It starts when you're always afraid

Let's talk about paranoia.

How can we be tracked? How can anyone who wants to, find us? Anyone who wants to.

If you own property, your address is known.

If you have a license, your social security number is known.

If your social security number is known, your place of employment, your salary, your bank account, how much insurance you have, how much money you owe is all known.

If you drive a car with a gps system, you can be tracked. If you own a cell phone through a provider, you can be tracked, who you talk to is known, and your conversations can be overheard.

If you have repairmen come into your house, bugs can be planted and your conversations can be overheard.

If use credit cards or debit cards, your purchases can be tracked, and where you make those purchases. If you use store bonus cards, the same thing can go on.

If you use ATM's your picture has been take, and can be accessed. Same with going by any security camera.

And this is just the easy stuff.

Scared yet?

Namaste.

I'm not the man they think i am at home

I read a lot of blogs. Mostly written by women because I am not interested in reading about sports, or cars. Women write about life.

But I have deleted a number of blogs lately because I am tired of husband bashing. If I ever wrote about my wife what I have read some women writing about their husbands I would be living alone again. And if I ever read my wife writing about me being stupid, or unable to deal with the simplest parts of life she would be looking for another place to live. How can you, in the general sense, be so insensitive to someone you are supposed to love? Even if your spouse does do something you disagree with, why would you air it out in this forum? Seems like you would be just asking for a major argument doing something like that.

When I started blogging, going on a year ago, my wife had one rule. Ok, a few rules. No drawing undue attention to the family, no pics of the family, (though I did break that one a couple of times with Pierce' tattoo) and no airing of family grief in public.

Seemed, and still seems reasonable to me. I respect my wife, and I respect her requests of me. I am not going to do something that will cause me grief in the long run, for some attention in the short.

Bashing your spouse is beyond me.

On a lighter note.

The other day I am driving home from work. I see a pick up truck in front me with a Saint Bernard in the back of it. In my best talking to a baby voice I say, to no one in particular since I drive solo " Look at the pubby dawg." Yes, I talk baby talk at times when I see a cute dog. And yes I said "pubby dawg." Sue me.

In the car right in front of me I saw a woman waving at the dog.

Of course I had to say, again to no on in particular since I am still alone in my car, "Lady, do you really think that the dog is going to wave back?"

This from the guy talking baby talk to the same dog.

Go figure on that one, eh?

Namaste.

One single hit all day

I had one lonely hit all day today.

This tells me that either everyone in the world died to day.

Or what I write is really boring and no one wants to waste their time reading it.

Namaste.

Ridin' the storm out

Saturday evening a huge, no make the HUGE storm rolled through western Maryland and South Central Pennsylvania. It was ugly, as we were on the highway coming back from the beach when it hit.

Saturday afternoon we were on I-95 coming north from Richmond, Virginia towards DC. The van we were using had this really cool feature in it giving us the opportunity to see what the temp is outside. It was hot. The temp peaked out at 104. That is fugly hot.

As we continued north the temp started dropping into the high 90's. First 98, and the down to 96. When we got into the beltway around DC it had climbed back to 98 and was staying there. I could see the sky getting dark over to the west, though. No biggie.

And then the temp started dropping again. I figured that the rain would hit at around 92 degrees. But it didn't actually hit until 90. And then the bottom fell out of the temp, it dropped down to the mid 80's in the space of about 5 minutes, and then the rain hit. The rain and the hail. The temp kept dropping, the rain went verticle, and traffic came to pretty much a halt.

We were in the leading edge of the collision of a cold front and a warm front. I started keeping an eye out for the way the wind was blowing. I wasn't as worried aobut the weather as I was the reaction of the drivers around me. And keeping my family from freaking out.

The Princess was not having a good time with all of the wind, rain, and hail. But after we got outside of Rockville, Maryland it all calmed down and we made it home in fine form.

Until we got into Mechanicsburg. The the skies opened up again up until I had my Sister-in-Law's bags on her front porch. And then it quit raining. Until we pulled up to the Princess' friends house and started unloading her stuff. Then the deluge started again. And quit when the last bag was put into the house.

Damn weather.

Sunday I napped. Read the newspaper. Went and picked up Cerebus from the kennel and ate pizza. Monday work starts. Poop.

Namaste.

So just make sure you got it all set to go

Before you come for my piano.

A little bit of artistic license. Saturday is move out day in the morning, and move in day in the afternoon. Vans, SUV's, station wagons, sedans, sports cars, winnebago's all loaded up with sand, sun screen, and wet towels headed north to I-95 and then East, West, and North to every city you can think of. Taking the passengers back to their homes, jobs, and school.

Friday is a day to soak all of the beach in that you can get. I want to be this huge sponge, absorbing it all so that this winter I will be able to relive just a little of this week. Just a memory of the moon shining down on the waves. Silver sparkles just past the pale white of the sand. My skin tasting like potato chips. The joy in my daughters voice as she triumphantly finds and announces to the world that she has found a conch shell.


Vacations are special, and needed times in this day and age. Places of wonder and peace like the ocean make some of the crap we deal with on a day to day basis somewhat worth it.

But I still would like to hit the lotto so that I could live here all summer.

That would be the ultimate.

Namaste.

Of sea turtles and airplanes

On the dunes just in front of the house we are staying in, there has been a sign stating that there is a sea turtle nest in the dune. Wednesday night we noticed a bunch of people hanging around the access point to the beach so we went down to see what was going on. We knew that they weren't there trying to get pictures of us, though we all feel that we are worthy of having our pictures taken by admiring fans.

Whatever.

Come to find out that there were 4 sea turtles who had hatched and were making their way down to the ocean. The process is pretty crazy. Once the nest if found, this one was made by a 250 lb mama turtle, a "Nest Mom", and "Nest Dad" are chosen. This couple check on the nest and when time comes for the little guys to hatch, the "parents" set up a sort of alley, made out of boards, that will lead the hatchlings to the sea.

Much hoopla was going on when we went down to the nest area. The "Nest Dad" was instructing people to not use the flash on their cameras as that would confuse the hatchlings and keep them from getting to the sea. The "Nest Mom" was digging out all of the hatched eggs and counting them. The "Nest Dad" used a broom to smooth out the path for the hatchlings so that they would have an easier time getting to the sea.

It was very amusing.

For about 10 minutes.

Then I was done. Back to the house for more gin.

Thursday morning I got the pleasure of driving Pierce to the airport in Wilmington so that he could fly back to Michigan. He is registering for an apprenticeship in metal working on Friday morning so he had to leave early.

I did fine with not doing the crying Dad thing until after we hugged the first time and he walked away, he turned back around and came back for another hug. That pretty much did it for me. The tears started coming. I think that the boy did it just to get me crying.

Stupid kid.

Plus the music station they had playing in the terminal was playing an old Sting song, "I'm so happy, I can't stop crying". That song does not do good things for me when I am saying goodbye to my kids.

Vacation is almost over. Back to life, back to reality, back to the here and now.

Namaste.

I scream, you scream

Being good tourists, we tend to do certain things everytime we come down here. We spend the first couple of days on the beach, then we go into town and buy tourist crap, and then we go putt-putt golfing and eat ice cream. Not all in that order, of course, but it is how we roll.

This afternoon it was putt-putt.

It started off innocently enough. 8 people with putters and colored balls tromping on green astro turf. Life was good. We had the required stick-your-putter-between-the-legs fun. We had the required goose-your-son/brother-in-the-butt fun.

Then the plague of black bugs that impaled us with syringes of itchy serum swarmed us and made us drop out clubs and run to the building where we came in. It was seriously something out of the Old Testament.

And it hurt. And itched.

So our game having ended by genetically engineered bugs, we went looking for ice cream. Up the street from the putt-putt is a Dairy Queen. Not like the DQ in Pennsylvania where no one knows how to say "Thank you". This is a friendly DQ, where we stood in line waiting patiently for one of the teenagers inside to take our order.

And then one of the Bubbas-in-training leaned out and told us that there was another windown opening around the the other side of the building. So our party of 35 dutifully filed to the other window where someone else was already standing waiting for their order. And we waited. And we waited. Finally my Wife suggested that we go to another ice cream place.

So we did.

And we finally had ice cream. After waiting in the humidity and heat, after being eaten by mutant bugs, and being moved from window to window trying to get ice cream.

I only hope the tomorrow is better.

But how bad can it be when you are on the ocean, listening to the waves, and playing in the surf?

Namaste.

Another day in paradise

I want to live here. All year round. I want to wake up and see the ocean. I want to sit out on the deck and hear it in the evening.

I love this place.

I am re-reading a book called "The Traveler", by John Twelve Hawks.

The author has never met his/her Editor. All communication has taken place by untraceable satellite phone.

The books premise is that we live in a world of constant surveillance, and fear. These states are cultivated and nurtured by a group who wants to control the population of the world. The reason behind this is not given in this first book, other to explain that the great leaders of our world, Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, and the like were people who could have helped us to maximize our lives. And they all ended up dead because of what they taught.

Interesting book. I read this when we were on vacation 3 years ago.

That is all from North Carolina. I feel another nap coming on.

Namaste.

Allee, allee outs in free

As of about God-freakin'-awful-early-in-the-morning/middle-of-the-night,everyone who is suspposed to be here is finally here.

Mullet and his girlfriend drove from Michigan. Yes, they did a 15 hour drive. Let us not get into the whole discussion of the vacation being planned since April of this year so that everyone could get their time off from work, and get their airline tickets purchased.

That would just lead to another argument.

So let us just be happy that they made it safely.

Doofus's.

I have this habit of getting up way too early and going out to get the local, and what out of town paper that I can find every morning. I am always amazed by the number of people out running, and biking. I like the idea of doing both of those activities, but the reality is that I would rather bring my newspapers back to the house, toast a bagel and read until everyone else gets up.

That is my idea of a perfect morning.

Today the girls want to go into town to buy stuff. I don't know what the attraction is, or maybe since I have been buying food everyday so that everyone has what they want to eat I just don't get the same thrill that the girls will

But my job on these vacations includes chauffeur, so while they are buying those things that they don't need, I will be finalizing tonights menu.

I love vacation.

namaste.

This is where I am

After an arduous 9 hour trip, we arrived at our Villa-for-the-week. We tumbled out of the van,trying not to kill one another, as we then meandered to the front of the house and gazed upon why we did this.

The ocean.

The wind, the sand, the water. AHHHHHH.

I noticed that my 25000 hits per day are down somewhat due to lack of posting. I am sorry. I will be a little preoccupied this week.

Last night The Princess found her 1st official conch shell of the season. Today we have to see if we can find more.

I passed out at 11pm last night, leaving Pierce to finish off our rousing game of DVD Trivial pursuit. I hope we won. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer after being up at 3am, driving forever, and drinking gin and tonics.

I am getting old.

Namaste.

My wife has no clue why I do this. Why I blog. Why I write about what goes on inside of my head.

I do it to write. I write a blog so that I am putting words down on paper every day, or so. It is a way to work on putting words together so that you can understand what I want to tell you.

Communication.

Anyway, I have reached out to a couple of people hoping that they can help me break into writing for real. Writing for cash, a larger audience.

Time to start studying grammer, and punctuation again. Where is Mrs. Yuk when I need her?

Namaste.

My eldest begins her writing adventure

Lady Bug has begun writing her own blog. It is titled Gemini-Moon. It is brand new, but do me a huge personal favor and stop by, leave her some encouraging comments.

After we are nice to her once we can start being sarcastic. She is used to that. She is my daughter, you know.

And she is so much like me that it is crazy when we get together. The passive-aggressiveness. The sarcasm. The drama.

Makes me yearn for the good ole days.

Namaste.

So now I am a racist.

Why is it that when I have to remind someone of their responsibilities, I become a racist? Is it because I am a white, male manager? With a shaved head?

Or does that make me a skinhead? I get so confused by this, and pretty frustrated by the whole concept.

Here's what happened.

Lady came to the gas station that is part of my store. She put her debit card in the appropriate slot, hit the right buttons. At this time the pump sent a ping to her bank just to make sure that the account was open. No biggie, routine transaction. She sees that the pump accepts her card, goes to the kiosk and asks for cigs and if she can pay for them at the kiosk with her gas. My attendant says, "Yes." And cancels the transaction at the pump so that the customer can pay her instead of the pump.

Again routine. But here is where the wheels come off.

The attendant swipes the lady's card and it is denied because of insufficient funds. I get called. I ask the attendant to try again, denied again. Send the lady into the store.

The customer comes in, I apologize for the inconvenience, but is there another method of payment that she can use?

No. She doesn't have any money.

Now we have a problem. She has my gas in her vehicle and no way to pay.

Can I wait until Friday when she gets paid. No.

Can she borrow money from someone? No.

I need my money, ma'am. I can give you until Wednesday morning to get it to me.

I will go get it now.

She leaves. I am expecting not to hear from her. Mind you the total of this transaction is $20.

She comes back with $15. Where is the other $5? This is all I have. But you have $20 of my gas, I am not going to accept $15, this isn't a negotiation. I will give you until Wednesday morning to get my full $20.

She says, "you wouldn't be doing this if this were your mother."

Nope, I would pay for my Mothers gas. You aren't my Mother, you came here and pumped gas from my business and now I want payment. If you keep giving me a hard time about what you owe me, maybe we need to get the Police involved.

Then I got called a racist. After this woman tried to play me, after she brings my up bringing into it, which this is a much watered down version of. I am a racist.

She storms out of the building and comes back 10 minutes later with a hand full of change. Slams it on the desk and tells me that there is my $20. I count it. It is $19.87. I inform her that she is still short, but that we will cover her $.13. She walks out yelling that she is going to be calling the office about the way that I treated her.

This is a prime example of why I am updating my resume. I need to get out of this business. I need to not be dealing with substance abusers who think that they can play me, and that I am afraid of them complaining about me doing my job. I need to not have the feeling of wanting to just unload on a person because they are a waste of space.

Arghhhhh.

Namaste.

If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago, I might not be alone

A friend of mine asked me a question yesterday that I had to think long and hard about.

"What reason do we really have to do good in this world where only the shit-heads, liars, and cheats get ahead? When the you's and I's of the world beat our heads daily against the brick wall and it doesn't get any better?"

"Why don't we just be like the rest?"

Ok. I know that it was more than one question, but the theme was single. And I didn't have an answer for him right away.

The easy answer is that I don't see myself as someone who will/can treat others as stepping stones to my ascent. I have had it done to me in the past, and I didn't like it then.

Another answer would be that it just isn't right. But right compared to what? If I could make my families life easier by doing something just a little to the left of legal, wouldn't I be doing right by them?

My friend came back with his own answer. And being of the Jewish faith, his answer made perfect sense to me.

He said, "I live my life to the best of my ability according to the tenets of my faith because I believe in an afterlife. That I believe that there is a reward waiting for me."

Then we got into our usual argument about the New and Old Testaments, how fundamentalists use Christ as a Get Out of Jail Free card in doing all of the stupid crap that they do. How you can't hold people accountable to the laws in the Old Testament, when they claim a belief in Christ, because his crucifixtion erased all of the old debts we were born with. I love those conversations. He is such a smart man.

Anyway. August is a month that I hate. I am always stressed out in August. Any money we have saved is long gone and we have to live on my income. August exhausts me with stealing from Peter to pay Paul.

No biblical pun intended.

I can't wait for September. Cooler days. I can start brewing again. The Pennsylvania RennFaire. Local apples. Pumpkins.

Keep thinking of the good things. The days will fade away like the sound of locust in the morning.

Namaste.

And maybe it might not be that bad, you were the best I ever had..

Hey jealousy.

Karl Rove. Devil Dog to the Bush adminstration. Lap Dog to the Commander in Chief.

Resigned today.

His master made a comment about following him in a couple of years.

Not soon enough, as far as I and 3700 dead soldiers think.

The locust outside are deafening tonight. It is always at this time of year that we hear them. In the dog days of August, when it is hot but not too humid. Locust are like me. We don't like a lot of humidity. But when it is hot and dry like it has been the last couple of days, the locust come out. Right around dusk. And make their noise.

How can you describe the sound made by locust? A rattle? LIke steel wool on aluminum? An electrical hum?

Always this time of year.

Namaste.

Sometimes you just have to say, WHAT THE ____?!

Walking around in my part of the retail world I see things that would make weaker men tremble.

I see folks who make me look small wearing really, really tight clothing. Spandex, cotton, you pick the fabric I have seen it exploding at the seams. Layers of fat trying desperatly to get out of the wrappings they are confined in.

I see women who make me look small wearing really tight, short skirts, and shorts.

I have seen really skinny, skinny people wearing clothing that is so baggy I worried about it falling off.

Today I saw a guy walking around in an outfit that will probably give me nightmares. Start with the boots. Timberland work boots, untied of course. From the looks of the guy, he probably would have trouble with velcro.

Black shorts. A canvas material. No big deal here. Then comes a camo wife-beater. Under a camo vest. Wearing a black watch cap, and a baseball cap on top of that.

WHAT THE ____?!

I promised that I wouldn't write this, but I just have to.

Then there was the young girl with the HUGE thighs that looked like they had grown together wearing the denim micro-mini.

Come on, people. I am no fashion maven. Hell, I wear black pants and a white shirt, with a crummy Wally World tie most days. But even I know what not to wear.

Sorry to be so snarky.

Namste.

A few gray Federales say, they could've had him any day

Sucking up for comments. That's me. On my other site my kids have been chiming in along with a friend of ours who had no idea that I was so talented. Or maybe she and her husband were tricked into posting after I dosed them liberally with Dodd's Legacy Red Ale and some of my perfectly seasoned and cooked burgers.

So, how's about some love here.

How's about doing the ASK PHIL ANYTHING YOU WANT thang? Anything, that is, within reason. My kids do read this after all.

So, Ask the question and I will answer it in a new posting because the way my mind works I can ramble on about pretty much anything out there for at least a few paragraphs.

So.

Now the fun begins.

I hope.

Namaste.

My wife, the Princess and I took a trip to Philadelphia on Tuesday. Ostensibly to see the King Tut exhibit at the Franklin Institute of Science. Unbeknownst to all of us, we would actually be validating my abilities as a Brewer of Beer.

We stopped for lunch at a restaurant called The Independence Brew Pub. I wasn't expecting much, but walking in I was loving the fact that their air conditioning was working overtime. It is hot, and humid in Pennsylvania and I am not digging it. Sweat is becoming more of a terminal thing for me lately. More of that later.

Walking in the the Brew Pub I was doing my usual checking out of the surrounds when I smelled it. Yeast. When you brew your own beer you tend to know the smells associated with brewing. And I smelled yeast. With a whiff of hops underneath.

Nostrils flaring, I looked to the bar for any sign of what offerings were on the menu. I saw "Independence Ale". Hope springs eternal. I am more of a malty ale drinker, than a hoppy kind of guy. For those of you who are doomed to drink yellow, fizzy commercial goat urine...ooopps, I meant commercial beer, the taste of hops is what you have in the back of your throat when you take a drink of Coors, or Budweiser. Though Bud uses rice in their recipe also. That bitter taste is the hops. I have a friend who loves a local beer called "hopedelic". It is very hoppy. And if you drink Chemet, that back taste is hops.

Anyway, I ordered an ale. The waiter brought it to me. I held it to the light. A nice red color, with few imperfections. I read on the IBP websight that they charcoal filter to take out any "floaties" in their beers. Wonderful. Next the smell. Malt, lovely, wonderful malt. A pale malt followed by an amber, if I am not mistaken. Finally, the first sip. Hold in in the mouth to let it sink in to all of the taste buds, and swallow. That's when it hit me.

This tastes like Dodd's Legacy Ale. The red ale that I have been brewing for my last 3 batches. I make beer that tastes similar to a Brew Pub!!! I am ecstatic. I know my beer is good, but it is good on the same plane as a Brew Pub!!!

If you get to Philly, you have to check the Independence Brew Pub. Their food is wonderful, their staff is friendly, efficient and knowledgable, and their Independence Ale is as good as my Dodd's Legacy.

Life does not get better than this.

Namaste.

The itch that won't stay scratched

I have these weird patches of poison ivy on both of my legs.

And on my left arm.

The patch that was on my head seems to be gone. Thankfully.

I have been taking benedryl the last couple of nights to keep from scratching. It is not working that well. And the real pisser is that the patches on my calves not only itch, but they hurt like a bitch also when I scratch them. And heat makes them scream at me, "SCRATCH ME, SCRATCH ME."

And then they hurt like hell when I do.

I am not getting this. And I am not happy about it.

Luckily, vacation is coming up in 10 days. I can't wait.

Which is a stupid statement, because unless I hit the lotto this week, all I will be doing is counting down the days. But, I over explain.

Come August 18, my Wife, The Princess, and Pierce will be getting in the van and heading south to North Carolina. And the ocean. And sand. And alcohol for me. We will be carting along 2 cases of Dodd Legacy Red Ale for my imbibing pleasure. Haven't figured out what we will be eating that first night, but think that either pizza might be the ticket.

Will let you know.

Namaste.

Jesus he knows me

and he knows I'm right.

Watching television tonight with the peeps and what pops on?

A car commercial.

No biggie. Happens every 8 minutes or so on commercial tv.

But being a musical kind of guy, and not being interested in anything that isn't a '79 CJ-7 with a 350 cc Chevy engine I hear something that is familiar.

"Turn it on again" from 1980. My last year in college.

Trying to sell me some piece of crap truck.

Not even a Jeep.

Bastards. Trying to hook me with my past.

Madison Avenue has no shame. But they don't know who they are dealing with. I refuse to be a pawn in their game.

Bite me sell out bands.

Namaste.

It's just the kind of day to leave myself behind

I am an email stalker.

It is one of my dirty little secrets.

Promise that you won't tell anyone.

Graduating from high school, I had a number of people that I called "friend". After going to college, I promptly forgot them. I dropped out of sight, and out of mind. I don't think that I was educated enough in developing and sustaining relationships.

Looking back on 2 divorces. Hmmmm.

Graduating from college I found that I hadn't made many friends, I started working and got married. Usual story. My job took me away from where I grew up. When I would get back into town I only visited family. Well once I did visit an old friend, but that ended up badly. It involved helping him return a keg, and drinking a large amount of Mickey's beer. My wife was not amused that I could disappear for a whole afternoon. Maybe it was because she had to hang out with my parents.

Anyway. Anytime I can get hold of an email I will stalk that person trying to get re-acquainted. It doesn't always work.

I spent part of the day on Tuesday looking up web sites and blogs from southwestern Michigan. I didn't find a lot.

That is concerning.

I would have thought that someone I graduated with, or went to school with would be the kind of person who would want to blog. Look at me.

Well, that really isn't a compelling argument as I really was not the norm in school.

Not that I was abnormal. I just wasn't normal.

Namaste.