News From the Poor and Obscure... as Opposed to the Rich and Famous

There’s light at the end of my Adventures In Modern Dentistry tunnel in the form of a date: September 21. That’s the day I get my new prosthetic molars installed. Yays!

I had a follow-up with Dr. Thompson yesterday and he says things are looking good. We need to give everything six months to heal, “everything” being the recent (last month) installation of screws in my jaw that hold the prostheses in place. I now get to begin thinking just where I’m gonna go to enjoy my first steak in over a year and a half. It’ll be ABQ, Amarillo, or Lubbock… I’ve eaten in excellent steak houses in all three cities. Neither P-Ville nor The Big(ger) City^TM have first-class steak houses and The Golden Corral… or even Cattle Baron… just ain’t gonna cut it, yanno?

OTOH… I could buy a slab of beef and grill it myself. But let’s be honest here. NO one grills a steak in his or her backyard to the same standard as that found in a first-class steak house. I do good work, true, and so do some of my friends. But I’d give the best backyard steak I’ve ever had a B+… no higher. And this occasion calls for an A… nothing less.

―:☺:―

Speaking of The Big(ger) City^TM… we were over that way yesterday to run the periodic errands, like giving baby a bath, picking up the week’s supply of El Pinto, and such. And new de-flappers for the awning, too. The Velcro strap on one of my old de-flappers came apart in my hands as I was cinching it down yesterday, and de-flappers ONLY work in pairs… one just doesn’t cut it. I bought a pair of High Plains of New Mexico Class de-flappers (which look like they’d be suitable for tornadoes and such), meaning they have approximately four times the clamping surface area of the old units. They may not work any better than the old ones, but they sure as Hell look impressive.

I also have a new scar on The Green Hornet. I was attacked by a passel of tumbleweeds on the way over to Clovis… including about three really big suckers… all of which came at me like a Greek phalanx. There wasn’t any sort of evasive maneuver to be had, at least not for a vehicle confined to two dimensions. So I just held on as I plowed through them, one of which had the nerve to jump about a foot into the air as I made contact. The resulting collision was with my hood and windshield (as opposed to the bumper area which got yet another two or more), leaving a noticeable scratch on my hood. I’m just glad the damned thing didn’t land inside the car (the top was down, of course)… coz those things HURT.

Ah… we do have SUCH exciting news, don’t we?

―:☺:―

Predictions are in for the Wings-Ducks series, which begins tomorrow evening in Detroit. ESPN’s Scott Burnside sez Wings in six, MLive.com's own Ansar Khan sez Wings in seven, The Hockey News sez Wings in six, Eric Duhatschek (Toronto Globe and Mail) sez Wings in six… and so on. Curiously, neither the LA Times nor the OC Register make predictions… and that might be telling. Or not. As for me? I went on the record day before yesterday as saying Wings in six. But these are the playoffs... and anything can happen. See: New Jersey.

One common thread: everyone agrees this will be a fun series. I’m thinking they’re right.

Bric-a-brac

Yesterday I had another installment in my Adventures in Modern Dentistry, but this time it was kinda cool: LANAP.

After LANAP, most patients experience new root surface coating (cementum) and new connective tissues (periodontal ligament) formation (collagen) on tooth roots, preventing tooth loss. Pocket depth reduction is excellent and comparable to that achieved by conventional resective osseous or pocket reduction surgery, but without the gingival recession normally associated with osseous surgery. Significant post-operative reduction in gingival indices, gingival inflammation, and bleeding on probing are also desirable results of LANAP.

The patient experience is also generally positive. As LANAP is tissue-sparing and contrary to the old fashioned resective paradigm, patients enjoy a smile with minimal post-operative recession and attendant disfigurement or root sensitivity. Minimization of post-therapy gingival recession also reduces the future risk of root caries/dental decay of the tooth root. Through the natural analgesic biostimulatory effects of laser irradiation, patients usually have minimal post-operative discomfort. This discomfort is easily controlled through the use of Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drugs (over the counter NSAIDs) such as Ibuprofen.

Laser-assisted new attachment procedure (LANAP) is head and shoulders above the alternative treatment for gum disease… by which I mean the traditional cut 'n' stitch slash approach… most specifically in its after effects. I've had the old slash and burn bit done two or three times and it ain't fun, Gentle Reader. Oh no, not at all. Recovery from that experience is measured in weeks, not hours or days, and there are on-going after-effects (like root sensitivity) that take a year or more to resolve. My biggest issue with LANAP was waiting for the anesthetic to wear off, which took a good four hours. My second biggest issue is the fact we cancelled Happy Hour yesterday and will probably do so again today. I'm thinking cigar smoke probably isn't a good idea after surgery… even laser surgery. And me with a new shipment of Big Dirt Torpedoes, too. (Sigh)

Well, we might have a beer or two this afternoon. We'll just dispense with the cee-gars. It's been done before, albeit not often.

―:☺:―

Speaking of coolness… in both the literal and figurative sense… Here's a short video from the Discovery Channel on how ice is made… at a hockey rink. And I find the process rather fascinating. But I would, ya know.

h/t: Kukla's Korner

―:☺:―

Well… there goes the housing market here on The High Plains of New Mexico… (from the usual source of these sorts of items)

Accommodating the Buildup: As Cannon AFB, N.M., continues to grow into the Air Force Special Operations Command's second hub of operations—along with Hurlburt Field, Fla.—the desert base is expected to run out of on-base dorm rooms and housing units by around the end of the year for the new throngs of arriving airmen and their families. So reported KVII TV news of Amarillo, Tex., last week. And, according to the news station, leases for off-base housing will end in 2012 or 2013. Together, these two factors are causing the Air Force to reach out to the city commission of Clovis, N.M., which is near the base, to seek assistance in dealing with the pending housing dearth. The commission is reportedly going to mull options.

This means THPoNM might be one of the very few housing markets in America that could be considered a "sellers market." I may (or may not) have mentioned at some point in the past I've been entertaining buying another house, particularly since Cannon Airplane Patch survived BRAC and looks to live longer than I will. And it certainly looks like I missed my window of opportunity in this space. While housing prices around here won't begin to approach California levels… even in the post-real-estate-collapse market… they will escalate beyond "real" value. In other words, we shall have our own "mini-bubble." It'll happen: supply and demand. Works every time.

―:☺:―

Today's Pics, Self-Indulgent Division: Well, Hell… Virtually ALL my pics are self-indulgent in one form or another. But today I'm posting the full-sized, unedited version of the pic I use on both my Blogger and Twitter profiles, plus an outtake from the same session.

Both pics were taken at an RV park just outside Oklahoma City in the Spring of 2000 (in April, to be exact). Note the old technology… which is to say humongous… cell phone sitting on the picnic table. And speaking of old technology, both pics are first-generation digital pics... taken with my old one-megapixel Kodak point and shoot, with a quality commensurate with the age.

These pics were taken back in the day when the view from the verandah changed on a frequent basis… like every week or so… sometimes more, sometimes less. It all depended on how much fun I was having wherever I happened to be…

Just Goin' Thru the Motions

OK…there’s lots and lots of cool stuff on these here inter-tubes…like YouTube, ViralVids, Gizmodo, The Wiki, memeorandum, IowaHawk, and the like. But Blog-Bud Barry tipped me off to the coolest site I’ve seen in at least a year…possibly longer. It’s called “Stuff White People Like.” And it’s frickin’ funny. Omigawd funny. Spit coffee funny. If you’re white and you don’t see yourself or someone you know here you’re either lying, deluding yourself, or worse. Example:

#75…Threatening to Move to Canada.

Often times, white people get frustrated with the state of their country. They do not like the President, or Congress, or the health care system, or the illegal status of Marijuana. Whenever they are presented with a situation that seems unreasonable to them, their first instinct is to threaten to move to Canada.

For example, if you are watching TV with white people and there is a piece on the news about that they do not agree with, they are likely to declare “ok, that’s it, I’m moving to Canada.”

Though they will never actually move to Canada, the act of declaring that they are willing to undertake the journey is very symbolic in white culture. It shows that their dedication to their lifestyle and beliefs are so strong, that they would consider packing up their entire lives and moving to a country that is only slightly similar to the one they live in now.

Within white culture, it is agreed upon that if Canada had better weather it would be a perfect place.

Being aware that this information can be used quite easily to gain the trust of white people. Whenever they say, “I’m moving to Canada,” you must immediately respond with “I have relatives in Canada.”

They will then expect you to tell them about how Canada has a perfect healthcare system, legalized everything, and no crime. Though not true, it will reassure them that they are making the right choice by saying they want to move there.

But be warned, they will reference you in future conversations and possibly call on you to settle disputes about Canadian tax rates. So use this advice only if you plan to do some basic research.

Note: Canadian white people threaten to move to Europe.

Note: Europeans are unable to threaten to move anywhere.

There were 599 comments to the above post the last time I looked. I think the site might be catching on.

―:☺:―

Very short post today. I’ve been having a more difficult time with this latest episode of Adventures in Modern Dentistry than I thought I would. I think it was the early afternoon yesterday when I thought to myself “Hey. This ain’t so bad. I feel pretty damned good, in fact.” It couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes later when I was overcome with a wave of nausea, and a pretty severe one, at that. The usual episode at the Porcelain Plastic Altar followed in very short order. I then retired to my bed for the remainder of the entire day and half the night after ensuring I was absolutely, completely, and totally finished with My Prayers. I woke up sometime around 2330 hrs or so and was up for the rest of the dark hours… retiring sometime just after 0500 this morning. I probably should have posted something during that time but motivation, such as it was, was sorely lacking, Gentle Reader. The situation remains the same today. The odd thing is I’m not experiencing any sort of serious discomfort…nothing that can’t be handled with OTC pain relievers, anyway. I’m just psychically whipped.

This, too, shall pass…

―:☺:―

Today’s Pics: …are from my dorm room on Yokota AB, sometime in late 1976, and are meant to illustrate two specific items of décor that stayed with me from that time until the Great Divestiture of Stuff in late ‘99. That large green frog used to stand outside a pharmacy somewhere in the Greater Tokyo metropolitan area. It was “liberated” from its indentured servitude by two of The Second Mrs. Pennington’s college buddies in the wee small hours of a long-forgotten night of debauchery and petty crime sometime the previous year. I “inherited” Froggy when the guys went back to the US and decided shipping Froggy home would be more expensive than he was worth.

The second picture contains a Japanese railroad crossing sign which was similarly liberated in the wee small hours by someone else. The names of the thieves (and there were two) won’t be revealed to protect the innocent guilty-as-charged, even though I'm quite sure the statute of limitations has expired. I just wouldn't want to reveal any moral turpitude on the part of people I hold near and dear, Gentle Reader.

The third picture is of a very cold Froggy, who took up residence in places various and sundry in homes and rentals The Second Mrs. Pennington and I occupied (usually on the patio and/or deck) later on. He’s on the deck in Rochester, NY in this pic… the year is 1999 and illustrates the morning after a 24-inch snowfall. The train sign hung in various places over the course of the 20+ years in between the time I acquired it and its eventual disposition.

This and That

I'm just in from the day's errands... there's always sumthin' and today it was dropping off laundry at the wash 'n' fold and paying my Yucca Telecom bill.  I enjoy paying my Yucca bill in person as it's always a pleasant experience to interact with those folks, if paying bills can be described as "pleasant."  But this is.

So, some sweet young thang and I were leaving Yucca's premises at the same time so I held the door for her and was graced with a dazzling smile and a "Thaaank Yew!"  (Aside:  we have THE most pleasing of regional accents in this part o' the world, with the possible exception of Jawja.)  Which made me think back to a couple of occasions in SFO when I held the door for a woman and was graced (heh) with a snotty "I can do it MYSELF!"  Well, screw you too, Madam.  This is just another example of why life in a small town in rural New Mexico is better than livin' in The Big City.  But I DO wish we had a Starbucks.

Apropos o' laundry... I did a quick inventory of the 501 bench stock and was chagrined to see we have five pairs of 29x30 501s and two pairs of 28x30 501s, NONE of which I can fit into any longer.  ALL our 30x30/32 501s are either on my skinny ass or in the laundry, as we speak.  Long-time Gentle Readers know I lost a lot of weight during my two-year "Adventures in Modern Dentistry" odyssey (my appellation for getting five dental implants and all the associated surgeries, yadda, yadda) which necessitated the replacement of most of my wardrobe, especially in the 501 area.  Now we have to go through all that krep AGAIN, since the "Buck Pennington Weight-Gain-On-Two-Beers-A-Day" diet (pat pending) has been wildly successful.  Good Will will love me later this month.

And then there's this from the in-box:

Hey, it's Tim from Pandora - 

I'm writing to wish you a very Happy New Year from all of us here at Pandora! And what a year it was...
First, a heartfelt thanks to all of you for continuing to be such engaged listeners and such wonderful evangelists. In 2010 we more than doubled our audience to over 75 million people! And that was mostly thanks to continued word of mouth. For that we are deeply appreciative. 

As always, interacting with listeners continues to be our greatest joy, and greatest source of feedback. You now send us over 25,000 emails every month. What an incredible fountain of information, constructive feedback, and validation that continues to be... and those thumbs! This year alone you thumbed over 3 billion songs (mostly thumbs-up... phew!).

Getting your stations right continues to be our obsession - and a work in progress. It's a (wonderfully) hard problem and something we continue to work on every day. Your feedback is invaluable to that effort. 

[...]

Last, but not least, a shout-out to all the great new music from working artists everywhere. Keep your submissions coming. We're furiously adding music so listeners can keep discovering. The Music Genome Project surpassed 850,000 songs and is now rapidly becoming a more international collection. 

It goes without sayin' I think Pandora is the greatest thing since sliced bread The Tube O' You.  I never thought a radio station would EVER supplant my personal music collection but then Pandora happened.  True story, that.

Lastly... it's almost warm enough... at 50-something degrees and NO wind...  to do an outdoors Happy Hour today.  Srsly.  But the key word is "almost."  I'm thinkin' if we hit our forecast high of 56 tomorrow we most certainly WILL be sitting outside at this time on the morrow.  It's been a while.

Missed Opportunity

The Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta kicks off this weekend and DIL Erma and I were discussing it earlier this week, wherein she strongly hinted that I should mayhap get in The Tart and motor on up that way tomorrow.  At which point I sighed... deeply... and informed her I wasn't gonna be going anywhere until such time as the latest Adventures In Modern Dentistry reached a favorable conclusion.  This is because the simple act of eating remains problematic and speech, such as it is, is more than slightly humorous to those who engage me in conversation, mainly coz I sound like a retard, especially where words beginning with the letter "S" are concerned.  Lisp, Gentle Reader, and I has it... in spades.

That said, I sure do hate to miss the Balloon Fiesta.  I've lived here in New Mexico for nearly ten years now and have yet to witness the spectacle, close up and in person.  This year's Fiesta would be doubly good, in that I'd be in the company of those I love for the event.  But it is what it is, nu?

Further to AIMD... we went in for our second post-surgery follow-up today and had the protective membranes over the two major incisions removed.  Our progress is satisfactory at this point, given the fact we're healing a lot slower than the last time around.  We're still about three months removed from completion and that is what it is, and we knew this goin' in.  I also was given a "flipper," which I can wear as a strictly cosmetic device given that the prosthesis isn't strong enough to eat with.  It looks like this:

This also gives you some appreciation of the extent of the effort in this latest Adventure... which is to say I only have three of my original teeth left in my lower jaw.  I won't use that prosthesis for its intended purpose, but it makes a rather nice and somewhat unique paper weight, dontcha think?

Inconvenienced

Yesterday was a weird sorta day. We began our day by vanquishing our insomnia demon and rolled out of bed at 0900 hrs, assisted in no small part by an insistent cell phone which does double-duty as the only alarm clock I'll ever own from now until the Dirt Nap. We ran through our morning rituals and got ourselves all psyched up for what we thought was gonna be the Final Chapter in our Adventures In Modern Dentistry… the installation of our implants… which was scheduled to go down at noon. Most of the psyching up consisted of visions of a huge slab of rare, bleeding beef … either prime rib or perhaps a big-ass Noo Yawk steak… my self-promised reward once the light at the end of our dentistry tunnel appeared. We have waited over a year and a half for this, oh yes we has!

And we will wait a lil bit longer, too, coz I was confused. I thought I was getting my new teeth yesterday, but I didn't. Instead... I got what are called "healing caps" installed, which seems to be some sort of euphemism for more slicing and dicing of my gums and the installation of yet MORE hardware in my head. And sutures... lotsa sutures. So: No rare bleeding beef. No Happy Hour or cigars either, for that matter. It was lotsa Aleve and an extended nap… or more like a bunch of serial naps, interspersed with a lil light reading.

So... three more appointments and then we're done: suture removal in two weeks, "impressions" for the prosthetic implants in five weeks, and final installation on 12/17/2009. (sigh) It's always sumthin'.

―:☺:―

 Ummm... Yeah, I have done that... why do you ask?

Blogging will be light today, as I'm going to spend the entire day over at Daughter-In-Law Number One's house doing laundry. I'm free at last, free at last, Thank God Almighty! I'm free at LAST! … from the frickin' Laundromat, anyway, if only for a few months. (With apologies to both Buck and Erma for making light of the current situation.)

And Boy Howdy do we ever have laundry to do… I've exceeded even my normal slothfulness, procrastination, and inertia where this odious chore is concerned, what with exhausting ALL my tee shirts (including the vintage tee shirt supply), ALL my sweatshirts and polo shirts, and actually dipped into the sole remaining shirt supply in my wardrobe: those with actual buttons and collars. And my laundry bag is literally overflowing; I'll need to find something to stuff the overflow into. I'd take a picture but that's erring on the TMI side of things. There are some things you simply don't need (or want) to know, Gentle Reader.

So. Today is laundry, Beatles tunes with Sean, and mayhap even a beer or two if we feel up to it. I think we might.

One Good Thing and a Few Variations on "Worst"

Here’s a pretty cool piece on Twitter from Ed Driscoll which contains everything you ever wanted to know about Tweeting, and then some:

If you moused over the Ed Driscoll link you probably saw it takes you to a piece Ed wrote called “Twitter: ‘The Worst Person in the World.’” And yeah… that’s a nod to one of Olbermann’s signature shticks, wherein he names a daily “Worst Person” on his “show”… which is nearly always someone like Dubya, Cheney, Newt, Ann Coulter, or any other conservative who happens to pop into his ever-so-short attention span. Being named as “Worst Person” is a Badge Of Honor for conservatives, ya know.

Well, Dear Keith put his foot in it last week, BIG Time, by claiming... on air, in a “Worst Person” segment, no less!... his @countdownMSNBC Twitter account was a false-flag op by none other than Fox News. In the words of Red State: “Epic Fail!” The whole story, if’n ya missed it… is here… complete with Olby video and screenshots of the now-closed @countdownMSNBC Twitter account.

Heh. This couldn’t have happened to a more deserving asshat. Long time readers know I used to beat up on Olby quite often in the way-back… I’ve since discovered I (generally) have better things to do with my time, but this is TOO good to let slide…

―:☺:―

Apropos of “worst”… this weekend was a serious downer for YrHmblScrb. First there was the weather, wherein Ol Man Winter made a curtain-call here on The High Plains of New Mexico on Friday and Saturday… complete with freezing rain, snow, wind, and other undesirable weather thingies. Sunday was a little better in that our temps got back up into the 70s… but there was that howling wind… ever-present at this time of year. Here’s what we looked like last Friday morning:

I took that screenshot and went directly back to bed and stayed there until around 1400 hrs. It wasn’t only the weather that drove me to return abed though, Gentle Reader. I’m still not healing as well from the latest Adventures in Modern Dentistry as I think I should be and there’s a distinct possibility I may be nursing an infection of sorts. I’m scheduled to have my stitches removed late this week but I may go in earlier if The Good Doctor is available (he’s on his annual, well-deserved Spring Break at the moment).

So… there’s all that and more. I spent the entire day Sunday down with an absolutely miserable case of gastric distress, of the type where one cannot be more than a few feet from The Little Room at any given point in time. Nothing… not even water… would remain in my gut longer than about six minutes. Pepto-Bismol normally works pretty well for me when I’m so afflicted, but NOT yesterday. Whatever gut-bugs are resident in my frame simply drank The Pink Stuff up and sent it on its way… quickly. This also tells me I may be nursing some sort of infection.

This, too, shall pass.

It's Always Sumthin', Stupidity Division

I was given a mouth-guard to wear at night at the conclusion of our latest Adventures In Modern Dentistry, i.e., when I got my two new bridges and the last of several implants, the purpose bein' to prevent damage to these very expensive modern dental appliances in the event I grind my teeth while sleeping.  Not that I've ever done THAT... at least not to my knowledge... but what do I know?  I'm asleep, after all.  So I dutifully wear the thing every night.

Until last night.

I don't even know how this is possible, but I managed to lose the mouth-guard.  This event completely baffles me, as I always take the damned thing out in either one of two places: my bathroom (if I spend a "normal" night in my spiffy bed) or at the kitchen sink, if I spend the night on my spiffy couch.  I rinse the appliance and let it air dry on the sink and the only exception to this ritual is the prescribed once-a-week soak in Efferdent.  No other exceptions, none.

Yet I lost it.  It's gone.

I'm actually beginning to think someone snuck in the house and stole it coz I just could NOT be this damned stoopid.

So now I'm gonna have to pay for a replacement mouth-guard.  It's always SUMTHIN'.

Update, 1600 hrs.  Nevermind.  Found, in the door of my fridge.  I keep a baggie o' pre-cut lime wedges in my fridge and apparently the mouth-guard got stuck to that baggie at some point yesterday.  Yeah, I KNOW... it MIGHT be time to change out that baggie. 

But we ARE relieved.

Eight Miles In the Snow Without Shoes, Uphill, Both Ways...

Charles Krauthammer on the DNC...

Syndicated columnist Charles Krauthammer joined Bret Baier and Megyn Kelly on America’s Election Headquarters to give his take on First Lady Michelle Obama’s address and the first day of the Democratic National Convention.

“If I hear one more story about people walking eight miles in the snow without shoes, uphill, both ways, I’m going to start longing for a little Clint Eastwood spontaneity out here,” Krauthammer began, referring in part to a recurring theme that surfaced once again in San Antonio Mayor Julian Castro’s keynote address delivered tonight.

On the overall message of Tuesday’s speakers, he said the party “spoke endlessly” of government spending, and “re-enforced the notion that they are completely government-centered in their ideology.”

All of the above was part of this, but somehow got edited out:

Mr. Krauthammer also noted that he knew a lot about Barack Obama before Mrs. Obama's speech, but that he didn't know Mr. Obama went dumpster diving for his furniture, nor that he wore shoes that were too small. Those bits were edited out of the video above, too.  But we did learn that Mr. Obama cares, yanno?

Full disclosure:  yes, I watched Mrs. Obama's speech.  In its entirety, wherein I also learned that I have a heretofore unacknowledged masochistic streak.

―:☺:―

In other news... I watched Mrs. Obama quite by accident.  I was dozing away on the couch last evening when SN2 called at 2315 hrs to chat about the DNC and other stuff.  Sam knows I keep late hours and his hours were even later... seein' as how he lives on Eastern Time (but he's on leave this week).  So we chatted a bit and then he ran off to bed.  I tried to get back to sleep but the body/brain combination had other ideers, so we switched on Fox News just about the time Shelly gave her speech.  And we watched.

I'm trying to get back on a "normal" sleeping schedule, without much luck.  There's a reason for that: my Adventures In Modern Dentistry (Part Deux) begin tomorrow at 0730 hrs.  Dr. Thompson does all his surgeries just shortly after oh-dark-thirty, the rationale being he's at his best at that time.  Well, that's easy for HIM to say, much less so for me.  Tomorrow I'll have to (a) get up in what is usually the middle of my night, (b) endure a couple o' two hours in the dental chair shortly thereafter, and (c) do ALL that without the benefit of bein' even slightly caffeinated, for we must fast before we have five or six teeth removed.  AND there's to be no alcohol for 12 hours before and 24 hours after the procedure.  As for the alcohol... I can comply with the former demand, it's the latter bit I may have trouble with.

This otta be BIG FUN.

Random Thoughts for a Friday

First… Jenn over at “I Hate Whine!” bestowed the Arte y Pico award on YrHmblScrb, and said award was unknown to me until today. But that’s true of a lot (perhaps most) of the “awards” circulating throughout the ‘sphere. Here’s what the award (icon?) looks like:

And here’s what it means, according to its creator:

What is the meaning of the expression: And basically, ironically, it translates into a wonderful phrase in Mexico, “lo maximo.” LOL! It will never find its counterpart in English, but if it HAD to, it would be something like, Wow. The Best Art. Over the top.

The recipient of the award is supposed to grant it to five other worthy bloggers… and herein lay my “issues.” While I most certainly appreciate kind words about EIP, a link to us in your sidebar or a compliment dropped in comments is entirely sufficient. I’ll make exceptions if you happen to be from the Pulitzer Board, or a member of the Swedish Academy, or even if you're associated with the Weblog Awards. At which point we most definitely should talk…after you pick me up off the floor and revive me. Other than that? Thanks, but no thanks. Individually created “awards” may be fun but they’re meaningless… like those last-place trophies kids get these days for doing anything…anything at all.

Oh. As for “passing it on”… if you’re in my sidebar, consider yourself Arte y Pico’ed.

―:☺:―

While we’re on about blogs… I read more than a few blogs that might be considered “Mommy Blogs.” I dunno if Mil-spouse blogs fall into that category, but I suspect they do…and a few of those are in my sidebar, as well. I’ve noticed I’m the ONLY male reading a lot of these blogs, or at the very least I’m the only male who leaves comments. And that makes me feel a bit strange at times, like I’m someplace where I shouldn’t really BE, ya know? It’s sorta like walking into the women’s bathroom by mistake or being the only guy at a baby shower… it’s just not done. Which says nothing…nothing at ALL… about the hospitality of the proprietresses of said blogs, as they ALL respond to my comments (well, most do, anyway) and they all drop by EIP to read and comment, too.

So, why am I even mentioning this? No reason, except for the fact I noticed I’m the only guy at the party and it makes me feel weird. And that’s the sole reason… I said these are Random Thoughts, ya know.

―:☺:―

And even more about blogs and blogging… Do you go back and read your own stuff, from time to time, Gentle Reader? Assuming, of course, (a) you keep a blog and (b) you’ve been at it long enough to have archives. I’ve been doing that of late and have come to the conclusion that I was MUCH better at this during my first year of blogging. Or maybe even the first year and a half. I’m not sure exactly why I feel this way, but my old writing seems crisper, the opinions firmer, and the subject matter much broader than it is today. Maybe I’m in the depths of the Summer Doldrums. Maybe my Muse is goofing off and not giving me her best. Or maybe I just need to get out more… like take a road trip.

As for the last, that ain’t gonna happen this year. I’ve declared this summer…this entire year, actually… to be The Summer of Living Frugally… as I’m trying to put enough “resources” back to pay for the second installment of my Adventures In Modern Dentistry without tapping my 401(k) again. My one indulgence this year was buying that new dSLR… and that may be the key to Better Blogging.

We’ll see.

―:☺:―

Today’s Pics: A couple of way-old shots from the archives, at least one of which (Blue Eyes) is a re-run. Pictured is SN3 playing around in the car, which he dearly loved to do when he was around 16 months old (or so). That boy could literally spend hours climbing around inside the car, pushing every button he could find and giggling like a madman. But then again, I suspect ALL kids are like that. He sure as Hell made ME laugh while he was at it.

At the Ol’ Homestead in Perinton, NY (a suburb of Rochester), 1998.

Strange Days

Strange Days... That's a nod and a wink to The Doors, ya know. But... that said, today has been the strangest of strange days. It all began at oh-dark-thirty, when I rolled out of bed around five-ish. Two cups of coffee later and I began thinking "this isn't such a good ideer..." so it was back to bed, with the alarm set for 0945, given as how I had a dentist's appointment scheduled for 1100. I got up (again) around 0915... checked e-mail and had a brief chat with a friend on Facebook. Hit the shower, saddled up and headed out to what I thought was a regularly-scheduled cleaning appointment with my hygienist.

Wrong, Bucko!

I checked in at the dentist's and sat for a couple of CAT scans, followed with a consultation with Dr. Thompson. Lo and Behold... we are now scheduled for the next step in our Adventures in Modern Dentistry, which began exactly one year ago today.

Yep, in a couple of weeks time... March 3rd, to be exact... we'll sit for the first step in our implantations, which is the begining of the end. To say I'm ecstatic is an understatement of massive proportions. I've not had a steak in over one year's time... and there's BEEF at the end of our tunnel, Gentle Reader. Huge, massive slabs of rare, bleeding, tender beef! Oh, my... oh MY!

So... we came home and celebrated with two 2-Belows, followed by two Fat Tires. It was a great good thing the weather was in a cooperative mood, what with 65 degree temps and crystal clear skies. I fired up one of those wonderful Acids (a Ming, second from left in the image to the left) recently delivered to my door and took the air.

We're only just back inside and are waiting for SN3 to ring us up to discuss the finer points of cigar boxes and "Planet Earth," which constituted the sum total of his birthday gift... which The Second Mrs. Pennington advises me arrived intact and on-time... yesterday.

And we were entertained with the usual soundtrack... illustrated at the top of this post. It don't get a whole helluva lot better than this, Gentle Reader. Unless there are large slabs of rare beef involved... which there will be. Soon.

A Miserable Excuse for Light Posting and a "Must-Read"

More Adventures In Modern Dentistry today, with a morning appointment… coz that’s when The Good Doctor prefers to do these sorts of things… minor oral surgery, aka the laying in of more artificial bone to better facilitate the coming implants… as opposed to routine stuff like fillings and such. Dr. Thompson did cut me a sprout when he saw my baleful look as he proposed an 0800 appointment, and he graciously slipped the time to 0900 as a result. Which, as you know Gentle Reader, is what passes for The Dead of Night more often than not here at El Casa Móvil De Pennington. Dr. Thompson knows, too, as he let slip the fact that he’s an occasional reader of EIP. I was suitably flattered, but that emotion was surpassed by my sheer gratitude at not being forced to take to the streets before I’m fully caffeinated, and at something that closely resembles an Ungodly Hour. The general public should be grateful, too. Safety considerations, and all, dontcha know.

The foregoing is a left-handed way of informing you that posting will be light today. I’m typing this lil blurb out just before going to bed, as a matter of fact, and will post at midnite, or shortly thereafter. I would schedule the post, but Frickin’Blogger… and that’s ALL one word… is still hosing my format to the n^th goddamned degree. It takes me at least six separate editing passes after I’ve posted to get about half of the formatting correct (see the post immediately below: I gave up after the sixth editing pass, which you could verify, if you so choose, simply by looking at my Site Meter… the 9:33:08 pm entry, specifically. That’s me.). This is NOT a good thing. I’m seriously considering migrating EIP to a more format-friendly platform. Really. I am. It both amazes and mystifies me that Frickin’Blogger can’t seem to get a simple thing like fonts and spacing correct. And it pisses me right the Hell off, too. Didja notice?

―:☺:―

Lileks is GOOD today. No, check that: he’s GREAT. Here are a few excerpts to encourage you to go read the whole thing, as is my wont.

Oh, we're screedy today. It's a Canadian columnist vs. Sarah Palin; I could not resist.

[…]

I’m in a generous mood.

Or was, until I read this piece by a Canadian writer; it sums up with such delightful perfection what so many believe. So. Let’s have a look.

[…]

It's possible that Republican men, sexual inadequates that they are, really believe that women will vote for a woman just because she's a woman.

Consider the joy that would reign if someone wrote that “Democrats, racial guilt-mongers that they are, really believe that African-Americans will vote for an African-American just because he’s an African-American.” Of course Republican men don’t believe that women will vote for her just because she’s a woman. It’s surely a factor, but there’s the possibility that they will vote for her because she is not a woman like Heather Mallick.

You have to love the “Sexual inadequates that they are” line as well; if there’s one thing that’s amused me in the last two weeks, it’s the screechy distaste of Ms. Palin coming from men who embodied the Modern Alda Paradigm of masculinity, which is to say they are nervous around cars, think guns are icky, had their own Snugli, have wives in corporate jobs who make more money than they do, and still get dissed behind their backs because they can’t figure out how to make the bed. The Lost Boys, if you will. Now, some women can’t stand Sarah Palin for their own reasons, personal or ideological; same with men. Some men, however, are made deeply uneasy by her, because she’s the one who ignored the sensitive poet-guys in high school for the jocks, and didn’t seem to grasp the essential high-school truth that it’s cool to be a loser. But that’s rank psychoanalysis, and we won’t stoop to that.

[…]

They're unfamiliar with our true natures. Do they think vaginas call out to each other in the jungle night? I mean, I know men have their secret meetings at which they pledge to do manly things, like being irresponsible with their semen and postponing household repairs with glue and used matches. Guys will be guys, obviously.

It’s funny, because it’s true! Bronze that paragraph; if nothing else, it’s the death of PC, and license for guys to say anything. At least she’s honest about the idea of female solidarity – it matters only if the ideological stars have aligned – no, if the ideological cycles have synced, to use terms she’d probably employ. Or has already. It’s not about whether Sarah Palin is a woman, it’s whether she’s the right kind. She’s supposed to restrict snow machines, not ride them or for God’s sake get knocked up by some slopey-brow dullard who rides them. (Competitively! Gawd) Nationalize oil companies, don’t make deals. Have one or two children, not five – Good Gaia, woman, are you trying to make overstuffed congested Alaska top the one-million-citizen mark all by yourself?

As for guys being irresponsible with their precious bodily essences, who cares? Aren’t you using protection? Or are they using vagina-confusing Man-Beams to cloud your mind? As for putting off home repairs, here’s a hint: either learn how to do it yourself, or admit there might be yet in this enlightened age a strange vague hangover that divides labor based on innate gender-influenced personality traits. If you expect him to fix things, and you roll your eyes when he tries, and you accuse him of using spit and matches, his motivation will be diminished – and even then he’ll probably wait until you’re out of earshot before he mutters “what a fishwife.” If your man can’t fix anything it but whines that he can make a really good white sauce, don’t blame him when you have an affair with the electrician.

I know this: Mr. Palin probably doesn’t postpone household repairs, or use glue, or old matches. He can probably change the oil in the car, too. There are guys like that. Not every wife has to sit in a cold Jiffy Lube waiting room leafing through Field and Stream, wishing the weirdo in the other chair would stop looking at her legs.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is world-class snark. Good snark. Great snark. Biting and oh-so-on-point snark. No one, and I mean NO ONE on Planet Gaia gets on a roll quite like Mr. Lileks. You’re truly missing something if you don’t read the whole thing.

I might be back later today, assuming the drugs are good and the residual pain isn’t debilitating after said drugs wear off. No big deal, it’s just life. And life only, as Bobby D sang.

Cheesy Videos IV

Or… “There and Back… A Short Journey Through Portales.” There’s no other kind, actually.

Some notes on the video…

First: What you see is one of two videos I shot yesterday; there were issues with the outbound video (MUCH more about which below) and I didn’t upload it. I apologize for the shakiness of the video. I tried to stabilize the camera by holding it firmly against the steering wheel and was only moderately successful. It’s somewhat exciting to steer, shift a manual transmission, and film at the same time. I’m thinking I should include a “don’t try this at home” disclaimer but it ain’t all THAT hard, especially in a town the size of P-Ville.

Second: You just experienced a one-way trip from Wally-World (on the north side of Portales) through the totality of P-Ville… southbound on Second Street, the main drag… also known as US 70. On a good day I can drive all the way through town without stopping even once. This happens about two or three times a week.

Third: The soundtrack is selected cuts from Collective Soul’s “Hints, Allegations, and Things Left Unsaid” (1993), a favorite album from Former Happy Days.

Fourth: I’m surprised the cop (briefly visible in the vid, on the right as we come into town proper) didn’t pull me over. I didn’t see him until I was nearly past him, but I was only going about ten-over… my usual, customary and reasonable speed. One of these days, tho…

Fifth: It was a beautiful day (in the low 70s) and the top was most definitely down. Today was the first day where I felt like I might actually recover from last week’s Adventures In Modern Dentistry… and I briefly, oh-SO-briefly… considered doing a lightweight version of Happy Hour on my return. But I didn’t; we’ll hold off for another few days. I’m Jonesing in the worst way for a beer and a cigar, given it’s been a week today that I’ve been both alcohol- and tobacco-free.

Last: I added titles and credits to the video but decided not to use that version, as the aforementioned additions added well over 300 MB to the final file size (!!), an increase that also is probably associated with converting mp4 files to wmv format. So… what you see is raw, unedited video… the file sizes are MUCH smaller that way (but they are in HD; that’s something). FWIW… it takes FOR-FRICKIN’-EVER to upload a 600+ MB file to YouTube.

―:☺:―

Issues

Be advised: this is long. I thought long and hard about (a) writing about this at all and (b) posting the piece if I DO write about it. The issues I mentioned about the first of the two videos I shot yesterday weren’t technical in nature, they were social. And terrifying on at least two levels… so much so that I’m still shaken today, more than 18 hours after the events I’m about to relate transpired.

I got back from Wal-Mart around 1630 hrs and set to transferring the two videos I shot to the computer, played around with the Mino FlipShare movie-maker software, and began to upload the raw files to YouTube after the movie-maker thing proved unworkable. Around 1800 hrs there was a knock at my door and I got up to answer it. I opened the door and saw two guys standing there, one in his mid-40s or so and the other considerably younger. Both men had a sort of Aryan Nation look about them… powerfully built, short hair, black Harley tee shirts and that “I’ll kill you” look on their faces that Victor Davis Hanson was on about in that piece I posted yesterday… except the looks on their faces were “I’ll kill you,” meaning me... in frickin’ spades.

I said “hello” and asked how I could help them. The older of the two men said “My name is John (Something). You took some pictures today of some kids in a (vehicle). I want to see the pictures AND the camera.” This wasn’t a request, it was a demand, and in no uncertain terms. The younger man stood next to the older guy, silent with his arms folded over his chest, glaring at me. My first thought was “WTF?” And then I replied: “There are no pictures. I used a video camera today and I’ll show you the video, if you like.”

“Show me” was the reply.

I let the two of them into the RV and we went to the computer, whereupon I brought up the video. I began shooting the first video in the trailer park yesterday to give all y’all a bit of a flavor of my environment. I turned the camera on after I dropped off my trash at the dumpster, turned around, and proceeded towards the highway. In so doing I passed the mail kiosk, where there was a vehicle parked. A young girl of perhaps six or eight years of age was in the back seat, hanging out the window. She was smiling and waving so I pointed the camera at her as I passed and smiled back. The elapsed time couldn’t have been more than three seconds, if that, and given the shakiness of my videography skills… compounded by the fact I was in a moving car… her face was barely on-screen at all.

Older Aryan Guy growls: “I want you to put that video in my hand.”

“I can’t do that,” I replied.

“Do it or I’ll take the whole computer.” This was getting uglier by the minute, if not the second.

“What’s the problem here?” I asked.

“I don’t want pictures of my kids on the internet for perverts to look at. I spent 15 years in (some military organization) and I KNOW anyone can identify the exact place this video was shot.”

More conversation went down… him demanding, me refusing, Younger Guy standing by looking menacing. I don’t remember all that was said verbatim but it finally came down to “Let’s call the police.” Which was fine with me, as any fool could plainly see there was ZERO evil intent in play here, especially in the context of the rest of the video, which was me providing running commentary as I drove through Portales towards Wal-Mart. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 411, asking the operator for the Portales police department’s number. My two friends said they would wait outside, and I went to the door with them, cell phone to my ear.

I proceeded to wait to be connected after assuring the 411 operator this wasn’t an emergency. A couple of minutes passed and no connection. I told the older man I had no idea what was going on; he replied “Call 911.” I refused, saying this wasn’t an emergency and there are laws about using 911 inappropriately. It was about this time I made a suggestion.

Me: “Look, that video doesn’t mean a damned thing to me and I can always re-shoot it, anyway. It obviously bothers you, so let’s go back inside and I’ll delete it. You can watch me do it.”

Him: “OK.”

So… we go back to the computer, which has Windows Explorer open from when I first showed them the video, and I do the shift-delete thing, which deletes the file rather than sending it to the trash. “Bong” goes the computer… “cannot delete file as it’s in use by another program.” I’d forgotten I was uploading to YouTube. I explained the issue to my two friends, canceled the YouTube upload… making damned sure they saw me do just that… and deleted the file.

Older Guy sez “You sure you deleted it? It’s gone?”

“Yes. It’s gone”

“I better not see that video anywhere,” sez he. And then they left.

I closed the door, relieved they were gone. I was pretty shaken up by this time, so I took one of those Acid C-Note cigarillos out of my humidor and fired it up… stitches be damned. I stood in the kitchen for about 20 minutes and smoked that cigarillo down to a nub, replaying the events of the last hour in my mind. I calmed down enough to return to the computer and began uploading the vid you see above.

Fast forward an hour… to around 2000 hrs; there’s another knock on the door. I open the door and there’s a police officer standing there. He says “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes.” “OK, sez I… “Would you like to come in?” “Please,” he says.

This is where I’ll make a long story short. The police officer identified himself and why he was there… and it was all about the video. He asked me for identification. I gave him my drivers license, he called it in, I came back clean (Wow. Surprise!). I then I spent about 15 minutes explaining myself in great detail, answering his questions fully, accurately, and as simply as possible. It was about that time I wished I hadn’t deleted the damned video because I was now in a position of having to defend myself without incontrovertible proof of my innocence. And I told the officer that. He replied he thought the video wasn’t really gone and it could be recovered, if need be. I acknowledged that and told him that was certainly true but that I was no forensic PC specialist.

Fifteen more minutes had elapsed by that time and it appeared I had successfully convinced the officer that I was NOT a pervert, all this crap went down innocently enough, and my two Aryan Friends had grossly over-reacted. He agreed somewhat but allowed as how there are a lot of perverts in the world. I replied that I was offended at being accused of being one of them, when I’m clearly not. He simply nodded.

But wait… there’s more.

“Is there any marijuana in here?”

“No!”

“I smell marijuana smoke.”

“What you smell is the remnants of that cigarillo in the ashtray at your elbow.”

“Is there any marijuana in that?”

“No… let me show you.” I reached into the cabinet behind me, pulled out my humidor, and took the package of C-Notes out, handing them to the officer. He examined them closely.

“Is there any marijuana in these?”

“No” is what I said… “Do you think for a frickin’ minute I’d hand those to you if there was?” is what I thought.

The officer sniffed the cigarillo and handed it back to me.

“That could be what I smelled. Thank you and have a nice evening.”

And with that he left. It was now nearly 2100 hrs and I’m a complete frickin’ wreck. I remained a frickin’ wreck for the rest of the night. I couldn’t sleep. I tried, but I just kept replaying these events in my mind’s eye… they would NOT go away. I finally got up around 0330 after watching a LOT of teevee, made a half-pot of coffee and finished messing around with the YouTube video. I went back to bed around 0830 and finally fell asleep just after 1000 hrs. I slept exactly three hours.

So. All’s well that ends well, I suppose. But it’s a sorry state of affairs when a guy is accused of being a pedophile… and that’s what this was ALL about… for just pointing a video camera at a laughing, smiling little girl sitting in the back of a car. I’m still shaking as I type this, because there are VERY few things that are worse than what I went through yesterday. But, yeah… it COULD have been worse.

Yum! (And Other Thangs)

Apropos o' everythang, this:

I say that coz we're off to ABQ tomorrow to spend time with DIL#1 and fam'bly.  Mayhap I could talk her into having dinner at El Pinto while I get a half-bag o' chiles, roasted especially fer ME...

―:☺:―

We were gonna take off and go to ABQ this past weekend but I was held hostage by the USPS.  That's coz SN1's birthday is tomorrow and I was waiting for Godot... err... a shipment o' cee-gars from cigar.com that never arrived... until yesterday.  I had ordered a box o' SN1's favorite smokes, half o' which I intended to re-ship to him for his birthday.  But those kind and oh-so-efficient folks at the post office decided it would be a Good Thang to send my shipment to Puerto Rico, the upshot o' which was I didn't actually receive said shipment until yesterday, when it was far, far too late to re-ship.  But we had a Plan B, whereby we contacted the ever-helpful Tim at cigar.com and got him to ship directly to SN1 at his Undisclosed Location^TM in the desert.  Then I find out from SN1 that he's gonna go off on a TDY to yet another Undisclosed Location^TM on his birthday, which is tomorrow.

You just can't win sometimes.  But I guess his birthday present will be waiting for him when he returns early next week.  And then we should see a photo like this:

SN1 at Kandahar, in the near wayback.

Hopefully.

―:☺:―

In other news... we made a Command Decision: we're gonna go the implant route on our upcoming Adventures In Modern Dentistry, Part Deux.  We briefly flirted with getting a partial plate... at half the cost of implants... as an option, but we decided against that and are goin' to go the full-implant route.  I just don't wanna mess with false teeth and all the hassle that option involves.  It's a "quality o' life" decision and one that I HOPE I'll live to appreciate, which might could be problematic given my advanced age.  But, Hey!  Whatevah.  Ribs and corn on the cob will be viable options in future, dontcha know.  The launch date for our latest AiMD is set for 09/06/2012, when we'll lose six teeth in preparation for the follow-on implants and stuff.  But his latest adventure should only take a maximum of 45~60 days, or so I'm told... not like the two year journey o' times past.  We takes what we gets.