1. Rolling hills of green and gold.
2. Lakes filled with water, and fish.
3. Strange scary weather patterns.
4. Corrupt and ineffective politicians.
5. Most of the pork consumed in the nation.
6. Drivers that are courteous.
7. Starting March Madness.
8. Home to two(maybe three) of the best big breweries.
9. Forests that house all sorts of tasty critters.
10. Home to most of the Big Ten.
11. Home to me, now and forever.
Buck
Friday, March 19, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
A day for one-liners
Ron White: I didn't get where I am today by worryin' about how I'd feel tomorrow.
George Carlin: I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.
George Carlin: Swimming isn't a sport. Swimming is a way to keep from drowning!
Bill Cosby: There is hope for the future because God has a sense of humor and we are funny to God.
Mitch Hedberg: I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it.
Steven Wright: What's another word for Thesaurus?
Groucho Marx: I intend to live forever, or die trying.
Buck
George Carlin: I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.
George Carlin: Swimming isn't a sport. Swimming is a way to keep from drowning!
Bill Cosby: There is hope for the future because God has a sense of humor and we are funny to God.
Mitch Hedberg: I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it.
Steven Wright: What's another word for Thesaurus?
Groucho Marx: I intend to live forever, or die trying.
Buck
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
A heart warming gift.
This week I got a package from my grandparents. Usually that means one of two things. Either pictures, or some sort of baked goodies depending on who sent the package. I was very confused at first when I saw the package in my mailbox. Thoughts went through my head including, "Did I get drunk and order books online?" "Is it ticking, if so, what do I do?" "That's a lot of paychecks."
Slowly I walked up to the bank of mailboxes and pulled the BlauHaus mail out which included five bills which weren't mine, two mailings from NRA which were mine, and the package. I casually tossed the bills and the mailings on the counter in front of Tony and said, "Take care of that will ya? I'll be out of the office till tomorrow." He laughed at me and asked if I wanted to work for free doing chores that night. I laughed right back and replied with a very long and complicated, "No."
I turned my attention back to the package, read the adressee, and the sender information. To: Me! From: Grandpa! Awesome! I got some pictures that he took, and judging by the weight of the box he developed them into slides.
Being me (read as: curious) I gave the box a trial shake, not to hard just a little shake to see if there were moving tid-bits inside. What I heard made me stop mid shake. Things that sounded dry and crumby were sliding around!
I quickly open up the package to see if I had damaged anything inside. To my surprise I found a box from Market Day. A box of shrimp from Market Day. At this point I'm thinking three things: Jackpot, I love shrimp! Wait, our family likes to mislead people with boxes which means that the package came from Grandma. Finally, Cookies!
I open up the box and there to my not-so-surprise is a note in Grandma's handwriting saying that she hopes the cookies make it to me as cookies and not crumbs, and that they enjoy reading my entries here.
I put the note in my pocket and open up the first layer of wax paper and find the best treasure: Vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies. My favorite.
I might and or might not have danced around like a little kid at that point, drawing a few laughs from people in the office.
They obviously do not know or understand how great it is to get little packages like this. Not only does it mean that my family still has a vested interest in me as a living human being, but they take the time to mix, bake, cool, wrap, and write a note before sending a package! Talk about commitment.
On another good note, we hit forty degrees out here the past two days. The walking has started again. Granted we still have banks of snow that are taller than I am and the road and ground is completely saturated with water, but I don't need my heavy coat! I can use my thermal hoodie! I don't have to have the heat on in my room at night and not worry about freezing to death in my sleep!
There's something peaceful about walking through the woods searching for antler sheds. Nobody bothers you, the closest thing to people is the highway, if you bring a chair you can sit and relax. Watch the critters running around finally getting to see green grass for the first time in four months.
I have friends that feel at home in the city. They love the bustle, the traffic, the meters. I am not one of these people. True, I enjoy going downtown for a pint, or going to Christkindlemart with the family. One of those is a tradition, one of those is just good clean fun. (Which is which?) I have a sign that I made that reads: I'd rather be lost in the woods than found in the city. And for the most part it's true. I get jumpy very easily, and sometimes I jump when I don't even hear anything. Bailey likes to call this side of me twitchy. There are many a story where he snuck up on me and scared the soul out of me. But, this usually only happens when I fixate on something. When I get so engrossed in what I'm doing that the rest of the world is dead to me.
When I'm outdoors I tend to be constantly taking in my surroundings. Looking, listening, smelling, trying to find something that's out of place. The woods, or anywhere that isn't the city I can handle. My senses can cope with it filter pretty much everything. But in the city...there's just to much. Too much to watch, to listen for, to smell. Plus, a day of walking and you might get out of the city, but it won't be cheap. A day of walking in the woods? Priceless.
A day of walking in the woods with some vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies sent from Grandma? Heaven.
Buck
Slowly I walked up to the bank of mailboxes and pulled the BlauHaus mail out which included five bills which weren't mine, two mailings from NRA which were mine, and the package. I casually tossed the bills and the mailings on the counter in front of Tony and said, "Take care of that will ya? I'll be out of the office till tomorrow." He laughed at me and asked if I wanted to work for free doing chores that night. I laughed right back and replied with a very long and complicated, "No."
I turned my attention back to the package, read the adressee, and the sender information. To: Me! From: Grandpa! Awesome! I got some pictures that he took, and judging by the weight of the box he developed them into slides.
Being me (read as: curious) I gave the box a trial shake, not to hard just a little shake to see if there were moving tid-bits inside. What I heard made me stop mid shake. Things that sounded dry and crumby were sliding around!
I quickly open up the package to see if I had damaged anything inside. To my surprise I found a box from Market Day. A box of shrimp from Market Day. At this point I'm thinking three things: Jackpot, I love shrimp! Wait, our family likes to mislead people with boxes which means that the package came from Grandma. Finally, Cookies!
I open up the box and there to my not-so-surprise is a note in Grandma's handwriting saying that she hopes the cookies make it to me as cookies and not crumbs, and that they enjoy reading my entries here.
I put the note in my pocket and open up the first layer of wax paper and find the best treasure: Vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies. My favorite.
I might and or might not have danced around like a little kid at that point, drawing a few laughs from people in the office.
They obviously do not know or understand how great it is to get little packages like this. Not only does it mean that my family still has a vested interest in me as a living human being, but they take the time to mix, bake, cool, wrap, and write a note before sending a package! Talk about commitment.
On another good note, we hit forty degrees out here the past two days. The walking has started again. Granted we still have banks of snow that are taller than I am and the road and ground is completely saturated with water, but I don't need my heavy coat! I can use my thermal hoodie! I don't have to have the heat on in my room at night and not worry about freezing to death in my sleep!
There's something peaceful about walking through the woods searching for antler sheds. Nobody bothers you, the closest thing to people is the highway, if you bring a chair you can sit and relax. Watch the critters running around finally getting to see green grass for the first time in four months.
I have friends that feel at home in the city. They love the bustle, the traffic, the meters. I am not one of these people. True, I enjoy going downtown for a pint, or going to Christkindlemart with the family. One of those is a tradition, one of those is just good clean fun. (Which is which?) I have a sign that I made that reads: I'd rather be lost in the woods than found in the city. And for the most part it's true. I get jumpy very easily, and sometimes I jump when I don't even hear anything. Bailey likes to call this side of me twitchy. There are many a story where he snuck up on me and scared the soul out of me. But, this usually only happens when I fixate on something. When I get so engrossed in what I'm doing that the rest of the world is dead to me.
When I'm outdoors I tend to be constantly taking in my surroundings. Looking, listening, smelling, trying to find something that's out of place. The woods, or anywhere that isn't the city I can handle. My senses can cope with it filter pretty much everything. But in the city...there's just to much. Too much to watch, to listen for, to smell. Plus, a day of walking and you might get out of the city, but it won't be cheap. A day of walking in the woods? Priceless.
A day of walking in the woods with some vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies sent from Grandma? Heaven.
Buck
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
