Bah Humbug!

It started about a month ago. I started to hear the constant whining, badgering, and unrealistic expectations from the public. This happens every year, and every year it sets the tone for the remaining months of the year. It starts with a phone call from a potential customer. They like to tell me their grandiose plans for their house. They start from the beginning and paint a picture for me over the phone. The type of wood on their cabinets, the color it will be stained, the color of their crown molding (this is usually spoken with great adoration in their voice, and I'm trying to keep from putting my finger down my throat and not having to explain the sound of my gag reflex), the paint color, the name of their granite (once again, urp), and finally to their tile, which is where I come in. This is soon followed by dates and times when each trade is expected to be there and perform their most precious task so that this family can have the project done two days before Thanksgiving, to accommodate the guests coming in from out of town. First mistake, wait until the last minute to start a remodel project. Second mistake, micromanage every subcontractor's schedule, assuming they're just sitting around, waiting for your phone call to do your $400 job for $350. This is where the 'fun' begins. You can just hear the figurative glass drop and shatter when you tell them you can't get to their project for at least six weeks. Immediately shift from managerial attitude to beggar/crybaby. "But I have company coming, and my kitchen won't be finished", or "I have seven people staying, and only one working bath". Can you sense the desperation in their voice? "Poor planning on your part does NOT constitute an emergency on my part". That's quoted from someone else and used by myself more often than I would like. Feel free to utter those words, if the situation fits. Then there's the plea for someone else's phone number. I'm happy to oblige, for why should I be the only one to field these phone calls? My peers should have to go through this also. Besides, one of them may just be sitting around, waiting for this opportunity. So far, I've made it halfway thru another season without going postal. Tomorrow starts the second wave of disappointment for those who live on Fantasy Island. Christmas is the new deadline. Curse that Mr. Roarke for filling their heads with unrealistic promises!

Right or Left?

Supposedly people are either right or left brained. If you use your right hand for everything, you're left brained. Lefties use their right side. Apparently, this holds true in the way we think and comprehend things also. But you don't necessarily have to be right handed to be left brained. Confused yet? Wait, it only gets worse. I guess there are tell tale signs as to which lobe you happen to favor. I guess autistic people happen to be right brained, but you don't have to be autistic to be right brained. My wife thinks she's autistic minus the savant. If you look at her handwriting, especially her signature, you would surmise she is three years old. On the other side of the coin, she is incredibly well read and has a grasp of vocabulary that warrants envy from crossword puzzlers around the globe. Now I'm a different story. I'm a bit confused. I'm predominantly left brained with some right brain tendencies. I've been told, when I was a little guy, I would use my left hand. My mother and grandmother 'corrected' that at an early age, and made me use my right hand. Today I am right handed with a few quirks. I kick a football left footed, and quite impressively I might add. When fishing, if using a bait cast reel, I cast right handed, if using an open face reel, left handed. I throw right handed only, but while at bat, I can switch hit. I'm more accurate right, but just as powerful left. When it comes to comprehending things, I don't know. I wonder if a person's political views have to do with which hemisphere they use? There are left wingers and right wingers. Sometimes, it appears that they don't use either side of their brain, when you hear some of their political ideals. I wonder if you can retrain your brain after so many years of doing things predominantly with one hand? Say, every ten years, start to write my name and throw a ball left handed. Sure, I'm going to look like a girl for awhile, but it can only get better, right? On second thought, life's difficult enough. Why would I choose to be autistic? That would be retarded.

As It Should Be

It appears the Big 12 North Division is getting back to the old order of things. The Huskers finally sealed the deal on the North. I think we have a long ways to go before we're feared in the South, or at least taken seriously. But the rest of the North has had their day of play. Dad's home now, it's time to stop behaving badly, and start to take your punishment. In the Dark Ages (also known as the Callahan years), the rest of the North missed the opportunity to step into the role and totally dominate for years to come. Instead, they strove for mediocrity, and now they're going to have to deal with the upcoming wrath of Mr. Pelini and his mob bosses. Now that Nebraska has surfaced to the top, the turmoil in football world can start to settle down and return to the normalcy of old. I know it's frustrating for the remainder of the North, and it's not going to get easier in the years to come, but at least they know their place in the world. We just have a few spider webs left to clean out of the attic, and things should be tidied up nice for next season. I realize we were spoiled brats during the latter years of the Osborne domination, and we've learned from this, but we've now descended into the cellar with the previous blundering staff, left them there, and have finally emerged into the daylight. It's going to be sunny. I recommend SPF30 and some decent sunglasses.

Rich Man

There's an old song from the Bare Naked Ladies, titled 'If I Had A Million Dollars'. What would I do with a cool mill? Throughout the song they mention some nonsensical things they would spend their money on, but in the end he would buy the girl's love that happens to be listening to the song. Well, I'm a pretty simple minded guy, so I'm pretty sure I would spend my money wisely, not frivolously. First on the agenda, pay off everything, including my house! Set up a Roth IRA, and buy a brand new set of tires for my truck. Consult a money manager to figure out how to correctly invest a small portion of it. Donate some. And after all that is set up, go back to work. You may think, 'Go back to work'? 'Are you nuts'? There is one 'small' factor we haven't discussed yet. Taxes. After paying taxes first, then proceeding with my plan, it's all spoken for. A million dollars sounds like a lot of money when you're a kid, but to an adult, it may serve a short time as a safety net, but it's really not that much anymore. I don't even know why I'm discussing this subject. I do not have a rich benefactor threatening to shove money in my pockets. It's really a nonissue. Back to the song though. I know it's cruel, but I WOULD buy my wife a real green dress:)

Sasquatch Sighting

Yesterday I thought I saw a Sasquatch in my house, then realized it was me walking in front of a mirror with my shirt off. It seems every year that goes by, I add another layer of insulation to my body. I know this is going to gross you all out, but roll with it. You're probably thinking right now, ' his poor wife'. Don't feel sorry for her yet. If I grew a ponytail, it would appear I was wearing a coonskin cap with a mink shawl, a squirrel belt, and a bearskin bib. I remember passing through the puberty years a little ahead of my fellow pubescent peers. I had sole bragging rights for a whole year because I had a mustache in the fifth grade. Soon after, I started my luscious garden of chest hair and wore it outside my shirt with great Italian pride. So by the time I finished my high school years, I was ready to shut down the hair factory. I was able to grow a beard within a week, which served my underage, illegal motives well. Once I became of age, I no longer needed the ever expanding help of hair follicles. But somewhere along the line, the production has picked up, and I can't find the button to shut it off. I've had to wage a battle with myself to keep from becoming an overgrown, hirsute, walking, patch of bramble. I fear birds and small animals will try to take up residence somewhere on my body. The one and only benefit I have been able to take advantage of is, I can usually withstand the cold much better than previous years. My wife derives benefits also. In bed, I cannot sleep with a shirt on. I've been this way since I was a kid. As an adult, I can hardly stand to have the covers over my shoulders. I feel as if I'm wearing a turtleneck to bed. I happen to be a good source of heat with the extra insulation (a little bit of whale blubber also), warming the bed in just a few short minutes after climbing in. She usually comes to bed later than myself, and her matrimonial bed warmer is working just fine. She crawls into bed with her 15 degrees below zero feet, popsicle fingers, and cold, wet, puppy dog nose, and is comfortable soon after. I'm still not dismissing the fact Sasquatch may be roaming around my house, but if you catch sight of, what appears to be him, check first to see if he's wearing glasses before you shoot. That would be me.

Bread

Don't you just love the smell of bread baking? Just the mention of it, and the wrinkle formed in your brain many many years ago, immediately call your senses to attention. It is quite possibly one of the best, and most tantalizing smells in the world! I don't know too many people who don't like bread. I do know some who don't like the crust on their bread, and some of those are grown adults. (Oh please). The other day, I accompanied my children to the Rotella's Bakery, for a school field trip. I'm pretty sure me and the soccer moms enjoyed it more than the children. Did you know, Rotella's uses 3 million pounds of flour every week? The bakery runs 24/7, ships to all 50 states, Canada, and Iraq. They supply all the Arby's, 30% of Sonic's, 35% of all Walmarts delis, and about 1000 different food chains in part or whole. Nothing goes to waste either. If there's a bad loaf, or some dough falls on the floor, they pick it up immediately, and put it into yellow waste cans. These cans are kept separate, and a local pig farmer visits once a week to haul it away. They save on disposal costs, and the farmer supplements his feed for the pigs. A win/win situation. They employ 400 people and this bakery is the only one in the world! They will also do special requests. Apparently, Garth Brooks recently opened a new restaurant and Rotella's supplies them with their bakery items, and pizza dough. The field trip concluded with a question and answer session, and then they gave everyone in attendance a bag with a loaf of bread and breadsticks. I love Rotella's! So please help keep this, one of a kind company going. They've been around since 1921 and are into their fifth generation of family ownership. Kudos to Rotella's Bakery!

As Big As Your Head

Over the weekend, my family and I went to brunch on Sunday. My youngest daughter LOVES the cinnamon rolls that are brought to each table. That is the highlight of her whole seven year existence up to this point. If it involves sugar, it must be good. If it happens to be a shade of green, yellow, or orange, and not made of sugar, it must be repulsive! So her excitement upon seeing the beautiful, doughy, gooey, sticky sweet pastries, making their way to our table, prompted her to proclaim her extreme satisfaction, and thrilled that the size of each roll was 'as big as your head'! Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But if it were the size of your head, is it really a good idea to eat that much? Is it possible to eat that much? If I owned a restaurant though, that would be a great description on the menu of that item. Cinnamon Roll - Bring a buddy, this thing is the size of your head!