What's That Smell?

It's a scientific fact that certain smells, scents, or odors can trigger responses in the human brain. Smells are a very powerful tool used against us powerless humans. It can take us back to a very memorable moment, good or bad. Provided our olfactory system works correctly, I'm sure we all have familiar scents that immediately transport us to a certain time, and place, where we initially encountered such pleasurable aromas. Most of my favorites came from my grandparent's kitchen. Regardless if anything was cooking, there was a constant faint lingering of garlic. You sensed it the very moment you walked in the front door. Another delightful aroma actually comes from two different sources - the smell of roasting peppers! As a youngster, we occasionally stopped by grandma & grandpa's house for Sunday dinner ( 3 out of 4 Sundays a month ). Summer time meant the whole family was going to occasionally be rewarded with the combination of sazitsa and peppers! The smell of Grandma roasting the peppers in the oven was divine, and if you timed it just right, she frequently had to open the broiler to turn them, and you would catch a blast of the roasted happiness going on there. The second time happened in New Mexico. I happened to be visiting Dad during the month of Sept./Oct., which happens to be chile harvest season. I recall, standing at a farmer's market, waiting in line to purchase half a bushel of roasted green chiles, and the constant waft of the peppers tumbling in the roaster and giving off their lovely fragrance. I can picture it like it happened yesterday. So this evening, I found myself standing at the BBQ grill, carrying on the family ritual of roasting the last harvest of green peppers from a friend's garden, and just thoroughly enjoying the experience, even though I was actually working. Meanwhile, my wife is inside preparing dinner. Moments earlier, she just pulled fresh baked homemade dinner rolls out of the oven ( can you smell it? ), followed by the browning of some bacon and garlic, that was eventually going to accompany some type of tomato product, to thus become tomato gravy over rice. Yeah baby! The aroma therapy was a nice way to wind down from the day.

Bad Form

That's actually a quote from the movie, "Hook". But lately, that quote seems to apply to the decisions I've made concerning business. First, I chose to do work for a contractor, who was somewhat slow in paying, but had always paid his tile bill. Then he landed this hair brain idea to make a jump in the size and quality of home to build, likely driven by greed. He had always built a pretty nice home, but he was impatient with the progress his company was making, and thought this $850,000 home would not only show the housing market he's the real deal, but if he sold it, that would propel his company financially. It backfired, then crashed and burned. I had no choice but to put a lien on the home, because his tile bill was approaching the $14,000 mark, and that was too big a hit for a small fry like me to absorb. Well, I recently received a letter, stating the house was entering into foreclosure, and Great Western Bank, whom the loan is through, will be putting it on the market for public auction, and will be the first bidder at whatever the balance of the loan is. If the bank actually gets the house at auction, my lien is null and void, and someone just received a top notch tile job, compliments of Kevin. You're welcome. Didn't see that one coming! The next issue, I should have nipped in the bud much earlier, but I was fearful I needed the extra help. I hired a tilesetter who has a fair amount of talent, but is a social menace. First of all, the title 'tilesetter' usually means the individual was too dumb, lazy, or a combination of both, to get an education, and since the trade has NO set standards like it did 25 - 30 years ago, the lowest forms of mankind have found a way to make fairly decent money, for less than desirable craftsmanship. I'm not a believer in evolution, but the tile trade, as a whole, could make a strong statement otherwise. So the guy I hired has this unique quality of saying and doing things, to make the people around him very uncomfortable. He's very self centered, and any conversation will eventually be manipulated toward him, and he will elaborate with some story, or phrase, that would leave you feeling violated. After warning him several dozen times to keep his mouth shut, and just set tile, I finally got the last warning I would ever receive from one of the best builders I've ever worked for. I took that information, processed it, and acted upon it. So this week finds me short handed on help, but the complaints about this guy are history. It's sad, because I thought he was just a diamond in the rough, and working for me, and the quality type people I surround myself with, I could somehow mold him into a top notch craftsman. Bad form Kevin! My wife once said, "When people show you how they are... believe them". So, a couple of unfortunate mistakes on my part, now I just need to learn from them.

Rise and Shine!

When I was growing up, I lived with my grandparents for a few of my formative years. Just about every single morning, they were out of bed before the crack of dawn. I thought, "It must be their generation". Nobody it their right mind would ever want to get up that early, day in, and day out. On your days off, EVERYONE wants to sleep a little longer. Not my grandparents. As much as I hate to admit it, the older I get, the less time I can physically spend in bed. I set my alarm for 6AM, and probably 25% of the time it actually goes off to wake me up. I have slid into a creature of deeply entrenched habit. Now, I'm normally awakened by the fact that someone turned the plumbing on, and I have to get out of bed to relieve myself. I'm sure my wife is thrilled to hear this tidbit of info, rather than me sleeping thru this sensation;) Of course, this occurs approximately 5 - 10 minutes BEFORE my alarm is set to go off. So I start my day a little grumpy, having been denied these few minutes of precious sleep. If my morning 'nature's call', does not nudge me out of bed, then my aching back tells me its had enough of horizontal, and wants to be vertical for awhile. So out of bed I drag myself, just to make the aches and pains subside. Last Saturday, I thought, "Finally, my chance to sleep in awhile". I had nothing really pressing planned for early in the morning, so a few extra winks were on the agenda. I purposely do NOT set my alarm on the weekend, because there are NO 'tile emergencies' on the weekend. Honestly people, there are NO 'tile emergencies' ever! Don't try to convince me or yourself otherwise. That's a rant for another day. Back to Saturday morning. Snoozing along, catching up on some REM, no twinges, urges, aches, or pains shoving my carcass out of bed, then I gently, and refreshed from my slumber, awake fully aware, and ready for the day. A good mood came over me, thinking to myself, "Finally, a good night's sleep"! I roll over to bask in the fact I've slept well beyond what my body normally allows, to check the time on my alarm clock, and do some quick math, to see how much sleep I gained, to apply that toward my deficit. 6:05AM. #@!$%

In Plain Sight

I have a friend named Tom who has a unique ability. From time to time, I find myself in the car, on a little bit of a road trip with him. He happens to have a couple of good fishing holes south of the border. I'm talking the Nebraska border. But Tom has this keen sense about spotting certain wildlife, and this is done even while driving. I can be staring out the window, gazing off into a corn field, and Tom will blurt out 'deer', or 'turkey'. I'm in a state of confusion and asking, "Where, where"? Then the deer, or turkey, or pheasant, or ground squirrel, or dragonfly, come into plain? view. I asked him once, how he has such a keen eye for wildlife? First, he grew up in the country, and has trained his eye to spot it at a young age. He said once he exits the city, he has an image in his mind, and any movement, or slight discrepancy on the horizon, triggers his response. I've tried to pay attention to this while driving on road trips, but growing up a city kid, I'm not sure what a deer looks like. Of course, this happens to me other than excursions through the countryside. I can open my tool box, and stare for three minutes, looking for a tool hidden in plain sight. It happened to me this morning. I opened the fridge looking for jelly, and stood there, just like my kids do, staring into a camouflaged environment, while letting the 'cold' flow freely out of the appliance, thus warming my food, and cooling my house, all while running my electric bill up. So I finally found the jelly, hiding somewhat behind the eggs, sitting very still, hoping to not be noticed. But since I've been training my mind and my eye, and the two are now in 'sync', there was no way it was going to escape my notice. OK, admittedly, I still have a lot of fine tuning. I think some people just have 'it', and some people (me) don't. I'm just fortunate I've never challenged Tom to a game of 'slug bug'. Chances are, I would probably notice the deer.

Rules According to Kevin

We all have standards and personal rules we live by. Some folks are stricter than others, some live by the rule that there should be no rules. I fall somewhere in between, with what I feel is a happy balance. Some of my rules though, have an unusual twist. Let me share:) Ever notice how some folks can say and do what they please, and don't really care if they step on someone's feelings, but when you call them on it, they feel persecuted? Those people don't realize they have feeling, until you hurt them. So I feel rule 1. Slightly hurt their feelings in return., is a good rule. Let me explain. You have helped them get in touch with their feelings, AND, if they have some form of religious upbringing, 'forgiveness' is an essential part of being devout. So you are helping them to cultivate the act of 'forgiveness'. It should be viewed as a public service. Rule 2. If it's not broke, don't fix it. This is an old one, but carries a great amount of wisdom. If your plumbing doesn't need fixed, trust me, DO NOT mess with it! Rule 3. Spanking a child is not a crime. It's not a crime, if the intent was to correct a blatant wrongdoing, and was not done to inflict pain, other than the butt. There should also be an explanation why the punishment is given, and not enforced in a moment of rage. Otherwise, a paddling does no harm, and may prevent a jail sentence in the future. Rule 4. If it belongs to me, ask before using it. Chances are, I will let you, unless you just take liberties with my stuff, then it becomes a possession issue. Rule 5. If you're born in the state of Nebraska, and happened to be reared by Cornhusker fearing parents, the Saturday football game should be watched, listened to, or attended, unless of course, there's an emergency. Every effort should be made though, to take in some form of the game, and interruptions are inexcusable, unless there's an injury or death, or something like the house catching fire. If the house catches fire early enough in the game, maybe a relative or neighbor will let you watch the remainder at their house. Rule 6. There is no sympathy if you've been warned ahead of time. There's also no sympathy if I've been through it while you stood by watching, and then you didn't pay attention to my mistakes, and made the same mistake I made. Rule 7. Don't try to sell me on the latest gimmick. Refer to Rule 2. Rule 8. I've learned this one the hard way. It's a rule my wife pointed out, and has served me well over the years. When someone shows you how they really are, believe them. Don't think that you're something special, and they will treat you differently. Rule 9. There is ALWAYS somebody smarter, tougher, better looking, and richer. The sooner you come to grips with this fact, the smoother your life will be. Rule 10. If we're not friends in 3-D world, we're not going to be friends on Facebook, Myspace, or any other social network. Friends should shake hands, not point and click.

Happy Cab Service

OK, one more Keith story, and I promise I'll stop. At least the stories won't be directly pointed to Keith, but his name may arise from time to time. Prior to being married, I had a love for cars, ... still do, but not as much as Keith. Since we were so much like brothers, there was a built in form of competition between us, just as with the case of any siblings. Keith had a hot car, (the Chevelle mentioned earlier) and I felt the need to purchase one also. Up to this point, my inner hippie prevailed, and I only drove a VW Beetle. It had its quirks, but I loved that car, and drove it into the ground. So I had the opportunity to purchase a 1975 Firebird from a relative. My first experience with somewhat of a muscle car. A couple of lessons learned here. First, don't buy used vehicles from relatives, unless you know the history of the car, and are aware of the things that may need fixed. Second, make sure you have enough money to fix said problems. So I bought the car, and it came with a set of new back tires. They were low profile and wide, just what a muscle car should be equipped with. The following weekend, I had plans to take the tires and get them mounted on my slotted mag rims - I know what you're thinking, way to cool! Instead of putting them in the garage, in my grandfather's way, I put them next to the garage between the privacy fence. There was about three feet between the garage and fence, with the eaves hanging over the six foot fence, there was hardly enough room to walk, and definitely not visible, unless you were in the yard snooping around. So Saturday arrives, and first thing on my weekend agenda is to have my tires mounted. I walk around to the side of the garage, and they're no longer there! Yes, they've been stolen. And no, I did not call the police. What's the point, they're not going to find two tires in all of Omaha. So I went about my day, mad as hell. Later that day, while doing yard work, I saw a blue pickup with side boards, drive down the alley, and pull into a garage where there happened to be a Happy Cab service. About an hour later, the truck pulls out of the garage with all kinds of tires and rims piled high, and there on top are my two tires! So then did I call the police? No, they were not going to exact my revenge and take away the rage I was experiencing. Who in the world could actually help me with my predicament? That evening, I had plans to go out partying, I mean socializing with Keith and a few of my buddies. I related my story to them, and as the evening wore on, and the influence of fermented barley took hold, it became apparent that Keith would be the perfect person to help me do something stupid, daring, bold, malicious, and unsanitary. We arrived back at our house about two in the morning, and before clocking out for the evening, we decided to stroll down the alley. In our mind altered state, we hailed a cab, and viola! There was a Happy Cab at our service. Being a safety conscious person, Keith thought he should check the tire pressure with his tire gauge, before this cab carried unwary passengers. Since it was dark, he mistaken his pocket knife for a tire gauge, and unfortunately, this cab had four flat tires. Sorry, no fares tonight. I thought I would see if the cab was locked, because I had witnessed theft in the neighborhood, and I wanted to make sure to keep the honest people honest. Because of carelessness on their part, the door was left unlocked, so I opened it. After opening it, I was distracted by the fact my bladder had expanded to ridiculous proportions, and I felt the need to relieve the pressure that was exerted on my abdomen. I had a momentary lapse of where, and what I was doing, (must have been from excessive 'socializing') and mistakenly began to use the Happy Cab's bathroom. Whoops, Happy Cabs don't have bathrooms! I didn't figure this out until I finished, and was looking for the lever on the urinal. Sorry about the dash and the front seat. One good thing came from this whole experience. I was no longer upset about losing my tires. Thanks to Keith for listening to me, and being the loving, caring, person he is, helped me through this trying time in my life.

Last Meal

I don't know what it is that draws me to a kitchen, but I like to spend extraordinary amounts of time in one. Cooking is not only a necessity if you like more than a sandwich, but for me, it's another creative outlet, and a way to make family and friends happy. Preparing food can also be an art form. Some dishes are so beautiful, you don't want to stick a fork in it. But you do anyway. The artist (chef or cook) considers complete devouring of their creation, a compliment to their display. So today I was preparing the peppers for our annual camping trip/family reunion, and thinking to myself just how much I love Italian sausage and peppers! Of course, every Italian's sausage and peppers are better than the next guy's, but I must truly say, "I like mine better than any I've ever had". And I've killed off my fair share of sazitsas! So the longer I'm standing in front of the stove, occasionally stirring my little pan of bell pepper ecstasy, I got to thinking, "This is quite possibly my favorite meal"! I think if I were on death row, this would be the last meal I request. One small technicality though ... I would have to be the one to prepare the sausages and make the peppers. I would make sure they would allow me enough time to make my family's world renown sausage, and my great grandmother's peppers, and teach someone to carry on the dish. Plus, I would have to make enough to feed the guards and executioners. I have a hard time cooking for 1 or 2 people. OK, everybody's fat and happy, let's get on with it.