And a good time was had by all...

I haven't been to a Major League baseball game since the strike 15 years ago. Bull-headedness, I guess. I have been to a few Little League games, and a couple of Rooster games when they were in Richmond, and I sense some T-ball approaching in the next couple of years.

I hadn't been to an Indianapolis Indians game for a long time, either. In fact, the last time I went it was in Busch Stadium, just before it closed, I think. The last time I went to Busch Stadium before that, it wasn't even a baseball game. It was 40 years ago, for a concert with Richie Havens and Pure Prairie League. Or maybe Poco. I can't remember for sure. I do remember that we all sat on the ground and had a good time.

Last Saturday, a couple of our children and their spouses, and our grandchildren took us to the Indianapolis Zoo, and then to Victory Field for a ballgame between the Indianapolis Indians and the Toledo Mudhens. Lawn seating, so we sat on the ground and had a good time. A better time than I had 40 years ago, as I remember, except that the ground is a lot lower than it used to be.


Anyway, Susan and I enjoyed it, and the kids enjoyed it, and the grand kids enjoyed it, and since I'm not sure if there are any players still playing that took part in the last strike, I might have to reconsider this Major League thing.

Besides, I heard the Reds have a new stadium.

Sometimes you get the bear...

...and sometimes the bear gets you.

I've made some deals in my life where I thought I came out ahead, and I've made some deals where I thought I came out on the short end of the stick. You don't always know how things are going to turn out.

33 years ago today I married Susan.

I know I got a lot better deal than she got.

I just hope it's several more years before she figures that out. Or maybe she already has.

At any rate, thanks for putting up with me for 33 years. Looking back, the worst times we ever had were still pretty good.

Would you buy a used car from this guy?...

I'm fully aware that I don't have a lot of room to pass judgement on other peoples' personal appearances. It's something I've learned to live with, and since I seldom have to look at myself, except when I'm shaving, I really don't have to think about it all that much.

Still, I do make an attempt to look semi-respectable in my private and professional life, while keeping in mind that the definition of respectable has been modified over the years. 50 years ago, back at Millville Grade School, all of the men teachers wore ties and all of the women teachers wore dresses. That always seemed a bit much to me, and aside from not being to bright, was probably one of the major reasons I never considered a career in education.

If it ever gets to the place that neckties aren't required or expected for any occasion, I'll be a happier man.

Still, when I decided to have my tonsils removed, I appreciated the fact that the doctor looked like a doctor. I'd prefer that my financial advisor drives a nice car and lives in a nice home. It gives me confidence, I guess. And if they want to wear a tie, more power to them.

I feel better if my preacher doesn't wear a "Girls Gone Wild" t-shirt, although it wouldn't seem so bad if my mechanic wore it. I'm not saying that's right. I'm just saying that's the way I feel.

I've never considered getting a tattoo, so I've never thought about what I would want my tattoo artist to look like, if I was considering getting a tattoo. But I did read where a girl went in to get her face tattooed by this guy,


Apparently she wasn't to happy with the result of allowing him to use his best judgement concerning how her face should turn out. I'm not sure what she expected.

But it does cause me to think I'll be a little more selective about who gives me my first tattoo. If I ever consider getting one.

You go, B.O.!!!!.....

Given our differing views on just how involved government should be in my life, I'm probably not going to have many reasons to cheer or defend President Obama in the next few years. Certainly the reasons so far have been sparse.

But I will have to ask PETA to give the man a break after reading this story. PETA scolded the President and sent him a "capture and release" fly trap after he killed a fly during a news interview.

Some people just don't have enough to do.

That just doesn't cut it....

I remember a time back at Millville Grade School when Principal Baker needed to cut a few lengths of baling twine for some project he was working on. When he asked my old buddy Stinky Wilmont if he had a pocket knife with him, Stinky replied, "I got my pants on, ain't I?"

Pocket knives were standard equipment when I was kid. You couldn't whittle, or play mumblety peg, or sharpen a horse weed without one. And if you didn't have one when the "sight unseen knife swap" started, you were a social pariah, at least for that recess.

A pocket knife is still part of my every day attire. I don't have a lot of time to whittle anymore, but I do use it to sharpen pencils, dig out splinters, and peel the occasional apple. For now anyway.

The Customs and Border Protection Agency is pushing to have most pocket knives placed under the same restrictions as switchblades, making them illegal in most places, most of the time.

No more whittlin', no more diggin' out splinters, and no more apple peelin' I guess.

Sorry Stinky. Hopefully we can get this stopped. Just keep your pants on.

That's not how it works on the television...

I heard the other day that a lot of juries were being disappointed in the quality of evidence that was being presented at trials. The blame for that disappointment has been placed on television shows that tend to exaggerate the capabilities of police investigators.

I understand how that could happen. The people on NCIS and CSI Miami can lift fingerprints off of a piece of toast and get a 95 year-old man to confess to rape.

I guess I might be guilty of over-expectation myself now and then.

The trailer where we store our tools when we are working on a job was broken into recently. Whoever decided to help themselves to our tools dropped a pair of bolt cutters beside the trailer. When I called to report the theft to our local sheriff's department, I thought that might be useful somewhere along the line.

I didn't expect that the police would catch the thief, or recover the stolen items, but I did need a police report for my insurance company. I did expect that someone from the department might want to look at the trailer and the bolt cutters.

When the officer showed up at the crime scene the first time, he told us he couldn't walk over to the trailer because he didn't want to get in the mud. I wasn't expecting that. On his second visit he asked me to bring the bolt cutters over to him. I wasn't expecting that either.

I've got to stop watching so much television.

When I'm 64...

Thirty-five years ago I gave up a steady, albeit meager paycheck and started my own contracting business. Depending on who you listen to, between 60% and 90% of small businesses fail within five years, which raises a couple of possibilities. Either I beat the odds, or I've failed and just don't realize it yet.

At any rate, when I struck out on my own way back then, my very first job was for a little old lady that lived west of Hagerstown. I put a new roof on her house. I appreciated the fact that an older person would trust a youngster just starting in business to work on their home.

When I picked up the local newspaper today, I saw that Norma had passed away. She was 81 years old. That means the "little old lady" was 46 when I put her roof on. 11 years younger than I am today.

Who knows where the time goes?

But anyway, if I didn't say it before, thanks Norma, for taking a chance on a kid.