Evil Twin

When something doesn't go quite right, I like to blame it on my evil twin. Amazingly enough, there is usually someone in the world who resembles you rather closely. There is one friend who insists my wife looks like Sandra Bullock and I look like - NO, not Jesse James - rather, Gerard Butler. I don't really see it. I'm afraid if Gerard Butler looked remotely close to me, he wouldn't be nearly as famous. And if my wife resembled Sandra Bullock, she would have ended up with Gerard Butler. Of course, this resemblance issue can sometimes lead to mistaken identity. I'm sure if Gerard Butler were to do something completely stupid in public, the paparazzi aren't going to surround my house. But, with a few minor alterations, I might be able to pull off being Gerard Butler for a brief moment, and possibly get my picture, along with a caption mentioning Gerard Butler, in the National Enquirer. But really, that's too much effort put into something that would not benefit either one of us. Regardless, there is still somebody (maybe more than one person) out there who resembles Gerard Butler a little closer than I do. And I'm sure somebody is wandering the earth right now, who looks a little closer to me than Gerard does. Due to some recent observation by my wife, is the reason for this blog entry. We were watching a music program, in which Dave Grohl was the drummer. He teamed up with a few other rockers to form a group called, Them Crooked Vultures. Watching him play drums was very reminiscent of a certain drummer from the Muppets Show. Next chance you get to see Dave Grohl play drums, think about Animal. He truly does have an evil twin.

My Memoirs

I've been thinking of publishing my memoirs. If you have five minutes, you should be able to finish my book/page. At the age of forty-four, I'm pretty sure I've used up more than half of the years I've been allotted here on earth. I still have yet to do anything earth shattering, or at least noteworthy. Instead, I've fallen into line with millions of others, who unknowingly, have shuffled through life just existing. I may have accomplished a few, small, noteworthy things that matter to a couple of people, but nothing quite interesting enough to make it on page 12 of the penny saver newspaper. So my memoirs should be rather short. On the other hand, I could write a book on all the things that interest me, but have yet to do. Now that could go for a few more pages. I can ramble on just about any subject, whether I know something, or am just buffaloing my way through. I may be onto something here. I'm sure I can embellish enough to make my 'intended memoirs, but never found the time', sound much more appealing than someone's actual memoirs. If this hair brain idea were to actually succeed, I would have something to put into my memoirs.

Mr. Hyde

It's allergy season again boys and girls! Time for itchy eyes, sneezing, the roof your mouth itches, runny nose, plugged up nose, puffy eyes, etc., etc. I'm sure there's more symptoms, but no need to be a downer, right? Thank God for allergy relief medicine. Even if it is only temporary at best, at least it gives you a measure of relief. Of course, as is the case with anything chemically produced, there are going to be side effects. In my case, I forego sleep, and live on the edge. Just ask my family. When not under the influence of the tiny little pill, my eyes itch non stop, and are usually blood shot. It appears I've been puffing the 'J', dancing with Mary Jane, caught in a ditch weed fire. The only differences are, I'm not having a Big Mac attack, and paranoia is replaced with misery. Instead of everyone assuming I'm firing up a bowl, I take a pill, and it all goes away. But here's where the transformation takes place. This is where the good Dr. Jekyl is morphed into Mr. Hyde. I have a tendency to tie up and gag my inner editor, and say what's on my mind. If it comes out wrong or harsh, I have no apologies. The old adage, 'If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all', should apply, but I can't stop myself. So an apology is in order for all of mankind, during allergy season. I'm not really myself until May. If I say harsh, mean things after May 1st, then you really had it coming. Prior to May 1st, please consider the source and accept my apologies. If you have to slap me, let me remove my glasses first.

Dust Bunny

Yes, it's time for spring cleaning! Afraid to look under the couch, or behind the fridge? Yeah, me too. You know the lovable little dust bunnies are under there hiding. Unfortunately, they only come out of hiding when you have company, to make your visitors feel a little unsanitary while they're at your home, and to totally embarrass you. They usually consist of hair, dust, lint, cobwebs, and an occasional potato chip stuck in the middle. They're usually found in company with lost pens, crayons, pennies, and dog bones. They somewhat resemble a tumbleweed, and if they caught a gust of wind, would start rolling across the prairie, gaining momentum, transform into a dirt deer, and able to consume small children or the family pet. So time to get the dust bunny extractor equipment out, and suit up. Now if you examine a dust bunny closely, say under a microscope, and break down the components that make up the individual particles, you would find that we have the same chemical/compound elements in our bodies, as do the dust bunnies, all the way down to the potato chip. Without getting into a heated debate over evolution vs. creation, there's a fair amount of credibility in the statement, 'From dust you are, and from dust you will return.' So please clean up the dust bunnies before I come visit. It's rather embarrassing watching someone's DNA peaking out from under the TV stand, then roll out onto the floor.

Precious Commodity

In my estimation, 'sleep' is about the most important thing (outside of air and water) my body needs. A good night's rest, or a much needed nap, or a nap followed by a good night's rest, is just a highlight in my life. Lately I've formed a habit. Not necessarily a good habit. I'll come home from work in the evening, and the natural progression of things goes as follows: 1. My wife will ask about my day, and I usually respond with all the stupidity I've plowed through for 8 - 10 hours, just to accomplish 4 hours worth of work. 2. We will then discuss supper ideas if she doesn't already have it in progress. 3. Get a little snack to take the edge off, accompanied by a beverage of choice. 3. Watch some news. 4. Eat supper. 5. Get sucked into the couch in front of the television, and next thing you know, I'm bobbing and weaving like a professional boxer. 6. Kick the kids and toys and books and shoes and remotes, etc. onto the floor, and assume a horizontal position. 7. Nappy time :) It seems lately, that I have to take a nap, usually starting around 8 PM, just so I have enough energy to make it to bed. Last night was no different. My wife finally woke me around 9:30, and poked and prodded until I moved my sack of bones off the couch. I protested ever so slightly, about being made to go to bed, (nobody enjoys being awaken before their good and ready). I now see why the dog gets upset when I catch him on the couch, and smack him in the hind quarter, to get him off the couch. The only difference is, I'm allowed on the furniture, he's not. So off to bed I go, and sleep rather soundly until my alarm goes off at 6 AM. Apparently my body needed that much sleep last night. But there are other times, I won't go to bed until midnight, wake up at 5 AM, and be ready to go. I wish I could level out this 'sleep pendulum' I've found myself on. I know part of the problem is, once I stop working or moving around, my battery wants to conserve energy, and go into a sleep mode. Another theory my family has come up with is a condition called, 'tight skin syndrome'. After eating a meal, the extra weight in your stomach pulls on the skin from your belly button all the way to your forehead. If your skin lacks elasticity, the extra weight pulls your eyelids shut, giving the appearance of sleeping. Scientific enough for me! That's the excuse I'm going with.

New Venture

As we all know, there's always something new for me to try. I just can't be happy with the way things are, culinarily speaking. Last night, I used my gas grill in a way that I've never done before. I've been rather adventurous with it since purchasing it a year ago. Prior to that, it was always charcoal. I still prefer the taste of food prepared over charcoal, but gas has opened up a whole new world for me. Outside of charring several different types of meats, I've done a fair amount of veg on the grill, and once used the additional burner to fry cajun style chicken in an iron skillet (the boss insisted on keeping the mess and odor outdoors). Many may have caught wind of my next food exploration, due to my Facebook junkie wife, that I'm going to make a wood fire pizza oven, and start creating, what is known as, artisan pizza. Now that the snow has been gone for two solid weeks, people are asking if I've finished my three month long project. Due to the hype, I guess everyone is a bit anxious to get their share of the pie (pizza). First step is finalizing a location in the yard, clean up the sticks and dog poop, and excavate. Free manual labor is welcome. But in the meantime, there is a poor man's version of artisan style pizza making. According to last year's taxes, I qualify! I recently purchased some unglazed Mexican saltillo tile. It's a soft red clay tile with NO finish (very important, so your pizza does not poison you). You have to purchase a whole box, even though I needed only two. So I have extras to break. This is a key element in baking your pizza. The raw clay tile retain heat, and draw moisture from the dough to help move along the baking process. So last night I put the grill, and the newly installed tile to work. The maiden voyage was a smashing, tasty success! Called a couple of close friends, otherwise known as 'guinea pigs', at the last minute, to help experience my new experiment. When they left, I got the vibe that we're still friends. My oldest daughter enjoyed it also. She wanted to invite her friends over for the leftovers. It was too late and they had other plans. All in all, it was a lot of fun, and 'yes', there will be future pizzas cooked this way until the oven is built.

Fan Club

While walking thru Lowe's today, I passed a man who looked remotely familiar, but common enough, he could have been anyone. As we passed, he said, "Hi, Kevin". I quickly responded with with a smile, and a, "How ya doin today?". I have no idea who this man was, but he apparently knows me. So my whole trip to Lowe's had my mind troubled over who this mystery person is. My guess is someone I've been associated with work over the past few years, but not for certain. I am getting older, and what's that disease the old people suffer when they lose their memory? Perhaps he was a person I owe money to, or better yet, he owes me money! My theory is: I've been at my trade for too many years now, to remember everyone. Word has gotten around about my ability to find the shiny side of a tile, and set it with the correct side up. Obviously this has given rise to my popularity, and I now have ascended to 'rock star' status. He must have just been a fan, maybe even the president of my fan club. I'm glad I was on somewhat of a time constraint, otherwise I would have had to stop and carry on a conversation with this guy, and pretend I know him. That can be a bit awkward. All I've got to say is, I hope I don't run into him again, because I don't have a clue who he is, or even know of somebody who might know him. Besides, I may still have his 20 bucks.