Posted in Life

Truth + Insurance Claim =

My daughter dropped her I-phone in the toilet yesterday, bringing about the end of the world.

If any of you out there noticed a minor earthquake, or a disturbance in the Space-Time Continuum, which would affect Internet Traffic, Radio and TV waves, or increased fees on Toll Roads, then you too have been affected by this occurrence.

Here is the chain of events:

  1. The unthinkable happens
  2. Crying and amazement at what a new Cellphone costs, when your parents aren’t paying for it
  3. Loss of contact with those around you, in addition to your nearest Facebook friends
  4. Argument with parents about, who is going to pay
  5. Discussion of reporting it to the Insurance Company
  6. Level of Honestly at reporting it to the Insurance Company.

Number 6 is a hard one to judge, as it deals with thinking like the Insurance Company, and what you think is covered in your policy.

The question being, “How honest should you be, when reporting this accident?”

  1. Tell the absolute truth
  2. Tell what you think the truth should sound like, when trying to convince the Insurance Company, that you are the wronged person in this case, and that they should pay!

This is also a bit tricky, when you tell your children, that the truth is always the best way to go, while trying to get around it, so you don’t have to pay for a new Cellphone!

I did the calling, with the above items rolling around in my head, before a “live” person showed up on the line.

I told her, that an accident had occurred yesterday with my daughter’s telephone, and it didn’t look good.

I was told that it would be sent to repair, and in case it wasn’t repairable, it would be compensated for, disallowing for its age, which translates to a possible reduction in compensation.

Why, you might ask, write a whole blog about something so mundane, that the problem was solved, just by telling it like it was?

It seems that we all want to get something for nothing, and if someone else pays for our misfortune, then we will end up feeling better about it.

The problem comes with being honest with others, like you would be honest with yourself. I chose the straight and narrow path, because it seemed correct to me. I didn’t need to cut corners, or try to make it sound better by glossing over the truth, when the truth was good enough for me.

I only wish, that others that come in contact with me, would show me the same consideration, without trying to get something more than they deserve.

It seems like the correct thing to do, from my viewpoint……

Posted in Stories - The Girl Next Door

Making Money – Chapter 10 (The Girl Next Door)

“Look here, you Ninny”. I’ve just about had it with you. I’m talking about washing cars, and you are looking at me with your Goo-Goo eyes, mumbling something about “the cops, and a cigarette”. Pull yourself together, or it will be Sayonara from this Girl next door!”

OK. I guess, I’ve let my mind wander a bit too much. I just get carried away when thinking of how my life might end up, when I am together with my friend? You’d think she’d be sad and regretful, not giving me another kiss, or something? I’ve started carrying a package of Certs, ready to pop one in my mouth, if I had the feeling that a kiss was on its way. The fact of the matter being that she has surprised me at least twice before with a kiss, before I even knew what had happened! “Hit and run”, you might say!

I stood there searching in my right pocket for one right now, while she looked at me like I was some sort of an addle-headed boob. “What are you doing now, fiddling around in your pocket?” Are you ready for my plan, or what?”

I had actually found, what I hadn’t been looking for, a hole in my pocket where my Certs used to be! Oh well, it probably won’t be my lucky day today! I hope not anyway, while testing my breath by blowing it into my cupped hand.

“Look here, you. We are going to go into the Car-washing business. We can hit all of the houses in the neighborhood and offer them our Opening Special! Wash your car, and clean your windows for $5. Cheap at twice the price, but for you, dear neighbors, a special price today. Well, What do you think?”

It seemed like a good idea to me, other than the fact that we really didn’t know much about washing cars. Not me anyway, but things like that didn’t stop her. She didn’t wait for my answer, before she stomped up to the first house, and rang the doorbell. She then stepped to one side, pretty much out of sight of the house owner, and waited for the door to open. “Hurry up, you Ninny. Now it’s your turn to use our Sales Pitch!”

I just stood there looking rather perplexed when the door opened, and a woman looked out at me. “Well, what is it young man?”.

I…I’d like to offer you a car wash for the measly fee of $5. I’ll make it shine like the top of the Chrysler Building ( I threw that one in to make it sound like I’d been in New York and stuff).

“Well, I don’t know. I guess, it would keep you young people out of trouble if you were learning about the value of money! OK. I’ll try it out. The hose is around the back, when you are ready. Just knock on the door, when you are finished!”

And with that she went back inside, leaving me on her doorstep not quite sure what I had gotten myself into. “Good job, you Ninny! And with that she kissed me again, without having had a Peppermint Certs in my mouth, thinking about that bowl of Grape Nuts with the Sour Milk Taste still being in my mouth after all those hours, and how I didn’t get to enjoy it again..

The kiss. Not the Grape Nuts with Sour Milk! I wasn’t that much of a Breakfast Fanatic.

With that over and done with, she pulled out a bucket of soapy water out of nowhere and pushed a sponge into my sweaty hands. “You start to wash the car, while I get some towels to dry it with.”

“Hey, My dad has a Shammy we could use!” I added quickly.

“You and your foreign words! Trying to impress a girl, or something? It is a Chamois, you Ninny. That’s French, you know? Trying to get the girl by sweet-talking her with French? Well, save it for Sunday! I don’t have time for your Je t’aime, or Chamois cloth, type of silly business! Get a move on, and we’ll be counting our first $5 in a few hours, if we’re lucky!”

Even though I was confused, and things, I got to work like she said. I soaped the whole thing and after a while, I was wetter than it was. I hosed it off and was getting a bit tired when she showed up again with a bundle of rags, looking like some bed sheets borrowed from someone’s laundry line.

“Here you go. I’ll just help you out by doing the necessary detail work on the rest of the car while you do the drying.”

She wandered over to the radio antenna, and began to bend it back and forth. “You see this, Poindexter? They just don’t make them like they used to. My Uncle has a car with an antenna which can be bent all the way to the car hood. Like rubber and all, that is the way they should be!” Suddenly the metal, not being rubber kind of type of antenna, made a snapping sound leaving the top part of the antenna in my friend’s hand. “You see, faulty workmanship!”

Now I had come from being confused to being worried that the car’s owner would come out at that instant, and see what was left of her radio antenna. “Fix it, or do something” I cried trying to finish up the job, wringing out the sheets, putting the finishing touches on the drying job.

“Look here, you” she showed me how she found a think stick and placed it inside the bottom part of the antenna, then in the top part. “See, it looks just like new! When she is out and about having parked her car in the wrong side of town, where those antenna-snapping hooligans run around, not having anything else to do than messing up people’s lives, her antenna might just break again!”

And with that, she disappeared around the corner of the house, just as the owner made her appearance. “Wow, great job! I can see myself in the paint job and everything. It is well worth the money and you know what? You should come by again in a month or so, my car will be the talk of the neighborhood!”

Pocketing the money and gathering up the bucket and things, I was ready to take my leave. I looked around for my friend, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found. I moved on to the next house, where someone was home, and tried my sales pitch once again, now having the privilege of pointing in the direction of my first job, and bragging a bit about how good the car looked!

One job led to another, with my services being in demand, just by word of mouth. My friend stayed mainly in the shadows, keeping her antenna-breaking-hands away from the Dodges and the Fords, the Chryslers and the Chevrolets. At the end of the day, my hands were both sore and wrinkly, and my clothes almost completely soaking wet. I had earned somewhere over $25, as some of the people felt that $5 was too much to pay for what they got out of it. All the same, I felt that the day was worth it, and started home, before my mother was out and about, wondering why I wasn’t at home, drooling about her upcoming evening meal.

When I got close to my house, my friend suddenly jumped out from behind a tree, and stopped me dead in my tracks. “Well, well,well. What do we have here? A young man whose pocket are filled with cash, just waiting to shower his riches upon the girl of his dreams! What a lucky day it is for the two of us!”

The thought that she was the girl of my dreams, was not entirely true, but if she wanted to believe that, then I guess it was all right.

My friend seemed to be blocking my path, not letting my tired bones get home, before they collapsed on the ground in front of her.

“Well, what was the day’s take? Are we millionaires yet, or did you slouch around all day?”

I didn’t feel like arguing at that moment. My hands were all raw from being in a bucket of soapy water all day, and it seemed like there wasn’t one dry part on my whole body.

I pulled out the money out of my wet pocket, with some of the bills sticking to the sides, allowing the rest to tumble out on the ground. She moved as fast as quicksilver, mercury, you know, when someone had inadvertently broken the outside thermometer.

OK. There might have been a slingshot involved, and it might have acted like a loaded weapon, and it might just have gone off, when someone wasn’t looking at what he was doing, and hoping instead to catch a glimpse of the girl next door through her bathroom window, which wasn’t easy to do, with it, the bathroom that is, being on the top floor and all! Then there was the shattering of glass followed by the thermometer not being able to tell us the correct temperature anymore, which then caused his mother to react, telling his father that the young man had gone wrong once again, while practicing to be enrolled in the local league of hooligans!

Where was I? The girl next door just stood there, waiting for my daydreaming to end, before she made her next comment.

“I’ve been counting the money, while you’ve been gone on one of your out of town trips, and I must say that you’ve been a busy boy today! Just think of how much money we will have by the end of the summer! I bet we’ll make more money than selling seeds, or Grit like it says on the back of comic books. Hello, are you listening at all? Did you ever order any of that junk on the back of those comics?”

I do admit to being tempted by ordering Sea Monkeys, by mail order sales. I only use the word tempted in my mind, or my mother would hit the roof, or the sky if she heard me talking about devilish things! When I approached my parents with that idea, or the one to sell something else like American Seeds than my mother jumped in, before my father could say anything and said that even though it had the word American in it, there was probably a communist hiding behind every word in the advertisement!

“No. No I just thought how nice it would be to buy a new Sissy bar for my bike, that’s all.”

She just looked at me like I fell off the apple cart today, and shook her head. “Look here. The important thing about money is being able to buy presents for your loved ones. You know? Your parents, your dog and your girlfriend. The most important being your girlfriend. She is not going to say no to flowers or candy, but you don’t know anything about that, do you? All you think about is your Sissy Bar on your bike! I think the best thing, is for me to keep it safe for you, until you learn the value of money! I can help you to buy a present for that certain, special someone, if of course you ever stop daydreaming about her, and say what is in your heart!”

I just looked at her, but she was gone by the time I opened my mouth to reply. What would I reply? It’s hard to say?….



Posted in Dogs

Dog Talking

I do a lot of talking to my dog. He never seems to object though.

He is still a young dog of 5+ months. Everything is still new and exciting to him, having the whole world at his feet.

My old dog was 8 year’s old when he ran into trouble with a large Rottweiler. He needed to be put to sleep, which was a harder blow than I could imagine. At 8 years, he was only ½-way through his expected life expectancy, being a poodle and a small one at that.

He never got above 3.1 Kg, which made other people with larger dogs, not consider him to be a real dog. But he was, and I never considered him to be anything but a real dog.

My new dog is a bit larger, already weighing in at 5½ Kg. He is also a poodle, but a larger sort of small dog. When we are out and about, walking in the same places as my old dog, I tend to talk to him, telling him about how I’d been there before and with who. He seems to listen, but it is hard to say if he understands entirely?

When I was walking my old dog, he would hesitate when we entered an area of tall grass. He relinquished the lead to me, accepting the position of number 2 in our “Pack”. If he thought the danger, or the grass was extremely high, he would stop and look up at me, as if to say “Pick me up now”. Which I did, until he felt safe again, or the grass in the forest gave way to the more open meadow grass. All was then forgotten and we went on our way, with him in the lead.

My new dog and I, were on a similar path this evening. He is at least one head taller, than my old dog, which combined with the carelessness of youth, meant that he walked in the lead, no matter how tall the grass was. It was, however, the barking of a large dog, heard close by, which changed his attitude intensely. No matter how much I held him, and spoke to him, would he be assured that the danger was over. Finally, we did an about face, and returned the way we came, which seemed all right to him once again.

I continued to talk to him well knowing that he wouldn’t respond, but I felt better doing so, all the same. I know that my new dog is not my old dog, and we won’t be doing things exactly the same way as before. It doesn’t seem to matter, and he seems to have accepted, that I continue to name his predecessor, whenever we are out and about. I’m sure they would have gotten along with each other, so the transition from the one to the other, seems to acknowledge that fact!

Old dog named Otto. 8 Years Old.


New dog named Coco. 5½ Months


Coco head 13020035_10207709409165037_1149768222_n

Oh Very Young, and now with his friends.

I hope when he is finished with being a young dog at around 1 year, he will look fondly back on his youth and teenage months, and remember that his owner was not so silly after all….

Like my two teenagers, should also remember….

Posted in Stories - The Girl Next Door

Cars and Other Things – Chapter 9 (The Girl Next Door)

I thought, I was dreaming. Searchlights were scouring the skies, kind of like the Grand Opening of the local car dealership.

“Buy your new Chevrolet today! Why wait until you’ve struck oil on your property, or your ship has come home -Buy that dream car today, and finance it by paying no money down! Just think of what the neighbors will say, when you proudly drive up to your house, sporting the newest model, with Electric this, and Good Old American that! Why buy one of those Anti-American Foreign Jobs, when you could be helping the American Trade Deficit! Bla, Bla, Bla.”

I saw lights in the darkened night sky. Maybe it was during WWII when those big searchlights tried to find the Allied Bombers, filling the skies over Dresden. I used to watch Combat re-runs every week on TV. Vic Morrow didn’t take a back seat to anyone! He always had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and was all dirty and tired-looking. My mother didn’t think that he was a good influence on a young fellow like me, and tried to get me to watch something more wholesome instead. I suggested Green Acres, because I told her my dream of being a farmer someday. When she went into the kitchen, or out to beat the rugs on the laundry line, I switched the channel back to Combat to see if Vic Morrow had yelled at some poor Canadian in that episode. It was really authentic, and I could imagine myself….

“Hey Poindexter” yelled a familiar voice. I looked out of my window to the house across from me. A bright flashlight had been swirling about my window, as if the local car dealer was having a grand opening, and…”We haven’t got all night, you know”. “Look you, tomorrow I want you to meet me down the street, near the big Maple Tree towards the City Park. Don’t wear your Sunday Best, because we have work to do!”

“10am – don’t be late, or suffer the consequences!” she said before she slammed her window leaving me alone in the darkness.

“Who is yelling in the night, when all self-respecting, god-fearing folk are trying to get a good night’s sleep!” Uh, oh. My mother was on the warpath. I hurried back into bed, covering myself as much as possible, expecting a bed inspection any minute. “Any Contraband?” The guard would prod the bed with his baton. “Cigarettes, Drugs, and knives are not allowed!” I rolled over once again, hoping that it wasn’t my turn to face the music, being discovered at last. I looked at my Gideon Bible, and thought of reading a few passages in the New Testament in order to guide me on the righteous path. “The Lord is my shepherd, I……..

The next day began with the sun shining brightly into my bedroom window. The events of the past night continued to roll around in my head, being all jumbled up with Prison Walls, the Girl next Door, and Vic Morrow, and his cigarette. I looked at my alarm clock: 9:30am. What was I supposed to do today? I wasn’t supposed to feed the dog, as we still didn’t have one of those furry nuisances, so it must have been going to Church, or something. Nope it was a weekday, which would have made my mother suspicious, if I mentioned Church on a Wednesday!

“Are you thinking of being some sort of Clergyman, or something?” she asked me with raised eyebrows.  “I could tell the neighbors, Yes, my son is a Man of the Cloth! A Holy Roller, the next Radio Preacher on KXXX, or WGGG. He’ll be making the blind walk again, or the lame to see. I would have to press his collar each week, and we’d have to be in the front pew, in our Sunday Best, of course, waiting for his inspiring words of wisdom. That is, if I can drag Jack away from his precious Garage Workplace, and his greasy monkey overalls? My boy would be the next Billy Graham, and…..

Nope, it wasn’t Sunday today, but I knew that I had to do something or other at 10am, which meant that I needed to get dressed, and eat a healthy breakfast, like the Astronauts did, with Wheaties, or Grape Nuts and good old American Milk, not like the stuff that they drink in Canada, or something. I think my mother felt sorry for all those foreigners outside of the USA, who weren’t able to drink wholesome, Vitamin-D enriched, Good Old American Milk, making strong bodies and minds. She used to tell me, that I should steer clear of Canada, and those other foreign places, as they were jealous of the really good things that we had in the USA. She said that they tried to copy our values and products, and even told their own people that their Canadian Cows were just that, and not really having been sneaked over the border in the dead of night, wearing army boots to disguise their footprints and everything.

I just nodded and told her “thank you for breakfast”, before I rushed out the door and headed toward the City Park.

I really thought that this summer would last forever. It seemed to be so, with every day being just like the last, as if time had stood still for me. My Father was in his garage every day after work, and weekends too, while my mother was taking care of Church Socials, Cake bakes, and other important things to enrich our God and the Community!

I did my usual summer business, with household chores, reading novels and waiting until the next Mickey Mouse-Donald Duck Comics Collection was ready to hit the stores. I knew when it should be available, and I rode my bike to the local drugstore, pulling up in front with my Schwinn bike, with its banana seat, and sissy bar. If girls would only see how Groovy those things were, then I’d get myself a girlfriend on that basis alone! “Can I touch your Banana Seat? she’d say being all nice-looking with a big smile on her face. Her friends would ask her, “if it was serious between us?”, and would wait until she looked the other way, in order to flirt with me themselves.

“Hey you!” Come out of Dreamland for a minute, before you get run down by someone!”

I knew that voice immediately. The Girl Next Door was waving to me, while standing next to the big Maple tree, and chewing on a piece of grass. The girl was doing the chewing, not the maple tree, that is. My mother says that I tend to mix up things when I say them. “Are you listening to me at all?”, she said. “Come over here and wipe that goofy grin off your face, as it some knucklehead girl told you something that made you weak in your knees! This is no time for silly business right now! This is about serious stuff!”

We walked alongside each other for a while, until we came to a row of houses. “Look over there and tell me what you see?”

I looked and looked. Hmm. Crabgrass and screen doors. Peeling paint and ….”No, not that stuff. Look at the cars. The cars you Ninny!”

At the sound of “Ninny” I stopped my daydreaming for a while and looked at the cars. And what? They were just cars, and nothing else. “Do I have to do all the thinking? The cars are dirty! Filthy Dirty! And standing here on this very spot are 2 of the most experienced, well-trained car washers this side of Montréal!”

Right then and there, I knew I was in for trouble, when she mentioned Canada. She seemed to know instinctively, which things would surely tick my mother off!

“First that girl, then Canadians  – I’m warning you, you are heading toward wreck and ruin, if you continue with that sort of riff-raff!” If I told your father once, I’ve told him a million times, how we should move away to a neighborhood where just our kind lives, and not every other Tom, Dick and Harry from God knows where! Why did the rest of the world decide to settle down in our neighborhood? If only I wasn’t that lone sheep, crying out in the wilderness for help, if only…”

“Where are you this time?” a voice suddenly asked me. “Are you going to visit our planet for a bit, or should I leave you alone with your Martian Bikini Babes, while I am raking the dough in?”

Why did she mention Bikini Babes? It’ll just start me thinking again. I wonder what she would look like in a bikini, and…no. No, I wasn’t ready to go down that road as yet. I tried to collect my thoughts and just smile a bit, while nodding me head in an understanding way.

“OK. I can see you are trying to listen, for what that’s worth.” Here is my plan: we could make a whole lot of money,  you and me. Abe Lincolns you know? Moola, Greenbucks, Dough, Big Bucks, are you following me?”

I was, and I wasn’t. She was talking about money, and her and I in the same sentence. That much I understood. “You mean, we are going to get money somehow. Are you talking about robbing banks, or rolling old people in the crosswalk?” said while trying to second-guess what she would say next.

“Look here. Do think of me as some sort of criminal? Well, do you?” – I shook my head from side to side, looking like I would take a bullet for her if necessary. Probably during the bank heist, that is. “Now they’ve seen our faces, you Ninny. Now we’ll have to shoot our way out, and be on the lam.”

Being hunted from town to town, trying to find the one-armed man, who killed my wife. I would be the Fugitive, and she would be…No, then we would have to be Bonnie and Clyde, with me being Warren Beatty, and her being Faye Dunaway. Either we would clear my name, allowing me to live a normal life again going back to my hospital practice, or we would die in a shootout with our bodies filled full of lead. We could also be Butch Cassidy, but that was also about 2 guys. I think, even though I would die in the end, that it would be better hanging out with Faye Dunaway, living and loving until the Fuzz finally caught up with us in the end!

Toss me a cigarette baby, while the cops close in on us, and tell me that you love me……




Posted in Dogs

Considering Horses

Out on an evening walk with the dog. Try and try again. Wear out the dog.

It’s not easy wearing out the dog. Make him tired? No way. He just plays on. Bite the leash, sniff the leaves, bite the leash, pull ahead, fall behind.

I thought. I hoped  a walk of 3 km would help to calm him down. Wrong again! It just wound him up. Bite the leash. Smell the leaves and other unnamed things.

On the way back, he noticed something new. Horses. 3 Horses

Here he is, considering horses. Not moving. Not barking. Not knowing that I am present.

The horses move closer. The consider him, and he they.

A close up of sorts.


They sniffed him, while I held him, and he sniffed them.

It’s not always easy, being a young dog of 5+ months. It must be challenging, considering horses, and all?

Was he tired when he reached the comfort of his home? Not very. Not at all.

But now, after having a long day being that young dog of 5+ months, he is tired. Very tired.

Especially after considering horses, 3….


Coco has been out again.

The next day, while on a walk, close by to considering horses.

This time he has considered sheep.


He is just as in awe today, as yesterday.

Considering a young dog as himself.

Considering others…..

Posted in Denmark, Dogs, Family

Fishing for Compliments

Fishing is a tricky business. Either you do, or you don’t.

Lucky or not?

Today, we went fishing in the Limfjord Canal, in Aalborg Denmark. The temperature yesterday was around 22 C., but today is a cooler 10 C., with a cold wind blowing from the North.

fishing location

Source: Google Maps . Black ring is approx. location of our fishing expedition today.

The fellows at the dock, who proceeded us had caught some Herring, which is common in early May in Denmark.

They were pretty much finished, when we arrived, leaving us all alone to try our luck. Other than a cold chill, we were not that lucky, each having caught one Herring, but which were thrown back due to their small size.

My son then managed to catch a nice Garfish, which is shown here:


I was determined to catch something as well, so I continued to stand there in the cold wind, until….

I caught 3 Herring on the same line. Fishing for Herring is done using a series of hooks, without bait on them.


For adults aged 18+ a yearly fishing license is required, while those young people under 18 is free to fish in areas designated to do so.

My son is a bit more adept at getting things ready than his Old Man, who is not as cold tolerant, as he used to be!

coco mikkel fish

Our dog sat in the car and waited patiently until we were finished:

Coco fishing

He seemed happy enough to smell the fish on our hands, and sit in the warm sun in his box.

The views towards Aalborg were nice as well:

aalborg skyline

Traditionally, when we are finished with the day’s events, we usually purchase an ice cream for each of us. It might have looked like this one here:



And it did, for a while anyway…..



Posted in Life

Visiting Old Graveyards

Reading headstones is not for everyone. Not as a leisure activity.

My wife will only visit graveyards, where she knows somebody residing there. Why visit others, strangers?

Old stones, old dates. Gone away all of them. Nice thoughts about those left behind. Small birds, figures, green plants. Evergreens. Ever Green.

What is forever, like gravestones perhaps?

Old names, two names, residing next to one another. For eternity.

Til death do us part. Til death reunites us again.

Together in graveyards consoling the living, left behind.

Flowers placed. Living things tended. Nicely kept. For the living, that’s all.

I don’t spend much time, reading gravestones.

I guess, it reminds me of my own mortality. It reminds me that someday, someone might place flowers, and evergreens by me.

I hope that they remember something about me. Something that brings a smile, or a tear.

Maybe they just happened on by. Children playing. Stones read.

Who was he? Why is he residing here, so far away from his home?

We don’t know him, move on, move on to the next.

Reading stones in graveyards, is not for everyone. If you don’t know them, that is…


Posted in Cooking, Life

What Mom Did

My mom used to make Spaghetti, when I was young.

She would always break the Spaghetti into smaller pieces, then cook it. Being my mother, I didn’t feel it necessary to ask why, but in later years the question did come up.

“Why did mom do that?”

She is not around anymore, so I can’t just call her on Skype or use my Cell Phone to get the answer. Even when she was alive, I didn’t pose the question, but I did ask my Sister, how she prepared Spaghetti.

“Whole of course, not like Mom!”

“Why did she do something like that?”

It’s kind of like asking why, when I was hungry and didn’t know when we were going to eat, she’d just say, “In 2 shakes of a lamb’s tail”!. That was enough of an answer to know that no matte,r how much I patted my stomach, or complained that I was going to die, that I would get any other answer than that! She always made us dinner without fail, and there wasn’t any reason to doubt her otherwise.

Tonight, I made dinner for the family. I cooked the Spaghetti, whole of course and served it in the same way. I was reminded of my Mom’s way of cooking Spaghetti, and a tiny part of me wanted to break the Spaghetti, before cooking. What would my family have said? “What were you thinking about? Why did you do that? What was the purpose of doing just that?”

You see. They would end up asking the same question that has bothered me all these years, “Why did she do just that?”

I decided to leave well enough alone, and let my family eat their whole Spaghetti in peace.

Sometime, somewhere, in the future, when I am alone, and cooking Dinner for just myself, I might just go down the road of broken Spaghetti.

Then, I could think of my mother, and wonder about her mystical Broken Spaghetti ways, while I ate it……

Posted in Life

Pretty Girls Get All of the Attention

You are probably thinking, that was a no-brainer title, sort of like mentioning Bikinis, but let me tell you it is true!

I work in Retail Sales and my colleagues will bend over backwards to help a Pretty Girl. They just need to ask:

Do you know anything about………………………….?

Fill in your own answer after “about” because the answer is always “Yes, I do!”

A pretty girl can get guys to do just about anything by just smiling. That usually works on me! I wouldn’t want to tell you, that I was not affected by such a thing, but yes, it is true.

My criteria are not as developed as my colleagues, as they use other factors to determine who is, or who isn’t pretty. Besides her smile, there is hair, figure, etc.

I fell prey to the “Pretty Girl Syndrome” today, as well. A PG asked about the location of an item. After several attempts to contact someone with that knowledge by phone, I started to wander through the whole of the store, looking for the items needed. I could argue that it was a part of my job to do so, but even I wouldn’t underestimate the power of a PG. I attempted to make small talk on our journey and tried to help her out in any way possible. In the end she thanked me for my help, for the long journey, and wished me a Good Weekend!

I guess, there are just some things in this life, that defy explanation. I can and won’t try to define what makes a Pretty Girl, as we all have our own ways of determining that.

I just felt it necessary to tell the world that I am also affected by this phenomena, which might just be part of being a guy?

Try smiling at me, and see where it gets you. You might just be placed into my Pretty Girl category for the day, and it will last as long as we are together.

Good Luck to all of you!



Posted in Dogs, Stories - The Girl Next Door

The Dog – Chapter 8 (The Girl Next Door)

I have always wanted a dog. One with long ears, and a wet nose, big enough to sleep against after a long day out and about.

“A dog” my mother would exclaim. “A dog in my house! Really, I don’t know where you get such ideas? And don’t use that argument that all of your friends have dogs, because they don’t!”

I knew it would be one of those discussions, long and drawn-out. It’s kind of like taking a test at school. You’d rather be reading the funnies, or looking out of the window thinking of how girls make you crazy, and things, instead of studying why a right triangle is right and anything else is wrong. I guess, I spent too much time on other things, when the teacher would ask”How could you only score 43 correct out of 100? That was the easiest test, we’ve had this year.” If only I had prepared a bit more, and was really ready, when I needed to write a 30 word essay about the hypotenuse, and why it was important to me, and all. It might have been one of those tests that would have changed my life forever, making me the next Einstein, or Neil Armstrong, instead of being some nobody with a name, who no one ever remembers.

It was there when discussing with my mom, that I needed to use my carefully thought out, ready to convince argument about the good things with dogs. I just hadn’t done my homework in enough time, before her face got all red and puffed-up, looking like she was going to explode. I knew, I was on a runaway train with the end of the line coming, over the cliff into the alligator-infested waters below. Not even the caboose survived that fall, and I was there clinging to the smokestack of the engine while sinking down toward certain death, wondering why the word “caboose” seemed like a funny thing to say…

“A dog”, mustering my courage once again, “A dog would protect us from intruders”. “A dog would – but I wasn’t allowed to continue, before my mother jumped in. “A dog is an intruder! Waking us up when the Good Lord meant us to sleep. Tearing apart our best linens. Leaving disgusting piles of yuck everywhere! Don’t tell me that won’t happen, because it will!”

“We don’t need protection from intruders, when we have your father! He has assured me during our monthly security check, that the house is intruder-proof! Not even some wander-through-town Canadian could gain access to our home sweet home. That’s how safe we are!”

I knew, even before I asked her about getting a dog, that I was doomed to failure. I really thought that somewhere, deep down inside, she wanted a dog too, making my argument seem unnecessary to continue with. But then, I was some sort of dreamer, you know?

Time went on, with my Dog-Dreams fading into the sunset. You know kind of like John Wayne who didn’t get the girl, (I think it was Jeffrey Hunter,who did), but was satisfied to kill all of the Indians, saving the fort, and the settlers during the worst snowstorm to hit the Rockies since the Donner Party, while playing some sad music. The popcorn box was empty and my shoes stuck to the floor, making funny sounds, when I lifted them up, and my mouth still remembered the cinnamon red hots, when the movie had just started. No dog, No girl and no more red hots. I didn’t have anything to look forward to at all!

“Hey you” said a voice to me one day, while lost thinking about the Hardy Boys and their father, racing around Bayport in their roadster. “Hey you – Ninny, I’m talking to you!”

I was just minding my own business, walking down the street, when a familiar voice awoke me from my dreams. “Psst. Look here”. Around the corner of a squarish tree my friend emerged, pulling a long cord with something that pulled back. “Look what I have”. I looked, but couldn’t believe my eyes – A dog. She had a dog on that cord.

“Whose dog is that?” I asked, while being all wide-eyed, and a bit jealous that she had a dog on a cord, while I only had my fading Franklin W. Dixon daydreams.

“It’s mine, of course, Silly. I’ve had him for some time now, but this is the first time we’ve been outside taking a walk”.

I looked at her dog. It was just perfect with the right kind of ears, wagging tail, and wet nose. I just couldn’t believe, she had the most perfect kind of dog, but not me. It wasn’t fair!

“What’s his name?” I asked, hoping it was a tough-dog name, like Butch, or Killer.

“Uh, I forget. Just a moment.” She moved over to his head and began studying his dog tag.

“His name is Chester. You know, like  ♬♬”Win-chester Cathedral – “You’re bringing me down.♬♬♬♬♬♬ The song, you know? Sheesh. Don’t you ever hear the radio, or anything?

I was getting suspicious, “How could you have forgotten his name? Is he really your dog?”

“Of course, he’s my dog.” She said, looking appalled at my statement.

“Do think, that I’ve just been out and about, finding some wandering about town, looking for its owner, without his leash firmly attached to his collar, kind of a dog, or something?”

I was just about to open my mouth to reply, but decided not to make a federal case out of it. It was like arguing with my mother, and that was a cul-de-sac type of thing, you know?

“Uh-huh”, was all that I could muster as a quick reply. “Can he do anything. Like tricks, or something?” I said.

“Of course, he can. I’ve taught him a few things, but he knew a lot of them already. We bought him from the Circus, you know. A real Circus dog!”

How could she do this to me? We lived next door to each other. She had a dog, and I didn’t. Heck. I hadn’t even heard it bark before, or see it walking the high wire, or other Circus things!

“How long have you had him? Can I walk with him and scratch his stomach, and those kind of things”. I tried to sound cool and everything. I wanted to think “cool” standing there on the street, with my bell-bottomed pants and Engelbert Humperdinck sideburns, singing Quando Quando Quando with the girls dancing around me. Everyone would be clapping and saying that I was going to hit it bigger than the Singing Nun, and….

“Hey. Anyone at home in there?” Someone was tapping on top of my head like it was a coconut. “You ask me a question, then you go off into dream-land, with a silly smile on your face and all. Honestly. If you didn’t have a friend like me keeping you on the straight and narrow, then who knows what would become of you?”

“Hey, come over here. Hurry up before someone sees you”. She suddenly broke my train of thought and dragged me behind the tree. “Wait just a minute, then it’ll be safe”. I didn’t dare to look around the tree, at what was so dangerous. Who knows? It might have been a Canadian or something, rampaging the neighborhood, pillaging and stealing Circus Dogs, taking them away to some foreign-sounding city, in the cold and the snow. I won’t let them do that! I won’t let them take my friend’s Circus Dog away to Toronto, or wherever. I won’t.

I boldly peeked around the corner of the tree. There was a middle-aged couple holding a dog’s leash, calling frantically its name: “Chester. Chester where are you?” Suddenly my friend’s dog slipped out of her grasp, running excitedly to the people in the street. “Chester! Good to see you again, boy! Now we’re going home again!” And with that they proudly walked down my street, with my friend’s dog, taking my dog-dreams with them.

“Why don’t you stop them? If that had been my dog, I would have lost my mind if someone just up and took him away! I’d be crying for a week, and not even the Hardy Boys marrying Nancy Drew, and her friend Beth, would save the day!”

“Look here Poindexter. You can take the dog out of the Circus, but not take the Circus out of the dog! It’s just like that Doris Day song, Que Sera, Sera.”

I was really upset with her. I wanted to accuse her of stealing that dog, and making me believe that it was hers and all, but when she told me that statement about dogs and circuses, I just about hugged and kissed her. It was one of the most beautiful, but sad things anyone had said to me, and I could only nod in agreement.

We both watched as Chester and its two newly-found owners walked away down the street, feeling a bit relieved that he, Chester was happy all the same.

That part about hugging and kissing her was perhaps a bit premature, when she turned toward me once again, and said, “Wipe that goofy grin off your face, and remember who works so hard keeping you on track. It’s me, you know, and I won’t let you forget it!”

It almost sounded like a threat, her being my friend and all, but I couldn’t wait to be with her again, insults and all.

Women! They make me all crazy in my head…..