Category: Trials and Tribulations

Whatcha think, Joe was perfect?

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Skinning Rats

It was the fall of 1978,  my son was five years old and my daughter 8.  They were “knee high to a grasshopper” as they say in Arklahoma.  I was attending Central State University, since renamed to the University of Central Oklahoma.  I was majoring in Biology.

Why Biology?  First I had a real love for the science.  Secondly, I had always done well in this branch of the sciences.  I had basically been forced into a business degree program my first year of college and nearly flunked out.  It was a lack of interest and other factors (partying???).  In retrospect I might have better served myself and my family to have gotten my computer science degree at that time rather than the B.S. in Biology.  The punch cards intimidated me, and at time I had doubts about my intellectual capacity.  Dissecting struck me as easier than flow charts. Plus, I’ve made a real study of coming to the fork in the road and taking the wrong tine.

This particular semester I was taking several courses, but Mammalogy 4263 taught by Dr. Caire is of interest here.  Dr. Caire had his M.S. in rats, and his PhD Continue reading “Skinning Rats”

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Saturday at the flea market

I was at the local flea market last Saturday.  I would not want to go too often, but to pass the occasional afternoon, it is entertaining. 

First there are the vendors.  They were selling everything from self made crafts to junk imported from China.  At least in the south you can always count on a vendor or two pushing swords, knives, and other assorted marital aids.  This market had a vendor pushing an item that looked like a cross between brass knuckles and a taser. I’m still trying to figure out the swords. It has been a long time since I have heard of anyone dueling Continue reading “Saturday at the flea market”

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Michelangelo’s David

david_statue_webI have always enjoyed the statue of David by Michelangelo.  There are a number of reasons for this. First, it is a wonderful expression of human achievement by a master at the top of his game.  The detail is phenomenal and exquisite.  The statue looks like with just slightest of breathes he could come alive and jump down from the pedestal to begin a full human life. 

Besides being a beautiful piece of art, it depicts a beautiful human.  It appears that the granite “DNA” has co-mingled to form the ideal male.  While not gay it is certainly a male body that I appreciate and enjoy observing.

There is also a more mundane reason I like the statue.  The male sexual organ as usually depicted and photographed would make Man-O-War blush with feelings of inadequacies.  As a young man this wonderful statue made me feel “normal”.  Well at least in that one regard.

There is a Jamaican man that works where I do. For the most part he is very understandable, but occasionally his accent and my mish mash of accents makes communication a little less than optimal.  He came around one day asking if I knew the artist Dávid.  Not being entirely sure what he had just said, I asked him if he was talking about Michelangelo’s statute of David.  He looked at me funny for a minute then said, “You mean the one with the small penis?” 

Make room in your stall , Man-O-War,  I’m coming in blushing from head to toe.

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Your Curmudgeon story, please

The following comment was posted to this site:

I can’t find a way to send a suggestion, so I’ll post here, since it seems to have the floor at the moment. (Teach me the right way!)

You are not legitimately a Curmudgeon until someone calls you one. You can’t (won’t) assume that title by yourself. We all know this.

But how about a topic where we tell the others who did the deed to each of us and under what circumstances?

Sounds like a wonderful topic for discussion.  Does anyone out there care to share their story of how they came to have the appellation of Curmudgeon?? Continue reading “Your Curmudgeon story, please”

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Reverend Joe wipes out a waiter

Recently I was in Orange Beach, by gawd, Alabama on a fishing trip.  After a nice and productive day of offshore fishing we decided to go to a nice restaurant for dinner, seafood of course.  It was a fancy place complete with table clothes and starched napkins.  Over to right of us were several tables pushed to together for what looked like a bachelorette party.  There were about 30 or so pretty women in their early twenties sitting at the tables.

Before the food arrived I needed to go to the bathroom.  As I was walking back I realized one of my table mates was behind me.  The shortest route from the facilities to our table was by this bevy of beautiful southern belles. Continue reading “Reverend Joe wipes out a waiter”

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Are you really going to walk all 18 holes, mister?

A regular golf course is generally 6000 to 6500 yards long.  That is 3.4 to 3.7 miles.  If you are like me when you play golf, it is never a straight line.  I am guessing that in a round of golf I probably walk 4 to 4 ½ miles.  A reasonably healthy individual should be able to do that in an hour of brisk walking.

A round of golf usually takes approximately 4 hours.  Theoretically you are walking at the blistering pace of 1 mile per hour.  In reality there is a fair amount of standing around, and then brisk walking to your ball.  I carry my bag, throw in some elevation changes, and you have a reasonable amount of exercise.  The figures I have seen say about 7 calories per minute playing golf if you are walking and carrying your bag.  That means you are burning up around 1700 calories as long as you stay away from the beer concession.

This is not the first time I’ve been asked, “Are you really going to walk all 18 holes?”  This time it was by 4 young men in their late teens or very early 20s.  These young men all looked in good health, and were not carrying the excess weight of many of their peers.  We conversed a little, and they just could not imagine walking the course.

I walk because a) I enjoy the game more when I am walking.  Buzzing around in a cart brings in a rushed dimension to the game I do not like.  b) I love the exercise.  I am in reasonable shape compared to many of my peers.  Walking the golf course is one the things that helps maintain my fitness.  c)  I’m cheap and I like to play a lot of golf.  Paying for a cart adds $10 to $15 to the price of a round of golf.

I knew one young man whose reason for not walking was he did not want anyone to think he could not afford a cart!!!  What a load of baloney.

Some golf courses will not let you play during certain hours unless you rent a cart.  I do know some walkers slow things down a little.  I’m not so sure that is a bad thing.  I’ve golfed with far too many folks early in day that acted like playing 18 holes was just another chore to finish.  That strikes me a missing one of the key joys of golf.

I have frequently played with folks in carts while I walked.  Unless they are extremely good golfers with the ball in the fairway all the time I keep up with them.  Frequently I am waiting on them.

I will acknowledge that for many folks if they did not have a cart there would be no place to carry the cooler of beer.  Golf in this case just becomes an activity to do while drinking.  Oh well.

I just see so many folks that would benefit from the mild exercise golfing provides, yet they feel they must ride or they cannot play.  Given the current obesity epidemic how wonderful it would be if a few of these folks jumped off their carts and walked.

Or at least they could at least quit acting like I was nuts for doing so.

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Up a notch? Maybe…

I sort of fantasized today that I had stepped up one level in my bicycling.

It was very windy today, and that makes cycling into the wind difficult.  I was on the open stretch between the park and where the trail crosses the Missouri River and drops down onto the Katy Trail.  It is very exposed and I was giving it my all to keep a decent speed.   A couple miles before the Katy Trail parking lot I noticed someone behind me.   I fully expected them to pass, but they stayed there. They drafted behind me for those two miles.   It did have the effect of keeping me from slacking off, and a good portion of the last mile is a climb.

When I got to parking lot, I slowed down.  The person behind me thanked me for allowing them to ride behind me.  It was a petit SYT all in spandex on a fancy racing cycle.  I’m sure that for her riding behind me was like trailing a rolling barn.  Since she turned into the parking lot, I assumed this was the end of what was probably a long ride, so she did not mind coasting behind me for a couple miles.

I know I am cycling stronger than I did at the start of the spring, but leave me to me fantasy.

I looked at the odometer on my bicycle today, and somewhere back I had gone over a 1000 miles this cycling season. Not bad for an old fat man.