Where Kennedy & Henderson intersect

look into ourself and find
a little less than what we thought
from all the layers peeled away
a smaller truth than what we sought

a light that shines, intense or not
illuminates our way
our grand ideas, pontificate
are just the words we say

to coexist or choose the pain
the twisty path or straight
towards the evening or the light
the spike of hope that starts the day

remarkable is what I'm not
remember me you won't
but you will see the good I do
except for when I don't

we look into ourself and find
a lesserness than what we'd thought
from all the layers stripped away
a smaller truth than what we sought

Oohhhh, and look, they rhyme. I like it when they rhyme. I feel the rhythm in words and in my mind they snake this way and that. You either understand what I mean or you don't. I have a minstrel's soul, I believe, and words soothe me. I don't mean that incessant babbling is soothing, because it is quite the contrary. But for me, the message is somewhat less important than the rhythm. And by the way, the message in that rhyme, written in one pass as usual, is "Coexist, y'all. None of us is all that."

It is Spring and I am lazy. Kind of. At work I have been very busy. I just taught a two week maintenance course for the first time. That is pretty labor intensive. As a student you come in, sit through class, do some practicals, and go home. As you know, the instructor also has to prepare, give and grade the tests, document the progress, print grad certificates, secure and open the classroom, etc., etc. So I am busy enough at work. And next week I have a new class for the guys at Osaka's Kansai Airport. Besides being sticklers for detail, not my strongest suit, there will be the added work of feeding them what they want, which will not be easy in a Florida beach town, helping them decide what to do in their off hours and help them get directions, and working through a translator all the while. It'll be both fulfilling and draining.

But when I get home I have just been lighting a big fat cigar, putting the lawn chair under the big tangerine tree (because in the Spring it smells like I believe heaven will smell...minus the cigar smoke of course) and sitting, alone with the dogs. There are things I could be doing, like blogging, but life is short. I have often said that the best friends (and by extension, the best days) allow just doing nothing to be a valid course of action.

In the meantime I have refinanced the house. The market sucks right now, so the mortgage bankers are scrambling. I called a feller up and told him I wanted to refinance but I worked far away and was busy. How could he accomodate me if he wanted my business? He was quite accomodating, as it turned out. We did all the negotiation and then paperwork in a series of meetings at a Starbucks on Lumsden Avenue, at 5:30 in the afternoon, exactly 1 small parking lot out of my way as I was coming home from work. On the appointed days I would drive home as usual except when I got to the Starbucks I would turn into the lot, get out, meet with my banker, get back in the car, exit the parking lot, and continue home. I must say, that was pretty convienent. And he had great ties. Real snappy dresser.

I think that I had some words of wisdom to scribe here, but I have forgotten what they were.

Did you hear that the Don Imus fallout has now affected the Miss America pagent? Damndest thing. There will only be 49 contestants this year because nobody wants to wear the sash that says "Idaho". (OK, admit it. That's a good one.)

Dang! Have I been away too long or what? I can't get blogger to move my pictures where I want them and it is double and triple spacing things on it's own. Not so sure I like my word processors being so headstrong. Nowattimean??

AI, I did check out the Dexateens, and I liked them. I think we are eye to eye in the music department. There's a lot of really, really twangy country music (George Jones and Vern Gosdin come to mind) that we may not have in common, but we got the same idea about the southern rock/rockin country/teenage rebel confessionals stuff.

I have friends coming down from Jacksonville for the weekend. The husband, my old friend, is still active duty and still stationed in Qatar. The kids want to see a rock show at Raymond James Stadium here in Tampa on Sunday. So the wife has 3 kids and two dogs (shih tzus are kinda like dogs, right?) and is headed to town. I, of course, made my home available to them all. It's what you do, right?

Go Speedracer, out
Ramblin' Ed

Ponderosa Gumption, not Petticoat Junction

Nope, read nothing into it. The title was just to help my feeble minded self remember some stuff I had thought of writing about while driving into work today. I think of a lot of stuff, but my rememberizer often fails me when I log into blogger. So I've took to trying to trick things into memory.

I got a 4 GB thumb drive from Radio Shack (Radio Chateau sounds classier, but French. Perhaps Radio Shaque?) for $40 on Friday. It wasn't some kind of special deal just for me, though. I saw it in the paper and stopped to pick it up on the way home.Just thought you should know. Flash memory is the bomb, not literally of course, for a traveling man. No matter if your laptop hard drive fails, your work will still be accessible on any computer. Da bomb, I tell ya. Though not literally.

Something I just realized today, and by now you know I observe the world with a slightly skewed, yet crystal clear vision, is that "Decaf" read backwards would be pronounced "Faked". That actually makes sense, doesn't it? Or maybe "Faced", I suppose, depending on your take of the whole hard c / soft c conundrum.

My ambition is higher with this wife than the first. First wife was a country girl from Looziana. We were both prone to make the most of what we had, but neither of us was eat up with the feeling that we had to work harder, faster, longer. We had what we had and we dealt with it. Left to my own devices I would invariably end up in a small home on a bayou somewhere, with a barefoot wife, a faithful dog and a 1o' jon boat, fishing days and watching TV at night.

My second wife grew up priveledged, and even when she moved out of her home and out on her own never believed for a second that she wasn't still priveledged. Broke, maybe. But still priveledged. So enter me, new husband and get along guy. Used to working with the hand I was dealt. Learning that, if the hand I was dealt didn't include an acceptable level money (moola, cabbage, greenbacks) then I needed to throw down another shuffle, because she had high end products to do and places to spend. And, the boy must admit sheepishly, I became used to nicer stuff than before, too.

For that reason, I wound up earning a college degree that I had never needed/wanted, working more hours than I'd like to, at a better job with a bigger company than I ever would have imagined, thinking hard on how best to advance and how fast I can do it all because it was being pointed out to me that no matter what I was making, the opportunity actually existed to make even more. I suppose. Hey, regardless of whether or not it comes as the result of a forced march forward, I'm calling it ambition.

I think I coined a phrase this morning, although I don't know if it counts as coining (or even phrasing, for that matter) if you don't say it aloud. I walked into the breakroom and a woman was staring off, towards the bulletin board, although I didn't get the sense she was looking at the board, or anything really. Kinda had that far off look. She was quite attractive, which doesn't have any bearing on this story other than I just like remembering her. Anyway, when I saw her I remember thinking to myself, "She's awfully pretty, standing there all lost in ponderment like that." Ponderment... that's actually kind of cool.

If I had a dime

for half the things I done

that didn't make no sense at all

I'd be living a little higher on the hog, out

Ramblin' Ed

Slacker-daisical

I've had plenty of time to write, I suppose. I was home for 2 weeks, wife took a regular job that has her out of the house all day, six days a week. There have been the chances. I just didn't want to. Or rather, I kinda wanted to, just didn't feel like it.


It's been sunny, and a little rainy, and warm, and... and... and you know. I got to doing stuff. Heck, it's Spring. You got stuff to do. Flower planting, grass tending, shrub maintenance, and fishing. Might be baseball season to a lot of folks here, but for me its fishing season.

I took a good chunk of my personal Ed money (my stash, my mad money, my rainy day fund) went to Wal-Mart and then K-Mart (no Bass Pro Shops locally that I am aware of) and hit the aisles. Worms, minnows, crank baits (divers, floaters, suspending, broke-back), spinners, beetles, crickets, frogs, you name it. If it was rubber, if it was shiney, or if it was shiney rubber that was guaranteed to swim like a wounded bait fish, well, I bought it. I have always said lures were designed more to catch fishemen than fish anyway. Think about it. Fish don't carry wallets, fishermen do. Fish got no pockets. Bought a couple of new spinning rod combos and I am good to go.

I am in Houston this very morning. The weather is pleasant and Texans, in their natural habitat are quite friendly and hospitible. Get 'em out of Texas and they become a might hard to take, but when theey are at home you can't find a nicer bunch. Assuming of course you avoid the dark alleys and crack neighborhoods. But that's pretty much universal. Which reminds me...

Liberty call in Montego Bay, Jamacia was the most scaredest I've ever been in my adult life. Sorry Jamacia. Yes the beaches were white. Yes the sun was warm. And yes, those two girls came up danced with us, turned us on, then walked away, all without ever saying a word. But Yikes! All of that was surrounded by what can only be described as a giant crack neighborhood. There was no place that didn't look and feel like a bad neighborhood.

We could not get mail delivered because the consulate said that absolutely everything would be tampered with or stolen. Then the local guy comes on to give a port brief and, much to the chagrin of the Captian and XO, commenced to telling us in great detail where to find the drugs and prostitutes that he was sure we'd have a great time without. Our tech reps flew in from stateside and managed to go about 10 minutes on the beach before being lured into an lley an robbed. They wanted the ship to reimburse them their loss but the Chief Master at Arms, in a moment of raw beauty, replied, "We ain't gonna reimburse you (fornicators) nothin'! Get the hell outta here before I write your sorry (hienies) up for being too (fornicating) stupid to (fornicating) live." See, there are two basic themes you can draw from that story. A) Civilians had a certian sense of entitlement when working as tech reps for the government and, B) The good Chief was a firm believer in fornicating.

OK, I really got nothing. No seriously, nothing.


The kid will live and learn
As he watches his bridges burn
From the point of no return
Babylon sisters shake it

Ramblin' Ed

Springtime in gator country

Some miscellaneous stuff for y0u. I took the pictures today while fishing near here. But first things first. I took this HOW DIXIE ARE YOU- quiz and my result was "88% (Dixie). Did you have any Confederate ancestors?" You try it. Takes but a moment.

"Everyone likes the simple life until it gets complicated!" - Dilbert


The pictures:
This is where we were fishing. It was actually an old phosphate pit (phosphate mine) that was reclaimed and made int0 a nature area. It has some pretty decent fishing.
If you expand it and look closely you can see that those are flamingos in the top of that tree. I tried to get closer but they flew off. I don't think I spooked them 'cause we were still a ways away and the trolling motor is quiet. I think that they just had stuff to do. You know, flamingo stuff.
This was a big old gator. We got fairly close before he submerged and disappeared, but this was still the best picture. I wanted to get right up on him, but homey gator don't play that.
I snapped a picture of the heron on the log, then I checked the camera and saw that the photo was a little blurred. I went to snp another shot and saw the small(ish) gator cruising up, so I waited until I got him in the frame, too. I like this picture. Real Mutual of Omaha stuff.

Crikey, out
Ramblin' Ed