The Appendectomy Club (Part one)

   Recently my granddaughter’s boyfriend, Little James, had his appendix out.  I text her to tell him: Welcome to the Appendectomy Club.  And really, I suppose we should start a club for that.  After I had mine out, I read up on it.  Back then, the appendix was considered a vestigial organ that at some point in human evolution was part of the digestive system but now only does one thing, cause appendicitis.  Lately it’s thought that perhaps it produces good bacteria for the large intestines—since it’s located at the junction of that and the small intestin

The Terrible Land of Snoz

When my grandkids were little (the second batch is now 14 years old) we watched The Wizard of Oz.  It used to come on between Thanksgiving and Christmas, on network television, back when I was young, and continued to do so for many years later.  But this Spring I discovered it playing on some cable channel and I recorded it.  A few days later I tried to watch the famous movie, but I couldn’t; it was out of place in my world. I deleted it before it turned color.


   I’ve been trying to hunker down since the last day of March, when I shopped at Exwork for supplies.  My wife informed me that the store opened an hour early at seven, just for the elderly, so I left home at 6:20, and boy did I have flashbacks of when I worked there first shift, driving in the dark.  I arrived at 6:35 and saw many shoppers exiting with cartloads of groceries and mainly TP.  I discovered from an employee friend that the hour-early started at six, not seven.  Oh well.  No one checked my I.D.

Office Claustrophobia

Back in November our granddaughter, Sneaks, moved in with us.  It was a sudden thing, and I don’t know all the whys.  Her aunt, uncle, and nephew (my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson—Cocoa Bean, Skipper, and Rex) came over and helped move my office to the garage.  I was highly impressed that it only took us three hours in the early afternoon to relocate my computer and desk, the TV and DVD boxes and cords, file cabinet and four other wood and plastic sets of drawers, two tall bookshelves and all those books, the clothes and equipment (some dating back t

Cat Cardboard

The other week I watched a video on my phone about some guy who put aluminum foil on his kitchen counters to prevent his cat from hopping up there.  I’ve spent my life with cats, recently reluctantly, so the brief recording was only mildly interesting; I’d seen cats react that way from many other situations.  And I can assure the videographer (or should that be phoneographer?) that his cat will quickly learn to ignore and walk around, and even on, the foil.

By Any Other Nomenclature

I don’t know what rose Shakespeare was referring to, but it’s been my experience from ten years in the Garden Center at Exwork that most of them don’t have a fragrance, and some even stink.  Maybe it has to do with the panicked efforts of venders to reduce cost, so they created roses without scent because they took less time to grow. No one at Exwork could or would verify that.

Goofy Stuff: Bar Room Buddies

On 15 February 1981 I wrote a song I called “Passed Out,” which is curious because I drank only coffee, juices, and water then, being that I was in the military and forced to run PT three days a week.  On 29 June 1998, less than a year after we moved into Old House, I rewrote it a little, renamed it “Bar Room Buddies,” and that night I recorded it on my computer at my dining room table.

Rules of Convenience

All around the house I’m annoyed by the inconvenience of things.  Most notably on a daily basis is the rustic tray full of farming knickknacks my wife has on the coffee table that blocks the remote from my recliner.  My choices are to hold the remote higher to change channels or move the tray, which is what I eventually do. Sure, that’s not a lot of work, but it’s inconvenient because she keeps putting it back.