Have a COW:

Or maybe have a calf?

My best feature. I earned these the hard way about 25 years ago as a missionary in Denmark. In those days, and in those Scandinavian countries, the missionaries stuck to the apartment areas, which were predominant anyway. The design of those apartment buildings was such that there are MANY outside doors, each with its own address. As you walk in, there are 2 doors on the first floor, 1R, and 1L, right and left. Then up the stairs to 2R, 2L, this goes on for four five, even six floors - you knock on only two doors per floor, then walk all the way down, go 30 yards down the street to the next address, same building, and start all over again. Day in and day out, month in and month out. Yes, those calves are earned.

Funny - I played with two of the kids in a three on three basketball tournament about 3 years ago. We did okay, winning our fair share. One of the boys' friends who was playing on a team with his own dad, came up to him and said, DOOD, your dad has MASSIVE calves!! How did he DO that?

Yep, earned the hard way.

On another note, we went to the inauguration of Red Butte Gardens' new amphitheater last night with two of the kiddies. Playing was Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. The picture of him is from a bit of a distance, so it's a little grainy, but you get the idea. We were there, he was there, they played good music, we drank things, and enjoyed the good music. The end.


Bringing Product to Market:

You know the Murphy's Law about how the Jelly side of the toast always lands on the floor. And you know the law about a cat always landing on its feet.

I'm working on a product I'm calling Cat-Toast. Maybe Feline Fried Bread? Tabby-Toast? Hairless Wonder Bread? Something like that.

We'll see how it goes.

On another note, in addition to the Boob Bowl, I like the wall-mounted Boob Bar as a conversation starter.

I think there is merit there, just trying to figure out what it is right now.

And on even ANOTHER note, I would like to relate to you an observation:

I was duped into going to Lagoon on July 4th. Being duped into going to Lagoon happens to me about every third or fourth year. I am not a fan of this place. But generally the kids like it, and I acquiesce every once in a while.

What can I say, sometimes I bend, people.

Anyway, I get within 500 yards of the gate, and I feel a strange sensation in my back pocket - an odd magnetic pull on my wallet. As I get closer, the feeling turns into a full-on vacuuming sound as the place sucks the money directly from my pants.

So, as I said, I had not been there in a few years, and every time I go there I swear I'll never set foot in the place again. I generally loathe the place.

So we go in and ride a couple of rides with the kids, and find a place to drop our stuff to wait for the fireworks, sending the kids off to be more daring than I was willing to be. By this time I have sustained a mild whiplash, the mechanical equivalent of a kidney punch, and a general loss of sensory function as a result of more-than-I-like centrifugal/G-forces. "I'm getting too old for this" was the direct quote from me to ThatOneWife. She concurred with my assessment. Oh, and I was also subjected to a hamburger that both looked and tasted like the underside of a manhole cover.

All of that I could live with. But here's the kicker. I'm a bit of a people watcher. A societal observer, if you will. And here are my findings: the place is filled with wife-beater wearing teenage thugs/gang-bangers-in-training, general trailer/white trash, fat mexican slobs/sluts masquerading as Puerto Rican Princesses to appeal to the above-mentioned thugs and bangers, Keystone Light drinking Nascar fans, and fat people in DIRE need of a shower, haircut, and/or some major personal maintenance. Many of these groups are NOT mutually exclusive either.

I'm just sayin'.


Again with the fireplaces....

Here, have one - you know you want one...

Also, this try seems to have worked out a little better than last time.

That is all for now.