Posts tagged Sparky
Howdy, sports fans!
Wow, been a long time, huh? Sorry ’bout that, I’ve been a bit of a busy man here lately.
So, what, you may ask, has been going on with ol’ Buck?
Well, on the positive side, my eldest son decided to spend spring break with me here about a month ago, instead of heading to the beach with friends for a drunk-fest. I guess my not giving him the money to be that stupid played one part in the equation … and I dare say the fact that he doesn’t share my unquenchable thirst for said nectar of the gods probably played even more of a role there too. [grins]
Ah hell, who am I kidding? The boy loves me!
Well, that, and the fact that my house is infinitely closer to the university his girlfriend is attending than his mom’s house is! :o)
Speaking of houses … as some of you know, the Spousal Unit and I lost ours here recently . J’yup, La Casa del Buck is now a fully bank owned property upon which we are no longer allowed to step foot without a representative of the bank present.
Buuuut …. apart from losing my house (and the associated tropical garden, pond, etc. etc. etc.), putting my dog, Sparky, down after 10 years of loyalty, laughs and friendship, and a myriad other matters of which you probably do not want to be bored with, things are well with me.
Of course, there ARE those who DO want to hear more of the dirty, juicy details of my life … and I have two words for people like you: PISS OFF!
Sadly, many are the liars, gossips, meddlesome idiots and garden-variety, non-confrontational bitches who cross our paths in life. Funny thing is, one friend in my life who readily admits that she is easily offended and considers herself “a ditz” (which I do not agree on), is about the only one of my friends who will pull me aside and speak her mind. She’s the only one who has taken something I’ve said or written the wrong way, and has directly approached me about it. Heck, my own wife doesn’t even do that! People like that are a gift, folks … I’m tellin’ ya!
Anyhow … sorry for being so seemingly caustic, but there’s a lot of things and certain people in my life who have really worn me down to my last two functioning nerves … both of which are completely beyond raw at this point.
Again: ANYHOW … might wanna click on that pic above; I STILL cannot make sense of the dude on the skateboard!
My son and I had a BLAST while he was here! Shockingly enough, we played a lot of Golden Tee. And by a lot, I mean a LOT. Well, for us at least.
Day one: he lands at approx 1300 hrs; the Spousal Unit and arrive shortly thereafter. I reminded The Boy that a group of top-notch GT players were assembling in Springfield that same day and asked if he was interested in meeting them and possibly learning a thing or two. To wit, his response was very much in the affirmative, with extreme prejudice and enthusiasm.
So … I drive our asses almost an hour to the other side of the beltway only to find more than half the group totally schnockered and ready to call it quits for the day.
Ya know what they say, though, dontcha? Ya can’t say you’ve been drinking all day if you don’t start first thing in the morning.
As it turns out, one of the country’s top players, BillyMac, was in attendance and was still bordering on more than moderately sober. He, a friend of his, Neil, my son, spousal unit, and I made our way to another establishment in Springfield and enjoyed a few games together. As it turns out, I really didn’t get any input or advice from BillyMac, which was frustrating, as that was my main purpose of the trip.
Well, there WAS one moment where he did pull me aside. He said, “Doc, you realize your wife’s a better player than you, right?”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile, “she has her games! We taught her too well and created a monster in the meantime.”
BillyMac shook his head and went on, “I don’t think you’re understanding me: I’m not trying to put you down, but she’s an inherently better player than you are.”
To say I was flabbergasted would be sort of gay, so I’ll merely say that I was — for a rather rare change — speechless.
My son and I enjoyed a fantastic week of relaxing, talking and even got some travels and adventure in along the way.
Last week my dad and I took a short hiatus from home and spent a week at Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. It was nice … and it was the first time we just took off and had that long of a father-son break from home. Twas a great week of good food, just the right amount of beer, and lots of laughs and relaxation ensued. My plans to play golf everyday, however, was thwarted by a near terminal case of retardation. For whatever reason, EVERY SINGLE THING I’ve learned in my weekly golf lessons the past month completely escaped me. I do not believe I have EVER been more discouraged with that game than I was last week.
But this is taking yet another potential turn towards the morose, so let’s move on, shall we?
So, off to find something to do with my day, I suppose. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day … enjoy it. Show your mother some love, won’t ya?
Lookin’ like I’ll join Mama-Buck and her daughter for church and then hopefully off to Baltimore to see Mike Keneally and Bryan Beller perform. Weird but beautiful music, indeed!
Peace off, beaches!
I awoke this morning in a quiet and calm mood. Didn’t stay out too late … didn’t have too many beers. I gave my mind a few minutes to discover if there might be any remote quadrant of the body proper which was in a state of relative discomfort. None was to be found.
One of the corners of the auto-pilot wiring of my psyche – one that tends to be, unlike the rest of me, a morning person – speaks up, “Neato!”
My dog, Sparky, had been attempting to sleep at my feet last night. Given the amount of tossing and turning that one tends to experience when sleeping on a not-so-built-for-sleep sofa, she didn’t get much of it.
Jack Russell terriers, if you haven’t noticed, tend to be a bit on the high strung side.
And yeah, I said “sofa” …
Told ya, the bacon thing really isn’t going over very well here at la casa del Buck.
(pics here are almost always of the “click to enlarge” variety)
Anyhow … I let Sparky out to begin her elaborate morning routine of divining the perfect points of evacuation. And with this one, it’s every bit as formulaic as it can possibly get.
Much like the directions on the back of a shampoo bottle except in place of “wash” one places a single word that somehow embodies the intense, almost frenetic, manner in which she goes about intently scrutinizing randomly disjointed spots of grass in search of that Point of Perfection.
Nothing less will do, unless it’s a miserable, rainy day.
Otherwise, she invests a level of energy into this search for that point of perfection that one might expect from a knight in search of uncovering a matter of divine providence!
To wit, she deposits, whether by way of micturation or defecation matters not. And yes, the former, in every case, preceding the latter.
And herein we replace the word “rinse.”
Still with me here?
Yeah, it’s Search, Deposit, Repeat.
But anyhow … I’m getting side-tracked here …
The air was calm and the sky tinted with a colorful hint of a glow from a sunrise surely taking place on the other side of the dark, looming grayness. It clearly felt like snow was soon to come.
I quietly stretched my arms, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air. As I shook my head in bemusement at Sparky’s frenetic search for said Point of Perfection, a slight breeze picked up. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders and rocked quickly on my bare feet, attempting to only have smaller parts of the foot in contact with the deck — which hadn’t seen temperatures above freezing in days — at any one given moment.
As I turned my back to the wind I looked down and smiled as I watched the first hints of snow dancing past my feet. There is something so soothing and serene about the snow. It brings some strange sense of purity and innocence with it.
But, like much in life, appearances are often little more than a mirage.
The snow, you see, brings a certain ‘something’ out of the animal within us all. Maybe it’s because the snow covers everything, blurring all that we are otherwise accustomed to seeing, yet rarely even noticing, in our day to day lives, and in the sudden absence of that which is familiar there is a resulting sense of panic and potential peril. In the animal world this may happen because the food that birds regularly forage for is usually in plain sight.
Suddenly, everything has changed in an instant and nothing is as it just quite recently was.
How is a bird to know whether or not there may still be anything resembling food beneath this mysterious white veil???
Yes … fear of the unknown and hunger can bring out something downright fiendish in virtually any animal.
And when that fear comes as a result of snow fall, that can only mean one thing …
Well, two … if you really think about it.
Or more …
But in the context of this story, at least at this point within whatever portion of said story is about to unfolded before you, it can only mean one thing!
And you remember what happened the last time we had a deep snow and the ensuing schools of snow sharks that came with it, right?
Yeah, we almost lost Mikey Rez!
And we don’t want that!
Man, I really need to arrange something where you guys can listen to what I’m listening to while I write this! Oh man, that would so thoroughly change things!
But anyhow …
Perhaps you know how drivers are here in the mid-Atlantic region of the U.S. (and it grows increasingly rude and random the further north one drives. Well, to a point) They can be biggest collection of untrained, ignorant, self-centered, feckless morons absolutely devoid of any level of what is known as situational awareness … and with cell phones shoved unhumanly deep inside their ear holes!!!! These people can hardly, if at all, accomplish a feat as simple as parallel parking; well, at least not without undue anxiety and freakishly jerkish miscues that would make Michael J. Fox conducting a symphony look absolutely normal.
But I digress … my point is, “Virginia” drivers really are a difficult breed. I attribute most of that to the transient nature of the D.C. area, but that’s another subject for another blog some other day.
Today we have far more pressing matters to contend with.
Who will save us from the snow shark?
A mere few weeks ago we were beyond safe as we were blessed by a visit from one of the rarest, most severely endangered species of mammal on this planet: the Arctic shaven snow pig!
And … there’s a little something your old uncle Buck here has been keeping from you.
Olga, Leesburg’s own patron swine, flew, non-stop, from the mountains outside of Leesburg all the way to Haiti … did I mention this was NON STOP??? … to volunteer after the tragic earthquake.
Yeah … it doesn’t take a very active imagination to come to grips with what direction that decision ultimately took …
Without our token Arctic shaven snow pig, where then can we turn for salvation from the certain return of the snow sharks?!?!?!
Of course, the answer is simple!
Remember my reference to the local traffic earlier? Well, just the mere mention of precipitation brings out most Neanderthalically idiotic driving tendencies imaginable from these people.
Snow Cow, due to the uncertainty of this weekend’s weather, instead chose to not cut short his stay at some weird hedonistic resort somewhere in the Caribbean …
Come on … are you trying to tell me – with a straight face – that you’d rather deal with gridlock traffic and worse?!?!?!
In this hypothetical question, you’re trying to walk a mile on Snow Cow’s shoe’s, not the ladies’.
You did understand that, right?
All of this to say that I dare say that I very well may not be getting around to finishing my official blog disclaimer today. I’ve yet to check in with work, no less shower, shave, or brush my teeth.
I did, however, accomplish the other earlier; quite obviously … do you think this much chattery and creativity is possible with all of that blockage?
Of COURSE NOT!
All of this to say that you want to keep your eyes open for this man …
Well, D’UHHH … he’s our savior from the snow shark!
Oh, you mean why should we keep our eyes open for him?
Because we want to make sure he is able to approach a snow shark without being the distractions of being engaged in conversation. So, in an effort to make certain he remains undistracted we have to ensure that he basically goes unnoticed … and we do that by keeping an eye out for him and then pretending that we never actually saw him … but yet we can, with a clean conscience, comfort our fellow Spankians with the knowledge that He is in our midst … somewhere.
But make sure to remind anybody that you tell that you saw Him to remember to strictly adhere to the rule that they must keep their eyes open and remember to forget what they saw.
Because the first rule of Snow Cow is that you never talk about Snow Cow.
And we’re not … I’m just blogging … that’s different.
Speaking of which, I really should be going now.
Until next time, remember …
And now …
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