The Friday after Thanksgiving

To most folks, the Friday after Thanksgiving really doesn't have much meaning. Oh sure, there are a few loose bolts who got up at O dark thirty to go shopping someplace, but generally, it's a loafing lame day...except in Lincoln.

This is Colorado day in Lincoln. It's a little after 9:00 am and the streets outside of the coffee house are starting to fill with the red-clad fans of Nebraska football. It normally is a pretty exciting time in Lincoln but this is one of those seasons. If the Huskers don't win today, no bowl game and the streak of 30 something bowl game appearances comes to an end. That's a sad possibility especially in Nebraska.

There is a reason. Grayness. That's what's in store for the next three or so months. Nothing but grayness and cold and maybe lots of snow. But grayness is the big deal. Gray skies. Gray snow. Gray looking people. Just grayness.

A Colorado win would extend the color part of the year for a few more days. People would be talking about the bowl game even though it will be played a long time before New Year's Eve in some town not really known for bowl games. Rattletrap Rose will get a few more hundred hours of explaining how Nebraska football operates and what players really are deep down inside...Benson Bunnies, Lincoln Southeast Knights. He knows alot about mascots.

But even that will not stop the coming grayness. I should be more positive. Christmas is on the horizon. My bother's birthday in January. Mine in February. And then the grayness gives way to be best part of the year...

Tornado season!

Go Big Red. Beat the Buffs and hold off the gray for another day.

Smaller tables

Thanksgiving tables are smaller than they use to be. And there is no ham sauce--half apple jelly and half mustard to give the ham a little extra kick. Yes, I know it should be turkey on Thanksgivng and it was, plus a ham.

I never did like the oyster dressing but the other kind was good. The bean dish with the French's onion things was good, too. But the sweet patatos with marshmellows melted and just a hint of starting to burn made the meal.

I don't know if kitchens still have all of those square aluminum pans and those big roasters anymore. Plus, it's been ages sinch I have seen one of those big mixers where you slid the whatever to be mixed under it and flipped down the mixer on it and the bowl went round and round. Whipped cream started in the bottom of that thing and slowly worked its way to the brim where a sneaky little finger lay in wait. I use to put a little on top of the dog's nose and what him lick himself to death trying to get at it. Someday I will pay for that I suppose.

Pumpkin pie had to have whipped cream. There might be a piece of mince pie around, too but I was never big on that one. Mince meat had a bad sound to it. I stuck with pumpkin and pecan. Cool whips is good but whipped cream is different. It stays will you longer and adds to the guilt later on.

Speaking of later on, a turkey sandwich on Wonder Wread with Miracle Whip and lettace got me throught Lassie and the Bengal Lancers.

Do you suppose the Bengal Lancers are still running on some cable channel or did they go the way or stout old Thanksgiving tables and ham sauce? It's been a long time since I was a kid but heck, I bet the Lions are still trying to beat Dallas in the someone's other room.

God Bless and Happy Thanksgiving.

Goodbye Young Marine

Omaha is grieving today. They have a lot of company. Their first casualty of the Iraq war is coming home for the final time and will be honored by his country, his state, his city, and his friends. Someone else may be there but he is only a couple of days old. The little boy is the newborn son of this young Marine and was born just two hours before his dad was killed.

His dad was a popular guy. He was a high school quarterback. Handsome. Motivated. Driven to be a leader. He married the beautiful cheerleader he always loved.

There is greatness in this, but also such a loss. If you are like me, tears form when you think about this young guy who now lays silent under a spread of red, white, and blue. What could his life have been? Wouldn't you have loved to have this little young family living next door to you? Son and dad playing ball in the backyard during summer. Dad mowing his lawn. Mom planting her flowers. Cub Scouts. Boy Scouts. Football Friday nights.

But this dad won't be here.

Or will he?

Take a minute and say a prayer for all of them. Cover his flag with a tear from your heart today. I can't imagine that even God's great hands can hold all of the tears.

Goodbye and God bless you young Marine.

The hole in my head

Ok, I have a hole in my head. That's not news to anyone who knows me very well but none the less, I have a REAL hole in my head. It's where my right eardrum use to be. That's right, my eardrum is toast. In fact, it drains alot and the stuff smells like skunk mating perfume. Yuck!

My GP set up an appointment with an ENT who may have to set up surgery with an ear specialist who specializes in doing this type of surgery. Duh?

No wonder medical care is so expensive. One little skunk smelling hole and three doctors have, or will, get their cut. Where is Dr. Dorsey when you need him?

Who is Dr. Dorsey? Well, back in about 1949, he was my family's doctor. In fact, he spotted polio in me in time to do something to save my little life. Pretty cool, huh. If it wasn't for Dr. Dorsey, you wouldn't be reading this right now.

He did everything. My dad drove him through the snow in the trusty Miller Motor wrecker in order to get him to a farm lady who was in labor. He stitched. He cut. He knew. He went to bedsides and helped the sick recover and the dying go in peace. I wrote about him in my book, A Visit to Hartington. *Shameless plug*

Today, it take a staff of doctors to do what good 'ole Dr. Dorsey did. And he went out to see folks.

I wonder what he would have done about the hole in my head? I imagine he would have looked at it and sent me to Sioux City to see a specialist.

Love Site Spinner!

Boy, do I LOVE Site Spinner (and it's little brother, Web Dwarf.)

What a great piece of software for doing web pages. I just re-did mine (tale4sale.com) using these two programs. Site Spinner cost about $50 I think and Web Dwarf is FREE! Imagaine, something that good is FREE! *Backflip*

It's been a long time since I have gotten that excited about something that actually works on XP. I have had my battles with SP2 so I am kind of down on the Windows way to the web. Mac is back on my mind, big time.

I started with a Mac, as I suppose almost everybody did. In the ad business, there was nothing better. But I drifted away when some other "must have" software came along. I never went back. The college kids in The Coffee House show up with these Mac G-4's et al and I am really impressed with the ole' Macs. Especially since they don't get attacked by bad virus programs. Mac owners laugh at all of the software we Windows folks have to buy just to keep the Titanic of comupters afloat.

But anyway, today I am happy because my website looks cool and soon I should be selling my ebooks online. That's got me jumping for joy today for the second time already. Check vituralmechanics.com for the Site Spinner 30 day trial and the free download for Web Dwarf.

You want to know what had me jumping the first time today? The first time was when I was putting on my undies this morning and Buc stuck his head through one of the leg holes. Five feet going in one direction and one hopping around in the other and I was saying..."please Lord, don't let this dog bite now!"

Attacking the new book

Ok, I have waited long enough. It's been through three edits and I suppose there are a couple of edits to go but I have pulled The Rooming House out from under my chair and it is going to turn into my third published book. The target date is February 27, 2005. (My birthday :o)

House, as I like to call it, is the sequel to The Last Flight of Kilo Mike. I wrote Kilo Mike in 1998 because I was worried about how US Customs went about the business of inspecting planes coming into the United States, No, I wasn't all that concerned about airliners. The heat is up on trying to grab one of those and terrorists are basically chickens who sneak around and try to find the easy way to do things. With the inspections in place on airliners, that is no longer easy.

Kilo Mike was based on my overseas flying experience. When we came back from Africa et al, we had to clear customs in Bangor, MA. The agent sondered out (slow bored walk), asked us if we had anything to declare, and singed the form and sondered back. He never looked into our Learjet which was packed floor to roof with boxes. We could have had anything in there...maybe even a suitcase nuke. That was the idea behind Kilo Mike. I designed the cover--a jet flying behind two very tall square twin buildings. It was published in March 2001. It's on amazon and whatever. Go look. I know it is spooky.

Anyway, the hero of the book is a co-pilot named Donnie. I brought him back to Lincoln for The Rooming House. Unlike the premise of Kilo Mike, House doesn't deal with terrorism. It is more of a Psycho type book and I am going to finish it, dammit.

I put it away after I had some writer friends read it. One of my mentors didn't like it and gave specific reasons why. He is not a fiction guy and admitted that up front but he gave me some things to consider so I put it away for a few months and considered. Now it is time to get it done becuase I have two more I want to write before I drop dead.

Anyway, I thought I should give you advance warning because I may be chatting about book writing--kind of talking to myself don't ya know.

Buc is not going to edit it.

Crunchy under foot

It's about that time. My mind is already drifting to the thought of snow. The palace (my camper) is pretty chilly and I am not too excited about the upcoming winter. It is only suppose to last three months like the rest of the seaons, but winter start early and stays to long. It really is a long event in Nebraska.

Thank God I am not Canadian. There is a good reason. The weatherperson on television does their best to create weather fear in you..."and there is a mass of Canadian cold air moving in our direction...expect temperatures to plunge." Gee, what about the Canadians? It's their air and they are in it all of the time. No wonder they say "eh" at the end of every sentence.

Buc is noticing a difference, too. He used to jump out the door as soon as I opened it in the morning. Now, he puts on the brakes, sniffs, looks into the no daylight savings time dark, and then back at me as if to say..."I can hold it until it warms up a little."

No deal dog-a-rue. Out you go and me in tow. He prances briskly and shakes his coat in the first couple of yards. Then he heads off the sidewalk for the grass and the leaves of my neighbor's yard. (He didn't rake so it is easier to mix nauture'call amid nature's fall.)

He looks at me fairly quickly once on the crunchy leaves and grass. Clearly, his paw pads are not in a defrost mode and he kind of dances over the grass before, well anyway.

Try walking barefoot on your yard at five in the morning on a Nebraska late fall morning. It's crunchy and cold underfoot.

But be careful where you step, please. :o)

Punish when he pees?

I've got a problem. It's with my little, well not so little anymore, dog Buc. I have told you he is cute but I have got a real problem with him.

Since I work for myself, I try to take him along with me rather than box him up in his box at home. He gets to look out and see the world and has met a million dogs who somehow manage to drive pickups from the back. I get a bunch of funny looks from him when he is nose to nose with a big hound in a pickup box. I use to let him look through a half opened window. That was just enough for him to put his paws on the armrest and his head through the window and get a snootful of wind as his floppy black and white ears laid back like the wings of a stealth bomber. He loved it and caused quite a few great smiles from other drivers as we zoomed along the Lincoln streets. I was OK with that until he did an about face and went out the window butt first. Jesus, there I was on 48th Street in Lincoln hanging my dog! The hell with the bastards, I came to a stop and jumped out of the car and rescued my hanging dog. The window doesn't go that far down anymore and he knows full well the wrath of God from such an event.

Perhaps, that is what caused the problem I now have. Yes, I still take him along but when I come back to the car, he is so excited, he get tinkleitis. Just a squirt or two but none the less, this cannot be allowed to stand. I tried to scold him. He got down on the floor and tinkled more. I whacked him with a loosely rolled up newspaper. He tinkled on the door.

Then it dawned on me. What the hell am I doing punishing this little guy for his inability to control his glee on my return. That's a first! Imagine a creature that excited to see another creature to cause that creature to pee and the ohter creature to explode in rage?

The dog training manual isn't to helpful on the subject and it has been ages since I got a Fingerhut letter. What's a dog loving guy to do?

Should I punish when he pees? Or maybe, I should just clean it up, shake my finger at him, take him for a walk, and be grateful I have that good of friend.

College town coffee house

Let's face it. Lincoln, Nebraska is not a playpen for old goats. This is the home of four universities, the biggest of which is the home of the Huskers, The University of Nebraska.

And don't think for a moment that being in Lincoln means this is a lilly white university. After all, this is where Tommy Lee decided to sink his reality show roots, or root as it were.

The best part of Lincon is The Coffee House. Yes, I mean "The" not just any because there are more than one. The Mill is good. The one near Weslyan University is OK but kinda lame for my taste, but The Coffee House is the best.

The people who work here are just plain fun and it has atmosphere that you would expect in a big city. It looks worn. It has lame artwork from budding artists hanging on orange walls with old paneling going about elbow high. The tables match. The chairs don't. There is a white tile floor that is just uneven enough to make you rock on if you choose the wrong or right table. The conversation flows between far left to further except for an occasional, non-gloating Bush supporter like me.

You'll find a few foreign students who define countries like France and Italy as cool, including a few Arabs who have lost their Muslim ways and taken up cigarettes, coffee, and I suppose other things, too.

This may be the only place in Lincoln where a Husker football loss goes unnoticed. Imagine that. In Lincoln, Nebraka. Isn't that just the horror of "Whoa Nellies."

There is even a regular guy whose mind is just as toast as the skinny pieces of old toast they sell for you to drop into a cup of coffee, or nuked milk, or hot choc or tea. Do you do that to tea? I said I was a Bush supporter so I always give tea drinkers a second look and think Homeland Security should be watching them more carefully.

But this coffee house is really a study in t-shits. That is what a college town is all about you know. Life is lived in a t-shirt. It should be a fairly exciting t-shirt--something with a bar name on it or some travel destination that had to do with a sport or water.

The Coffee House will change soon. No, not the owner who zooms through here like that bird cartoon character who outwits the coyote; or Reyna who can open with the joint using just one eye at 0 dark thirty; or spiked-haired grumpy who always has a smile for even the hapless non-tippers; or Harper with his bushy head of hair who just drives the girls nuts. (I'm sure they see him as someone to mother or a smart guy who can help them pass something like chemistry or math where you use letters instead of numbers.) The Coffee House will change because the right won and passed a no smoking ban in all public places.

God knows that pisses 'em off. I just sit here in my gray Wal-Mart t-shirt and smile.

It's great when you have been almost everywhere and don't care if you impress anyone.

Give me a cup of something dark Reyna, and on Saturday morning, I'll buy a cinnamon roll, too,

Who are you looking at you French commie?

Indian summer

Well the bugs are dead. The pretty leaves are gone. There have been a couple of days of windshield scraping mornings. Buc is confused why his little paws are coming into morning cold, cruchy grass and why I am saying..."get it done"...only a few feet from the house. And today, it is here.

Indian summer. To you non-Nebraskans, that means a couple of days of almost perfect weather before things turn to crap and Nebraska becomes a tundra.

People start to think about "beach" and "sun" except for some to those folks who drank to much in their youth and lost all of those brain cells. They start thinking "ski." Their kids think "snowboard" but they are still kids and not concerned about earning what they need to earn to pay for their ski trip to snob land and my impending Social Security.

This had to be a scarey time for the Indians. I don't think the teepee "R" level was that high and they knew what was coming. Plus, if they hadn't bagged a good deer and got the hide tanned in time, there would be no long pants. Ponder that from the male point of view when the wind chill is about 60 below zero. Anybody who want to go to the top of the moutain for fun instead of a warm, sunny beach is a nuttier guy than me.

I wouldn't have made a very good indian. But their summers are neat. Enjoy it because the buffalo are turning their butts to the North and it won't be long before tundraitis is here. Yuck.

Invaders

Do you remember some of those invader from Mars films back in our kid days? (Granted, some of you are more kidn than me so there is some question of what I mean.)

Do a web search for Orson Welles and/or War of the Worlds. It was a dandy radio show back in the 1930's or so where the "movie" was created in your head instead of on a screen in front of you. And Orson created a dandy on a New York radio station for his Mercury Theater. Or was it Ford? He used H.G. Well's book, "The War of the Worlds" a story about men from Mars invading earth. Orson used brilliant talent and sound effects to create a spoof that the invasion was really happening. His show created a panic in New Jersey--worse than the rumor that President Bush was going to carry the state. Serious stuff.

Well I have been in kind of a panic myself lately. My computer, a new E-machine laptop with more of everything than I will ever need, has been loading a lot of blank browser pages. You type in an addy and nothing happens. Well my days at Best Buy as a computer selling whiz back in the 486 days, told me something was up and it was not good.

I went back to the trusty store and hunted up some of my old buds in the computer area. They are the ones that blink alot and have very glassy eyes and are too smart to spend their lives playing computer games, but a choice is a choice.

Sure enough,I had been invaded. And that is WITH a firewall installed and just to be sure, a complete factory restore of the software and Norton Anti-Virus software. Get the idea here?
They told me to download a little freebee software program called Ad-Aware. You can get it at download.com. I did. I ran it. And presto! Fifty-nine little invaders were on my computer taking notes for God knows who on where I was going and what I was doing. They have hijacked my computer!

Hijacked is not a friendly word for this old pilot to use. And if I could ever identify where these wonkettes lived and worked, I would nuke 'em. Well I would let Bucco piss on their hard drives anyway.

Try ad aware. It's good stuff from good people. Sic 'em little dog!