The Conversation

"I don't think I have ever been afraid of dying." This was said with a sip of beer and lacking the flamboyancy of youth. The friends gathered here all considered themselves older and wiser and each remembered saying something outlandish over a beer. But this was a deeper thought, edged by years running over life like river water over stones. "Never looked forward to it either mind you, but I was baptized when I was nine and just had that confidence that comes with it, ya know?"

The Christians sitting at the table smiled. The agnostics nodded. The atheist sipped his wine. Beer Drinker continued, "I have been afraid of the things associated with dying. The pain. I am one of those imaginative types who wonders if a gunshot to the brain is really painless."

Atheist replied, " Seems to be pretty instantaneous to me. One minute a singular, special intellect and the next a carcass."

"Well, yeah," replied Beer Drinker, "but you are talking about putting a bullet in the center of the organ that controls perception. What if the instant the bullet enters the brain it alters your perception of time? What if the second or fraction of a second it takes you to die is perceived as an hour? Or days? Or years?"

One of the wine drinkers replaced a lock of blonde hair behind her ear that she knew had never really moved in the first place and smiled at Beer Drinker. "You think of the craziest crap." She looked at Beer Drinker's Wife and said, "You live with this full time? How are you so well adjusted?"

BDW laughed loudly and paused with a slice of pizza raised, "I don't know about the adjustments but I stay for his food," and took a bite.

One of the other Christians who was always quiet at these gatherings spoke. "I never really wanted to die but I have to admit there have been times when I have not wanted to live. If that makes any sense."

Blond Hair was the first to respond with, "No. It does not. Absolutely does not." She said it with a smile and blue eyes and that made it softer than if any of the rest of them had said it. It also made a request out of her simple demand," Explain."

"My Dad had a wife and kids and just loved life. Tried to get as much as he could out of life. He and Mom had all these plans for after retirement to travel and see the world. I did not want to die, but if somebody had to, I was single and had no clue what I wanted to do with my life after high school. I honestly believed I would not be missed. And I knew my dad would be missed."

"I watched my dad die. It took years. When I say that, people always guess cancer. And then I wonder - when I say heart disease, do they think it was some how easier? Then I wonder why I am competitive about how people die. But it is a terrible, terrible way to go. The bullet MIGHT last for years," he looks at Beer Drinker, " but heart disease DOES take years."

Everyone took advantage of this moment to take a bite of food or to once again sample their drinks. The unspoken group decision to stall for time paid off as Quiet One continued, "Fluid just builds up in the system for some reason. We had to start measuring how much went in and how much went out. The meds they use work for a while and then they don't. They have to be upped so that they will work again until they don't. And you have to have tests to make sure they are not destroying the kidneys. Heart patients with bad kidneys won't ever get new ones and the docs are left to do the arithmetic so heart disease kills you instead of the failing kidneys. Family can sue for failing kidneys."

Atheist smiles. Quiet One could always see to the center of things the way few others in the group could.

Quiet One continued, " After he died, I had a conversation with our preacher about the cycle we had fallen into. Dad would get worse and we would go to the hospital and his condition would stabilize and we would go home thinking it could not get any worse and then we would repeat the whole process in a few months. I told him that I thought that this time would be like all the others and then Dad died."

They all sat quietly this time. Quiet One picked up his wine and then sat it back down. "The preacher was surprised that I expected to take him home. Apparently word was out that he wasn't coming home this time. Tons of folks came by to pay their last respects and I never put two and two together from that either. After years and years it was still - BAM!."

Blond Hair spoke up softly, "Ya know, there was an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Buffy's mom died. It was not anything supernatural. Some kind of brain tumor or something. At one point Buffy is talking with another character who is telling her how her own mother died from a long illness. Buffy said something about it not being sudden and the other girl said, 'it's always sudden.'"

Quiet One smiles. He looks over at Blond Hair and she smiles back. "Whoever wrote that, had someone close to them die. I don't think you get that if you haven't."

BDW nodded. "It does change you. The whole thing with the world measuring time Before Christ and after makes sense."

"Really?"asks Atheist in what was not really a question or even a challenge - just another exchange among friends that long ago learned to let each other be wrong.

"I measure alot of my life by things that happened before my grandmother died and things that happened after. For the longest time, I would see movies or read a book or see something on the news and my first thought would be to call her - for years after she died."

They went around the table then and shared the things that they really wanted to share with a departed loved one. Some of the examples were just after the person passed and some were recent things. Some trivial and mundane and heartbreaking in simplicity. Others were the births of children or the introduction of a spouse. Sharing of life is one of the sweetest aspects of life.

Blond Hair sipped her wine again and looked at her sister who met her eyes and knew what she wanted to say. She also knew that Blond Hair would never broach the subject on her own - of the two of them, Blond Hair had never been the Assertive One. Assertive picked up a bread stick and waved it in the air like she was summoning her thoughts with a wand. "There are times I am so pissed off at my dad. Love him. Miss him. Know I should forgive him. But almost always pissed at him."

They all knew what their dad had done. Quiet One surprised himself when he placed a hand on the back of Blond Hair and just let it rest there. She did not look at him but somehow he just knew it was okay - more than okay - for him to have some sort of contact with her. Assertive continued, "It was just so damn selfish. The ultimate selfish act. Never thought about us or Mom or his dad."

Blond Hair, "You and I have never processed it the same way. I spent years wondering what I could have done differently. I spent years wondering what I did to cause it. What did I do wrong?"

The two sisters looked at each other for just a second and then went back to their food. "That is why I am afraid to die now," volunteered Beer Drinker.

"A few years back our little dog got hit by a car. My wife had that dog for years before we met and this was just the sweetest little thing in the world. I found her out on the road and had to go back and tell her. And I saw so much pain on her face."

The husband and wife looked at each other now and Beer Drinker continued,"I cannot imagine what it would do to her if I died. I can't stand that thought. I am dreading the inevitable day when she loses someone else. But to inflict that on your family intentionally. Wow."

BDW, "Ladies let me apologize for the most sensitive man in the world to whom I just happen to be married."

"Sorry." echoed Beer Drinker. The girls waved it off with smiles and upraised glasses.

Atheist, "I get what you mean though. So much pain. And a permanent solution to a temporary problem. You two have gone through it and know it better than all of us but we have lost someone and at least know that pain - I think we can at least imagine what you are going through. You know what gets me though? When you guys talk about the good times with your dad."

"What? Why?"replied the Assertive One with her face screwed up with genuine confusion.

"I would just think that the final act would color everything."

"It does to an extent. But it was not our whole life together. There were sad, happy, hilarious, touching moments from a life time with the man," replied Assertive, who smiled as this was one of the few times she was not pissed at her father. She was smart enough to realize that this might have been Atheist's intention from the start and that played a part in her smile as well.

Quiet, "All fine and good, but with my dad, there came a time that I was praying that God would take him home. Just end the pain. Give the man some peace."

Atheist, "Why not pray that he would get better?" Again, this was not a challenge but an honest question from one friend to another who each looked at the universe from wildly different angles.

"Because my faith doesn't run that deep," was the answer that was given without embarrassment or irony.

Atheist shocked everyone, "I prayed to take my dad's place. He was dying of stomach cancer and there was nothing anyone could do. This was back before hospice was so prevalent and what the hell did we know? We were from the backwoods and broke beyond belief. I remember nights hearing him crying in pain and asking God to give me the pain for a night - just one night -so he could get some sleep."

"How old were you?"asked Beer Drinker.

"Five or six, maybe. Just wanted the man to have some relief and like you said, "and he nodded at Quiet, "I wanted it to be over. And looking back, I think he wanted it to be over too."

"I know my Dad was ready when the time came," said Quiet and he and Atheist nodded like veterans.

Beer Drinker went to the fridge and got another beer and an icy mug from the freezer. "Aren't we a cheery damn bunch?"

His wife picked up the thought just as he knew she would, " That's just it, though. We are a cheery group. We have kids and careers and causes and husbands and wives and good wine and tasty beer and great food and we live."

As good a toast as any and they all raised their glasses and drank deeply.

Autographs? Never! Well, Once.

I have never understood grown people that ask others for autographs. Now I have a nephew who is a huge baseball fan and will chase an Atlanta Brave across a war zone for his initials on a baseball. And I love that in a kid his age. But this is about grown people that want other grown people to give up an autograph. I don't get it.

It usually starts with someone being much more famous than the 'graph seeker. The celebrity could be from sports, movies, television, politics (?), literature, or from some other avenue of popular culture. There is something of a supplicant going before royalty vibe in how 'graph seekers line up to petition the great and powerful. I suppose I am arrogant enough that I don't like the idea of putting anyone on that kind of pedestal above ME.

But I do respect accomplishment. Recently my local comic book store (Hi, Downtown Comics on 10th Street) featured a local writer who, with his writing partner, had a recently published Batman story for DC Comics (Hi, Troy Brownfield!). The book was an anthology with Troy's story, "Short Straw", the best thing about the whole book. Not even close. Now I know that Troy has a writing partner so he probably only wrote half of this story, but both halves were really good. :)

Anyway, Troy was in the store signing copies of the book for fanboys and fanboy emeriti like me. I told him I don't do autographs but that I respect anyone who can get paid to write stuff and shook his hand. I then had a nice little conversation with him and now we are "friends" on Facebook. Now why is that not enough for some people?

Why the need for them to put pen to paper? Some primitive peoples have refused to have their pictures taken for fear of losing their souls to the camera and the camera wielder. Do the autograph seekers think they capture some part of the soul that curls and swirls in the letters bleeding out in ink? I don't know.

I know why I asked for one of the damnable things. I love my dad. Should type that in the past tense since he died back in 1995, but the love continues even if the life does not. So, love it is. My mom has always told us stories. Most of them involved people she knew in her misspent youth who died tragically and graphically as her maternal warning system related the stories to children that I now think were too young to hear them.

Strangely, there are several stories involving my dad that have only been shared since Hazel's little boy Ray shuffled off this mortal coil. One of these stories involved a small orange construction paper football. It was not a special football. Not at all.

Well, unless you think the signature of Johnny Unitas might be valuable. For those of you who have no idea of sports or football or the NFL, Johnny Unitas is the Hall of Fame quarterback of the Baltimore Colts who Payton Manning and many others consider the very best quarterback to ever touch a football. So that may have added to the value. Oh, and Raymond Berry's signature was on there too. Who is Raymond Berry? Well, until Jerry Rice came along, you could make a very convincing argument that he was the best wide receiver to ever touch a football. Oh, and it had John Mackey's signature on it too. Yep, you guessed it. John Mackey was one of the greatest tight ends to ever play the game too and he was also a teammate of Unitas and Berry on the Colts. Art Donavan was a force on defense but made more of a name for himself as a character telling stories about his more famous friends on NFL Films and ESPN.

And apparently there were other signatures as well. Everyone who was anyone on that great Colts team of long ago. I wonder if some part of their souls really were captured in the pedestrian artistry of their signatures. Some other tribes eat the hearts of their kills to gain its strength and power. That could be very interesting for me considering I ate the little orange football when I was about two years old.

My mother impressed upon me while she told me this story that she was the solitary reason why I still drew breath while not in a coma or some other debilitating state. Thanks mom.

But, years after I was told this story, a funny thing happened. I was at a great big convention associated with my work and Johnny Unitas was there as a featured guest of some great corporation that I can't remember. Funny how the corporation brought Mr. Unitas out there to call attention to them and all I can remember is Johnny U.

I got in the insanely long line and waited my turn like all the other supplicants. Once before the man, I could not help but tell him the story I told you about the orange football. He laughed and asked if it tasted good. I told him it must have since I finished it all. He laughed again and with an odd grip on his pen (three fingers on top of the pen with his thumb below - presumably from all his injuries from the NFL), he signed a picture of himself from the glory of his youth.

That is the story of the one and only autograph I have ever collected in my life. And I at least know why I went for the one that I got. I was not trying to capture a piece of Johnny U. I had very little interest in the Baltimore Colts. It was an altogether different soul I was trying to re-capture. At least some small part.

Today's Special - Safety at $2.00 a Pound!

I don't know why I have not blogged about it before, but I went sky diving several years back. If you ever get a chance to jump out of a perfectly good airplane - DO IT!

I had to do a tandem dive since I was on vacation and did not have time for weeks of training in how to risk my life. I needed the fast food equivalent death defiance. Enter your friendly tandem diving instructor.

This was a husband and wife operation down in the Florida Keys that sat up a computer, a video camera, some sort of sound system, a tiny, tiny, tiny little plane, and several slightly used parachutes to make a buck. I only got to meet the wife and one of their good friends who was helping out this week. The husband was recuperating with a broken leg that had absolutely nothing to do with sky diving. What? They promised it had nothing to do with sky diving.

Filling out the form, I noticed that the weight limit was 180 pounds which is exactly what I should have weighed for my height. Instead, I weighed 200 pounds. I am unfortunately honest enough that I put down my real weight and was fully prepared to not get to dive that day.

But a funny thing. I never knew this before, but apparently, if you pay an extra forty dollars, all of the physics that dictate a 180 pound customer as the edge of a safe dive, are altered throughout the universe so that a 200 pound customer is completely safe. Who knew you could change the fundamental laws of nature at 2 bucks a pound?

One quick safety course later and we were up in the small plane. The safety course? Wear your flimsy plastic goggles or your eyes will tear up and you won't see anything and make sure you arch your body so that you do a back flip coming out of the plane. Why a back flip? I never asked. But apparently if I failed to execute it properly, I could have killed all of us.

We got in the plane, got the instructor (who has the parachute) hooked into the harness I was wearing and up we went. The wife (of the husband and wife operation) jumped out first with a camera on her helmet. And then I had to place my foot on the step just outside the door of the plane.

Now this had been a normal size step when we were on the ground. A rather large step as I remember it on the ground. Another thing I never knew about physics is that at altitude, random things like steps shrink to less than a third of their original size - why were things like this not covered while I was in high school?

I tried to get my foot down on the step but the prop wash caught my sandal - yeah I went sky diving in mandels! - and it snatched my leg back towards the back of the plane. I shouted something urbane and intelligent involving fecal matter.

I was able to compose myself and get my foot on the step and then it was a count of three, a back flip, and I was flying! Worth every penny and then some. Absolutely amazing. There is no feeling of falling at all. You actually feel like you are flying. Freedom. I keep trying to come up with ways to describe it and "Freedom" is the only word that keeps flaring in my mind. And I smile when I think of it too.

Then you pull the chute and you finally have the sensation of falling but falling softly. I have almost no interest in the slow motion sight seeing that comes after the chute deploys. Give me free fall any day.

The Nachthexen

I had no idea about the Nachthexen. I did not know they existed. During the Great Patriotic War they were an all female bomber squadron. They used obsolete flyers that could only carry two bombs at a time so they had certain limitations. The enemy had cutting edge - really bleeding edge - flyers that flew so fast that their stall speeds were below the top speeds that the Nachthexen could achieve.

The Nachthexen flew planes that were ideal for crop dusting and as such had amazing maneuverability that their opponents just could not match. They were deadly and they inspired fear in the heart of the enemy. Hence the name, "the Night Witches."

Now, be honest, how many of you think I am making this up? Come on, admit it. Nobody will think less of you.

Well, to be honest, some of us will think less of you. But we won't act like it. At least not while you are around.

Until just about an hour ago, I did not know about the Nachthexen. What a cool name by the way. Can't imagine Hollywood has not found this yet. Such a cool title.

It is the name given to the female night-time bombing squadron of the Soviet Union during World War II. The Great Patriotic War is how World War II is referred to in Russia (may I take a moment to point out that I first learned this from comic books several years ago - Fanboy Emeritus Ray)

These women used 1928 bi-planes that could only carry two bombs and were so slow that the German Messerschmitt Bf 109 and Focke-Wulf Fw 190 would literally stall out if they tried to slow down enough to take up position behind it.

I am amazed that I am forty years old and this is the first I have heard of this. Why has there not been a movie about this? Why isn't this common knowledge for all of us?

Part of it has to be that these women served in Stalin's USSR. If you were too popular a hero, you were found guilty of SOMETHING and sent to Siberia. Stalin learned the lesson that he taught Trotsky and Lenin - don't ever allow for the creation of a Stalin in your base of power. Bad things happen if you allow a Stalin to flourish. He was one of the first of us to realize that people like me don't like people like me.

Part of it is that the Nachthexen features women in warfare and for we don't want to focus on that at all. The idea of mother as death dealer is not appealing to most audiences. The idea of women being capable of ANYTHING is not an idea that I struggle with at all. I wonder why that is? I have posted before that my mom is one tough old broad.

My brothers and I have no problem picturing a woman as tough as nails. The idea that Sarah Connors would train the leader of the free world to stand against sexist Austrian cybernetic death dealers made sense to us. The idea that a woman could take a leadership position in the free world like Margaret Thatcher did was never shocking to us.

I am just now finding out about the Nachthexen and still have to find a book or two detailing these warrior women, but I have this feeling in my bones that they will prove to be strangely familiar to me.

Good Manners - No Matter Who It Offends

When did it become okay to be offensive? When did it become acceptable in society to not care about who you offended? I thought going through life with a concern for the feelings and beliefs of others was an example of character and good manners. When did this change?

You see posts on public forums in which people encourage others to do something "no matter who it offends." The latest thing is the pledge of allegiance. The post usually points out that back in the day everybody recited the pledge as a kid and that we do not require it now so as to not offend anyone.

I challenge the whole concept that schools are refraining from leading the pledge for fear of offending someone. I think they are refraining from doing it out of fear of being sued. And they should be afraid. They would lose in court. And they should.

Imagine you are in Nazi Germany and you are required to swear loyalty to Hitler. Imagine you are in an Iran and have to follow the precepts of Islam on penalty of death. Imagine you are Daniel and you are charged with praying only to the king or be thrown to the lions. Part of being in a free country is that you have the right to NOT conform.

Why, in a free country, should the state have the power to require you to stand up and say you believe or support a particular view? And teachers are agents of the state. They are paid by the state. Their conditions of employment are set by the state. They can be fired by the state. And we think it is okay for them to force our children to stand up and swear before God and their classmates that they will be loyal to the government?

The only reason we think this is okay is because we like what is being said. I stand for the national anthem every time that it is played. I pledge allegiance when I go to Rotary Club meetings because it is a voluntary organization. I believe in this country. And part of that belief is that we are a free people and should not be forced to state our beliefs on anything.

For those who want to point out that we have to swear to tell the truth in court, I point out that no freedom is universal and that government has to impinge on our rights in the most extreme cases that allow our society to function. Testimony in legal issues is one of those extreme cases. Forcing children to recite a loyalty oath in public is not.

But even if all of the above were not true, why is it okay to post the pledge "no matter who it offends"? If you have deeply held beliefs and want to share them with the world or if you feel the need to push yourself out of your comfort zone and say something that you feel needs to be said even if it is unpopular, why do it in a way that says you don't give a crap about others? Is this going to lead to a dialogue with the people that disagree with you or is it just going to get a "hell yeah" from the people who already agree with you?

I don't see what is accomplished by picking a fight. And that is what I read when I see the words "no matter who it offends" or "don't care who it offends". If I disagree with you, you are not interested in explaining your beliefs and maybe changing my mind so that I am on your side. You just want to tell me "up yours".

At this point, I need to mention the hypocritical nature of me urging people to not engage in conflict. I spent most of my life actively looking for authority to rebel against and people to argue with and sensibilities to offend. I am as guilty as anyone of looking more for a fight than for converts. I have spent most of my life wanting to win the argument rather than understanding the views of the other person.

But this gives me a unique perspective on how well this tactic does not work. You have to allow people to be wrong. I know that is incredibly arrogant (have you met me?), but we all tend to think that we are right. If we don't allow for others to be wrong, and that it is okay for them to be wrong, then we tend to pick fights instead of engaging in conversations. At least I do.

At work I see people in leadership positions who are more concerned with being the boss and not caring if they offend people. It makes for a miserable work place for the teams working with them. I see clerks at the BMV and the post office who follow the rules as laid out in their collective bargaining agreements and don't worry if they offend anybody. It makes for a miserable place to spend far too many hours.

Why don't we simply state that "I don't mean to offend anyone by the following but this is a deeply held belief of mine. I would like to share that belief and why I believe it so you can get to know me better." That isn't picking a fight. That is how friends are made. And it may be how converts are made.

At least that is how I see it. Those are my thoughts on the subject. What do you think?

Stray Thoughts III - This Time Its Personal

Best Omelet EVER!

Wife just told me a fun story about a Muslim friend of hers. Upon coming to the U.S. he had the best omelet he has ever had in his life. He sat there and savored this breakfast and was amazed at how much better the dish was than anything he had ever had back home. He was so taken with it that before he finished the meal, he stopped the waiter to inquire about the ingredients.

The waiter listed all the components and when he said bacon, my wife's friend pointed out that he had ordered it without the bacon crumbles. The waiter apologized to him since it was pretty obvious that the chef had most certainly included bacon bits in the omelet.

My wife's friend opened up what was remaining of the best omelet he had ever eaten and tasted the small bits of meat that he had been told was bacon. Yep. That was the taste that made it so good. Easily, he admitted to my wife later, the best tasting food he had ever had.

And barring another happy accident, he will never have it again. Now that is a funny, sad, enlightening, frustrating, and tempting story.

DeJay Mood Swings

Ever been listening to a particular radio station and they are just jamming out? You are driving with blue skies and sunshine and the open road before you with the music just pounding. Its so good, you roll down the windows and start singing along (horribly out of tune, mind you) with the music that has your blood boiling through your veins.

And then a song that would be considered too maudlin for Lilith Fair comes on and you have to think the dejay just lost his girlfriend during the commercial break. You literally wonder if she sent him a text during the last song.

"Bob, I am leaving you. You spend far too much time at the radio station and you care more for your listeners than you do for me. I have changed the locks to the apartment and Ramon is moving in with me. Yes, he is the flamenco dancing teacher for the class you were too busy to take. His cousin Paco is moving in with us. I was a bit concerned with how affectionate they were with each other, but Ramon explained that cousins greet each other with that kind of kiss in Ecuador. But the point is he listens to me and he takes me dancing and he is not afraid to order those cocktails that you have always said were too girly. He may need a green card but it is really about true love. We are soul mates and you and I are done."

And then you and I pay for it on the radio as the next 3 songs feature ballads of how men have taken their lovers for granted.

Truffle Oil Has No Truffles in It

My wife told me this evening that truffle oil is olive oil with various synthetic compounds that mimic the taste of legitimate truffles. I am so disappointed. But since truffles go for about $100.00 per ounce, I guess I will have to settle for the oil for now.

Put My Wife on the Corner

I have to confess to something. I have put my wife out on the corner in downtown Indy on more than one occasion with instructions to not come back to the car without cold, hard cash. Yeah. I know. Scuzzy.

But most places when we moved here only accepted cash for parking and we kept forgetting to bring cash with us when we would go downtown. As a result, Priscilla would have to get out at the corner to grab cash from the ATM.

What did you think I was talking about?

Old Daydream

Friend of mine reminded me of a day dream we had years ago. A bunch of us have worked in distribution for years and have all the major areas covered. We have one friend that is a master of inventory control systems and methodology. My wife is an EXPERT at maximizing transportation efficiency with the absolute lowest costs possible. Another of us has spent the past few years working with small trucking transportation concerns as well. One of us has worked in security and safety. Three of us are super aggressive free thinkers when it comes to building teams and moving a box from one place to another as cheap as possible. All of us have worked in a variety of operating systems and are pretty darn sharp people.

We have talked for years about setting up our own third party logistics company to provide our expertise to companies needing warehousing and transportation. The idea is thrilling and scary all at the same time. But the idea of running a building (or three or four) with your friends is a very enticing one.

I realized as I typed that last line, I sound very Miami Heatish. But people forget that the Heat were the second best team in the NBA their first year together. I would love to open a business and be the second best in our first year. But, we all live in separate states of these United, so I don't know if it would ever happen.

It was really cool to have one of them bring it up though. You go through life making these connections with people and you know how deeply they run for you but it is hard to know if they feel the same. Nice to know that this idea from so long ago is still fresh in the mind of at least one of my old friends.

And friend, if you can secure the backing, I will do my best to talk Priscilla into it.

Consushied - When an Octopus is not a Volcano

Yi-Vet (not her real name) and I went to eat sushi the other day. Priscilla is not as adventurous with sushi, but she is trying some of them. Yi-vet loves it as much as I do and so, on a day Priscilla had to work, we decided to go all out.

We ordered so many varieties that we were not sure what was what. We actually had to have the waitress walk us through what was on the serving platter. First time either of us had to do that. And most everything was great.

Eel is amazing. It is prepared with a kind of teriyaki sauce and it tastes kind of like a sweet piece of roast beef. We had Kobe beef draped across rice with a drop of soy sauce in the rice and a few chives atop the raw beef - one of the best tasting things I have ever eaten.

We then got to one that we could not remember the name. And it was awful. It had some kind of sauce on it that Yi-vet said was picante and I maintain was a mix of Texas Pete hot sauce and ketchup. And the texture of whatever fish was in it was rubbery chewy. Not just chewy mind you, but rubbery chewy.

And then we found the four little rolls that the waitress had said was the spicy octopus roll. This thing was amazing. Worth the whole visit. Could have sat there and eaten six orders of those things. Came home and raved about them to Priscilla.

So tonight we went back and of course we ordered the spicy octopus roll. AND they brought us the rubbery, chewy, Texas Pete, ketchup thing.

You ever see that part of Caddy Shack where the Baby Ruth candy bar is floating in the pool and everybody thinks its "doodie"? Remember the looks of horror on the faces? That's pretty much how Yi-Vet and I looked when the real spicy octopus roll hit the table.

I tried to talk Priscilla out of trying it. I told her that I am always encouraging her to try new things and I am recommending against this thing since it might have kept her from trying future sushi offerings. To her credit, she tried it anyway and to ours, she admitted that it was truly awful.

When we had the waiter take it away, he admitted that he did not like that one either.

And so we were left to pour over the menu and find the dish we liked so much on the last visit. We settled on the Volcano roll and when it hit the table we were relieved to see that it was the dish we were hoping for all along. Priscilla tried this one and loved it.

It is great to see someone's face when they try a dish you love and you can tell they really like it too. It is not an initially happy face. The eyes get big and then the brows furrow and the person looks almost angry and then the smile hits. And I played no part in preparing any of it. Just recommended it. But it still gives you the feeling that you have accomplished something. Kind of like the feeling I get when my Braves, Falcons, or Tigers do well and I feel pride even though I have never thrown a ball for any of them.

Simple and Funny

My mom was scrubbing the grime off our front porch. Our dogs slept up there and we never washed them so they left stains where ever they would lay. After a few months the stains had gotten darker and darker and mom had enough. She mixed up a solution that was about half pine cleaner and half water and was out there with the broom scrubbing the floor and the walls.

The front door was open so that Daddy could talk to her while she was working on this little project. Daddy was not drafted to do this project because he would have euthanized the dogs soon after getting the porch clean. I don't know if he would have actually done that but Mom believed it and it kept him from having to scrub the porch and I really tried to stay out of their games of chicken.

My brothers and I were standing there too and I have no idea why she did not dragoon us into cleaning this up but we had somehow escaped as well. So my mom was working on this but she was not happy about it. She was fussing in time with her broom.

And then... And then her feet came up so that her toes were eye level. She said some sort of cuss word and I honestly don't remember which one. I remember my eyes getting bigger as the whole thing slowed down to the speed nature documentaries use when showing a frog's tongue picking a mosquito out of the air.

My mom's butt came down HARD on the concrete porch. We all rushed out to see if she was okay and she pushed us all back and got to her feet. Through clenched jaws we asked again if she was okay and she said she was. My dad was getting red in the face. I mean red-purple as he asked a third time if she was alright. Again my mother answered for the third time before the rooster crowed that she was indeed fine.

And then we all fell out laughing. Tears down our faces, teenage brothers hugging each other laughing. My dad had to go blow his nose he was laughing so hard. We had finally stopped laughing other than a few bursts of giggles when we would make eye contact.

We were almost under control when my mom muttered, "F'ing dogs" and we fell out laughing again.

Laugh sometime today. It will do you good.