Sad news

I had gotten 'the call' last night from Mom. I'm sad to say that her father passed away around 7:30 after a hard battle with cancer. I am told that he never got to be as bad as my grandmother, but that any fight with the big "C" takes it's toll on a person. Recently, he was not able to breath, eat right, do basic functions.
Well, I guess I'm supposed to say that he's in a better place, but it seems a little trite right now. Everybody says that, and frankly I'm tired of it.

So I'll just say that his suffering is now over. He is not laboring to draw breath anymore, and that is a good thing. I'd like to think that maybe he's driving down the road to that big McDonald's in the sky to have some coffee and a sausage biscuit, his favorite.

Rest easy O.L. you've certainly earned it.

"It's all about the game, and how you play it."

"It's all about the rules and how you can break it."

Thus sang Moterhead...

Anyway, I went to my niece Paris's soccer game yesterday. It was a lot of fun. For some weird reason, their team doesn't have name, it's just "The Green Team". They are not named for their views on Mother Earth not their socio-political stances on enviromental issues. No, they are called 'The Green Team' because they wear green shirts and the coach couldn't figure out what to call them. Incidentally, the coach is my brother-in-law.
To be fair, he's a very good coach. He made sure all the kids got to play, even the ones that didn't want to be there. He gave very good directions and related well with the kids. And for a guy that is a full-time firefighter for the Ada F.D., and owns a part-time construction company, he's not one to rest on his laurels, whatever they may be.
My niece's team won by scoring more goals than the other team. To be honest, they don't keep score at this age group, they just want them out there, learning the rules, how to kick the right direction (a lot of the opposite going on yesterday) and just plain ball-handling is important at this step. But secretly I was happy that the Greenies won. And who wouldn't be? Paris is a demon on the field, keeping up with the bigger kids, putting a lot of energy into each kick. Well, it was a lot of fun.

I feel I should point out this next thing just for fun. I was told that there are no bleechers or public seating at the field where they play, so I would need to bring a chair. I didn't have one, so I drove to Wal-Mart that morning and picked up a sweet folding chair that comes with it's own ottoman. Well, I felt a little out of place because all of the people that came to back Paris just brought plain old folding chairs. Either the ribbon kind or the plastic tubing kind. Mine was pimped out Superfly TNT and they had these old scrubby chairs. :-) So naturually I got a little teased about it. heh... seems fair. Although I had the last laugh as I was reclining in comfort while they were sitting straight up the entire time.

Who's the Mac Daddy? Jay's the Mac Daddy!

Actually, I was scared to death, as the weight limit on the chair is 225lbs, and as anyone can tell by looking at me, I'm a tad heavier than that. I guess when the chair collapses under my gravitational pull, then the fine craftsmen who made that chair will have the last laugh, as I'll probably have to go out and buy a new one. Damn them!

Rude, crude and socially unacceptable

This is more bathroom observations, so if this sort of things turn you off, skip this one...

I just got back from the restroom here at work, and there are, I'm guessing (guessing because I've never made an offical count) there are about 8 stalls for doing the duty. Well, I'm in in #3, leaving plenty of room for other men doing their own thing when my co-worker comes into the room and sits right next to me in #2. What the heck? Of all the places to sit down and do your business, why do it next to somebody else? Creepy...

As some of you may know, I'm going through some personal issues. I'm not going to air out that situation on here, but suffice to say all prayers will be appreciated.

ick...

So, now that I'm over my sickness I now have the cough to contend with. No matter what I do, I tend to carry around a cough for a couple of months (or three!) whenever I get bad sick. This has happened since '96 whenever Shane Taylor saw fit to give me the worst flu of my life. And a tenacious strain of it that one was. In fact, just now, between typing, I coughed so hard that nausia overtook me and made me rush to the bathroom, to, uh, expell some material. I hate this cough. About as much as I hate the cramps. The bodily spasm, not the band, although I'm keen to guess that they wouldn't impress me any.

So I'm about to go over to Pat's house, hopefully throw back some brats, maybe a little chicken and God-willing, some brew will be consummed. I really haven't had my appetite back since getting sick, so I'm ready to break it with Pat's brat's. Hmmm... maybe he'll make that sauce too. That would rock! Know what else would rock? Keeping it all down!. Yeah!

No new news on the grandfather. He's still doing his best to breathe and eat and we're all just taking it day to day. As one who's seen the ravages of cancer twice in his life now, I've decided that I don't want to see it again. I hope that future family and friends pass away quietly in their sleep when they are old and way into the future. The thought of loosing anybody right now is just too much. I think I've had a funural a year for sometime now and I don't want to have any more for a while thanks.

Get Down With The Sickness

On Tuesday afternoon, I laid down for a little nap. What I didn't know is that was my undoing. I awoke a few hours later with a VERY sore throat. When I went to bed that night, that was the best I was going feel for a few days. For the past two days I've had aches and pains, chills and then sweats, a running fever, blockage in my ear, the throat pain, and a nice little headache. I just learned that it's going to be just myself and Pat tonight at work, so that kind of sucks. My first night back after five days off and still sick. Great.

Paul and his family went to visit his sister in New Mexico, and they had a blast. Had it not been for his son David getting sick, they would have stayed longer. He mentioned that there jobs for the picking down there, and that they have talked about moving from OK to NM. I think that would be kind of neat. Besides the heat, I've heard the winters are really nice there. Sure, it's not the idyllic snow-covered landscape, but it's still a beautiful place to be. I wish him luck. Paul, if you need help moving, let me know and I'll see if I can help you. I'd love to come visit!!

Talked to Dad this morning, I asked him about mom's dad. Granddad's in a little bit better spirits he said. He is able to get up and around, eating better. So that's good news on that part. Different family members have been staying over night, in case something happens. I wish him well and hope he gets some much needed rest.

On a side note, I'm sitting here watching a rerun of Married With Children, and it has baseball greats Ernie Banks (Go Cubs!) and Johnny Bench. My mom (Shirley) has a picture (well, ok, I guess it's not really in her possession really, but it's in the shed), an autographed picture of Johnny Bench. And if memory serves, it's made out to her. I need to dig that up and restore it if need be. That would be a neat collector's item.

The gift, the dog and the grandfather

Three-parter here folks...

I go to Ada this past weekend to take a birthday present to my friend David's son Sidney. His birthday party is this up-coming Saturday and I won't be able to be there, so I thought it would be nice to come down the weekend before and bring him his gift. Well, as it turns out David and his wife Erin along with the kid had gone on vacation this weekend, and as it was a little spur of the moment, I didn't know about it. So I thought I have to get this gift to them somehow. I thought about giving it to Smitty, but I had forgotten it when I was his house. Then I thought I would give it to Michael West, but I had forgotten it then too. So now I have this gift for Sidney that I'm going to have wind up mailing him because I couldn't remember to give it to an appropriate person. I suck at doing things right apparently.

As I'm sitting here typing the above, the dog starts wigging out, rolling around on the sleeping bag that is her haven here in the computer room. I smell some cologne or purfume, wondering where that odor is coming from. Turns out she had dug into my overnight bag and found a sample bottle of cologne that Jen's mom had put in my stocking some Christmas ago, and had tried to chew on it. When she did this the cap came off, spilling smelly liquid into her mouth and onto the carpet. So not only does her tastebuds get a fine how-do-you-do, but now the computer room smells like a country club bathroom now. Weird dog, not maybe she'll learn not to do that anymore.

Lastly but not least, Nancy's father isn't doing too well. I talked to dad a bit about it this weekend and he told me that he's looking like my grandmother was right before she passed away. I won't go into details, but so far it's not looking good. This tears me up inside, knowing that somebody is in pain and in constant decline of health and I can't do anything about it. And I really can't do much for mom either. I can lend a sympathetic ear, but other than that, what else can I do? I feel bad for her, as I do the whole family. He's a good guy and I just hope he doesn't suffer for too long, as he's in constant pain. Mom, if you read this, I love you, and I'm praying for you and Grandpa. I would ask that if my readers are into prayer at all, to please keep them in them as well. Thanks.

Hungry for peanuts

I'm walking up the stairs to work tonight and I notice that there are peanut husks on a few of the stairs. That would mean two very distinct things in my opinion. One, that they are messy people who don't care where their refuse goes, and two, that they were so freakin' hungry for those peanuts that they coudn't wait and get to their desk to eat them.
I come in on the first floor and walk up to the second floor, but looking around the staircase, there was shells going up to the third floor. What kind of frenzy would a person have to be in to eat peanuts out of the shell for at least two flights of stairs? I can understand if they were those spicey peanuts or those ones with the honey-glaze. Those are great. But these looked to be just plain ordinary shell-intact peanuts. Man, what's up with that?

Moving on...

The Clerks X DVD is awesome. It holds some very true gems to the Viewaskewnaverse fans, and being such a fan, I really dig it. Looking back, I'm not sure I want David to watch this though. It is very crude, and by this point I'm almost positive he would hate it. So David, if you're reading this, don't watch it. Spend your time on Dragon Warrior. (fun game!!) :-)

A Customer's Service

It seems to me that customer service is getting worse and worse. Or maybe it's just the fact that I'm getting more and more like Archie Bunker everyday. Tonight I was going through drive-thru, and the voice asked me what I would like, told them "I'll have a number 5 and a coke." The voice came back with "and what would you like to drink?" Normally I would let this slide, but they do it every single time.
Also, whenever I call Mazzio's up to order a pizza, they will say hello, and I'll respond "Hi, I would like to place a delivery order please." And they ask for my name and number, then asks me "And would this be dine-in, carry out or delivery?" Now, understand dear reader that I can forgive this once or twice, but every stinking time since I've been here in the Tulsa area? Every stinkin' time! I say ney ney!

Now I'll be the first person to admit that I'm not good with the public. I've had my share of jobs that related to the masses and I might not have always been the perfect angel with them. But I am proud to say that I've done a better job than this in the past. Normally I would chalk this up to 'them darn kids' but in these two cases I cannont. Both were adults, about the same age as me, or older, and should possess the basics skills of how to deal with people.

I understand that this makes me sound petty for getting worked up over such a little thing. "Oh Jay! You insensitive jerk! They get hundreds of customers a day, how can they remember such a tiny detail that you gave them at the beginning of the order?" I get angry because it's an important detail and when speaking to order-takers, I take my time and enunciate, to make sure that there are zero mishaps. I know that normally I talk like a hair-lipped mongoloid, but in these cases, I do take my time and be carefull of how and what I saw. (so why don't I do this all the time, you make ask?). Anyway, just a thought I had. It's something that gets under my skin. I feel that if I take that effort to be understood, I feel I should be listened to. Not a concept that I'm sure my friends and family are not unfamilier with. I know that when growing up if my dad told me something, it would have benifited me to listen then and burn it to memory. I didn't always do it, and I payed for it later. At least, that's how I remember it. :-)

Now if you'll be needin' me, I'll be on my front porch, sitting in my rocker, wondering why those damn kids won't keep off my lawn.

Some thoughts of mine - Kinda lengthy

Walked by Gimpy while getting some water just now. She has a combo from Taco Bueno, and another sack full of junk food along with a 64oz drink from QT. *sigh* Why does she make it so easy for me to make fun of her on here?

My dog loves doggy treats, but will hardly touch her dog food unless she's really hungry. So why don't dog food manufactures simply make dog food out of the same stuff they make dog treats out of? Maybe then my dog wouldn't be so choosey and leave me to my sammich.

Why can't my Quik rapidly dissolve like it does in the commercial? There's precious few things I take great joy in, but I'll be darned if homemade chocolate milk isn't one of them. Another one? My Lisa Frank sticker collection. (I'm kidding... I only have her diary set)

Singing along to Queen's "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" on the radio while on the car's stereo? Nothing wrong with that. Or Patsy Cline's "Crazy". Hmm.... maybe the word 'crazy' is the key word we need to look at here.

Why doesn't Smitty like the Barenaked Ladies? David doesn't like Hellboy... Patrick doesn't like rednecks... Jen doesn't like orange juice... This completely confuses me.

Paul has a lot of the TV series I've never seen that people say is great, on DVD. I'm thinking about borrowing some that he recommended. Pat has a small collection as well, so I've got my bases covered. Well, mostly coverd. Nobody has the 'What's Happenin' sets...

Why didn't Kim Deal sing more songs while with the Pixies? She fronted two bands, the Breeders and the Amps. She has the talent and voice for it. Maybe Charles Thompson was greedy and jealous? Who knows!

I saw Vest-Guy when I was going to the bathroom again. Not just see him, mind you, but actually pushed the door to the room open and he was RIGHT THERE, with his stars & moons vest, we almost hit each other we were so close. I swear I'm going to rip that damn thing off his body one day and dance around naked with it on. Well... naked other than the vest... actually you know what, let's just forget I mentioned that one.

What do I want to do for vacation? And where can I go for cheap? And where can I go that will allow me to sport a beer helmet while wearing only a kilt? ... and a vest.

I'm thinking of cheese. Why?

I hope my parents did ok in Vegas this past week. They were supposed to get back Thursday night, but I didn't have a chance to call them then, and I haven't done so since. I think I'll do that tomorrow morning.

Do you want to go to Mars with a dead guy and a sandwich? It's a simple question...

My aunt Peggy was supposed to move, and I told her to tell me when so I could help. So far I haven't heard from her, and I'm worried about it. I think I might call her this weekend too.

Anybody else need calling? Might as well speak up and let me know while I have the phone in my hand. I should call my sisters. Haven't talked to them in a coon's age.

Think of...cheese!

My dog has, shall we say... a problem. When she was new to us, we would put down a 'wee pad' in her crate and if she had to potty in the night, she would go on it and it would be contained in the pad. Nice and neat. Well, as she's gotten older, she has taken to shreading the pad, and as such we don't lay it down at night anymore. Usually she can hold it until morning, but on occasion when she's had too much to drink, she'll urinate in the cage, but it will have no place to be picked up into. So she'll have stand in her own urine until either Jen gets up, or I get home.
This bothers me on several levels. First off, I know that this can not be a healthy practice for our pooch. I mean, I certainly wouldn't let my own child do this, why am I letting my dog do it? Next is the fact that no matter how much I try and clean her up, she still tracks urine around the house until her paws dry. Which is probably why our house smells a little...doggy. I may try putting a pad down again, see if she chews it up. But considering she's still chews on everything else, I'm not holding my breath. But at the same time, I want to have a healthy dog, one free of pee smell. I need a backyard that's dog-proof.


JUST FOR FUN
This is the back cover story of the book "California Man". I won't say how I came about it, only that's it's not mine. All punctuation errors were copied exactly sa I saw them. Enjoy this teaser...
When Quinn Ramsay boarded the ferry for Cananda's Salt Spring Island, he was determined to leave the pressures of his life in California behind him. There would be no more freeways, business lunches, or paparazzi - at least for the next few weeks. Quinn hoped that fresh air, sunshine, and isolation would give him the peace of mind he needed to contemplate the future of his hugely successful sporting goods company, Action Sports.
Emily Welland, owner of the island's only book shop, had read about the tall, rugged entrepreneur who had the Midas touch in business. She'd seen magazine photos of Quinn surrounded by models and movie stars. The question was how a blue-eyed California hunk like Quinn could possibly be interested in a shy, island hermit like Emily.
But from the moment they met, Quinn knew there was something special about Emily Welland. Although most people thought she resembled a timid librarian, Quinn could see that Emily's silvery gray eyes sparkled with an unborn passion. Beneath that shy facade was a woman who had not yet blossomed, a tender rosebud that longed to open its petals to the sun. And Quinn Ramsey wanted to be the man who brought this rosebud her first glimpse of sunshine.

Man, I love literature.