor to receive this award because it is voted on by the students. One of the other history professors also got a service award, so that was great, too. Basically, history holds a monopoly over the faculty awards this year.Monopoly Man II

Once the ceremony was over, I visited my parents to show them my plaque. I also talked to Necole and found out that they had to get antibiotics.

After all of that, I started grading but did it a little differently. Usually, I grade in silence. This time, I graded with the television on. Throughout the grading process, I listened to a PBS documentary about the Dust Bowl. Not surprisingly, the narrator talked about how it was Herbert Hoover’s fault. I also listened to a 30 for 30 about the 1983 NFL draft.

Now, I am blogging about all of it. Interesting isn’t it?

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My Favorite Search Term of All Time

23 Apr

It is always interesting to see how people find their way to this blog. Like most bloggers, I look through the search terms and come away amazed at some of the stuff that gets typed in. At times, I wonder how they got here, and that’s when I search it to find the trail from them to me.

Recently, a search term popped up, and there was no reason to go looking for it. I knew exactly how it led them here. It is probably my favorite search term of all time, and I am proud to claim it as part of the Surrounded by Imbeciles experience. What could be so great? Take a gander at this.

where is all the whores in tunica ms

It is great on so many levels, but you must understand that it is not a surprise. I have written about Tunica, the gambling capital of the south. I have also written about whores. In fact, I have written about whores more than once. Therefore, if someone is looking for a prostitute in Tunica, then a search engine will bring them to me. It really is something to be proud of.

Here’s the thing, though. I have been to Tunica countless times, and I have never seen someone who I thought was a working girl. That doesn’t mean they are not there. Heck, there’s lots of money in Tunica, so it only makes sense that prostitutes would be there to get some of it. I just haven’t noticed them. Of course, it could be that I haven’t seen anyone that I thought should be paid for sex. Unless the guy (I assume it was a guy) on the prowl is fond of the Hoveround type.

Put in a quarter, and it will vibrate.

Put in a quarter, and it will vibrate.

Simply, Tunica is not the place to go to find a whore. Want to eat at Paula Deen’s? Go to Tunica. Want to play some Blackjack? Go to Tunica. Want to see people smoke a cigarette while wearing an oxygen mask? Go to Tunica. Want to have a high-class escort for the weekend? Don’t go to Tunica. Go to Las Vegas!!!

Although prostitution is illegal in Las Vegas, escorts can be found everywhere. In fact, I used to make a game out of it and see if I could guess who was and who wasn’t. There is this one little casino that is kind of a dive. When I go in, I always get a Blackjack seat close to the bar. That way I can watch the people and figure out what is going on. It’s easy to see a woman walk in alone and walk out with someone in a matter of minutes. It is even easier when she makes her way back.

It’s a little more difficult in the larger casinos. These places don’t want the women hanging around, and security is everywhere. That means that the women at the bar have to be more discreet. It also means that many escorts arrive with their clients. If a man and woman walk into a casino together, then how can you prove that she is getting paid? Of course, there can be suspicions. When an 80-year-old man walks in with a 25-year-old woman who looks like she stepped out of a magazine, something is up.

To help the person who searched – where is all the whores in tunica ms – I have some advice.

1. Don’t look for a whore in Tunica. Go to Paula Deen’s buffet instead. You will get more bang for your buck.

2. If you want to find a whore in a casino, then go to Las Vegas. Just sit at a bar by yourself and see what happens.

3. Try to find a prostitute who has a degree in English.

She can also help you with your Longfellow.

She can also help you with your Longfellow.

Once your few seconds are up, she can help with your sentence structure.

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My iPod Has Issues – Rainy Day

22 Apr

Friday night, I went to a country concert with Necole and her mom. I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was the best country music concert that I have seen in a long time. Will Hoge opened for Gary Allan at the Ryman Auditorium, the Mother Church of country music. As one of the guys said, this was the room that made the music industry in Nashville.Ryman Auditorium

The Ryman is one of my favorite places, but this post is not about that. It’s about two performers, neither of which I had ever heard of, who restored my faith in country music. There was an entire concert with no songs about tractors, tailgates, back roads or any other southern stereotype that most people in this nation can’t relate to. These songs had depth and sophistication. They were filled with hope and despair. In short, they were what country music used to be and what is should continue to be.

Country music is filled with guys who sing about growing up on a farm when they probably grew up in some suburb. The performers I saw were true to themselves. Of course, the “fake redneck” brigade plays to sold out arenas, and these guys were in a small venue. I reckon that says something.

I liked most of the songs, but the last one by Gary Allan stood out to me. Songs About Rain is about a man driving around with heartache. The love of his life has married someone else, and his radio is playing nothing but songs about rain.

The song hit me because that is what a country song is supposed to be about.

It also hit me that there really are a bunch of songs about rain, and my mind started working. Why is that? It could be that rain depresses people, so it provides the appropriate feel for a sad song. It could also be that rain is an easy word to rhyme. Pain. Train. Plane. The word works on different levels.

Then, I started thinking about the songs on my iPod that are about rain. It is filled with them. There are songs about rain in different genres and from a wide variety of artists. Like other entries in the “My iPod Has Issues” series, I have put my iPod on shuffle to see what kind of rain songs come out.

“November Rain” by Guns N’ Roses – This one may have the greatest video ever.

“Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” by Willie Nelson – Now, this is a country song.

“Looking for a Rainbow” by Chris Rea – Not many people have heard of him, but he is one of my favorites.

“Crying in the Rain” by Whitesnake – It’s a little different from Willie’s song.

“Rainy Night in Georgia” by Tony Joe White – Georgia says they need water. Maybe this song will help.

“Rain” by the Beatles – This is not my favorite song about rain.

“Rainy Day People” by Gordon Lightfoot – He is one of Canada’s greatest exports.

“She’s a Rainbow” by the Rolling Stones – This one is better that the British Invasion one above.

“Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” by B.J. Thomas – They say it was my favorite song as a little kid.

“Purple Rain” by Prince – He ended his concert with this when I saw him.

“I Wish It Would Rain Down” by Phil Collins – I used to listen to this during every state of depression.

“Kentucky Rain” by Elvis Presley – No list is complete without an Elvis song.

“Early Morning Rain” by Elvis Presley – To prove the previous point, here is another one.

“Rainy Day Women #12 & #35” by Bob Dylan – I’m not sure what it has to do with rain.

“Rainbow Stew” by Merle Haggard – Now, here is a happy rain song.

“Just Walkin’ in the Rain” by the Prisonaires – This song has a sad true story behind it.

“Fire and Rain” by James Taylor – I have always found this song haunting.

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Shock the World

19 Apr

A couple of posts ago, Dark Cargo noticed a change in terminology from one post to the next. Instead of writing about my girlfriend, I wrote about my fiance. Those of you who know me through this blog are probably thinking, “Hey, that’s great!” However, those who have known me all of my life probably sat there stunned for a second before realizing what they were hearing. In this little corner of Tennessee, I pulled a Muhammad Ali and shocked the world.

You see, I am in my mid-40’s and have never been married. In fact, I have never seriously considered getting married. I ventured from one relationship to the next and burned a lot of bridges along the way. Most people, most importantly my parents, thought I would wander from one woman to the next until there wasn’t a next. If I was being honest with myself, then I would say that I thought the same thing.

Then, Necole came into my life. Actually, I should say that Necole returned to my life.

I first met Necole in our high school years when she was on a date with my best friend. He took her to the governor’s inaugural ball, and I showed up to prove to him that I could get an invitation to the inaugural ball, too. When I walked into the gala with my date, my goal was to find him, and I found him with this really hot cheerleader. I can’t remember what happened the rest of that night, but I remember where we were standing at our introduction.

Over the next several weeks, we would run into each other in the hallways of school, but I was too dumb to ask her out. She kept hinting, and I kept missing the hints. One afternoon, I was cruising through Sonic Drive-In when she hopped in my car and said something along the lines of “we should do something sometime.” We went out some, but I was still too dumb to know what I was doing.

I went to college and learned the ways of the world. She moved away and learned some of the same things. A few years later, we reconnected but were on different paths. We were both restless and needed to find out what was going on in the world that we were just learning about.

As I said, I moved from relationship to relationship, and I took a perverse pride in not really caring. I was out to have a good time and let the wreckage fall where it may. I hurt a lot of people but discovered somewhere along the way that I hurt myself, too. I hid this by convincing myself that I was different. I didn’t need anyone because the freedom and independence was too important to me. Why would I want to be with one person for the rest of my life when I could have the world to choose from?

Necole took a different path, but it is not my story to tell. However, I will say that she has a beautiful daughter who fills both of our lives with joy.

A few years ago, I walked into my office and found a text from Necole. She wanted to see me and asked if I would like to see her. We met at a place in Nashville and talked about the years that had passed since we had last sat across a table from each other. The time passed too quickly, and it wasn’t long before we had to go. I walked Necole to the valet stand and, before she got away, I kissed her. There was no way I was going to let her drive off without doing that.

We have been together ever since, and a few weeks ago I shocked the world by proposing to her. I never thought I would love someone like I love Necole. I never thought I would get married. It seems that I shocked myself, too. The guy who tried hard not to care found someone, both Necole and her daughter, who he can’t imagine not caring about.

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Those Are Not Cheese Sticks

17 Apr

Several years ago, some friends and I traveled to Chicago to watch our favorite team, the University of Tennessee, play football. They were playing Notre Dame, and it seems that weird things always happen with those two teams get together. This weekend was no different.

Two of my friends, Mayor and Rick, flew up earlier in the day, and I flew up later with Larry. The plan was for us to meet at the hotel. Larry and I landed; made our way to the hotel; and found out that Mayor and Rick had gone out on the town. We decided to go out and grab some food.

The hotel sat a block from Michigan Avenue, so we walked over to see what we could find. We walked pass a steak place, but that wasn’t really what we wanted. Some other places looked interesting but didn’t appeal to us. Finally, Larry looked across the street and saw an Italian restaurant. It looked a little fancy for the way we were dressed, but Italian sounded like a good choice.

The place was definitely fancy, and it was packed. It was hard to walk through the place, but we squeezed our way to the bar. I can’t remember how long we waited, but I remember that we had a long conversation with an older couple from Nebraska. I also remember that the lady was covered in diamonds.

By the time we got to the table, Larry and I were both starving. The waiter, who had an accent that I can’t type in, came over for our drink order. Before he could get away, Larry said that we wanted an appetizer, and the following exchange took place.

“Hey, bring us some of these cheese sticks.”

“Sir, those are not cheese sticks. They are mozzarella slices.”

“I don’t care what they are. Just bring us some.”

It wasn’t long before we got the mozzarella slices.Mozzarella

Then, we ordered our meals. I can’t remember what I got, but I distinctly remember that Larry got lasagna. I also remember that he only ate about half of it. I thought that was weird because I had never seen Larry leave anything on a plate.

“What’s wrong? Is it not any good?”

“It’s ok. I just don’t want anymore.”

That was pretty much it, and we made our way back to the room. By this time, Mayor and Rick had returned. They told us what they had been doing, and we told them about the snobby waiter, but we didn’t talk for long because we needed to get up early to make it to the game. Mayor and Rick slept on beds while Larry and I slept on rollouts. This means that we were packed in there.

At some point, I heard Larry get up and step over my bed. None of us stirred, but we woke up pretty quickly. Larry went to the bathroom, and strange noises started coming out of there. He was moaning and groaning. He was grunting. We didn’t know what was happening, but we knew it must have been bad. It sounded like he was dying. This went on and on and on.

We started to get worried, and Mayor said that somebody needed to check on him. The problem was that none of us wanted to go in there. We didn’t know what we were going to see. All along, Larry kept making sounds that made me think of The Exorcist.Exorcist

At some point, one of us mentioned that we should take him to the hospital.

We were worried. Larry was dying. This was a serious situation. Then, it happened. Through the grunts and the groans Larry yelled, “THE SON OF A BITCH POISONED ME!”

That was the end of the seriousness. Although Larry was still struggling, the rest of us could not stop laughing. At some point, Larry made it out of the bathroom. He survived but his clothes didn’t. I’m not sure what happened to them, but the hotel probably had to call in a hazardous waste crew.

The next day, Larry went to the game, but he was pale as a ghost. Tennessee won on Saturday, but the waiter won on Friday night.

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Play It Pretty for Atlanta

16 Apr

This weekend, I did something that I never envisioned doing. I went to market, the industry name for a women’s clothing convention. My fiance, owner of Beauty Boutique, needed to attend because that’s what boutique owners do. I needed to go because, well, I just wanted to. Life is full of experiences, and this would probably be an interesting one.

Shockingly, we got a late start, but, once we hit the road, it was smooth sailing. Actually, there was one rough patch. When we crossed Monteagle Mountain, I serenaded her with the theme from Smokey and the Bandit. She laughed hysterically and wrote about it on Facebook. Did I mention that I hate Facebook?

My sentiments exactly.

My sentiments exactly.

We arrived in Atlanta, and, after some fancy driving on my part, we made it to the hotel. She immediately wanted to head to market to check in and browse before they closed for the day. I had no idea what to expect, but I felt like that I had walked into the cantina on Tatooine at closing time.

The girls all get prettier at closing time.

The girls all get prettier at closing time.

There was some strange-looking creatures hanging around, and they all looked worn out. That’s not totally correct because there were some fair looking creatures there, too. However, they looked just as tired.

We went back to the hotel and started wondering about dinner. We didn’t want to venture too far out, so I looked up the hotel restaurants. That’s when my eyes bugged out. The lower level of our hotel housed Trader Vic’s. I only knew two things about Trader Vic’s. It is a hangout for werewolves who like pina coladas, and I had to go there.

I didn’t see any werewolves. However, I felt like I had walked into a 1950s postcard from Hawaii. I don’t even have the words to explain this surreal experience. Imagine getting swallowed up in a song by The Ventures and being served an umbrella drink. That’s Trader Vic’s.

How can you go wrong with a menu with this cover?

How can you go wrong with a menu with this cover?

The next day, we got up bright and early for market, and it was a completely different experience. The cantina crowd was ready to go and buyers from stores throughout the nation were cramming the aisles between the booths. They had everything that a woman could possibly wear, and there was a thousand varieties of each item. Heck, there were ten stories filled with stuff. As a crowd watcher instead of a buyer, I started to figure out the difference between the serious buyers and the sightseers. I could also pick out the guys who were doing the exact same thing that I was.

However, that was just the appetizer for what I really wanted to see, the runway fashion show. I couldn’t wait to see a bunch of models strut their stuff on the catwalk. I wasn’t disappointed because they looked like I imagined. But, there was a problem. There was a woman in front of me wearing cat ears, and she was blocking my view. I promise that there is nothing worse than sitting behind a woman wearing cat ears at a fashion show.

After the show, we needed to eat. There wasn’t much around, so we ended up at The Hard Rock Cafe. The cheeseburger and 80s videos were great, but there was another form of entertainment. Atlanta’s version of The Amazing Race was going on. Some teams were taking it serious, and other teams were coming into the bar to get drunk. After this much activity, I needed a nap.

I slept most of the afternoon and woke up hungry. I didn’t want Trader Vic’s or a cheeseburger.  I wanted something good. Not knowing anything about Atlanta dining, we searched for Atlanta’s best restaurants and found Rathbun’s. I have written about Nashville’s booming food scene and know that we have some great restaurants. Rathbun’s would fit right in. The duck breast was awesome but not as good as the appetizer. If you ever go to Rathbun’s, then you have to get the Pan Fried Kefalotiri Cheese. It’s the most awesome thing ever.

Yesterday, we packed up to head home but not before going to Lenox Square Mall. I have heard of people going to Atlanta just to shop, and now I know why. It’s a cool mall. Wait, I went to Atlanta just to shop didn’t I? Weird. Anyway, we drove back to Tennessee and crossed Monteagle Mountain once again. This time I just hummed.

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A Post About Nothing

12 Apr

It’s completely quiet in the house. The only noise is the rain falling outside. I sit in my chair with the laptop in my lap (where else would it be?) and with the television on mute. There are things that I should be doing, but I am blogging about them instead of actually doing them.

I need to pack because I am going to Atlanta tomorrow. The last time I spent a few nights in Atlanta this happened.Tornado

I need to get on the treadmill, but I keep getting sidetracked by a bag of Pecan Sandies.

I need to fill out checks for income tax purposes. April 15 is still a few days away, and the government can wait. All they are going to do is take good money and waste it.

I need to turn the volume up on the television. It looks like they are having a very interesting conversation about the day’s action at The Masters. I used to watch the tournament every year but have gotten in a habit of missing it. This year, I will be busy doing some things in Atlanta. Last year, I was busy doing some things in Costa Rica.

A big storm was supposed to hit us today. It rained a lot, but there was nothing destructive going on. When I was in the bank, a lady said that she hoped it didn’t hit us. That made me start to think. Did she want it to hit someone else? That’s the kind of stuff I think about at the bank. I also wonder how much money they spend on suckers. I don’t know about your town, but around here all banks have candy sitting around for the customers.

I guess that’s it. I really can’t think of anything else to write about. Well, I have a posting idea in mind, but it will need to wait. There’s all this stuff I need to do, and I am close to falling asleep. The rain must be doing that.

Alas, there are two other things that need to be done. I have to get the towels out of the dryer, and I have to clip my fingernails. They absolutely drive me crazy when they get too long.

So, that’s it for now. I will check back in a few days from now with a report from Atlanta. Surely, it will be better than my last trip. Of course, if you didn’t click the link you don’t know how bad it was.

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