Remember this? I found it at the grocery store. I didn’t know they still made it.

Jiffy Pop

It got me thinking. When I was a kid we used to go camping just about every other weekend. MD, PA, WV, VA, mainly. Anyway, we used to stop on the way to a campground in PA at a little general store. There, we used to get these little fruit pies. I remember them being the tastiest little things I’ve ever had in my entire life. I know from experience that sometimes the reality doesn’t match up to the memory, but I sure wish I could find those pies. My parents tell me they think the company went out of business. Maybe I should investigate myself. Meanwhile,  I’ve got popcorn.

Little bastard bit me!

August 18, 2012

I hate mosquitos. They love me, but I hate them. I can get bit just getting my mail. In a group they choose me over anyone else. Today I was talking with my parents on their screen porch. My dad spends hours in his garden and he has to “spray” himself up everyday just to go out. Anyway, Dad brought up the fact that when we were younger my brother and I used to play outside all the time and were never bothered by mosquitos. That jives with my own memories. Even as few as 10 years ago I could go out on my patio, read a book, grill, or just chillax without the threat of being eaten alive by these miserable creatures. Those days are long gone. I want to know why. I want to live out doors without having to spray my body. I want my outside back.

…back into the blogging community.

“Are you still writing that bloggie thing?”

After more than three months of nothing, I’m writing again. I wish I could explain why I stopped writing. But the truth is I just don’t know. I woke up one day, in the last days of April, and couldn’t think of a damn thing to write. Absolutely nothing peaked my interest. I had lost my spark, my motivation, my desire. I had nothing more to say. If I could point to one thing and say “That’s it! That’s the reason I stopped writing.” I would, but I can’t.

“It’s just a blog…it’s not like it’s Rocket Surgery!”

Sure, it’s just a blog,  just random thoughts and pictures about nothing important. But it was my blog. My random thoughts and pictures. And I loved it, until I didn’t. Truth is I missed it a week after I stopped, but I didn’t know how to start up again. The more time that went by, the harder the prospect was for restarting. Like when you haven’t called a friend back…the longer you wait, the harder it seems to be to just do it.

“You’ve done this before.”

Yes I have. And I may do it again.

“You know, there’s a good chance no one even noticed you were gone.”

Mom noticed. But sure, I know what your saying.

To those who did notice, to the few who took time from their busy day to read my blog, I’m sorry. And Thank you.

Give to the Church

April 25, 2012

When I was younger and one of my friends used the expression “Praying to the porcelain God” it meant only one thing. I was recently at a friends house and I noticed the name of the manufacturer of his…ah…throne, was CHURCH. I’m spiritual, not religious, so my first thought was “How poetic”. My second thought  (and the reason for this post) was “What better place to ‘Pray to the porcelain God’ than at a throne made by the Church?”  Fortunately, it’s been years since I’ve had to “Pray” from too much drinking. Thanks to Alanis Morissette I’m unsure as to what’s ironic so I’m not sure if it’s ironic or just an funny coincidence.



Talking to Me

April 20, 2012

Me: It’s Friday, and just when I think my shitty week is over, the  rain is coming. It’s supposed to rain all weekend. No riding. No beach.

Myself: Sigh.
Me: Well, I could go out.
Me: Maybe tomorrow.
Myself: Boo!
Me: Maybe I’ll paint. Maybe play guitar… write a song.
Myself: Yawn.
Me: Of course, I have to do laundry.
Myself: Laundry? Really? Nobody gives a shit about your laundry!
Me: Perhaps I’ll watch some of the bazillon shows on my DVR.
Myself: Boring!
Me: Maybe I’ll just catch up on some much needed sleep.
Myself: Can’t argue with that…
Me: Cool?
Myself: Cool.



Stop doing that!|

April 3, 2012

Curse you, you flashing cursor. You mock me with your perfectly timed flashing. You remind me that I’ve typed nothing, thought of nothing, and shared nothing. Damn you. You think this is easy? You try being interesting day after day. Oh right you can’t. You just hold my space for me.

You’re doing it again. Flashing at me impatiently, as if to say “Come on Mr. Writer Man, write something already!”

Hang on, I’m thinking dammit!

(Sigh)…Yeah…I’ve got nothing.




Coming Soon:

Transformers in a corn field in MD?

26hr on a Greyhound bus

My First Award

April 2, 2012

I may not have won the mega millions but I’m still a winner. My fellow blogger (and Harley rider) Stevie D was kind enough to nominate me for this award, my first! Stevie and his entourage take motorcycle trips around the globe and Stevie posts incredible pictures on his blog. You can find him here.

From what I’ve read, the Liebster Blog award is for bloggers that are creating some interesting posts but  haven’t yet gotten the exposure, recognition, or following that perhaps they should.

The rules are simple:

 1. Thank and link back to the blogger who honored you (see above). 

2. Copy and paste this award on your blog. 

3. Reveal 5 bloggers worthy of praise and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog. 

I read somewhere they should have less than 200 followers, but most of the bloggers I follow have way more than that. So this is me breaking the rules.

These are some of the people who make me laugh and make me think.


No particular order.

All beautifully talented writers.

Thanks again to Stevie D for your kind words and for the nomination!



I am not a Millionaire

March 31, 2012

I did not win the world record breaking $640 million Mega Millions jackpot. My odd’s were 1 in 176 million against it, but it’s always nice to dream. I would love to get the chance to test the idiom “Money can’t buy happiness”. I’m willing to bet I could buy a whole lot of happiness with that kind of money. First I’d buy some land. A ranch maybe. Then I’d put together a group dedicated to the rescue and care of animals. Of course I’d do the other things that everyone else says too. I’d buy my parents a house. I’d pay off my bills, and my family’s bills. I’d buy a truck. I’d  get a couple rescue dogs and cats. I’d go to all the bike rallies I haven’t yet been to. I’d start crossing off items on my bucket list, and start adding more. I’d give more, travel more, play more, sleep better, and live more. Would I be happier?

Damn right I would be.

I’ve heard you can’t win If you don’t play. Of course, even if you play, you can’t win unless you’re very, very lucky.

 Mega Nuthin'

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Thrown or Blown

March 29, 2012

I don’t care which, thrown or blown. Your bad habits have affected my life. Your casual attitude and belief that what you do makes no difference makes me sick. You say stupid things like “ Who cares” and “It’s my world” as if that some how excuses your deplorable behavior. I want to say I don’t blame you, that it’s your upbringing or your culture. But at some point, despite your parents shortcomings or where you came from, you should (we hope) grow up and realize that what you are doing is wrong. I despise your indifference to my outrage. If I could, I’d make you live for a year in your own filth in a land fill. I’m tired of picking up your trash. Every day of the week I find your garbage in my yard. Thrown or blown, the trash in my yard came first from your guilty little hand you piece of crap.


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Memories of good Sax

March 27, 2012

I went out front to take pictures of my Dogwood tree blooming. It was a beautiful, cloudless day. The sun was low but not yet going down. As I started taking close-ups of the flowering petals, a sound drifted to me on the slight breeze…sounds…like…Jingle Bells?

Somewhere, close by in the neighborhood, a young music student was practicing his or her Saxophone outside.

What memories that sound recalled. As a kid, I had long arms and the music teacher suggested I play the trombone. I did, but I was always a bit envious of my brother who chose the clarinet, which led him to the saxophone. I remember going out into my front yard and blasting that silly horn. Playing the theme from M.A.S.H., and yes, probably Jingle Bells. The memory makes me smile. I should call my brother. Tell him I’m thinking of him. I hope he doesn’t mind I’m using his picture.

Sax Player '78

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