tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47225915929575170332024-02-06T22:48:42.528-06:00More Words to PonderBits and pieces from the messy room that is my brainrandymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-84231893548515117302016-11-22T14:48:00.001-06:002016-11-22T14:48:19.641-06:00An old man's dream came trueWow has it been over 5 years since I posted to this thing? It looks like a few things have changed also. I have to relearn how to do this. I just got back from an amazing weekend in Grand Forks and had to write something about it.<br />
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As most of your know, Brianna, my daughter is in her third year of college at the University of North Dakota majoring in music education. As a musician she has also participated in the Pride of the North University Athletic Band. So she has had the opportunity to perform pregame and halftime shows for the football team as well as play in the pep band for other sports like hockey and basketball.<br />
<br />This year she she was selected to be one of the two drum majors for the marching band so not only is she part of the marching band she gets to stand on a ladder and direct the troops. Needless to say she has some very proud parents.<br />
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Over the years we've attended some of these games and as a trumpet player myself, I've expressed many times how I wished I could be out there playing as well. This weekend Brianna and her boyfriend made that happen.<br />
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We already had made plans to go to Grand Forks for her flute recital which was to take place last Saturday and it just so happened there was a women's hockey game to be played later that afternoon against the University of Minnesota. The kids mentioned they often have a hard time getting a full band to sign up and that just maybe they might let an old duffer like me sit in. Last week I received a happy text directing me to bring my trumpet and that everything was set for me to play at the game.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeLiGTMtglotgii_YS9vO0XkXVKYEmyFvtGKrmyEp4uw8RkeoKdUcIWHLwYnVHIq0o-F8fxpm9ltmBsibLu6sZVPzvONAvtDYI5mlMRB0WOOwf1mNDbl2eTsLDtx_17-6WcHao-B0mosM/s1600/DSCN1646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeLiGTMtglotgii_YS9vO0XkXVKYEmyFvtGKrmyEp4uw8RkeoKdUcIWHLwYnVHIq0o-F8fxpm9ltmBsibLu6sZVPzvONAvtDYI5mlMRB0WOOwf1mNDbl2eTsLDtx_17-6WcHao-B0mosM/s320/DSCN1646.JPG" width="320" /></a>After an amazing recital we made our way to the Ralph Engelstad Arena where I went in the back entrance and received my uniform jersey. Unfortunately, I had to give it back once the game was over. we got our instruments together and made our way into the stands.<br />
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I have to admit I was a bit anxious. I wasn't sure how the rest of the band would take to having this old guy come sit in with them. I needn't have worried. The band could not have been more gracious. One of them exclaimed, "We have a guest!" and they made me feel extremely welcome.<br />
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Brianna's boyfriend Josh gave me his music and started explaining how the procedure worked with when certain songs would be played and when. It's important the band only plays when they are supposed to. It is an athletic event and you don't want to distract from actual game play.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTibmHJ8fVqOZh44z6rm77BFjwdE8pKnNwL-sj5aYuwLgFW9kIBq4QFeuVcPGb7prmqCr3-AeOEewItOIGx70J3Yr5vpER2r29viXepB5lf5I_184c_BMpF8IioWwNfvTteLhBzVvjhPY/s1600/DSCN1631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTibmHJ8fVqOZh44z6rm77BFjwdE8pKnNwL-sj5aYuwLgFW9kIBq4QFeuVcPGb7prmqCr3-AeOEewItOIGx70J3Yr5vpER2r29viXepB5lf5I_184c_BMpF8IioWwNfvTteLhBzVvjhPY/s320/DSCN1631.JPG" width="320" /></a>My first struggle was with the music. Marching band music is printed on little rectangles of paper with minutely tiny notes. In my younger days I had no problem deciphering the musical symbols. These days, I wear bifocals and I struggled to find the right distance from my face so things weren't all blurry.<br />
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Here you can see the blob of music I'm holding and me struggling to read them. Josh is on my right and Brianna is on my left with the saxophone. Note how all the college kids have their music memorized so they don't have the same problem I do.<br />
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My next struggle was how quickly they change from song to song. You have very little time to page through the music Rolodex and find the next song. Usually they were already halfway done by the time I started to play.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutsEDpYhjK8rRyk_E4S7Oc2GB-KewtSW5wBXiSEoiE0BMoJvrr0sTCDHbh9Iv86BtLhUZXmksmx7cgwUP27EqjEEBHZ8c_kTeo0aoglF3zGVwyU1opaciV_BNtepC4PoROSIvDlpvBh0/s1600/DSCN1639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutsEDpYhjK8rRyk_E4S7Oc2GB-KewtSW5wBXiSEoiE0BMoJvrr0sTCDHbh9Iv86BtLhUZXmksmx7cgwUP27EqjEEBHZ8c_kTeo0aoglF3zGVwyU1opaciV_BNtepC4PoROSIvDlpvBh0/s320/DSCN1639.JPG" width="320" /></a>The next adventure was during the 2nd and 3rd periods the band lines up outside the arena and marches an impromptu parade around the concourse. They play the school fight songs and for some reason a catchy tune called, "In Heaven there is no beer". That was a hoot marching around having the spectators walking and clapping along.<br />
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Alas, all good things must end. UND tied the game but ending up losing the shootout. So it wasn't exactly a North Dakota victory but this old man had the time of his life playing with these kids. For a few hours, it was just like I was back in high school again. Then I had to turn in my jersey. <br />
<br />THANK YOU to Brianna and Josh. I will never forget this amazing experience!randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-71570487048187591082011-05-23T08:28:00.001-05:002011-05-23T08:28:11.362-05:00Someone’s Always Watching<p>Our daughter is 15 now, yet I still remember her first day of kindergarten like it was yesterday. If she was nervous, she didn't show it. She's always had an independent streak about her. She was excited at starting a new adventure. All day at work I thought about how she was doing, whether or not she made any friends, if she liked her teacher. I was very interested in hearing all about her day when I got home. How the first big day of kindergarten went for her. We sat down to supper and I asked her how her first day of school was.</p> <p>She suddenly got very serious and formal. I had to keep myself from laughing because it was so strange to see her acting like that. She said, very seriously. “Mom, dad, I am going to marry Matthew.” </p> <p>My mouth fell open. I had gone through in my head all the things I expected her to say. I remember reading my baby book of how I described my first day of kindergarten. You want to know what I said? “It was great, we even got two desserts, jell-o and pudding.” </p> <p>I expected her to talk about what they served for lunch, what her teacher was like, what kind of games they played at recess. Never in my wildest dreams, did I expect her to come home with a marriage announcement. For quite awhile neither my wife or I could say anything. When I was able to recover my voice, I told her that 6 years old was a little young to get married. She gave me this look like I just wasn't getting it. She said, “dad, we're going to finish school first, but I'm going to marry Matthew.” As if I didn't have anything to say in the matter.</p> <p>If this young man was going to be my future son-in-law, I figured I should try to find out something about him. So later that evening I was talking some more about Matthew and asking her what made her so sure this was the boy she was going to marry. She said, “I want to marry him, dad, because he reminds me so much of you.” I confess, at first I got a little prideful, I thought, “this is is a smart girl I've got here. She wants to marry someone like me.” But later after we had all gone to bed I really thought hard about this. I do some of my best thinking in bed. If my daughter is looking for boys with the same qualities as me, as boyfriends or potential husband material, you had better believe I need to make sure I’m acting like the sort of man I would want my daughter to be interested in. It really put a whole different spin on this kindergarten marriage planning. Things suddenly got very serious indeed.</p> <p>Our children and grandchildren are watching every move we make, whether we know it or not. Children learn by example and by copying those around them. I remember one evening we gone over to my wife’s aunt and uncle's house for supper. After the meal, we were sitting around drinking coffee and visiting. The kids were at the table also with drinks of their own. My son was studying me like he was about to take the most important test of his life. He held his cup exactly the same way I was. When I took a drink, he took a drink. When I set my cup down, he set his down. He never took his eyes off me. It made me wonder how long he was studying me before I realized it. Our children are watching us all the time. And when we start to think no one is watching us or cares about what we are doing, that's when we need to be especially mindful of our actions and the words we say, because they are probably looking at us closer than ever. </p> <p>The point of this whole message was reinforced with sledgehammer-like blows just a few weeks ago. My daughter had just gone through a very messy break-up. Things were not happy in the Meissner house. This was one of the occasions we are so fortunate to have a two-parent household. My wife was in charge of damage control. My job was to get the men out of the house. So I said to my son, “let's go fishing!”</p> <p>Later that night, during the “dad’s de-briefing”. My wife told me during the most difficult part, with tears streaming down her face,  our daughter cried, “Why can't I just find someone like dad?” </p> <p>As these words met my ears, I felt the heavy weight of fatherhood so much it was as if I would be crushed by it. I feel as if I'm being measured by a standard I can't possibly live up to. But I have a family depending on me, so I have to do my best to try, don’t I?</p> <p>The next morning, I had to take our daughter to band practice and I asked her how she was feeling. “Better than yesterday,” she said. I felt like I should say something. So I reached way down deep for the best piece of fatherly advice I could manage, and said, “you may not want to hear this, but it doesn't matter if it takes until you are old and gray. Good guys are worth waiting for, and you don't deserve anything less than a good guy.” Not bad, huh?</p> <p>And as she left for school and I drove off to work, I resolved once again to be the best husband and father I can be.</p> randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-48520836501440431132011-04-25T15:40:00.008-05:002011-04-25T16:04:33.384-05:00Sandwich #3–Comet Morehouse<span style="font-family:arial;">I’m very behind in blogging. I’ve got several things I wanted to write about, but alas, have not found time to get it done. But I’ve used that excuse too many times already so I’ll just press on.</span><div><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">To review, I’m on a quest to consume all 16 sandwiches at Erbert & Gerberts (E&G) sub shop. As a card carrying member of the sandwich society, I get a free sandwich if I try every one of the sandwiches on their menu. In blogging terms, I’m on sandwich #3, but I’ve actually had 3 more sandwiches since the last blog so I’ve got some “catch-up” writing to do.</span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">My last sandwich was tuna fish which has been the worst one so far. I was much more excited about the Comet Morehouse. The ingredients were more to my liking. I’ve said before, these sandwiches aren’t fancy. They try to use simple but fresh ingredients. The Comet Morehouse was your basic ham and cheese. Ham, provolone cheese, tomato, lettuce, and, of course, Hellmann’s Mayo.</span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_rA5KGH1Jm_M/TbXcOCLJeiI/AAAAAAAAAc0/4b9TbYrTV_E/s1600-h/morehouse%5B3%5D.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="margin: 0px auto 5px; border: 0px currentColor; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; float: none; display: block; background-image: none;" title="morehouse" alt="morehouse" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_rA5KGH1Jm_M/TbXcOkpBu1I/AAAAAAAAAc4/j0WoF1BFtOE/morehouse_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" height="154" /></span></a></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">First, the good points. IT WASN’T TUNA! Ham and cheese is right up my alley. There was plenty of juicy deli-sliced ham. Provolone cheese isn’t my favorite (I’m partial to aged cheddar or pepper-jack), but was just fine mixed with the other fillings. They put just the right quantity of mayo, not too much, not too little.</span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwWqCIWBMFh2yEbTlboTBgFxpWQUfpCK2gJSj8cV3-UbG_vCeX8FVe0Fpcc9oZw7Wb7FGAskF0JQPvvLbhwzeErGR6GI48qwyNZff8qbW4yNkjQI4E2PEzBwpV1OL-rceVxaVQUzuOoU/s1600/bag.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwWqCIWBMFh2yEbTlboTBgFxpWQUfpCK2gJSj8cV3-UbG_vCeX8FVe0Fpcc9oZw7Wb7FGAskF0JQPvvLbhwzeErGR6GI48qwyNZff8qbW4yNkjQI4E2PEzBwpV1OL-rceVxaVQUzuOoU/s320/bag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599627360342233586" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;">I also got a kick out of the "bag". I'm so glad they labeled it. I'd hate to confuse this brown paper object for any other purpose. A few weeks later, I got 4 sandwiches for the whole family and chortled when I received a bag labeled, "big bag". I suppose it must be more for the sandwich makers to make sure they grab the right size bag for the "to-go" orders. Still, I love a business with a sense of humor.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Then, the bad. The tomatoes were awful. Pale colored, mushy, and no flavor whatsoever. Granted, I ate this sandwich February 18, so it really wasn’t tomato season, but I’ve had better tomatoes from other places. I also went with wheat bread. Probably the last time for awhile. It was dry and hard, just like my last sandwich. The “guts” were even a bit dry. Usually the inside bread scoops are the softest, tastiest bits of bread. According to the nutritional information, there really isn’t much health benefit compared to the white, so I’ll be eating white bread the next time. 3 out of 5 stars.</span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Now for the story. If you remember from </span><a href="http://morewordstoponder.blogspot.com/2011/02/sandwich-2bornk.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:arial;">the Bornk Sandwich blog</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">, I had to sneak into the women’s rest room to get the story from the plaque hanging on the wall. It was amusing but very embarrassing. I was delighted to buzz out to </span><a href="http://www.erbertandgerberts.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:arial;">the E&G web site</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> and find they now have the stories for each sandwich posted for curious individuals to enjoy. I sent two emails to their customer service and received no response whatsoever, but me and quite possibly several other people, finally got through to their marketing folks and they got their web site changed!</span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Strangely enough, the cute coloring sheets they did have are no longer there. How hard would it have been to just add the stories, but leave the sheets? Good grief people! Alas, I don’t have a coloring sheet link, </span><a href="http://www.erbertandgerberts.com/menu/sandwiches/classic/comet-morehouse#story" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:arial;">so you’ll have to click here for the story</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">, and an “already colored” picture of Comet Morehouse is below.</span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_rA5KGH1Jm_M/TbXcO-487uI/AAAAAAAAAc8/B9UGFyxRXCU/s1600-h/CometMorehouse_solo%5B2%5D.png"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="margin: 0px auto 5px; border: 0px currentColor; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; float: none; display: block; background-image: none;" title="CometMorehouse_solo" alt="CometMorehouse_solo" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_rA5KGH1Jm_M/TbXcPbRCcGI/AAAAAAAAAdA/-kLUz7GMZmA/CometMorehouse_solo_thumb.png?imgmax=800" width="119" border="0" height="132" /></span></a></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Here are the story highlights. Comet Morehouse is the evil villain. His name and character are based on an </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comet_Morehouse" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:arial;">actual comet spotted in 1908</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">. I’m a closet astronomer and so I can’t resist talking a bit about it. Non-geeks may wish to skip to the next paragraph. Comet Morehouse appears to be a parabolic orbit which is essentially a curve, meaning it won’t be back. If it is a closed elliptical orbit (race-track like) it won’t be back for several million years.</span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Geek-speak off. The villain Morehouse had always been extremely upset that Halleys Comet (another sandwich) got to return to earth every 76 years. Watching Halleys comet get all the fame and notoriety fueled his anger and resentment. Several eons ago, Morehouse was taken over by demons and now attempts to foster evil and cause harm wherever he can. Fortunately Halley’s comet, along with Erbert and Gerbert, always arrive in time to save the day. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I still haven’t found a sandwich better than my beloved Flash, but I’ll keep eating.</span></p> </div>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-21676877167701838002011-04-06T10:30:00.005-05:002011-04-06T11:48:56.522-05:00Making Sausage<div><div><p><font size="3" face="Arial">I had the opportunity several weeks ago to participate in something I’ve never done before. My brother-in-law recently acquired some sausage making equipment and my mother and father-in-law came into possession of large amounts of ground beef as well as some venison that was still in the freezer. It was time to make some sausage. Me and my son, Brian, got invited over for the fun.</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5isXQgrbcWZmsf5tS0dK8sBA8rHeMtUd6HTvYS8XoFiWrRuXdnAiBfXNvIJRi57PtUJ5dw1BPS6qaUuRukMtON9bbeGOFL_gfuZUzwlCmgYM3QV7srWx_Yf15gxyINHj2XVR04cCsM4/s1600-h/P1000326%5B5%5D.jpg"><font size="3" face="Arial"><img style="margin: 0px auto 5px; border: 0px currentColor; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; float: none; display: block; background-image: none;" title="P1000326" border="0" alt="P1000326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhav5nhAGYPtVyGE7wvLktLgTEFPVO_0mD0b4zHvZV6XQdLwyHmSxbho369cjUSIiLzJtlVq3BvEk3vI1qDSb084Hf2zxHArmPzo6nPWFq5xg4ZDlG8mjqvvzjC3D_5t8r-49jmXYb8tMs/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></font></a></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">It was quite the process, let me tell you. All the recipes they used required a certain amount of ground pork. So the first stage of the operation called for grinding massive quantities of pork shoulder. As with most things, having good equipment makes a world of difference. Here we have an electric grinder making quick work of the pork. I imagine the venison also had to go through the grinder as well.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">Next came the mixing. This looked like the most arduous part of the procedure. They made the venison (deer) sausage first. Ground venison, pork, some seasonings, including an interesting mixture called “freeze ‘em pickle”. I had to research this a little bit because I’ve never heard of it before. It is a curing agent consisting mostly of sodium nitrate. It adds flavor to the meat and acts as a preservative. A few years ago, they also started adding some shredded cheddar cheese to the mix. This was really good. It melts inside while the sausage is cooking and really gives the sausage a nice juicy flavor.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">All this was mixed by hand along with some water to keep the meat moist and to aid in the stuffing process. It looked like a lot of work. Kind of like mixing a meatloaf for a small army.</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQ5oiWv9vyeaYhbgBQDLsq_8mgkmV1ihxmI1pKKi2jDEImO4sQ7MHNsn4boj8hte-L_YnxrtFkSZfvanouDT_tUbGkyw3-j-xkiLomzXTn0VUP9TbFRyC9dzG7Kw8DZO5xJQHFOHrUy4/s1600-h/P1000329%5B2%5D.jpg"><font size="3" face="Arial"><img style="margin: 0px auto 5px; border: 0px currentColor; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; float: none; display: block; background-image: none;" title="P1000329" border="0" alt="P1000329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqlqGWjs_RnFBzdC9_C4tkpeO5cUUvx5ldnrj3_YX4N6LJXOCIfgySW-omMLVkFEhiYcZxHKH_tPCEetq1EuR2Z4AG9k4wWxHOHuA1X-LzNOV5ABGMI2TLbSQIYFRRUNIoDrgIfac-AkU/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></font></a></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">Then the fun begins. You load up the mixture into a canister and put it into the stuffer. Then you slide the casing over the stuffing tube and turn the crank. It does work best with three people. My father-in-law, Jim, is working the crank, brother-in-law, Dave is feeding the casing, and my son, Brian is coiling the sausage. They look they’ve done this before.</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWyZWPEvXpek0SJBuTOa0HXM-0Zd2njHGJ45EFZLPpvWqfI-J0MquMewP6ok6JEJb9PyXF2G3RHplQWoukSMkPXYP0oyy4kM48pLCeDo22JKKLKpus91ZV_EFyJ-GRMLzpbgNE8q3_58/s1600-h/P1000330%5B2%5D.jpg"><font size="3" face="Arial"><img style="margin: 0px auto 5px; border: 0px currentColor; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; float: none; display: block; background-image: none;" title="P1000330" border="0" alt="P1000330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbcJutHtYrISmdaIyqy5uugQ7JNMbj1K2Uzb7VTTSuIAhGcKb7xMjGMZ5anZlMo_iN3uCAfmT_qfuplrRWEoIu2tiHxYHo1Os1k49OTP9RRbRHafPAqO3BTH52pjAwVIvsUToShyphenhyphen0SiI/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></font></a></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">Another shot of the stuffing crew.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">After the venison was finished, it was time for the beef. Their plan was to make slim-jims and summer sausage. I really like slim-jims but I know they aren’t for everyone. They are a bit on the spicy side. This recipe called for beef and pork and slim-jim seasoning purchased from the local butcher. I was also told some more pepper was added for a bit more “zing”.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">More mixing, and mixing, and mixing. Then we took a handful and fried it up to see if anything needed to be added. It was delicious but wow, what a kick! It was quite spicy and everyone agreed nothing needed to be added. I don’t have any pictures of this but the process was the same. The stuffing tube was just smaller.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">After the spicy was done, they mixed up a batch of teriyaki flavored. A sample of this was also fried up for taste testing. It was much sweeter with a hint of brown sugar. Really good for the mild palate. Into the stuffer with that.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">Next on the agenda was summer sausage. Beef and pork again, along with summer sausage seasoning with some mustard seeds thrown in. Mixing, mixing, mixing. Then into the stuffer. This one called for the big stuffing tube.</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiln4VRZ42vPKtwmn6yG4VyuxkOxsn_5J-0ZrBj_uMNdLARcz92w9P3aif0sfCnx3ua5nivN-P9R8g7kY8CzZimwRarWpNDK2wE8MOijvZwSkCQX5w4s9VI60xVyNiQRkj5RR0dbvs62Lo/s1600-h/P1000333%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 5px; border: 0px currentColor; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; float: none; display: block; background-image: none;" title="P1000333" border="0" alt="P1000333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVPBqF4sW3h2v8nrKIS72NTg1hpk3o_QqoIXfCl-M7Rh0fCwuEytBc1R41aYTWNS_NSxykZsawwiDY6sHLXE175Kl6m_ONTO_W0hSmIIsSd1kLnfbvxCJhGXIYud_bwDG1yC5k1Nde0xo/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">I got to take a turn at the crank.</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSC2Dukvd7k5_uhPYeVu_uHnUHznq_89-tvwqwvS0qpC2EnRMEcHgjQEltciaUDn2n8Ju0uTpPezQV7JRrnANDF4W2y8Qrsm9yb6SLEjqMN20eJVJeBvpM3RRMf0n5AdMt5AF32uKyZnA/s1600-h/P1000335%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 5px; border: 0px currentColor; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; float: none; display: block; background-image: none;" title="P1000335" border="0" alt="P1000335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYLCAZEjVxA0NtZ39uVhfJem80_TQI7pSVS_Ur1FyAtdmYkmlxsOllzz_pKr09n7RLtJzlcdwTfp3Y71V07FazprE3rHhBl1qyX-ho9YckpAASjhsIQkRmkbvzMqnDZtczIP1kn0wOgII/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">After the summer sausage was stuffed, the ends had to be tied. Here’s Brian keeping it upright so the tying could take place.</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0KUvQU7SHzUew7iSgo6llGMyXC8p1W9628JxvIAsvx5-VpOdyBB2qPqZptQj2uuUWDKraot4SIGUmK-1TRv2b78N0Y_c7_jV5PmBHowoF2vuIzbSIeD8uXhbY7W2cTOItwny13Izbdk/s1600-h/P1000336%5B6%5D.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 5px; border: 0px currentColor; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; float: none; display: block; background-image: none;" title="P1000336" border="0" alt="P1000336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUCzmPxROI1XOTUOu-ycIWRcxu9aH6jv6vUpqiKX-lxMfckjvQfuijJCSEzGnrjVWGxYpm8VuogHTixcpxp-9XerfDCEyjaAF3d40MF24PljK8XKNyZiHqcsp5LUi6pnlDUlIrndCdZo/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">Stuffing completed, time for stuffer disassembly and clean-up.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">It was a lot of fun. The slim-jims and summer sausage went to the butcher for smoking. The deer sausage went through a vacuum sealer.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">Thanks to my generous in-laws, we were rewarded for our efforts with a portion of the proceeds. I haven’t had a chance to try the deer sausage yet, but am not worried. It’s always been delicious in the past. The slim-jims were probably my favorite. After the smoking process, the spice wasn’t so overpowering. The raging inferno was tempered to a slow burn. I do like spicy sausage and they really came out nice. We had them all eaten within the first 2 weeks.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">My wife and son liked the teriyaki flavor better as it wasn’t as spicy. It was good, but my preference is still the heat.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">The summer sausage was fantastic. The seasoning and smoke were mixed really well. We probably wouldn’t have any of this left either but I’m rationing it. I only take a log out of the freezer every so often so hopefully it will last a little longer.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">I’ll probably fire up the grill and cook some of the deer sausage this weekend now we’ve been blessed with snow-melting temperatures. It may rain, but that shouldn’t stop me.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Arial">I must thank my wonderful in-laws for the experience and gift of meat. It is most sincerely appreciated. I look forward to another invitation to a sausage making party.</font></p> </div></div>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-68468728174560804322011-03-03T16:49:00.006-06:002011-03-04T08:09:36.515-06:00False Advertising<p>Wednesday night I had the pleasure of dining at our church potluck. One of the signature items was a tricked out hot dog. My son was raving about them having sampled one at a youth event last week. He said they were good but made him awfully thirsty.</p><p>I seem to be on a roll with my food reviews so I’ll try another one. I needed a break from Erb and Gerb’s sandwiches for awhile. I’m a little hesitant to go back there anytime soon after having to sneak into the ladies rest room. For full details, <a href="http://morewordstoponder.blogspot.com/2011/02/sandwich-2bornk.html" target="_blank">check my last blog</a>.<div></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkibi9cM3vOCcguhTZzhasdQmbK6A1iyZghhOH-2Y3_3gxFwp3s3lcZhj0EfM7isOQFL7-csAv-08Jr7EoTxeTh_Ss0L53nsoRUR2vVHBSROFQoija9b-1QEr4bcKy36CApGmgKIDtv1c/s1600/hotdog.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579991088006168194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkibi9cM3vOCcguhTZzhasdQmbK6A1iyZghhOH-2Y3_3gxFwp3s3lcZhj0EfM7isOQFL7-csAv-08Jr7EoTxeTh_Ss0L53nsoRUR2vVHBSROFQoija9b-1QEr4bcKy36CApGmgKIDtv1c/s320/hotdog.jpg" /></a><p>Here they are, all beef hot dogs, bacon, sausage, mozzarella cheese, french fried onions, mustard, ketchup, garlic mayo, and pineapple sauce. I have a hard time stepping out of my comfort zone, but when it comes to food, I will always try something at least once. Believe it or not, they were actually quite tasty, I went back for seconds. This combination of flavors, even the pineapple sauce, was very good. The only change I would make is a few more drops of ketchup. The downside is it’s probably not the healthiest choice on the menu. People with cholesterol or high blood pressure might want to pass these by. My rating would be 4 out of 5 stars.</p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-Pm2v2OeW0uZZtLP6kmz48NmXvtAe-KT8fIFsT-52NdKeaUSYMiH3XGA7GkymnC6NLVP05DrZgwURiIT0KpzvJKMFw-S_CXD09i-s4T4MOSQ-Rc9_UkWb3j3l07Z0udleTAL7PPWRpI/s1600/angus3cheese.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 156px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579991091848061266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-Pm2v2OeW0uZZtLP6kmz48NmXvtAe-KT8fIFsT-52NdKeaUSYMiH3XGA7GkymnC6NLVP05DrZgwURiIT0KpzvJKMFw-S_CXD09i-s4T4MOSQ-Rc9_UkWb3j3l07Z0udleTAL7PPWRpI/s320/angus3cheese.jpg" /></a><p>Would you believe the very next day, I get an email from Arby’s promoting their new sandwich, the angus 3-cheese & bacon toasted sub. If I bought the sandwich at regular price ($4.99), I got a free curly fries and drink. The similarity between this and the hot dogs was kind of spooky. But I enjoyed the hot dogs, so I took the bait and went to Arby’s for lunch.</p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqxIvEE5ggpl3YmDKOphPzdb7b7jxxa7qmxfbsUL_sNJpgDBI1tTvWWCAggc-JgiOPk9EbF9gAiTTCMOtAbJp7mZTAUh84WP3-7A2fiLDmh4jz_bX2IfoEJvIfPUC8Q6-3-iB5_5qgY0U/s1600/angus2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 293px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579991097651355330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqxIvEE5ggpl3YmDKOphPzdb7b7jxxa7qmxfbsUL_sNJpgDBI1tTvWWCAggc-JgiOPk9EbF9gAiTTCMOtAbJp7mZTAUh84WP3-7A2fiLDmh4jz_bX2IfoEJvIfPUC8Q6-3-iB5_5qgY0U/s320/angus2.jpg" /></a><p>This is what I got. Ok, I know all about advertising and marketing and the whole point is to put your food in the most positive light. But come on, this isn’t even close to the picture in the ad. I think every restaurant is guilty of this to some degree, but fast food chains in particular seem to blatantly dish out items that never look like the picture, ever. When was the last time you got something in a fast food place that looked like the picture on the menu?</p><p>The curly fries were great, my absolute favorite type of French fry is the curly variety. The sandwich was good too, it did have pretty good flavor. It just was not worth the $5, even with the free fries and drink, I won’t be getting this again. Rating is 2 out of 5 stars. My recommendation is to stick with Arby’s value menu. For $5 you can get 5 jr. roast beefs or 5 jr. ham and chedders. In my opinion a MUCH better value, and maybe just a bit better for you.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwNuNzbdUJFj8B5tYJhYPQnjmfFtpzgWPqTIHMM8atNrRt8Ymh9PsAZJbqsjmkzV7Zr857H_cnhfbAjyU7YauvncT7kuD6yGxqgBujq6Qkx_LzslCOGUKtbY-HQA3ZCkFmh0FjQBPAdCk/s1600/mileage.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 132px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579991100324039010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwNuNzbdUJFj8B5tYJhYPQnjmfFtpzgWPqTIHMM8atNrRt8Ymh9PsAZJbqsjmkzV7Zr857H_cnhfbAjyU7YauvncT7kuD6yGxqgBujq6Qkx_LzslCOGUKtbY-HQA3ZCkFmh0FjQBPAdCk/s320/mileage.jpg" /></a><p>On another note, my old car turned over 222,222 miles. It’s been a good reliable car, but probably on it’s last set of wheels. The windshield is cracked all over the place, 2 out of 4 speakers don’t work, the radio works, but not the cassette player, no CD, sorry. The cruise control stopped working about 80,000 miles ago. And it leaks drops of lubricant all over. </p><p>All the above I can put up with if not for the fact the digital dashboard is going out. The gas gauge and speedometer are the same digital readout as the mileage above. When you first start the car, the whole dash is black, which means there is no way to tell how fast you’re going, or how much gas is in the tank. Probably not something you should take on a cross-country journey. After it’s been running about 10-15 minutes, the dashboard suddenly lights up. I’m still driving it, but am not sure for how much longer.</p><p>Keep checking the blog to see if the car lasts long enough for me to try the remaining 14 sandwiches at Erb & Gerb’s. Good eating everyone.</p></div></div></div>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-67554700201516206422011-02-18T16:06:00.004-06:002011-02-18T17:01:18.649-06:00Sandwich #2–Bornk<p>Continuing the saga that started with <a href="http://morewordstoponder.blogspot.com/2011/02/around-universe-in-16-sandwiches.html">Around the Universe in 16 sandwiches</a>, I once again entered the doors of Erbert and Gerbert’s (E&G). As a member of the sandwich society, I get a free sandwich if I try all 16 sandwiches on the menu. My first sandwich was the Boney Billy, turkey breast, alfalfa sprouts, tomato, lettuce, and mayo. It was pretty good and I gave it a 4 out of 5 rating.</p><p>Next on the menu was Bornk, tuna salad made with California tuna, celery, onions and incredible sauce (their words, not mine), topped with lettuce, tomato, and sprouts.</p><p>Out of all the sandwiches, this is the one I really did not want to order. I am not a big tuna fish fan on the best of days, and I have never ordered one at an eatery before. The only tuna salad I’ve ever had was made in somebody’s home kitchen. But I’m on a mission and I am determined to see it through.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ7mT7VCcupMCU1O-iz0IscQlFrzOKEqvdqNxcVZ1sDaDUxhohk-J09uwYjs1PMnPSLBANVZYRECmLSEeiJCM9yYp1i1eGQUiU0s4uyDv29rlUMb91zmZa3l9ZCNOulGbWKNYR5oriFC8/s1600/Bornk.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575154875737484754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ7mT7VCcupMCU1O-iz0IscQlFrzOKEqvdqNxcVZ1sDaDUxhohk-J09uwYjs1PMnPSLBANVZYRECmLSEeiJCM9yYp1i1eGQUiU0s4uyDv29rlUMb91zmZa3l9ZCNOulGbWKNYR5oriFC8/s320/Bornk.jpg" /></a>Here it is, note the “guts” which is the affectionate term they used to describe the bread that is scooped out to make room for the sandwich filling. Those guts were the best part of this sandwich. I always nibble on the soft bread first. Once that was done, I tackled one half of the sandwich. I'll try to say both positives and negatives about each one. I liked the fact it didn’t have a strong fishy taste. I prefer mild tasting fish. I enjoy sprouts, as I’ve said before. I also liked that the celery and onions in the tuna salad were chopped very fine. I really detest big hunks of celery and onion in things. That's all the positive I can say. <p>Unfortunately, negative comments are easy. It was extremely dry. When I make tuna salad at home, I usually use more mayo than the average person. I also didn’t taste anything incredible about the sauce. It tasted like plain old mayo. I ate the whole sandwich, because I never throw away food if I can help it. But it was not a pleasurable experience. I give it barely 1 out of 5 stars. Sorry E&G but I will never order this sandwich again.</p><p>If you read my first installment about Boney Billy, you’ll know each sandwich is named after a character in childhood stories, that were told by the franchise owner’s father when he was growing up. Getting these stories is only possible by going to the restaurant and reading the plaques on the walls. I’ve sent emails to the company website suggesting it would be great publicity for them to post the stories online. I’m still waiting for a response, traffic must be slow in cyberspace.</p><p>As I was waiting for my sandwich I walked around reading the plaques looking for Bornk. Would you believe he wasn’t there! I walked around the store again just to make sure I didn’t miss it. They called my name and I went to pick up my own Bornk, and, on a whim, ducked into the men’s rest room. Sure enough, there were two additional characters in there. But Bornk wasn't one of them!</p><p>A cold feeling of dread washed over me as I left the store. Bornk was almost for sure in the women’s room. How on earth was I supposed to get in there? The last time I checked, I was still a member of the male side of our species. This was all a few weeks ago. I talked over several ideas with my adorable wife and the only one that made sense was that she would go and get a sandwich and check the women’s room when she was there. </p><p>So I waited, but the opportunity for her to visit the store never occurred. I really wanted to get this blog done, so this morning I called E&G.</p><p>“Thank you for calling Erbert and Gerbert’s, will this be for delivery or carryout?” The friendly voice said on the phone.</p><p>“This is going to sound like a very strange question, but I was wondering if the story of Bornk was in the women’s rest room?” I said, very sheepishly.</p><p>This really cracked her up. I was happy I could bring a laugh to someone’s day. “Oh yes, we always keep our tuna in the ladies room.” What an odd thing for her to say. But I got a chuckle out of it. “Hang on a second!”</p><p>I waited a few seconds and she came back on the line, “Yep, he’s in there, along with Jacob Bluefinger,” (another sandwich character).</p><p>“I don’t suppose I could ask…” I was going to ask if she would be so kind as to read and tell me over the phone what the stories were, but she didn’t give me the chance.</p><p>“Oh sure, just come on out, get a sandwich and we’ll let you in the ladies room so you can read the stories.”</p><p>“Um… Ok, I may stop by this afternoon.” I stammered.</p><p>“Great! thank you for calling.” she hung up.</p><p>Oh dear, what was I to do? I really wanted to find out about these guys, so this afternoon I drove out to E&G. I ordered my 3rd sandwich, the Comet Morehouse, which I’ll be blogging about next time. Then I asked if someone would let me in the women’s room so I could read the stories. I was directed to the manager who was a pleasant chap who did his best to ensure customer service. He pounded on the door to make sure it was unoccupied. It was, and he let me in. There was Bornk and Bluefinger. I read up on both of them so I wouldn’t have to go through this again when I got the Jacob Bluefinger sandwich. So with much pain and embarrassment, here is the story of Bornk for your reading pleasure.</p><p>Erbert and Gerbert do a lot of time traveling. One day they decided to make a trip to prehistoric Spain. They met up with Bornk, a cave man who could only speak guttural sounds with his voice. They named him Bornk because of the BOOORRRRNK sound he made whenever he wacked something with the big club Bornk carried. Erbert and Gerbert spent some time with Bornk and were pleasant enough to him, but they didn’t think much of him because he couldn’t communicate very well.</p><p>One day, Bornk led them deep into his cave and smeared some greasy powder from his pouch on the cave wall. He then ignited the powder and it glowed with magnificent colors. It was a picture of the head of a bison and it was a masterpiece. Which goes to show you, that you can never judge a Bornk by it’s cover.</p><p>Here is a <a href="http://www.erbertandgerberts.com/downloads/bornk_outline_web.pdf">coloring sheet of Bornk</a> if you want to see what he looks like. Stay tuned for Comet Morehouse, sandwich #3.</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-60994337950456692732011-02-03T07:53:00.007-06:002011-02-18T17:01:55.420-06:00Around the Universe In 16 Sandwiches<p><span style="font-family:arial;">One of my fellow bloggers, </span><a href="http://r-o-u-s.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:arial;">Rodents Of Unusual Size</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">, recently had a post encouraging us to try new things. This really struck a nerve with me. Mostly because I remember my younger days when I thrived on new experiences. They truly were the events that kept life interesting. Even things that went badly, usually helped me with the lessons I learned from them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I still enjoy new experiences. I love traveling to places I’ve never been, and I make a point to hardly ever order the same item in a restaurant. I also take pleasure in reading a book for the very first time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Sadly, as I grow older, I'm finding I receive more and more comfort in things that stay the same. I like surprises less and less. Wrenches thrown in to mess up carefully laid plans really get me upset these days. So, when I receive the advice to try something new, I get a little irritated. Partly because new things require me to step out of my comfort zone, and partly because I long for my youth and the excitement a new adventure would bring.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Nevertheless, I do see value in stepping outside the box, even if it is a baby step. I enjoy food, and judging from my increasing waist line, food most definitely enjoys me. I get tired of fast food burgers and enjoy a sub sandwich from time to time. Right now my favorite sandwich place is </span><a href="http://www.erbertandgerberts.com/"><span style="font-family:arial;">Erbert and Gerbert’s</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> (E&G's). As I said, I always try to order something I’ve never had before unless I have a particularly strong craving for something. For some reason, fast food places are the exception. I’ve got my favorite item and I don’t usually deviate it. With E&G’s, my favorite sandwich is called the “Flash,” a spicy Italian club made with Capicola ham, Genoa salami, and tomato, with smoked ham, cheese, onion, lettuce, mayo, and oil & vinegar dressing. It is delicious and so good, I’ve never felt the need to try something else.</span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYmSjF-KYx7uVLdV3AmqgXMNpYSzFFUE6UvjmmLANdMV7NTGeh9k-RKXuFseAA7BVU65aVEFO8yxKlQBNufbhp1jZ9MHmkQBIwM4PfI7uzHoOxGq2Qq7chiJtbeddQgjDU5NJbH6wDO-k/s1600/10y1018_egs_loyalty_web_edt_p5_r2_c1.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569463124425809298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYmSjF-KYx7uVLdV3AmqgXMNpYSzFFUE6UvjmmLANdMV7NTGeh9k-RKXuFseAA7BVU65aVEFO8yxKlQBNufbhp1jZ9MHmkQBIwM4PfI7uzHoOxGq2Qq7chiJtbeddQgjDU5NJbH6wDO-k/s320/10y1018_egs_loyalty_web_edt_p5_r2_c1.gif" /></a> <p><span style="font-family:arial;">Recently, the franchise started their own version of a “frequent flyer” club, called <a href="http://www.erbertandgerberts.com/loyalty/societycard.html">the sandwich society</a>. It was too enticing to pass up. You get a free sandwich just for signing up, a free sandwich on your birthday, a free sandwich for every 10 purchased at regular price, and a free sandwich for trying every one of their 16 sandwiches on the menu.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">It just so happened I read the ROUS blog about trying new things shortly before going to lunch and finding out about the sandwich society. The challenge of trying every sandwich off the menu was quite intriguing. So I thought I would use this blog to chronicle my experience.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">First, a bit of history. The business started 20 years ago in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Kevin Schippers and his wife, Beth created the franchise from the ground up. The weird names for each sandwich come from stories Kevin’s dad told him when he was a child. Each sandwich is named after a character in the stories, and I thought it would be fun to give a review of each sandwich along with the story behind it’s name.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I really hate making decisions and the last thing I wanted was to waste precious lunch time minutes trying to decide which new sandwich to try. Since I have to try all of them, I started at the top of the menu with the Boney Billy, turkey breast accompanied by fresh alfalfa sprouts, ripe red tomato, crisp lettuce, and Hellmann’s mayo.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Erbert and Gerbert (E&G) Herbert are two brothers who are the heroes of the childhood stories, interestingly, no sandwiches are named after them, only the characters E&G come across. Boney Billy is a skeleton the brothers meet after finding themselves trapped in a cave. Boney Billy was making objects fly at them through the air. They eventually became friends and Boney Billy was instrumental in helping them escape Comet Morehouse (another sandwich), the evil villain in the stories. Proving that sometimes, it can be a good thing to have a skeleton in your closet.</span></p><p><a href="http://www.erbertandgerberts.com/downloads/boneybilly_outline_web.pdf"><span style="font-family:arial;">Click here for to see what Boney Billy looks like and print out a coloring sheet</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">. The sandwich was quite tasty. I’m trying hard not to compare it to my beloved Flash, which I still prefer, but Boney Billy was very good. You have a choice of white or honey wheat sub-style bread or sliced honey wheat bread. I went with a honey wheat sub because I've always had white before and thought I was being so healthy. It turns out, from the </span><a href="http://www.erbertandgerberts.com/downloads/EG_NutritionInfo_web.pdf"><span style="font-family:arial;">nutritional information</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">, honey wheat has slightly less calories, but a couple more grams of fat. Oh well. To make the sandwich, they scoop out some of the inside to create a pocket in the bread to stuff the fillings. This results in a nice, neat sandwich that is easy to hold and eat. They also wrap the “scoopings” in with the sandwich so it doesn’t go to waste. Some people throw this away anyway, but I enjoy nibbling on the bread, it’s so very soft and sweet.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">In my opinion the bread is what sets E&G’s apart from other sandwich shops, it truly tastes freshly baked. The outside is a firm crust and the inside is soft enough to melt in your mouth. The ingredients inside the sandwich also taste fresh and you don’t get the feeling you’re eating something that’s been processed and shrink-wrapped for several months before serving. You will not like this sandwich if you’re not into alfalfa sprouts. I’ve found people either love them or hate them. For my part, I enjoy sprouts very much and usually take a hunk for my salad if I happen to see them in a salad bar. The sprouts went perfectly with the turkey and just the right amount of mayo.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Although not as good as the Flash, it was very tasty rating 4 out of 5 stars. Stay tuned for Bornk, my next sandwich adventure.</span></p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-24336898717537502742010-11-24T16:40:00.015-06:002011-02-18T17:02:25.992-06:00Welcome To Branson<p>A couple months ago, I had the privilege of attending a conference in Branson, Missouri. I don’t get to travel out of state very often. Twice in 16 years to be exact. So I jumped at the chance. Especially since I’ve never been remotely close to the area and it’s always fun experiencing new things.</p><p>It’s difficult to fly into Branson, they do have a commercial airport now, but flights are only offered on certain days. This turned out to be a good thing because I was able to fly into Springfield, and then get a rental car for the hour drive into Branson. Usually, when I travel for work, I’m locked into sites around the hotel vicinity and wherever the free shuttle service will take me. Having a car to explore gave me a certain amount of freedom I wasn’t used to.</p><p>I took off very early on a Sunday morning last September. The flight was uneventful and I arrived in Denver for a couple hours layover. No offense to Denver, but I’m less impressed with that airport each time I go. United has so many flights in and out of there, it is packed to the gills with people. I don’t like crowds on a good day, so this really taxed my patience. The airport was so clogged with travelers, it was almost impossible to walk anywhere. I’m a fast walker and get stressed out when traffic prevents me from going at my usual brisk pace. I bought a large Americano from Starbucks so that helped my nerves a bit. The side terminal where my departure gate was standing room only, (just barely) so I went to the main terminal area where I found a spot to spread out a bit to check email and wait out my layover. Thank goodness for wireless Internet access. I passed some humorous moments teasing my co-workers hard at work while I was on my adventure.</p><p>The flight to Springfield was a repeat of the trip to Denver, not much to write home about. You get into a flying tube and get out in another part of the country. I loved the Springfield airport, very quiet and not at all crowded. Evidently, it’s not the busy season for Branson tourism so that was a benefit to me. I went to check out my rental car, and spent too long arguing with the guy that I didn’t need any insurance since I was covered by the State of ND. I had my cards to prove it but he still had to take issue with it.</p><p>I was given a KIA Optima. He asked if I wanted to upgrade to a Camaro, but I’m sure I would have had a hard time getting reimbursed for that.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIW6alehStVZqYZRDaPgh4XPKgD_2rYqhu8B-J-pB6FfTVg2JrUDMKMXDCCSgS23i8dYUUc2pezQWTC1eaiWnPV-KWnPvywvChbKB0EQv7_-vHSPuaHyaJj9t4PAiAAI7PEgo-8h4MmCs/s1600/1024x768_01.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543250670183091938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIW6alehStVZqYZRDaPgh4XPKgD_2rYqhu8B-J-pB6FfTVg2JrUDMKMXDCCSgS23i8dYUUc2pezQWTC1eaiWnPV-KWnPvywvChbKB0EQv7_-vHSPuaHyaJj9t4PAiAAI7PEgo-8h4MmCs/s320/1024x768_01.jpg" /></a>My car was black and not quite as flashy as the one above, but basically the same. It was a small car for my tastes, but I’m sure it gets fantastic mileage. Everything was just weird. The shift, blinkers, wipers, cruise, and headlights were not even remotely close to what I’m used to. I kept turning on the wipers, when I wanted to signal. Later that evening, when I went to get some groceries, I needed to turn on the headlights and kept spraying washer fluid. When I got back to the hotel, I finally broke down and actually read the manual. I didn’t have any more car trouble after that. I’m a huge instruction book reader, so it surprised me I didn’t read it before I started. I got a chuckle when I saw the license plates. I’m from North Dakota, on a trip to Missouri, and my rental car had Indiana plates.</p><p>Getting out of Springfield was a challenge. Traffic was hectic after leaving the airport. They had road construction going on just like in North Dakota. However, where some of our highways go from two-lane to one-lane when under construction, Springfield just re-painted the lines and made the two lanes smaller. It was a little unnerving driving so close to other vehicles at highway speeds. The directions I got off the hotel website were very good, and once I was out of town on a different highway, the construction stopped and it became like the highway driving I’m used to.</p><p>Before looking at the hotel directions, I was looking at some other road maps and it looked like the most straightforward route to the hotel was by going through Branson. So I was curious when the hotel directions routed me around the NW corner of the town. It seemed out of the way, but trusted to the judgment of the hotel. I was instructed to turn off the main interstate highway 65 and go west on state highway 465 otherwise known as the Ozark Mountain Highroad. This is a winding road as you would expect through the Ozark “mountains.” I use the term loosely because like our Turtle mountains in North Dakota, rolling hills is a more accurate name. But the drive was quite breathtaking nonetheless. The scenery was fantastic and I would recommend this route to anyone. Plus, you don’t drive through Branson at all, which I was to find out, gets very clogged up with traffic. So I drove through the Ozarks around Branson, and drove right up the hotel in short order.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXhyWpnbhGEmbrx2prjXHMQSLXa7BNzsgKtSQeB4QANUsEWp9VNfw7pvZ9Ql6blKv0xKst3V79XFo7cf0bWwl2zB6kE_QKqhB2-JpkpFb-imp6Hdba0wfwb_szfotmq-ttkDCG8CuHNo/s1600/01DSCN4626.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543250672923078050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXhyWpnbhGEmbrx2prjXHMQSLXa7BNzsgKtSQeB4QANUsEWp9VNfw7pvZ9Ql6blKv0xKst3V79XFo7cf0bWwl2zB6kE_QKqhB2-JpkpFb-imp6Hdba0wfwb_szfotmq-ttkDCG8CuHNo/s320/01DSCN4626.jpg" /></a> The conference was at the <a href="http://www.chateauonthelakebranson.com/">Chateau on the lake Resort</a> an extremely nice place. I haven’t stayed anywhere this nice since a conference in Portland, Oregon that I attended about 8 years ago. I got checked in and took a glass elevator up to my room. The elevator looks out on the atrium which has a gorgeous waterfall in the middle of it. It was about supper time and I hadn’t had anything all day except some pop and coffee and a small bag of pretzels. So I got my city of Branson map and hit the road again.</p><p>My first stop was a grocery store. I always like to have a few munchies in my room but I don’t like the exorbitant fees on the hotel vending machines. This time I did go through the main drag part of town with all the tourist attractions. Would you believe I drove through the whole town without seeing a single grocery store? Evidently they want people to just focus on the attractions rather than worry about buying groceries. As I eventually turned North and was about to drive out of town, I turned off on a side street. I had only driven a couple blocks when I realized Branson has two parts of town. There’s the part they want tourists to see, and another part that is for the people that actually live there. I could see right away I had finally entered the part of town frequented by “locals”. It stopped looking like Branson, and started looking like any other residential area. I saw a Wal-Mart, and then a little ways further, found a Country Mart grocery store. This was a delightful place, with very reasonable prices. I got a 6-pack of pop, some chips and cookies, and called it good.</p><p>Now I was very hungry after browsing the deli and other food items at the grocery store. My primary rule when traveling, is to try very hard to avoid any eatery that is also available in my home town. The whole point is to experience new things and that means eating somewhere I’ve never been to before. I saw a <a href="http://www.sonicdrivein.com/">Sonic drive-in</a> on the way into town and didn’t feel like driving down “tourist boulevard” again so that fit the bill. I’ve never been to a Sonic before.</p><p>They had a jalapeno, bacon, cheeseburger that was a special, limited time thing. So I went with that along with tater tots, because I’ve never had tater tots at a burger joint before, and a coke. It was ok, it had been a long day so it didn’t dawn on me that this was truly a drive-in, meaning no inside seating. So I ordered my food and slid my card in the convenient slot provided. A few minutes later, a guy came out with my order and I had to eat in the car. The burger was very good, but not really any different than any other fast-food place, I’ll probably never get tater tots with a hamburger again, I should have went with the french fries. Sorry Sonic, I probably won’t be back for a return visit.</p><p>Now it was dark, so I had to turn my lights on before driving back to the hotel. This was hilarious because I kept turning on the washer fluid and wipers. What kind of maniac puts the headlight switch on the same stick as the windshield wipers? I may be dim-witted, but I don’t see how that makes any sense. KIA aficionados probably think this is great, but it was utter lunacy in my opinion.</p><p>Somehow, I got the lights on and the wipers off, and made it back to the hotel. Then I got the manual out and read up on everything I had trouble with. Then I practiced with the lights and wipers and where the cruise control was. Finally, convinced I had mastered the controls, went back to my room, called my family, and went to bed.</p><p>Breakfast was included with the registration, so I went down and enjoyed some delicious scrambled eggs, broasted potatoes, fruit, bacon and sausage. Then I had some grape juice and my beloved coffee. I got a few curious stares as I filled my own personal thermal coffee mug. The cups they provide at meetings and conferences are just too small and the coffee gets cold too quickly. So I’ve gotten into the habit of dragging my coffee mug with me when I travel. It's the perfect size to get me through until the next break.</p><p>The conference started with the general session involving everyone. After some words of welcome from our host, the deputy director of the Missouri Department of Conservation, the mayor of Branson, Raeanne Presley gave the keynote address. In addition to being the mayor, she married into the Presley family which was one of the first entertainment groups that set up their show in the Branson area. She mentioned that tourism is Branson’s only industry. I could see this very clearly because every local I had come in contact with, the people at the hotel, the grocery store, and the Sonic drive-in, were so completely friendly and accommodating. It seemed as though everyone made it their personal mission to ensure I was enjoying myself and if not, they needed to know why so they could correct it immediately. Absolutely everyone I met was extremely polite. Except maybe one person at a place I visited which I will tell you about later. The mayor continued with some interesting historical facts about Branson and wished us to enjoy our stay.</p><p>The next speaker was Bob Priddy, radio journalist, humorist, and historian. This guy was absolutely, gut-busting funny. You could tell he made a living out of talking to people. He took us on a very thorough history of the state of Missouri and Branson, and had us laughing all the way. I really enjoyed listening to him.</p><p>Then the training and development coordinator from the Missouri Department of Conservation gave a presentation about dealing with workplace stress. Also something I got some value out of and extremely humorous as well. I firmly believe, if you ever have to give a speech or presentation, even a serious one, it is almost always beneficial to interject humor into your talk. </p><p>It was time for lunch, which was also provided. It was a delicious soup, salad, and sandwich buffet. They had a raspberry vinaigrette that was pretty tasty on the greens. Iced tea seems to be a staple down there and was offered all day with the water and coffee. I enjoy unsweetened iced tea very much so I actually took a coffee break, I mean a break from my coffee and went for some tea.</p><p>After lunch we went into the breakout sections. Small groups according to your job description. As a computer guy, I was in the Information Technology group. I’ll spare you the details. The content of these meetings is extremely boring to most of the known world. The one thing I will say is how enjoyable it is to talk to my peers from other states. As a technology person in the fish and wildlife industry, I have a fairly unique set of job duties. It’s difficult for me to talk about my job with people who don’t work in the field because it’s boring, or they just don’t understand what it is I do. It is very nice to speak with people who deal with the same kind of day-to-day problems I deal with and understand what it’s like. It is quite therapeutic. As a general rule, I don't care for meetings, but the breakout sessions were quite enjoyable.</p><p>After the meetings were over, it was time to head out to the conference banquet, a fish fry at the <a href="http://mdc.mo.gov/regions/southwest/shepherd-hills-fish-hatchery">Shepherd of the Hills Fish Hatchery</a>. On the menu was catfish, hush puppies (fried dough balls), french fries, cole slaw, and assorted fruit cobblers. No offense to the fine state of Missouri, the catfish was good, but I was born and raised on walleye and there really isn’t any comparison. I’ll take walleye any day of the week. Fruity desserts are my favorite, especially the wild berry variety. There happened to be a wild berry cobbler that I thoroughly enjoyed. Peach is a close second so I couldn’t resist a small sliver of peach cobbler also.</p><p>Then they started giving out door prizes. When your name was called, you got your choice of an item from the prize table. I selected a very nice pair of insulated, water-proof gloves which I’ve gotten great use out of the last couple days. The gloves are toasty warm and strangely light enough so you can still manipulate most objects with your fingers. It was a pretty good score.</p><p>Very full, I caught the first shuttle back to the hotel so I could open a video chat with my family and help my daughter with her geometry. The next day I found out they were giving tours of the hatchery which would have been very interesting, but evidently, it was a last minute thing they decided to do to occupy the people who were waiting for the next shuttle. Oh well, North Dakota has 2 hatcheries and I expect I’ll get a tour of the one in Riverdale at some point.</p><p>When I was back in my room, I got some ice and poured myself a strawberry crème soda before calling my family. In a few minutes my pretty daughter was on my computer screen and we commenced some geometry ciphering. It actually didn’t take that long. Geometry has gone very well this semester. My daughter either is finally starting to get math or her brain just has an easier time understanding the geometry concepts. Getting her through algebra the last two years was nothing short of torture for both of us.</p><p>I had another great night’s sleep in a very comfortable bed and breakfasted the next morning on fresh fruit and biscuits and gravy. They were good, but not as good as my dad’s. But there was plenty of hot gravy to drench the biscuits in. After breakfast there was more tech talk with the breakout groups and the main part of the conference was over. We had the afternoon free.</p><p>Lunch was on our own so I hopped into my KIA, much more familiar with the controls, and headed out on the main drag. I was in the mood for pizza so I found a <a href="http://www.pizzaworldusa.net/">Pizza World</a> that had a lunch buffet. It was ok, but nothing to write home about, our local Pizza Hut and Pizza Ranch do a much better job in my opinion.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibP4gYJB-evKMCOdj6nekKTonGxjwH5haBtw3kWQl2rFWwgNoUgh0PaKGXtEKqYxgC4DIP0eyU-0rylc1SpN8kErbYMQvplp918oNvFEdZH6qf4PvGLy8K9WsdbhKz1jJBqPIkx_O6eWA/s1600/02Titanic2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543250678976169426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibP4gYJB-evKMCOdj6nekKTonGxjwH5haBtw3kWQl2rFWwgNoUgh0PaKGXtEKqYxgC4DIP0eyU-0rylc1SpN8kErbYMQvplp918oNvFEdZH6qf4PvGLy8K9WsdbhKz1jJBqPIkx_O6eWA/s320/02Titanic2.jpg" /></a>After lunch, I was very excited to take in the one tourist attraction I really was not going to miss, the <a href="http://titanicbranson.com/">Titanic Museum</a>. Cameras were not allowed so all I was able to get were a couple pictures of the outside. The museum building is on dry land but is shaped like the front part of the ship.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJi35uY9DaBzqYrS-Nt4H-D5c57cW8F1yi5OJUCZcIriS9z43crB7VDwX6Uu2WVU7wjkGO-3G72NUAz2E0sIaZB5UZExvvG0EIo_txwyIyyEHTct7Unu2iE7wSvWkcwLmyGPsGYL7j16c/s1600/03Titanic3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543250682371415634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJi35uY9DaBzqYrS-Nt4H-D5c57cW8F1yi5OJUCZcIriS9z43crB7VDwX6Uu2WVU7wjkGO-3G72NUAz2E0sIaZB5UZExvvG0EIo_txwyIyyEHTct7Unu2iE7wSvWkcwLmyGPsGYL7j16c/s320/03Titanic3.jpg" /></a>The front of the museum has a fake iceberg with a water fountain spraying for added effect.</p><p>This was absolutely the part of the trip I enjoyed the most. There are a few of these museums around the country and I highly recommend a visit if you have the opportunity. Even if you’re not that interested in the Titanic, it is almost impossible to see this museum without being affected. You are given a boarding pass when you enter, that has a passenger or crewmember’s name from the fateful voyage, along with a brief history of who that person was. At the end of the tour, you find out if the person on your boarding pass survived.</p><p>I was delighted to be assigned the captain of ship. Edward John Smith. A 62-year-old highly respected captain. From what I read, he was very good at what he did and was well thought of by both passengers and crew. You’ll have to keep reading if you want to find out what happened to him.</p><p>The museum is self-guided with stewards stationed at various points to answer questions. They also rented audio devices for $5. Throughout the museum, there were symbols with a number printed on them. When you punched in the number, you got to listen to a recording with additional information about what you were looking at. I had to get the full experience so I handed over $5 and collected my device.</p><p>The first part talked about the ships construction and had a full scale replica of one of the massive screws which propelled it through the water. It’s hard to describe the size of that thing. The ship really was enormous. The next section went into launching the ship. 22 tons of tallow and soap were used to grease the rails so the ship could slide in the water.</p><p>There were descriptions of the boarding preparations, all the food and supplies that were required, everyone was subjected to a brief medical exam to make sure they were healthy. Then they had a window where you could see the museum mascots, Molly and Carter.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlEkwCuieWGV_nQg_l-yyp3Cmm7hV5f0St_y1bu_w6ex9NDCX_EnW_tQsnjWRv1eXw3-U7_IBcTE4XoZa-QBSZtq-N8F_fD3a3dekz-2lt5_dt8MC58xm_2jFE9mJXQFo6xarHY2RafhE/s1600/titanic-molly-carter05sm.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543250688348843586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlEkwCuieWGV_nQg_l-yyp3Cmm7hV5f0St_y1bu_w6ex9NDCX_EnW_tQsnjWRv1eXw3-U7_IBcTE4XoZa-QBSZtq-N8F_fD3a3dekz-2lt5_dt8MC58xm_2jFE9mJXQFo6xarHY2RafhE/s320/titanic-molly-carter05sm.jpg" /></a>Aren’t they adorable? They are 2-year-old King Charles spaniels and pay tribute to the 12 dogs that were brought on board. My memory is fuzzy, but I believe only 3 dogs survived. Molly and Carter were sleeping when I went by the first time, but they woke up shortly after and were brought out. They were extremely well-mannered and seemed to love all the attention they were getting.</p><p>There was a replica of a 3rd class cabin. Just barely room enough for 2 bunk beds on each side and a wash basin on the back wall. You could stand in the middle and almost touch all three sides without moving. But according to most passenger ships back then, they were luxury accommodations. The Titanic was also one of the few vessels that provided food, usually 3rd class passengers had to bring their own. There was only 2 toilet facilities per floor, one for men, one for women and had to be shared by over a hundred people. </p><p>Then you got to see what the 1st class passengers enjoyed. Quite a difference from 3rd class, two bedrooms, private bathroom, walk-in closets, and a sitting room complete with fireplace. They didn’t have a replica of 2nd class but said that there wasn’t that much difference between 2nd and 1st class.</p><p>They had some actual menu cards recovered from survivors. 3rd class was served excellent food but wasn’t anything like the 11-course meals 1st class enjoyed.</p><p>Parts of the museum were interactive. There was a room you went into that was made to look like you were walking the deck outside. The temperature was even the same as it would have been that night, very cold. The whole room was black and used ultraviolet lighting on the walls to make it appear like you were looking at the night sky. You couldn’t stay in this room very long before the cold started affecting you and you had to go back where it was warm.</p><p>There was a replica of the ships wheel that you could spin, and then the displays started getting into the accident itself. The iceberg didn’t actually puncture the hull. It scraped off hundreds of rivets that allowed water to start pouring in. The hull was designed in sections that could be sealed off to prevent the ship from sinking, but they didn’t work. Water began to flow into the various sections anyway. </p><p>They had sections of deck that were built at angles representing different stages of the sinking that you could walk on. There was also full-scale replica of a life boat you could sit in. There was a pool of water kept at the same temperature the ocean was. You could stick your hand in and see how long you could keep it in there before taking it out. I lasted just over 15 seconds and it was several minutes before I started regaining the feeling in my fingers.</p><p>You could test out a Morse code device. The distress signal at that time was “CQD”. The “CQ” was the standard call for assistance but the letters don’t actually stand for anything, contrary to several web sites saying it means, “come quickly”. The “D” at the end was used to indicate a distress situation. The familiar “SOS” was just starting to be adopted and was also sent out from the Titanic. I had fun punching in and listening to the signals, and spelled out my name.</p><p>There were various displays of artifacts recovered. There were 8 crewmembers in the orchestra and there was a listing of different songs they played, all the musicians died because they wanted to keep playing as long as possible to try to comfort the people trying to escape. They initially were playing jazzy, swing songs from the day, but switched to hymns once people realized the ship was going down. A popular one they played over and over was “Nearer my God to Thee.”</p><p>The last stage of the journey detailed various recovery efforts and location of the wreckage. There are plans to raise the Titanic going on. Time is of the essence because it is very quickly turning into a pile of rust.</p><p>Sadly, my captain was not among the survivors. He did indeed go down with the ship. There are conflicting reports of the actual circumstances, none of which can be confirmed. Some survivors said he fell into the water, others said he locked himself on the bridge after giving the command to abandon ship. Yet another interesting story, probably more legend than truth, was that after he fell in the water, he surfaced and grabbed hold of one of the life boats. He apologized to the people sitting in the boat for what they had to endure, and then let go and went down.</p><p>The steward that was collecting the audio devices at the end said to me that it looked like I enjoyed my visit. I was so moved I couldn’t say anything. I swallowed a few times and was able to choke out a response, “It was amazing,” was all I could say. She nodded in an understanding way. They recommended to reserve 90 minutes to walk through the museum. I was there a little over 2 1/2 hours.</p><p>My next stop was the world’s largest toy museum. Cameras were not only allowed, but encouraged, so I’ve got lots of pictures of this. I’m a child at heart, so toys are still something I enjoy.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4yrNpOV507OB2YxmCK4vsQr9FsZm1UM7FnK0vutueCwg-H5qjJGUwrt576TQWtZ1Ssi-ds-fKjx-PYAxMmdEgtDXK4moWi1RWIWMFwmR0lWGAJEQ0S7SemG8MXnpU3kDaU9oyYtUG8M/s1600/07DSCN4603.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543250953142672114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4yrNpOV507OB2YxmCK4vsQr9FsZm1UM7FnK0vutueCwg-H5qjJGUwrt576TQWtZ1Ssi-ds-fKjx-PYAxMmdEgtDXK4moWi1RWIWMFwmR0lWGAJEQ0S7SemG8MXnpU3kDaU9oyYtUG8M/s320/07DSCN4603.jpg" /></a>A few assorted metal trucks.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHIXkTPQ9Ja-ke6l6QKT0oinrb3pkHGbERJpSm5GvYdMOsD5Wkhg3BaG1cSq8DuYDNmkVwXxH2_V4RjygVvh37Cbx8-XrocTZ8lO-8VrLHKiGSGyC1-DCzT5q-TtrfGpRod-B5Ds8Ar-o/s1600/08DSCN4604.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543250967230560098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHIXkTPQ9Ja-ke6l6QKT0oinrb3pkHGbERJpSm5GvYdMOsD5Wkhg3BaG1cSq8DuYDNmkVwXxH2_V4RjygVvh37Cbx8-XrocTZ8lO-8VrLHKiGSGyC1-DCzT5q-TtrfGpRod-B5Ds8Ar-o/s320/08DSCN4604.jpg" /></a>I’m an aviation fan so the metal airplanes got my attention.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4z1tdm_LxJYTXIm2QJLPh648gvsOMEExXgfonDysElC1OsP-PKtDAsUv-awLgGaK8cTy0jbUuZiUJmAn2dOYneK46zK9K3Z8Phjoh1BjYWJqE6WYpsQFwkAiFadTQaOED8pde46Bcn4A/s1600/09DSCN4605.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543868907232135394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4z1tdm_LxJYTXIm2QJLPh648gvsOMEExXgfonDysElC1OsP-PKtDAsUv-awLgGaK8cTy0jbUuZiUJmAn2dOYneK46zK9K3Z8Phjoh1BjYWJqE6WYpsQFwkAiFadTQaOED8pde46Bcn4A/s320/09DSCN4605.jpg" /></a>This Rolls Royce actually came Washington D.C. It was kept there specifically for the Queen of England when she came to visit. It was her personal vehicle while she was here.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt08-4mEP6oyKzw_DLj7tBOwLEjjbHws5SLCZPDp5svDGuXQyP7e92ukDsbZjINQG763sbFu8oOIMoQziI_I0Tl4rnC2Xd71eKk4BcxH8XkfFzJDOTlhyphenhyphenV7-vMosEr74M1nuEaaYiw7D0/s1600/10DSCN4606.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543251013293292866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt08-4mEP6oyKzw_DLj7tBOwLEjjbHws5SLCZPDp5svDGuXQyP7e92ukDsbZjINQG763sbFu8oOIMoQziI_I0Tl4rnC2Xd71eKk4BcxH8XkfFzJDOTlhyphenhyphenV7-vMosEr74M1nuEaaYiw7D0/s320/10DSCN4606.jpg" /></a> I also like old coke machines.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgvIOZA7rm-NKTYnMZPbhJ3ej-fKWbhSEdNs9ovvL2cW8wHBloWIYrdPTK67BgDakkwjkFnxrAFptM3lBFH0hIuUWrfOPvAz-Bw9mbsCTQIIGamwnlmjfHa0OpM6R0XzE7asb-M97jUM/s1600/11DSCN4607.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543251036859240594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgvIOZA7rm-NKTYnMZPbhJ3ej-fKWbhSEdNs9ovvL2cW8wHBloWIYrdPTK67BgDakkwjkFnxrAFptM3lBFH0hIuUWrfOPvAz-Bw9mbsCTQIIGamwnlmjfHa0OpM6R0XzE7asb-M97jUM/s320/11DSCN4607.jpg" /></a>I had a fairly large Hot Wheel car collection in my youth, complete with the orange track you see at the bottom. Everyone who has ever owned these seems to have a story of sword fighting with the track sections. My brother and I were no different, they really stung when you got swatted with a piece of that track. My son has a bunch of cars too. He’s no long interested in Hot Wheels, but I still plan on keeping them.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRs8XHIj6UHKKsm2_dBU1dpS0Fre5j1SdxmT5-TO_wLaWJiamwjpCc4vkcUlmoKEX4MK5DO-3naA2_o_VYP-dTSZk4hUtVS_TokRVTaWJQAnAKAioclh3H2TZWaLqXC9EKhrrf4N-_mw/s1600/12DSCN4608.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253371316514866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRs8XHIj6UHKKsm2_dBU1dpS0Fre5j1SdxmT5-TO_wLaWJiamwjpCc4vkcUlmoKEX4MK5DO-3naA2_o_VYP-dTSZk4hUtVS_TokRVTaWJQAnAKAioclh3H2TZWaLqXC9EKhrrf4N-_mw/s320/12DSCN4608.jpg" /></a>Very old, large metal trucks and earth moving equipment. Built to withstand rugged play outside.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LJaejrhTETupss0UMd4jGDZwD3CTnBHYM9xc_8ZJiSHohFQovsLLqW4tTsA3t0OKM_fzf0v7EoovgzoBJJLb0XmFlXSV07klhPIIdg_KpUiECQnT8KYw5R0u-c4iONJzOIWe0ins6eY/s1600/13DSCN4609.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253377452942530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LJaejrhTETupss0UMd4jGDZwD3CTnBHYM9xc_8ZJiSHohFQovsLLqW4tTsA3t0OKM_fzf0v7EoovgzoBJJLb0XmFlXSV07klhPIIdg_KpUiECQnT8KYw5R0u-c4iONJzOIWe0ins6eY/s320/13DSCN4609.jpg" /></a>Another memory from my childhood. I actually had this TCR set (Total Control Racing) the cars had working headlights, some pieces glowed in the dark, and the cars could switch lanes.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBx_y-9j6S6b42RpBbSOWCBJpf9697hOc5ci5bBkyG9L8aPmrn21ZUIkv7b6tsSuixd9rakNcfuEWCmw2WTs4QQdmW19XTgmbDOQ7aGhlmmeL17OHfXuDuHxY06hgypHyY275Unyvxyw/s1600/14DSCN4610.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253384513831730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitBx_y-9j6S6b42RpBbSOWCBJpf9697hOc5ci5bBkyG9L8aPmrn21ZUIkv7b6tsSuixd9rakNcfuEWCmw2WTs4QQdmW19XTgmbDOQ7aGhlmmeL17OHfXuDuHxY06hgypHyY275Unyvxyw/s320/14DSCN4610.jpg" /></a>Ah yes, who can remember PEZ dispensers? These were the rage when I was in high school. I was into the Warner Brothers Characters, so I had Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and Sylvester. I also had a little truck with wheels that I remember shooting across the floor in band. I played the trumpet and my buddy was in the trombone section so it had to go across the room for him to get his PEZ fix.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdpoilsWFXqnm0Syi9ZmbEurR-JXxLN5wiB7uirqauAVIfz8NzeLdxgmyLmToyxFuYLjSr8UsL9vttE80YdOLEcxkEoU4GKvd1pcPTlMt3o2pxbS2lx0yoNDdajdfJM5lA9EBbNFuUuw/s1600/DSCN4690_crop.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 209px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543862511510306274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdpoilsWFXqnm0Syi9ZmbEurR-JXxLN5wiB7uirqauAVIfz8NzeLdxgmyLmToyxFuYLjSr8UsL9vttE80YdOLEcxkEoU4GKvd1pcPTlMt3o2pxbS2lx0yoNDdajdfJM5lA9EBbNFuUuw/s320/DSCN4690_crop.jpg" /></a>Several years ago, I came across a PEZ display and couldn’t resist buying another one. I don’t have any of the dispensers from my childhood, but I still have this one.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmX2rInIOj7hvCwqpGI1EfwOWihX4rtOeqgnRQ8wyKfvwz4GYSXzqNZdJ4JCJn6mk8kMLc_Ame22W_VAtVyDR5e1QtWrsoP0jroMbVugAPHR7MN9mARKxEEhd_NgvyfQTrZz9DJZQPOnw/s1600/15DSCN4611.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253387368354514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmX2rInIOj7hvCwqpGI1EfwOWihX4rtOeqgnRQ8wyKfvwz4GYSXzqNZdJ4JCJn6mk8kMLc_Ame22W_VAtVyDR5e1QtWrsoP0jroMbVugAPHR7MN9mARKxEEhd_NgvyfQTrZz9DJZQPOnw/s320/15DSCN4611.jpg" /></a>There were bible verses placed throughout the museum. Branson is very much a faith-based community. The entertainment and shows are all family friendly and have to pass strict guidelines before performances are allowed.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjleA8XVdTdgQjJUqUHOWlyPxFCjzpbIe4GBzY6ZemQZtta0W3umf1uMTOztxItvTHiuX6ltYwktj9xXl7segiUazp7oFAFkJ2evGlFhIzzoe68kJ8S9MBe7o4Td8zV16a9h8Ky6cpbMls/s1600/16DSCN4612.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253394126539026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjleA8XVdTdgQjJUqUHOWlyPxFCjzpbIe4GBzY6ZemQZtta0W3umf1uMTOztxItvTHiuX6ltYwktj9xXl7segiUazp7oFAFkJ2evGlFhIzzoe68kJ8S9MBe7o4Td8zV16a9h8Ky6cpbMls/s320/16DSCN4612.jpg" /></a>I’ve always wanted a train set, but have never had the room to spare to build anything worthwhile, you almost need an entire basement or a good sized room to build a decent railway. Train sets today are nice, but I still like the old “larger than life” Lionel train sets from the 60’s.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5enAdhoN3-B5MBv_iSvqeg_-10cFWCIYlUjaLa6fQKnYzKOtedgWH4Z9z49FjD7IxZbh3jqRib0qCXavQbysW356GA2NKVT7p6ylrYWcHZMw23Eerzxzpc2v-XHFDToPPbbgcV5fILyU/s1600/17DSCN4613.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253637943869906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5enAdhoN3-B5MBv_iSvqeg_-10cFWCIYlUjaLa6fQKnYzKOtedgWH4Z9z49FjD7IxZbh3jqRib0qCXavQbysW356GA2NKVT7p6ylrYWcHZMw23Eerzxzpc2v-XHFDToPPbbgcV5fILyU/s320/17DSCN4613.jpg" /></a>Old blue bike.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXmLbyWLuCzGRWHHSwSI_n3O3u8CEBpyO1bCbsYCTZKYA8BiR_4UD2vWdDChNKnQg06pqVYmYUWTD8sab_1sGR2mNc29-28E7XsXYvxHbAyFBzADwcC0uIQlJHl2zZ98ZluP4OnNxvmo/s1600/18DSCN4614.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253641037741250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXmLbyWLuCzGRWHHSwSI_n3O3u8CEBpyO1bCbsYCTZKYA8BiR_4UD2vWdDChNKnQg06pqVYmYUWTD8sab_1sGR2mNc29-28E7XsXYvxHbAyFBzADwcC0uIQlJHl2zZ98ZluP4OnNxvmo/s320/18DSCN4614.jpg" /></a>Old red bike.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzeUdnTq35LKf_GPoNAg91TbeLB5N4zmncZ5SxT9O_0NmtLyUT_QV3_IKXsR1gHJWEQCwdATe3WzuCk0i3sSYearD8Ucgak7WN0QV3DftH4-DrwUOqjk1uTq_ZXOLIIzyMDClYsWyDp2M/s1600/19DSCN4615.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253644967518370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzeUdnTq35LKf_GPoNAg91TbeLB5N4zmncZ5SxT9O_0NmtLyUT_QV3_IKXsR1gHJWEQCwdATe3WzuCk0i3sSYearD8Ucgak7WN0QV3DftH4-DrwUOqjk1uTq_ZXOLIIzyMDClYsWyDp2M/s320/19DSCN4615.jpg" /></a>There was a huge display of various guns. This is the Steve McQueen collection.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIBprt-HkLjPv9GlamIzxFHYKLLydQopccYKMEVaWv4WkpO4VyPRUr6FupjFR0s4Ww4vZTJ8ct-CyZDPJIIgG_DS72JmGFsLGuUO3StNNhZoSXVAzpFoT7eUnFLni1KCf8EnxFjysk0E/s1600/20DSCN4616.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253646224697506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIBprt-HkLjPv9GlamIzxFHYKLLydQopccYKMEVaWv4WkpO4VyPRUr6FupjFR0s4Ww4vZTJ8ct-CyZDPJIIgG_DS72JmGFsLGuUO3StNNhZoSXVAzpFoT7eUnFLni1KCf8EnxFjysk0E/s320/20DSCN4616.jpg" /></a>Some handguns.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvO8V4f5WVXzWmZjcGX7T6PB8DTya3nuWrpHv3ayxOHFdopHbVPrRyjJl4OQv6bWcG-7bJ5z5FT09Iy_S0t0v62CqQ66IBcPgLMrFmo19tydn_aKJGfB0Q28e17_dNAnXIt2975VCCwA/s1600/21DSCN4617.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253657141154386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvO8V4f5WVXzWmZjcGX7T6PB8DTya3nuWrpHv3ayxOHFdopHbVPrRyjJl4OQv6bWcG-7bJ5z5FT09Iy_S0t0v62CqQ66IBcPgLMrFmo19tydn_aKJGfB0Q28e17_dNAnXIt2975VCCwA/s320/21DSCN4617.jpg" /></a>Some authentic guns that belonged to Harold Wright, author of “the Shepherd of the Hills,” a book that made Branson famous.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgU-hfdrk8abTcnPktmpAb-xMdulwWfDOS1fiSAXW9TWOLkJonMCWPtA7MnQmUUtYXRI0mHKOz6BtZc-3g_nAa6BeZs_cD19trYqJaSxa7OXdsTavSOgzpJl7TXZ5MZUS2vGHlBZSSGo/s1600/22DSCN4618.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253904070108018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgU-hfdrk8abTcnPktmpAb-xMdulwWfDOS1fiSAXW9TWOLkJonMCWPtA7MnQmUUtYXRI0mHKOz6BtZc-3g_nAa6BeZs_cD19trYqJaSxa7OXdsTavSOgzpJl7TXZ5MZUS2vGHlBZSSGo/s320/22DSCN4618.jpg" /></a>Beanie babies stuffed animals. These were the bane of my existence. My beautiful wife went through a “collecting” phase. We had several plastic totes filled with these creatures, stacked from floor to ceiling. Thank goodness for eBay. I was able to sell almost all of them when we decided we didn’t need them anymore.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpUYOHf47SZwKALIVySul_5Y2zhxi2DmWdXOzRsZZgGULd2MOX_p1GijCoLi6nfg0uH1ailoAXvDUU48cMuIH_wjVJvWXnbTOEKurEAY7S7hIgXHTg5VFFDxQidPcJbIN-29Gr7Tk_VA/s1600/23DSCN4620.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253910449868306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpUYOHf47SZwKALIVySul_5Y2zhxi2DmWdXOzRsZZgGULd2MOX_p1GijCoLi6nfg0uH1ailoAXvDUU48cMuIH_wjVJvWXnbTOEKurEAY7S7hIgXHTg5VFFDxQidPcJbIN-29Gr7Tk_VA/s320/23DSCN4620.jpg" /></a>More childhood memories. Both my brother and I had ViewMasters. Those little round picture discs brought back lots of memories.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFBgDu93iUJya7cmcpmpAutud6rf09I5C5sBb4P3JEXHGUPzfusQrVg4A2QEn2tZ_sMAOs9p-5LxyNjJOp4tlngzYuqWHj89uF4la509yukVQ2S6zOp2FQ2yKNJ3M23qoeAeoS8BjUhs/s1600/24DSCN4621.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253913900899394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFBgDu93iUJya7cmcpmpAutud6rf09I5C5sBb4P3JEXHGUPzfusQrVg4A2QEn2tZ_sMAOs9p-5LxyNjJOp4tlngzYuqWHj89uF4la509yukVQ2S6zOp2FQ2yKNJ3M23qoeAeoS8BjUhs/s320/24DSCN4621.jpg" /></a>As did this shelf underneath the ViewMasters. I had an Etch-A-Sketch and I was also in cub scouts and sported one of those blue cub scout baseball caps. I had that exact same barrel of Tinkertoys also. They were amazing. I always enjoyed building things. There are also Lego’s represented. My best friend had one of those <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Merlin_(game)">Merlin, the electronic wizard games</a> (red game, bottom shelf, next to the tic-tac-toe board).</p><p>This museum was wonderful. They claim anyone of any age should be able to find toys they played with in their youth. There was an old man, barely able to walk, who came up to me and said he needed to show me something. He was very determined, so I allowed him to take me to an ancient train set. He beamed with pride as he went into a very detailed story from his childhood, when he owned a set just like that. It appeared he was enjoying his visit also.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-JB2PMCxJEmJsMAK9x6PDGp2AeFpFYnTKZQ5tNcMuWhLsmyt8aB5CDcVBx5G1iiicWPbO-F82qlAyus1gb4c-dSP0YfzPl7X-Pycwuzpj83FksZK3fN361NwpstFnh-37qFFGjoCHt0/s1600/04DSCN4622.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253915611272338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-JB2PMCxJEmJsMAK9x6PDGp2AeFpFYnTKZQ5tNcMuWhLsmyt8aB5CDcVBx5G1iiicWPbO-F82qlAyus1gb4c-dSP0YfzPl7X-Pycwuzpj83FksZK3fN361NwpstFnh-37qFFGjoCHt0/s320/04DSCN4622.jpg" /></a>My next stop was a go-kart and mini-golf park. Here’s a shot of the KIA I was driving. In the background was the reason I was there. A 3-story wooden go-kart track called, “The Lumberjack.” Branson has a chain of attractions called the <a href="http://www.bransontracks.com/go-karts.asp">Track Family Fun Parks</a>. They have a few different tracks but I was interested in the two huge wooden ones. They have another one called “the Wild Woody”, but that track wasn’t open.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tO7E0JEd830QB29QDM7DSVR9LsLsw2Ksmd-cKtf6tEYuxAPHBGEMjzkOg6JyyrYCRHKcjerZjx2XJE0GExclU7I5WNo2U3BOLondjXyOsF47S-i5PfZsAIy6v0UQWqzm8-DEqjm1GrI/s1600/05DSCN4625.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543253920385820626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tO7E0JEd830QB29QDM7DSVR9LsLsw2Ksmd-cKtf6tEYuxAPHBGEMjzkOg6JyyrYCRHKcjerZjx2XJE0GExclU7I5WNo2U3BOLondjXyOsF47S-i5PfZsAIy6v0UQWqzm8-DEqjm1GrI/s320/05DSCN4625.jpg" /></a>Here’s another shot of the track. Note the 3-story corkskrew. It was a blast. The track was made of wooden boards so it made a cool bumpbumpbumpbumpbump sound as you were driving over it. The cars were a little slow for my taste, especially going up-hill. But spinning around as you were coming down was fun. The car picked up speed and you had to let off the gas just a little bit or you would lose control.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSuOqREO1uFNoQFIM6W3-Y87IW9SV1bOhYGLzC_oSm83HHiYu7RCJ4e0BiuSvtyBlfXW-v7VkAwytqEHqUl__qhA_SMoXN0LAtkREAvPW-JBLI9NFkUtnSNLijnsiAOtmMbir4iiX7lMM/s1600/06gravemarker.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543254241111485986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSuOqREO1uFNoQFIM6W3-Y87IW9SV1bOhYGLzC_oSm83HHiYu7RCJ4e0BiuSvtyBlfXW-v7VkAwytqEHqUl__qhA_SMoXN0LAtkREAvPW-JBLI9NFkUtnSNLijnsiAOtmMbir4iiX7lMM/s320/06gravemarker.jpg" /></a>After my ride, I had time for a quick 18 holes of mini-golf. It was set to a wild west, gold mining theme. I saw my name on a fake grave marker, so I had to snap a picture of it. The golf course wasn’t very exciting, but it was challenging. I finished 19 over par, but I blame it on the fact I was trying to hurry, so I’d make it back in time to catch the shuttle for our evening showboat dinner cruise. There was a pirate’s cove golf course, but I would have had to drive in extremely busy traffic to get there, and I just didn’t have time. The attendant at the fun park was the first person I met who didn’t have the “customer service” mind set. He was rude and didn’t seem to care that he was keeping a line of people waiting to buy tickets. </p><p>After turning in my putter, I had to high-tail it back to the hotel so I could make the shuttle to our evening dinner cruise on the <a href="http://www.showboatbransonbelle.com/">Branson Belle</a>. Traffic was horrible now, everyone was trying to make it to any one of a huge number of shows that were getting ready to start. The average speed was around 5 mph.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXjQnHbTN1N3fnb6-sjCKliEx_CCuRE1hS37-tycHaEK0IYWa1UUcUto2IDVVbGwhpqTsa86mCXmUHMJHDFBk6lVM1TXkRcfTR2kPqo9-YH2FTdvqvznLUpXP4UlTO0nax_VBJ9nT86I/s1600/25belle2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543254248355572786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXjQnHbTN1N3fnb6-sjCKliEx_CCuRE1hS37-tycHaEK0IYWa1UUcUto2IDVVbGwhpqTsa86mCXmUHMJHDFBk6lVM1TXkRcfTR2kPqo9-YH2FTdvqvznLUpXP4UlTO0nax_VBJ9nT86I/s320/25belle2.jpg" /></a>I did make the shuttle and got in line for my boat ticket. The boat was enormous, a huge stern-wheeler with four decks. I got my seat and they started to serve the meal. This is a shot of the band that played music while we ate. It sounded great. I play trumpet in a big band that plays a lot of the same music, so I recognized every tune they played. I got a chance to talk to the trumpet player later as they were taking a break. A fine, personable fellow that exemplified the Branson hospitality I was getting used to.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5kqNwrV-UrtKYntK-AKU0Jcg_j1i4aLqPkM22WSVohrPDQzTCwGlKlY4rFv1iZrLcdDCcveO8ucF9jktGeCJFdh_9UesJ5eExjmGYrtUHUlkzzf2S6jRzXUaejHPZJYWzS6FGzcep124/s1600/sbb_07meal_lg.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543254253545490146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5kqNwrV-UrtKYntK-AKU0Jcg_j1i4aLqPkM22WSVohrPDQzTCwGlKlY4rFv1iZrLcdDCcveO8ucF9jktGeCJFdh_9UesJ5eExjmGYrtUHUlkzzf2S6jRzXUaejHPZJYWzS6FGzcep124/s320/sbb_07meal_lg.jpg" /></a>The meal was great, especially after the lackluster pizza I had for lunch. A salad with the ships signature sweet onion dressing, roast beef and gravy, a chicken breast, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and lemon raspberry torte for dessert. Complemented by fresh sourdough bread (my favorite) and large quantities of iced tea.</p><p>The only downer about the "cruise" was that we didn’t actually leave the dock. Some kid had stuffed a shirt down one of the toilets during their afternoon trip, and it got jammed down into the main plumbing line and took out every toilet on the boat. They are not allowed to leave port without functioning rest rooms, so we had our dinner cruise tied up to the dock with spiffy biffs outside if you needed to relieve yourself.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4mz84v7uiAB9qfE0TOE71XWsoIGATPxGxi_sXtG-NMSvr9XwJzNOvcWT3fBaN4-AbmbakAJ_E4D4t5Qv2eSPhX7n-FfrwRxAyl0xxbUTBKs26vzd0DZcllzluD8Z0yOTpmbt__izkuV4/s1600/26belle3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543254253198386114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4mz84v7uiAB9qfE0TOE71XWsoIGATPxGxi_sXtG-NMSvr9XwJzNOvcWT3fBaN4-AbmbakAJ_E4D4t5Qv2eSPhX7n-FfrwRxAyl0xxbUTBKs26vzd0DZcllzluD8Z0yOTpmbt__izkuV4/s320/26belle3.jpg" /></a>After dinner, there was a break before the show. I didn’t want to drag the camera around so you’ll have to make do with lousy cell-phone pictures. It was very dark, so most of the pictures I took didn’t turn out. This first one is a picture of one of the paddle wheels.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOu2ms0YFNyK1b1WTKAYe9dYdclS-yERvdSv75VvaSucsGQuQe4Tlzf8DAPnkaJ6iaRWq8uv3rdQCyXgtQAfbwqGRQ8r4QPMz9zIj0tx8MiUsMxplsgaGjzsQKuFFVqcwptIn5RnOoONg/s1600/27belle4.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543254279116153922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOu2ms0YFNyK1b1WTKAYe9dYdclS-yERvdSv75VvaSucsGQuQe4Tlzf8DAPnkaJ6iaRWq8uv3rdQCyXgtQAfbwqGRQ8r4QPMz9zIj0tx8MiUsMxplsgaGjzsQKuFFVqcwptIn5RnOoONg/s320/27belle4.jpg" /></a>Here’s a shot from the Texas deck outside.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNAZ7nSw1ilwkwtkSZ-fvGAbuW-6pIAj2CCGlzcl7RMO10wumyIguxh_uzHVdg8djDPCI_ILiZI2FA_rtgVpx2Pa-16RQOzUUXDQwDSQzhUaptsBkxP7G2BO9LrUqVxfTLYk-16P7-zs/s1600/28belle5.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543254599508695122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNAZ7nSw1ilwkwtkSZ-fvGAbuW-6pIAj2CCGlzcl7RMO10wumyIguxh_uzHVdg8djDPCI_ILiZI2FA_rtgVpx2Pa-16RQOzUUXDQwDSQzhUaptsBkxP7G2BO9LrUqVxfTLYk-16P7-zs/s320/28belle5.jpg" /></a>When I’m left to my own devices exploring, I have a tendency to wander where most people wouldn’t go. I found this interesting motor boat tied down an empty passageway. I try to obey most signs, so I kept clear as I wasn’t a member of the crew.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzg1YSUGdKgmys3lMMOGK3_i8jtQE0j5FnTk9xbQd3Fzj17Dme3K2ffUK1zBuB5DlurQYoo6GLLY4bM7HAzVEyHE9LsL7AFuRNy3EqZC-JSxFUzZXb_Tan7Mp7TzBL1p-FpD691bngZM/s1600/29belle8.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543254606078642418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzg1YSUGdKgmys3lMMOGK3_i8jtQE0j5FnTk9xbQd3Fzj17Dme3K2ffUK1zBuB5DlurQYoo6GLLY4bM7HAzVEyHE9LsL7AFuRNy3EqZC-JSxFUzZXb_Tan7Mp7TzBL1p-FpD691bngZM/s320/29belle8.jpg" /></a>Another creepy corridor ending in this sign. Once again, I was rebuffed, so I turned around.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkj40SE4nwMGcounuIDYXW0Nh18uZXEHZ6vRp3P3_jzjjfp1RzWknSsw4tIx2BYHjFemdKHIb-KWOOhyhOYrY03EJqxj5xwmlZybolXWHN5MPMxG2mLSQzJ0iMng5h9goQzN8fRQSLls/s1600/30belle9.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543254610247455042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkj40SE4nwMGcounuIDYXW0Nh18uZXEHZ6vRp3P3_jzjjfp1RzWknSsw4tIx2BYHjFemdKHIb-KWOOhyhOYrY03EJqxj5xwmlZybolXWHN5MPMxG2mLSQzJ0iMng5h9goQzN8fRQSLls/s320/30belle9.jpg" /></a>Sorry for the blurry image. I’m sure I was walking as I took the picture, which is kind of a dumb thing to do when you think about it. But I’ve told you before, pictures just aren’t my thing. This looked like some crazy, all in one, music contraption. There were drums, horns, and a keyboard with pipes. Unfortunately, it wasn’t playing. I sure would have liked to hear it.</p><p>Then they called us back to the main hall for the show. It was kind of like the Medora musical we have in ND. There were singers that performed a bunch of songs. The theme this year is Broadway showstoppers so they sang songs from various musicals like Phantom of the opera, Oklahoma, Mame, and Little Orphan Annie.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKgGCxGhdQ-Il0Epjk_UoNLDWvR_3FgoBt9xf6IoRFtydyDMXQmzjjmFsaDEw3xPtwtD8E5a_LE25u325NDT8pPFNFZSGc0VYdjY6pMZlJ70A1KX7ZnPYEiW1BGtYnJW9xoWAwBX_xwhg/s1600/sbb_Todd2_lg.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543255076605164514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKgGCxGhdQ-Il0Epjk_UoNLDWvR_3FgoBt9xf6IoRFtydyDMXQmzjjmFsaDEw3xPtwtD8E5a_LE25u325NDT8pPFNFZSGc0VYdjY6pMZlJ70A1KX7ZnPYEiW1BGtYnJW9xoWAwBX_xwhg/s320/sbb_Todd2_lg.jpg" /></a>Then we were entertained by Todd Oliver and his talking dogs. No, the dogs don’t actually talk. Todd Oliver is a ventriloquist. This show was so funny, my stomach was sore the rest of the night from laughing so hard. This is his last year with the showboat and will be opening up his own show in Branson next year. He is extremely funny if you ever have a chance to see his show.</p><p>Back to the hotel, more geometry with my daughter, courtesy of the Internet and video chat, and bed. There was a light breakfast the next morning with fresh fruit and assorted breads, pastries, and muffins. We had our closing meetings and it was time to catch my flight home.</p><p>I gassed up the rental, turned it back in, and got in line to enter the airport terminal. I waited about 15 minutes to go through security and finally realized I hadn’t got my boarding pass or checked my luggage. So then I had to go find the United Airlines window and get rid of my luggage. Another wait.</p><p>I got through security and only had to remove my shoes, coat, and belt. Fortunately, I wasn’t subjected to any body scans or pat-downs. I got dressed, grabbed my carry-ons and got to my gate just in time for initial boarding.</p><p>The flight home was uneventful. Denver was just as clogged with people. I had lunch at Que Bueno Mexican Grille. A beef and bean burrito combo with chips and salsa and a ginormous pop. The burrito was good, but not quite up to Taco Del Mar (Bismarck restaurant) standards. The chips and salsa were very good, except I didn't have nearly enough sauce.</p><p>I caught my flight home and arrived just as my family was finishing up the Wednesday evening church activities so they were able to pick me up fairly soon.</p><p>That’s about it, a good time was had in Branson, but it was very nice to be back home with my family and comfortable bed. </p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-40838650486350050622010-09-18T16:09:00.005-05:002010-09-18T21:16:42.551-05:00Guys Weekend<p>The female members of our family set off on a Labor Day youth retreat, which left my son, Brian, and I alone for a couple days. My son gets bored very easily and during the Summer months, the condition worsens. Brian’s older sister, Brianna, is content jamming with her iPod and texting all day long, so we have to pry her off the rocking chair to get her to do something on her feet. With Brian, we can’t get him to relax and sit still.</p><p>He’s been begging me to take him camping all Summer, which I very much intended to do. But alas, good intentions alone, do not a camping trip make. Sorry, I tend to sound like Yoda from Star Wars every so often. With Brianna’s Summer swimming, trips to band camp at the Peace Gardens, Marching band practice, not to mention Brian’s Summer track and tennis clubs he was involved in. About all we managed was to go golfing once and before we knew it, Summer was gone and school was back in session.</p><p>But, as any parent worth their salt knows, you really need to keep promises made to your children. Labor Day weekend provided a good opportunity for me to make good on the camping promise. So last Saturday we said goodbye to the females and started preparing our excursion.</p><p>If you’ve read any of my previous blogs, you know I try to do things on the cheap. I also grew up tent camping and in my mind that is what camping is. These big RV’s with the fancy, posh accommodations aren’t really camping in my opinion. I can see myself maybe getting interested in these after I retire and want to see the world. But for a weekend jaunt, a tent is the only way to go.</p><p>My dad set us up with a lot of supplies when I got married and I’m happy to say, for the most part, everything is still in working condition. I’ve got a 6-person dome tent, portable propane cook stove, a cook set with pots, cups, and dishes that all fit inside each other, and various other odds and ends to make the camping experience complete.</p><p>My first thought was <a href="http://www.parkrec.nd.gov/parks/flsp.htm">Ft. Abraham Lincoln State Park</a>. I always enjoyed wandering around the block houses and reconstructions of the military post as well as crawling inside the earth lodges at the On-A-Slant Indian Village. I also realized since it was Labor Day weekend, it would probably be full up with campers. So I called before leaving.</p><p>Sure enough, they were totally booked with not a single camping spot vacant. So my backup site was <a href="http://www.parkrec.nd.gov/parks/crsp.htm">Cross Ranch State Park</a>. A delightful place even if it is lacking in military history. When I called they boasted several open spots. So we loaded up the car and headed North.</p><p>The location could not have been more perfect. I really like how they have separate areas for the “RV” crowd vs. the primitive “Tent” crowd. The RV section was totally clogged with campers. But the tent spots had all sorts of room. We were able to find a nice secluded area all to ourselves and very close to the outdoor toilet. There was a nice parking spot off the road for our car, and the picnic table, fire pit, and tent spot were arranged very well so nothing interfered with each other.</p><p>The first order of business was to set up the tent. It is always an exercise in comedy. I have gotten more efficient over the years, but it’s still hilarious to watch. There are these three very long, hollow, poles which collapse into several sections held together by an elastic string running along the inside, so you have to unfold this thing and insert it into the sleeves provided in the tent. a 6 foot tall person can stand upright in the center, so you can imagine, when the tent is flat on the ground, there is a lot of pole that needs to get hoisted up and over the roof of the tent.</p><p>This part goes easier with two people. I found this out the hard way. You get one pole hooked into the sides and the tent starts to fall over before you can get the next pole hooked in. Like I said, this is hilarious watching me put this up. But, with two people you can have one person get inside and hold up the roof in the middle, while the other person runs around hooking the poles.</p><p>So I sent Brian in the tent to hold it up. It was working fairly well until a stiff breeze came up. My son hardly weighs anything, the lucky dog, so he started getting excited when the wind started carrying the tent away with him in it. So I had to quickly hook the poles one handed, while hanging on to the tent to keep it from blowing away.</p><p>Once that job was done, I had Brian come out and hang on to the tent while I pounded anchor spikes in the ground. He was barely able to hold on to the thing. Thank goodness he gives 150% effort into everything he does.</p><p>Sadly, I have no photos of our tent. Pictures just aren’t my thing. I always think about taking them long after the photo opportunity has passed. I asked Brian if he wanted to go fishing or eat. Brian looks at me like I lost my marbles. He thinks about food all day long. 30 minutes after one meal is done, he’s thinking about what’s on the menu for the next one. Given a choice between eating and anything else, it’s most always going to be eating.</p><p>First, a campfire must be lit. This is hands down my favorite aspect of camping. We really want to get one of those portable fire pits some day so we can have faux-campfires in our driveway. I kind of have this down to a science. Brian walked around the campsite gathering little twigs. I crumpled up some newspaper, laid the twigs on top of that, along with some fire starter sticks I got at Target. Then I made a tee-pee like construction with 3 of the bigger logs. One match was all it took. The paper ignited one of those little fire sticks and boy howdy did that light up. Combined with the respectable pile of twigs, the fire stayed lit long enough to ignite the larger logs.</p><p>While the fire was popping and crackling merrily, I fired up my propane cook stove for some beans. My personal favorite is Bush’s Homestyle baked beans. But they’ve had a variety called Grillin’ Beans that I’ve been meaning to try. They have several flavors so I opted for the one called “Smokehouse Tradition”. I opened up a can of these and set them on the stove to warm.</p><p>We brought out the lawn chairs, skewered some hot dogs, and settled down next to the fire while things started to cook. I tried to put on my best, “expert camper who knows what their doing,” expression. </p><p>Brian’s always got a load of questions. “How long does it cook?”</p><p>“Till it’s done.” </p><p>“How do you know when it’s done?”</p><p>“That depends on how you like it.”</p><p>“Do I have to let it get all black?”</p><p>“Not if you don’t want to, but a few black charred marks makes it taste better.”</p><p>“How close do I hold it to the fire?”</p><p>“As close as you can get without actually touching the flames.”</p><p>“The flames keep moving.”</p><p>“Yes, they do that, it’s part of the fun.”</p><p>Brian’s ready to eat after just a few seconds. “Do you think it’s done yet?”</p><p>“Nope, not yet, you have to be patient.”</p><p>“I’m hungry.”</p><p>“I know.” I prop my stick against the fire pit and go stir the beans. My goodness do they smell good, I take an experimental taste. Cold to luke-warm but WOW are they tasty. I highly recommend this brand. I sit back down. </p><p>Brian asks, “are the beans done?”</p><p>“Not yet.”</p><p>His hot dog is starting to get black, but not exactly sizzling. I like my hot dogs hot, with nice black marks, and sizzling as I remove it from the poker. So I wasn’t ready just yet. But Brian was really starting to fidget so I told him he could try it and I put his on a bun for him. He had the whole thing gone by the time I turned around after stirring the beans again.</p><p>“How was it?” I asked. </p><p>“That was the best hot dog ever.”</p><p>“Things seem to always taste better outside.” I said. “Was it hot enough.”</p><p>“Not really, but I like them just a little warm.”</p><p>Finally, I started getting some sizzle so I made mine. It was good, but the middle still wasn’t hot enough. The beans were done so we scooped up some of them. WOW again, these are really, really good. I put two hot dogs on my stick this time for more efficiency. My second and third dogs were going to cook longer. </p><p>Brian had the technique down and was ready to take it off the fire. Way too early, in my opinion. “Isn’t it still cold in the middle?” I asked him.</p><p>“A little, but I like it that way.”</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>Brian got some more beans and I let my dog continue to bake. He was full and couldn’t seem to understand why I wasn’t eating my other two hot dogs. “I like them done, really done, hot and sizzling.”</p><p>“Aren’t they done yet?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He grabs a stick and starts poking the logs, walks around the camp site. I continue to patiently cook my dogs. </p><p>“Dad, when are you going to eat them.”</p><p>“When they’re done.” </p><p>Finally, Brian made me so nervous with his walking around I made my last two hot dogs. They still could have cooked a little longer, but they were nice and hot. We scraped the last remnants of beans and ate them straight out of the pan. Time for dishes.</p><p>I had filled the largest kettle with some water from the pump provided at the park, and had that on a burner to warm up. I squirted some dish soap and started doing dishes. Brian dried. </p><p>“That was so good.” He said. </p><p>A satisfied smile stole across my face. “It sure was.” I replied. Dishes got done in short order and we loaded up our fishing gear.</p><p>We were within spitting distance of the river but there was a good 10 foot drop down a very steep bank. I warned Brian about the dangers of running around, particularly after it got dark, and he was not to visit the toilet without me. We walked along the river for awhile looking for a better way to get down to the water. We came across another father-son duo already fishing. The kid was extremely chatty. </p><p>“Catch anything?” he asked.</p><p>“Haven’t started,” I replied.</p><p>“There’s all kinds of places to come down, you can take any one of them, you just have to keep walking until you find a spot, be careful though, ‘cause it’s really steep, I’d hate to see you fall in.” He said all this really fast.</p><p>“Thanks,” My son and I don’t like to waste words.</p><p>We kept walking. I had it in mind to put as much distance between us and the talkative lad as I could. After awhile we found a secluded spot and made our way down to the water. Then I realized we forgot the worms. Bummer. “Brian, I’ve got a mission for you.” Hey, he’s the track star, not me!</p><p>We both climbed back up the bank and headed back to camp for the worms, Brian hustled on ahead, while I maintained a more leisurely pace. Brian was there and back before I covered half the distance so we made our way back to the fishing spot. A few minutes later we had lines in the water.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cgQtEtYdxa4MV60BzRuJEPv8QgnOLDM9sILcqxmpsLk1-jGQSCOsWIvUu8QvIHAAVAv3NALy1tgU2gVMCiICulQY9HhStssqCvHRONKU6bWTvtdaDmBCabvNgB9kh5wUPCNT80fzVLo/s1600/brian+fishing.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518438630795923634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cgQtEtYdxa4MV60BzRuJEPv8QgnOLDM9sILcqxmpsLk1-jGQSCOsWIvUu8QvIHAAVAv3NALy1tgU2gVMCiICulQY9HhStssqCvHRONKU6bWTvtdaDmBCabvNgB9kh5wUPCNT80fzVLo/s320/brian+fishing.jpg" /></a> <p>I will tell you right now, I’m no pro-angler. And fishing from a riverbank is substantially more difficult than in a boat with an electronic fish finder that allows you go where the fish are. We fish because my son really enjoys it, even if he doesn’t catch anything, and it’s quality family time. I also like to use the excuse that I spend so much time baiting hooks and tying lures that I have very little time for actual fishing myself. I think it’s a pretty good excuse. Brian had rigged a bottom bouncer with a night crawler, while I was using a diving crank bait. I prefer the crank baits because you can cast, reel it in, pull weeds off, cast, reel in, repeat as needed. The bottom bouncer you throw out there and wait. It’s just not enough action if the fish aren’t biting.</p><p>Evidently, Brian thought the same, so after a few minutes, I had to tie a crank bait on his line as well. The night crawlers lay forgotten, poor guys. We still had a grand time. It was an idyllic setting. Peaceful, great scenery, and all kinds of nature sounds in the air. We kept at it until dark and I got to try out another new purchase. Head lights!</p><p>A co-worker had told me sometimes fish will start biting right after dusk. I asked her what she does when it gets dark. She had bought some LED clip-on headlights that fit really nice over the bill on a baseball cap. Thus, lighting your way and leaving your hands free. These are the bomb! Those little lights really pump out some brightness and its so easy to direct the beam exactly where you need it simply by turning your head. I had bought a pair when I was shopping for supplies, they were easily the most useful new item we had with us. We used them after we got back to the campsite also.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKVmAW4DV_MbtyruLxR2b8ayamfuAXxDGDZMBE9JAB83KiUHxQvB8QGviGsecfGWyf00IiJIREfvhlNBtzaN5xUezsseQgvtu8GUPKY1MqcJBgFFxJiYWiTbOA6JwOGwM5tn7VtwFMO8/s1600/headlight.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518438805802218930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKVmAW4DV_MbtyruLxR2b8ayamfuAXxDGDZMBE9JAB83KiUHxQvB8QGviGsecfGWyf00IiJIREfvhlNBtzaN5xUezsseQgvtu8GUPKY1MqcJBgFFxJiYWiTbOA6JwOGwM5tn7VtwFMO8/s320/headlight.jpg" /></a><p>When you get outside the range of city street lights, darkness can be really quite dark. We kept at it until the sun was well below the horizon. We both got lost in our thoughts and the night was extremely quiet.</p><p>“CATCH ANYTHING?” I nearly fell in the water. It was that talkative kid from the camp next door.</p><p>“Nope,” I responded after assuring myself I was securely standing on dry land. I didn’t hear anything else so the kid must have left. He had officially, certifiably, gotten on my nerves.</p><p>S’mores and another campfire were beckoning to Brian, so we reeled in the lines one last time and made our way back to camp, headlights lighting the way. The chatty boy must have been off bothering someone else as their campsite was quiet as we walked past.</p><p>Brian asked to start the fire. He’s got to learn sometime so I said ok. We built another setup with paper and kindling. Brian was a little nervous. He was too quick to drop the match so it landed in the fire pit too far from the paper to do any good. On the third attempt, he got really close, I kept hoping the paper would catch but as the match slowly burned up, this seemed unlikely, so I grabbed the unburned piece and threw the match on the paper. After the initial flare-up it started to die down so we quickly added more kindling and the bigger logs finally caught. Another spectacular sight.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4AdroA2mDvo2RlgjGeEIR9xEalvYwVTBCGD9KGOrtxzntOSrD5PcVJ6kesseafGxOiZ5nuFCQHrhXPhuQxEsg3ZqMwQimNdXIYfbocdvSw7GbviLGIda3fIMthcCZkYF1cIz57L81BA/s1600/campfire.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518438798656452530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4AdroA2mDvo2RlgjGeEIR9xEalvYwVTBCGD9KGOrtxzntOSrD5PcVJ6kesseafGxOiZ5nuFCQHrhXPhuQxEsg3ZqMwQimNdXIYfbocdvSw7GbviLGIda3fIMthcCZkYF1cIz57L81BA/s320/campfire.jpg" /></a><p>I broke out grahams, chocolate, and marshmallows. Special dark for me, milk chocolate for the boy. I’m partial to bittersweet dark chocolate, which incidentally goes fabulously with coffee, so I started up the cook stove and put the coffee pot filled with water on to boil. No coffee makers out in the wilderness.</p><p>Toasting marshmallows is always fun, part luck, park skill. You want the thing toasted, but not ignited and black. Watching my son with his marshmallows had me laughing as it brought back all these memories of campfires in my youth and my marshmallow experiences. We’d get everything nicely toasted, just about ready to pull off the fire, and POOF, the thing would light up, then you’d have to quickly blow it out to try and salvage as much gooey goodness as possible.</p><p>Brian had the disadvantage that he wouldn’t eat it if there was any black on it at all. I asked him, “Why not?” he claimed he didn’t like it. “How do you know you don’t like it, if you’ve never eaten one?” I’d much rather have mine toasted brown, but that doesn’t stop me eating the black ones.</p><p>We finally had some decent s’mores made, and the water started boiling. I took the water off the heat and added the grounds. Its camp coffee so there is no filtration. The grounds got dumped right in the water. A common mistake is for people to put the coffee back on the burner and boil it to a bitter mess. Coffee needs to be steeped, so you stir it in, put a cover on it, and let it sit off the flame. After about 7 minutes, you have got some decent coffee and because the grounds haven’t been churning in the boiling water, they will have all settled to the bottom resulting in a cup without any soggy grounds in it. If the coffee starts to cool, it may be placed back on the heat but NOT brought to a boil.</p><p>Brian likes coffee too. The only 12-year-old as far as I know that likes black coffee. So we snacked on gooey s’mores, sipped our coffee and reflected on a most delightful day. Brian had more fun poking the fire with a stick and playing with his headlight. I was simply having fun basking in the knowledge I’ve made my son happy. If my kids are happy, I’m usually happy.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3o11oq9BDh4va_k13eWI-BZZgoMY-qkaLTqIa_sP1cY7vWMCp20IeCePGBT8b9-Qz4azhTCeB0W3FfxlcnVRvODYFNE2u9iSFjWCswgZ89cEHkcb_rYr-WEaamHZJb2fkusgJDbM6SA/s1600/dark.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518438801590214034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3o11oq9BDh4va_k13eWI-BZZgoMY-qkaLTqIa_sP1cY7vWMCp20IeCePGBT8b9-Qz4azhTCeB0W3FfxlcnVRvODYFNE2u9iSFjWCswgZ89cEHkcb_rYr-WEaamHZJb2fkusgJDbM6SA/s320/dark.jpg" /></a><p>Finally, the last log in our bundle burned out and it was close to midnight. We washed the remaining dishes, put out the fire and went in the tent. We played games for a while, visited the toilet and went to bed.</p><p>Brian was sleeping instantly and didn’t wake up until I roused him a few hours later that morning. We had to get home, showered, and to church by 9:30. I didn’t sleep hardly at all. The ground, I discovered, was very cold and hard. I’m old and enjoy a comfortable mattress. In the early morning hours the wind really started to howl. That pretty much ended any hope of my sleeping. I’m an extremely light sleeper. It has to be dark, quiet, and I have to be comfortable. If any one of those needs are not met. I’m not going to sleep.</p><p>But it was kind of futile anyway, as we didn’t get to bed until very late and we had to get up so early. My little travel alarm went off way too soon. I loaded up as much gear as I could and rolled up my sleeping bag so Brian could stay sleeping as long as possible. All that was left was to wake him up, pack up his sleeping bag, and roll up the tent. Thankfully, tents come down a lot faster than they go up so we were on the road in about 10 minutes.</p><p>We got home, showered, and were able to make it to the church on time. It was a fabulous time, however, if we do it again, there will definitely be air mattresses involved, and will probably be arranged so we can sleep in the next day if necessary.</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-62309862361648450372010-08-30T16:41:00.004-05:002010-08-30T16:49:23.696-05:00Office Pranks<p>In my 40-something years of existence, I’ve been both giver and receiver of various practical jokes and pranks. You would think, at some point, a person would grow out of this childish behavior. That has not been my experience.</p><p>I work with a group of people addicted to the television show, “The Office.” Although unfamiliar with this show myself, I’ve listened in on enough conversations to get the gist of what the show is about. Apparently, in one episode, one unfortunate employee came to work to find everything on his desk encased in gelatin molds. Imagine my chagrin, at coming to work several weeks ago, to find this waiting for me on my desk.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaSZMidVlzAGEjWVFAGVO9ZQJD-UhtSM6GcYFoL5cTjdNxXvcSUq_z4esL3TFyrU4daoES2Q09FAj-KxgP4ggryRd3dHHNVZw6hjTsFE8Gt47S5tBR4KdCwO8yc8TwTSdDF5kXvyo4AA/s1600/jellostapler2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511322381052498642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaSZMidVlzAGEjWVFAGVO9ZQJD-UhtSM6GcYFoL5cTjdNxXvcSUq_z4esL3TFyrU4daoES2Q09FAj-KxgP4ggryRd3dHHNVZw6hjTsFE8Gt47S5tBR4KdCwO8yc8TwTSdDF5kXvyo4AA/s320/jellostapler2.jpg" /></a><br /><p>If you look closely, you should see a stapler in the middle of a very dark blob of, yes, green gelatin. I told them they really should have used a lighter color. This was, of course, very amusing to all concerned. I had a very good idea who the ringleader of this little scheme was, so I promptly picked up the mold, took it to his desk and swapped it with his “non-gelatin-mold-encased” stapler. After the laughing subsided, I was told that it wasn’t my stapler at all and was the private property of the ringleader. No destruction of actual company property had taken place, and he was merely hiding my stapler in his desk. He had a nicer stapler so it was still awhile before I consented to getting my own stapler back.</p><p>I realized it has been a long time since I’ve written anything, so I got the idea of saying something about pranks. As I said earlier, I’ve been on both sides of the practical joke coin over the years. One of the more memorable pranks I can remember was when I came back from a few days vacation to find every single drawer in my office, as well as the entire surface of my desk and floor covered with Styrofoam packing peanuts. Even after cleaning it out, I was still running into those little goobers for weeks afterwards. Taking a vacation is a risky business where I work. I guess it’s nice to know you are missed.</p><p>The most memorable, however, was several years ago, not long after I started. Someone had come across a program that made your computer emit sounds like flatulence at random intervals every few minutes. I have to say, it was a very creative program. It didn’t just have the same sound, there were all different varieties that issued forth. I didn’t have this put on my computer, but I did have to go around and try to figure out how to get the program off the infected machines. It was quite an ordeal and wasn’t nearly as funny after I’d been at it awhile. The program was very hard to remove. It tended to come back every time I thought it was deleted. Then you would have to wait several minutes because the rude noises weren’t all that frequent. You never knew after so many minutes of silence, if the thing would start up again. Finally, I did manage to find a way to get the program removed permanently.</p><p>Any other pranking stories out there?</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-25043967709338550362010-07-19T15:26:00.002-05:002010-07-19T15:38:56.881-05:00The Ride Home<p style="font-family: arial;">I woke up far too early than should be allowed. Having a long, but fun-filled day previously, not to mention a very comfortable water bed, I slept like a log. I’m sure I would have been out until noon, but the pesky alarm clock brought me out of slumberland.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I showered and brushed my teeth and packed up to leave. I went to say goodbye to my gracious hosts. I was very surprised to find both of them up. Judy, evidently couldn’t sleep. She immediately offered me all manner of things for breakfast. All of which were very tempting, but I really had to get going. I would be in serious trouble if I missed playing the trumpet for the rehearsal that evening.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I hugged these extremely nice people goodbye, thanked them for everything and got into my shiny red pick-up. I was still very hesitant backing out of their garage, but managed to get it out without hitting anything. Another wave goodbye and I was off.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I stopped at the first convenience store I could find for the biggest coffee they had. I also looked for some antiperspirant but all they had was deodorant. I really needed something to control my sweating so I hoped another store would present itself up the road.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I started loading CD’s into the 6-disc changer. I started to grin and by the time I got to CD’s 5 & 6 it was from ear to ear. I love audio books, especially on a long road trip and I was tickled to be able to load one and half entire books in one shot. I’ve only ever had a 1 CD player on our vehicles and the Oldsmobile doesn’t even have that so I have a portable I listen to sitting in the passenger seat. It would be a treat knowing I would be more than halfway home before I had to reload another CD.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I picked up Interstate 25 headed North. The truck handles like a dream. It drives very nice on the highway. It compares quite favorably to my Oldsmobile which is a fairly decent road car. Our van can’t even come close. If there is any kind of wind, driving our van can be physically exhausting trying to stay on the road. The truck handles with ease. It has been a long time since I could say I had a vehicle that is actually fun to drive.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">It started to rain almost immediately and didn’t stop until I was just about through Wyoming. I felt a little bad the truck was getting rained on, but I figured I’d rather have rain than bugs. It was never a hard rain just gentle showers pretty much the whole way through Wyoming. At Douglas, I picked up state highway 59 to Gillette. I was making occasional stops for coffee and a rest room. I was still enjoying the truck immensely and listening to some good books so drowsiness wasn’t a problem. I did have to stop and get some deodorant. I never did find what I wanted so I made do with some Old Spice High Endurance. That would have to do until I got home.<br /></p> <p style="font-family: arial;">In Gillette, I picked up Interstate 90 to Spearfish. I passed a huge coal plant. The last time we drove through Gillette, it was around midnight and pitch black so I don’t ever remember seeing it. My buddy and fellow blogger <a href="http://steveatrandom.blogspot.com/">SteveAtRandom</a> could probably tell me all about it since he works for the Lignite Energy Council. It was impressive, I was so busy staring at it I had to remind myself to stay on the road.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">The rain stopped by this time and things got extremely windy. The wind didn’t stop until I got home. The truck still handled pretty well, even in the wind, never the less, I was still happy to be done driving by the time I got to my house.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I made it to Spearfish, SD and picked up Interstate 85 through Belle Fourche. A few miles outside of Belle Fourche, I saw orange road construction signs. I had really lucked out with these and had hardly seen any construction the whole way. My 4-lane highway turned into a 2-lane, and much to my dismay, extended through the entire town. It was made even worse by the fact most of the road had been torn up and I had to drive on gravel much of the way. This truck has an immaculate paint job with not one single rock chip that I could see. As I driving through Belle Fourche, I believe I actually started to cry. I slowed to about 8 miles an hour which was about as fast as traffic was going anyway. It broke my heart to drive through that town.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I stopped at a Taco Johns and drowned my sorrows in a super burrito combo. Somehow I made it out of the construction zone and got back on a paved highway. By this time I was really starting to get anxious to get home. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;">Just north of Belle Fourche, somebody turned on the bug machine. By the time I got into North Dakota, the windshield was plastered with bug guts. I stopped in Bowman to clean things up as best I could. I made it to Belfield, ND and turned east on Interstate 94, this is the road that would finally get me home. I had to stop for gas, some ice tea and clean off some more bug innards.<br /></p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I finally made it home with an hour to spare before band practice. I had timed it just about right. It’s about 12 hours between Mandan and Denver if you obey the speed limit. Do you think my beautiful wife would say something like, “welcome home, honey, I missed you?” No, I walked into the house, and she was standing there with her hand out wanting me to give her the key. The only thing she said was “that sure is pretty red truck you brought home for me.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">Ah well, at least we have a vehicle both of us are happy with. If we have occasional words over who gets to drive it, that’s OK. I made it home safe and sound, and am the proud owner of a fantastic truck. It’s been put to good use. Already, it’s been used to haul several garbage cans of grass clippings, three loads of tree branches, and a garden tiller to the shop for some engine repair.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">I cannot thank enough those who made this happen. Bob and Judy, the fine people who sold me the truck and provided a place for me to stay, Rick and Lois, for picking me up and driving me all over and showing me a great time while I was there, and, of course, Jim, my dad who was instrumental in making sure everything went off without a hitch. Friends and family are truly the most valuable treasures we can have.</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-38298102764748408592010-06-24T13:58:00.005-05:002010-06-24T14:05:48.711-05:00I’ve Got To Pick Up a Pick-up<p><span style="font-family:arial;">“So when are you going to pick up your pick-up?” my children kept asking. I’m not sure, but they said this so many times, I think they just liked to hear how it sounded.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">It is an amazing thing, that when you are eagerly anticipating an event, time seems to crawl. But when you are not looking forward to something, time has the disobliging habit of proceeding quickly. When I finally made the decision to purchase the truck, it would be about 4-5 weeks before I would actually get to Denver to buy it. I can’t remember time ever passing so slowly, even waiting for Christmas as a child. It didn’t help that my children, as well as everyone at work, kept asking me when the big day would arrive. I imagine this is how expectant mothers feel when they tire of hearing, “So, when is the baby due?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Finally, the day did in fact arrive. I got an amazing deal through orbitz.com on a plane ticket to Denver. I would have a 40 minute layover in Salt Lake City, but that would be just about perfect since they usually board 30 minutes before take-off. Plus, I had never been to the Great Salt Lake, which you fly over as you come in for a landing. I also got to see the Olympic stadium from somewhere between 15-20 thousand feet. I always think about taking pictures days after the opportunity occurs, so no photos, sorry. It was really something though. I was not the least disappointed in my layover.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I will tell you right now, I am a card-carrying cheap-skate. Everything I do, every day of my life, is in as inexpensive a manner as possible. Sometimes this causes me more expense and trouble in the long run, but as a general rule, I save money whenever and wherever I can. My original plan was to fly out of Bismarck, ND, as early as possible, make the deal on the truck, and drive back that night. Ambitious, I know, but I’ve succeeded at more ambitious endeavors than that and thought I could manage.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">My other shortcoming is that I hate to impose on people. I didn’t want to ask Bob and Judy, the people I would be purchasing the vehicle from, to provide me with a bed. My brother Jeremy also lives in the Denver area, but too far away to be feasible. Lois and Rick, my aunt and uncle, are closer geographically, but like I said, I hate to impose. Deanna talked to me at length about how long a day I would have and to drive 12 hours back from Denver was probably not a good idea. So I made reservations at the </span><a href="http://www.motel6-belle-fourche.com/"><span style="font-family:arial;">Motel 6 in Belle Fourche, SD</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">. This is the cleanest and cheapest lodgings I’ve found, at a good halfway point between ND and CO.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">In the meantime, my dear father is extremely concerned this deal goes down smoothly, since he was basically the one who got the party started. Unbeknownst to me, he was making calls on my behalf. When I finally got wind of this, the revised plan was for me to cancel my Motel reservation immediately. When I got to the Denver airport, I was to take an </span><a href="http://www.rtd-denver.com/skyRide_SubHome.shtml"><span style="font-family:arial;">$8 skyRide bus</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> to the Wagon Road Park ‘n Ride bus stop. Bob would pick me up there, we would sign the deal on the truck and enjoy a fantastic dinner at the </span><a href="http://www.theribhouse.com/"><span style="font-family:arial;">Rib House in Longmont, CO</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">. Rick and Lois, who are good friends with Bob and Judy would be joining us for the festivities.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">My dad sent me an email, and at the same time, Bob actually called me and told me that fathers do know best and, if I knew what was good for me, I should do what he says. I’m still in shock as my mouth is slowly falling open and saliva is starting to drip out because I’m thinking of ribs. I kept thinking at some point I will get pinched and wake up from this fantasy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Then Bob said I had a decision to make. After dinner, I would have the privilege of driving the truck to Rick and Lois’s house, spending the night and leaving the next morning from there, or I was extremely welcome to spend the night at Bob and Judy’s and leave from their house instead. I did pinch myself at this point just to make sure this was not a dream.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">It wasn’t. Follow-up emails and phone calls confirmed this was going to happen. So I canceled the Motel reservation and looked up the procedure for using the airport bus service. It was a very tough decision as to where to spend the night. I would have liked to spend some more time visiting with my aunt and uncle, however, I had already committed to playing the trumpet in a brass group that was performing for a celebration Mass to dedicate a new sanctuary at one of our local Catholic churches. I was supposed to play the night I was driving back from Denver. It was important that I left as early as possible the following morning. As much as I appreciated Rick and Lois’s hospitality, I thought it would be quickest to stay at Bob and Judy’s.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The plans were made and all I had to do was await the departure date. After a few days, the first change in plans occurred, but it was a great change. I would not have to take the bus, because my saintly Aunt Lois would be picking me up at the airport instead. We would then go to visit my cousin Paul, Rick & Lois’s son, at his place of employment, the </span><a href="http://www.ucar.edu/educ_outreach/visit/"><span style="font-family:arial;">National Center For Atmospheric Research (NCAR) in Boulder, CO</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">. We would take a tour of their facility and have lunch with Paul. He has a computer related job like myself, so I was very interested in seeing the NCAR super computers. Plus, not only would I get to visit Rick and Lois, but I would get to see Paul as well.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The big day finally arrived. I cannot describe the excitement I was feeling when Deanna was driving me to the airport. I really enjoy flying, I would get to see relatives I don’t see nearly enough, tour some new sights, and drive a new vehicle home. I got on the plane almost without a hitch. Since I was only staying one night I really didn’t need to check any luggage so I fit all my overnight stuff in a backpack. Evidently my spray can of antiperspirant was too large to be allowed. I had no choice but to dispose of it and hope I could buy something driving out the next morning.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The flights went as scheduled and actually took off a few minutes early. I don’t believe I’ve ever had that happen to me. I was on Delta Airlines going into Salt Lake City and then would pick up the connecting flight to Denver. I’d never been to Salt Lake City so I was kind of excited about that. I chose orange juice and some cookies for my complimentary refreshment.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The Great Salt lake is pretty impressive. As I was looking at the lake the Olympic stadium passed by my window. I always request a window seat if I can. I didn’t expect to see that, so that was pretty neat. The SLC airport was about like other airports. I grabbed a venti (large) Latte at a Starbucks and followed the signs to my gate.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The 40 minute layover was just about perfect. I found a seat, and called Lois to tell her everything was on schedule and when I should be arriving. Then I checked in with Deanna to let her know I didn’t crash, yet. “Ha ha, that’s not funny,” she would say. I drink coffee like water so I did manage to finish my drink just when they were calling for boarding. I got on and we were off to Denver. The crunchy cookies were kind of tasty on the previous flight so I chose those again with a Ginger Ale for my refreshment.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">After getting off the plane things started to get more exciting. The Denver airport makes you take a subway-like train to the baggage/passenger pick up area. As I got to the bottom of an escalator, a woman was frantically reaching her arm in the gap between the up and down sections. She had accidentally dropped her dad’s wedding ring and it was lying in the gap. I tried, but my arms just weren’t quite long enough. Not to mention the escalators were moving so when you reached in, they wanted to rip your arm off. Needless to say, she was borderline hysterical at this point.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I couldn’t think of any way to help her. I did look at the emergency shut-off button for the escalator. I considered pushing that and probably would have, had I been sure I would have been able to push the button to get it started again. I also had no idea how quickly the emergency shut-off stopped the stairs moving and I had visions of people falling down. I just wasn’t ready to shut-off an escalator at a busy airport. I breathed a sigh of relief when two airport personnel showed up. I wished her good luck and awaited the next train.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Just as I got on the train, my cell phone went off. These trains are super fast and this one decided to take off just as I was reaching into my pocket for the phone. I wasn’t holding on to anything and just about fell on my face. I just barely managed to wrap my arm around a pole. I wrenched it in the process, but stayed on my feet. The backpack hit the floor but thankfully didn’t go flying across the car. Slightly out of breath, I answered the call. It was the director of the brass group making sure I would be at the church on time for Mass the following day. I assured her I would do my best to make it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I managed to pick my backpack up, put the cell phone away, and calm down just as the train slid to a stop. The trains stop just as fast as they take off. When you see signs demanding you hold on to something. It is in your best interest to do what they say. I walked off and headed towards the baggage claim carousels. I wasn’t picking up any baggage but that was where the exits were. I called Lois to let her know I had arrived in one piece, barely, after that train ride.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Denver has two terminals, East and West, depending on which airline you are flying. It is important to know which terminal you are at when arranging for someone to pick you up. I had done my homework on this and knew I was at the East terminal because I was flying Delta Airlines. What I didn’t know was that public transportation is on a different level than private transportation. Public transportation is conveniently located on the 4th level where the baggage claim is.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">There are all kinds of signs directing you to the baggage pick-up area as well as where the bus and taxi services are. There are very few, if any signs, directing you to go down to the 3rd level for private transportation. Evidently, they feel if you’ve got private transportation, either the flyer or the driver knows what’s going on and there’s no need for signs. In my case, my wise aunt Lois knew all about this and asked what terminal and what level I was on.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I said the East terminal but had no idea the level. To the uninformed, such as myself, it’s just like you are walking outside. Again, wise Lois directed me to look at the numbers on the doors. They all said things like, 402, 403, 404, etc… She said I needed to go down one level to the 3rd floor. Thank goodness for cell phones, that could have been messy if I didn’t have any way to communicate with someone. I made my way down and walked out, on the 3rd level this time, right underneath the Delta Airline sign and awaited Lois to come and get me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The pick up went off without a hitch. Lois drove up and I got in. The first words she said were, “there’s been a change of plans. The first thing you need to know about spending time with us is the schedule is always subject to change.” I couldn’t help but laugh. This sounds exactly like my schedule at home. Besides, I knew this was going to be a grand adventure and it was shaping up to not disappoint me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Instead of meeting my cousin Paul at work, we would be going to the eye doctor where my uncle Rick had an appointment. My other cousin, Kara, works there. So after the eye appointment was done, the four of us would go to lunch and then get Paul at his house. Their nanny was ill and he was at home taking care of the kids. Paul’s wife, Jaime (hopefully I spelled that right), would be done with her work by the time we got there, so Paul could come with us to the NCAR building and we’d still get our tour. I thought this was fantastic, as now I’d get to see my cousin Kara as well as Paul. I don’t see either of them very often. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">We got to the eye doctors' office. This particular establishment provides eye-care services to the Colorado Avalanche hockey team so there were jerseys displayed on most of the walls. I thought that was pretty cool. I have and have had quite a bit of family living in the Denver area so I’ve become somewhat of an Avalanche, Rockies, and Broncos fan. I’ve never really been into pro basketball so I can take or leave the Denver Nuggets. Rick was sitting in the waiting area. He hadn’t had his appointment yet.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">It’s a good thing he was at the eye doctor as I must have stood in front of him for 10 minutes before Lois gently reminded him I was here. Then the lights went on and he crushed me in one of his trademark bear hugs. We had an enjoyable time chatting and catching up on family news. Kara came out and said hello.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">After the appointment, Rick, Lois, Kara, and I went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch. One thing Bismarck/Mandan is lacking is a good Mexican restaurant. We have some, and the food is good, but it just doesn’t taste like authentic Mexican cuisine. As you get further south, this changes. I was really spoiled when I went to visit my dad in Tucson, AZ. We went to </span><a href="http://www.lascazuelitas.com/portal/Home/tabid/36/Default.aspx"><span style="font-family:arial;">Las Cazuelitas De Tucson</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">. Their burritos are absolutely amazing, plus they had a live mariachi band when we were there. As a trumpet player, I was sorely tempted to join in.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I can’t remember what the Denver restaurant was called, but I was not disappointed. The burrito I had was very good. I’m partial to the green vs. the red chile sauce, so I really like it when I’m given the choice. I also like it when the salsa doesn’t come from a jar and tastes like the vegetables were just chopped up that day. It was a fabulous lunch and was great visiting with Rick, Lois, and Kara.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;">After we finished eating, Kara went back to work, Rick went home, and Lois and I went to get Paul. One thing about driving in Denver is that it takes 1-2 hours to get just about anywhere. I’m sure I dozed off on the drive to Paul’s house. I really appreciated Lois providing transportation all over. She put in a fair share of driving that day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">We got Paul, said hello to his adorable children who were focused in on the FernGully movie, having been chased indoors by a recent rain shower, and drove to the NCARS building. The architecture of this place is amazing, set into the foothills of Boulder, CO, it makes for a very scenic place to work. There are scads of things to see here. It is designed to accommodate groups of school children on field trips. There are all kinds of little stations relating to weather and space exploration. I’m extremely interested in these subjects so I was fascinated. I wanted to read everything, but we would have been there several hours longer and we needed to meet Bob and Judy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I especially liked a tornado simulator that is constructed with jets, a vacuum, and mist. You have a real live miniature tornado on display and the signs encourage you to stick your hand in and observe how that changes the shape and direction of the funnel. If you really get your hand in there, you can temporarily dissipate the mist only to have it re-form when you take your hand away. I had to laugh when a small group of kids came up to the display. I very cautiously put my fingertips into the funnel and then my hand for just a little bit. These kids went for the full body experience and dove into it like junior versions of Superman. Paul said kids will do that all the time. The funnel scattered and reformed as soon as the kids got off. I experienced a brief flashback of my own childhood. There was a time I would have dived in just like those kids.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">But there are also advantages to being an adult and cousin to someone that works there. We got access into the computer room where the super computers are housed. To most people, this probably wouldn’t be very interesting. On the outside they just look like a lot of cabinets with blinking lights on them. But when you think of the sheer processing power, storage, and cooling systems of these computers, for a computer geek like myself it was awe inspiring. I worked at the computer center when I was in college but that was one mainframe which just isn’t in the same class as a super computer. The college mainframe was cooled with liquid nitrogen which was kind of neat to see at the time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The most fun part was looking at the automated tape library. There was a two-story library filled with tape cartridges and tape drives. There were several little robots on rails that were responsible for retrieving tapes, inserting them in the drives, and putting them back when they were no longer needed. The whole thing was enclosed and you had to watch through windows, but I was still startled and jumped back when a little robot came zooming out of nowhere, flying right at me, and stopped just short of the window. It’s little arm grabbed a tape, zoomed over to the drives, and put it in. Absolutely fascinating how that works. We sat and watched the robots work for awhile.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">After the tour, we took Paul home and went to pick up Kara’s son Tyler from school. He plays baseball, and usually hangs out with his grandparents or walks to a friends house before the game starts. Lois is a quilter and has several masterpieces hanging up in their beautiful house. Another uncle, Dave, living in MN, is a brick layer and had done their fireplace. Rick also took me on their deck where you can see their bird feeders and a water feature complete with fish. We relaxed and chatted a bit more until it was time to go to Bob and Judy’s house.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I started getting butterflies in my stomach as I was about to come face to face with the pick-up I’d only seen in pictures until then. Bob and Judy also have a beautiful house and greeted me as if they’d known me their whole life. We’d never met, but they are very good friends with my dad and stepmom, and doubtless had heard countless stories about my brother and me. After our greetings, I was introduced to the pick-up I was going to buy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Their garage was spotless and the pickup did not have a speck of dust or dirt on it. You would thought it had just come off a show room floor. Everything was so clean I was afraid to touch it, but Bob encouraged me to open the doors and climb in. The inside was just as immaculate as the outside. It was almost surreal, I really felt like I was dreaming. I’d never in my life had a vehicle like this. Bob gave me a brief walk around and then it was time for dinner. I started it up. It even sounded beautiful. The truck has twin Magnaflo pipes in the back and rumbles. Loud vehicles do tend to annoy me, but this was different. It wasn’t loud enough to be obnoxious, just a soft deep-throated sound that makes you want to growl back in return.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I drove the pick-up to the restaurant to get a feel for it. I can’t remember being so nervous driving something. I backed inch by inch out of the garage. Almost in a daze, I drove Bob to the Rib House. The restaurant was every bit as good as it was claimed to be. The ribs fell off the bone and melted when they hit your mouth. My only regret was my choice of sauce. I’m kind of weird and choose spicy things just to see how hot they really are. I went for Jessica’s Fire sauce which is supposed to be sweet and spicy. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_F0CvsGOMIcn83lEobnRCsDTtSloGacHdEIYdpvn2gbuOreYvr1BjlXmu_hGUJrHnisDB9sTBOwuiuDF73TruwrX4xX5XIoGKFA3OVURBGN24oDV66px24gBWinp5BrO7MgrM8ZbVU4/s1600/Jessica_s_Fire_S_4aba58a21e780.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486417037532375090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_F0CvsGOMIcn83lEobnRCsDTtSloGacHdEIYdpvn2gbuOreYvr1BjlXmu_hGUJrHnisDB9sTBOwuiuDF73TruwrX4xX5XIoGKFA3OVURBGN24oDV66px24gBWinp5BrO7MgrM8ZbVU4/s320/Jessica_s_Fire_S_4aba58a21e780.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">This is generally my favorite, but this variety had more emphasis on the spicy and not enough on the sweet. It was good, I just needed something to put out the flames afterwards. I’d probably try the mild or medium sauces if I ever get there again. I highly recommend this joint if you like ribs and ever find yourself in the Denver area.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">After a very enjoyable dinner, I hugged Rick and Lois goodbye. It’s really tough when family members get sprawled across the country. I believe everyone that reads this blog can relate to that. You never get to visit as often as you’d like. Bob and I drove back to his house and I got a more detailed tour of the truck. We opened the hood, went over some of features, and talked about maintenance and the products Bob uses. Then we had to have a moment of silence just to stand there and look at it. Bob was probably saying goodbye to the truck and I was still trying to figure out if it was dream and at some point I would wake up. After awhile we went inside to sign the papers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">We looked over everything very carefully. The last thing I wanted was to drive all the way back to ND only to have the Department of Transportation tell me I didn’t have this form or the other and I couldn’t get the title transferred. As we were reading, writing, and signing, my dad called.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">As I said, my dad was very concerned that things went smoothly. Living in Tucson, he couldn’t be on site at the time of sale. He was also probably a little nervous I wouldn’t like something or any other number of things our minds tend to dream up that would throw a wrench into our carefully made plans. He needn’t have worried, everything was going great. I was having a wonderful time, I loved the truck, and got it for a very reasonable price. I visited with dad for awhile and then called Deanna to let her know how everything was going. Then Bob showed me my choice of suites. </span><span style="font-family:arial;">They had two guest bedrooms. One of them had a waterbed and I’ve only slept on a waterbed twice in my life and found it to be a very comfortable experience, so I went with that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">And so ends an absolutely fantastic, fun-filled day. Thanks hugely to the efforts of Rick and Lois, and my now very good friends, Bob and Judy. If you look in your bible to Matthew 5:13, you will read Jesus talking about us being the “salt of the earth”. If you had a picture bible, you would probably see photos of these 4 wonderful people as perfect examples of what Jesus means. I am truly blessed to have Lois and Rick for an aunt and uncle, as well as Godparents. Bob and Judy are also two of the nicest people you could ever have occasion to meet. My gratitude to their generosity and hospitality simply cannot be put into words. I thank them from the depths of my heart.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Stay tuned for the ride home…</span></p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-33978292953389049662010-06-16T15:41:00.012-05:002010-06-17T07:43:45.792-05:00A New Addition In the Meissner Family<p><span style="font-family:arial;">Yes, the Meissner family is pleased to announce the latest addition to our family. However, instead of two legs, it has four very impressive wheels!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">My good ‘ole reliable green bomber (or blue, or possibly teal, depending on your level of color blindness) just turned over 210,000 miles. It is a 1993 Olds Cutlass Supreme that we got in 1995. It’s had some expensive repairs over the years but I have never owned a more reliable vehicle. Our 2001 minivan that we got in 2003 turned over 100,000 miles and is working on it’s 2nd transmission and probably has cost us the same amount of money in maintenance as the car we’ve had twice as long. This car has seen the birth of both our children, now ages 11 and 14, has gotten us to Colorado and Minnesota several times and last year made the journey to Canada and back. It's also still running strong after at least one severe vehicle collision and a <a href="http://morewordstoponder.blogspot.com/2008/12/deer-me.html">deer collision you can read about here.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Add to the fact our teenage daughter got her driver’s permit last week. So she needs a vehicle to practice on. The green bomber is tailor-made for her. Incidentally, I’m soliciting volunteers (I may even pay you) to teach driving lessons because my wife just got fired for causing too much stress and I REALLY don’t want to do it. I’m also not the best teacher as my driving skills are, shall we say, not exactly above board? We'll just leave it at that, but I may be violating some obscure law if I attempt driver's education. I need to be a student, not a teacher.</span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0msPDelSl3A_J28oJ4amYpURxe9SkKVn1rWj1o_QbGfLWV4Lb5LuqMCrL6Va_rz3XBD0qQEd0bcr0zqljKi-N2ehEYRfDEbFZwhCKn-KLAJ90xgCDwYSHb5zpUzLX0-OtDdREKWRbsk/s1600/Olds+Cutlass.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483474791897565874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0msPDelSl3A_J28oJ4amYpURxe9SkKVn1rWj1o_QbGfLWV4Lb5LuqMCrL6Va_rz3XBD0qQEd0bcr0zqljKi-N2ehEYRfDEbFZwhCKn-KLAJ90xgCDwYSHb5zpUzLX0-OtDdREKWRbsk/s320/Olds+Cutlass.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> <p><span style="font-family:arial;">Here it is. Hopefully we can still coax a few more years out of it. The picture actually makes the car look pretty good. You can’t see the 6 cracks running horizontally and vertically across the windshield, nor are the massive dirt smudges all along the bottom or any of the more massive scratches and bug and tar marks visible. I would have washed it before taking the picture had I not just gotten done spending 3 hours washing and cleaning the new vehicle for it's photo op coming up.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">We purchased a 2005 Dodge Dakota Pick-up. I’ve wanted one a long time, but they just have never been in our price range. When we lived in town and had a small lawn we really didn’t need a pick-up other than just to say we had one. That's not a good reason to invest in anything.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">A few years ago we purchased an acre outside of town and now have lots of grass and tree branches to haul away every year, and we get less than adequate snow removal services available in the Winter. I’ve been hauling the grass and tree branches in the back of our minivan but that just doesn’t work very well, and having a 4X4 vehicle will be nice in the Winter.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">This year fortune finally smiled on our family. My dad was well aware of our vehicle concerns having to ride in the back of my green bomber all the way to Winnipeg, Canada and return. He lives in Tucson, AZ and was driving back by way of Denver where he stopped to visit with a long-time very close friend who just happened to have a Dodge Dakota he was thinking about selling but hadn’t quite reached that decision yet. The fact that it was a 2005 model put the truck closer to our price range, but what really put icing on the cake was the fact that it only had 8,600 miles at the time of purchase!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Back then, it was still just outside what we could afford, fast forward one year, and after quite a bit of vehicle shopping, I really could not pass this opportunity up. Regular vehicles with low mileage are not cheap and pick-ups were still completely out of the question. Everything I looked at that even came close to the price we wanted had more than 60,000 miles on it.</span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZD-hWxAA_v50Yw5wOfocQBFrRWInwoPgd5GVHDFtaQB_rM2A1UBfdVnNnrB8hKvEvWiLlcoLhpnN7icIz5x_A3JJvn-lnTnKxiMPfn3TSTc0hZqCgBUrpiicUz17csCwplbgrn-YEzwU/s1600/Dodge+Dakota.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483474892276933970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZD-hWxAA_v50Yw5wOfocQBFrRWInwoPgd5GVHDFtaQB_rM2A1UBfdVnNnrB8hKvEvWiLlcoLhpnN7icIz5x_A3JJvn-lnTnKxiMPfn3TSTc0hZqCgBUrpiicUz17csCwplbgrn-YEzwU/s320/Dodge+Dakota.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> <p><span style="font-family:arial;">So here it is, just look at this baby! Flame red with every option that was available in 2005. Sport exterior package, fancy wheels, 6-disc CD changer, heated leather seats. (Should make for a nice toasty bottom during the cold winter drives.) 4X4 with a complete towing package. I can tow with electrical hook-ups just about any type of hitch inside the weight limit of the truck.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The one problem was that the truck was in Denver. I live in the middle of North Dakota. Somehow I had to get down there so I could make the purchase and drive it back home. Again, God has a way of just making things happen. With a lot of help from my family and the now, very dear to my heart, previous owners of the vehicle, a plan was hatched to get me a one-way ticket to fly into Denver, spend the night, and drive back the next morning. This truly was a grand adventure and deserves to be told in another blog. I will try not to keep you waiting too long.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">So this is just our birth announcement. I will tell you about the journey in the very near future. Stay tuned, you won't want to miss the ride.</span></p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-50472292125027523402010-05-14T05:52:00.003-05:002010-05-14T06:40:46.666-05:00A Happy Birthday and a Good Friday<p>I did promise a sequel didn’t I? I left you with a busted coffee maker and a broken washing machine. Pretty much how this series started out. I went to work Wednesday morning, planning on taking another afternoon off so I could meet with the repair person.</p><p>I’m blessed with a job that allows me to have fairly flexible hours. I also got a laptop computer instead of a desktop tower for my last computer upgrade. I used to be sort of an anti-laptop person. I’m a computer geek which means I look at computers the same way Tim “Tool Man” Taylor, from the TV show Home Improvement, looks at cars and tools. Bigger is better and more power is a desirable goal.</p><p>I still salivate over big and beautiful computers but have come to appreciate the mobility my new laptop gives me. It’s still got a reasonable amount of horsepower (or gigahertz if you prefer) and storage capacity for my needs, and I can take it with me when I have to be at home. This allows me do my job without actually being at the office. So at noon, I undocked the laptop and went home to meet the repair guy. He was actually running early so he beat me home and was almost done by the time I got there.</p><p>Thank goodness it was under warranty. The water pump was broken and apparently, you can’t just order the water pump by itself, you have to order a new motor with the pump, even though the motor we have was fine. Then, of course, you have the 2 hours labor which ends up costing more than the parts.</p><p>The down side was the parts had to be ordered and yet another service call scheduled for the installation. We would be out a washer for a week. Ouch! While visions of rolls of quarters danced in my head with daily commutes to a Laundromat, my wonderful in-laws came to the rescue. They graciously allowed us the use of their facilities while our washer was down for the count. So my wife accepted the job of laundry shuttle driver ferrying loads of clothes back and forth.</p><p>I decided to work from home the rest of the day. It is amazing how productive one can be when you get away from the phone constantly ringing and people barging into your office. Add the fact that my kids were in school and my beautiful wife was keeping the interruptions to a minimum. I’m not kidding, I got more work done in 3 hours than I would have done in a weeks time at the office. Employers need to look at this when they consider people for telecommuting. In certain situations, it really works.</p><p>Since I was at home and so was our dead coffee maker, I decided to give their customer support another go. Once again I was on hold for almost 30 minutes, and once again got annoyed that every 20 seconds the computer voice told me my call was about to be answered. However, again, a very pleasant English speaking American answered the phone. This woman needs to lead seminars on phone support. Other than my crazy-long wait, she got 5 stars across the board. She gave me fast, clear, easy-to-follow instructions on how to submit a warranty claim. I simply needed to chop off the plug, and mail it with a statement explaining what happened and a check for $12.99 for shipping the new coffee maker to us. I will gladly pay $12.99 for a $54.00 coffee maker any day of the week. Of course, getting to whack the power cord was an added bonus.</p><p>Lest you forgot, it was my lovely wife’s birthday. Wednesday’s are also church family nights with supper. That night it was going to be Domino’s Pizza. Deanna and I don’t really care for Domino’s and that happens to be Brianna’s (daughter) favorite meal in the known universe. Brianna also can’t stand Mexican or any of the American simulations of it. So we dropped Brianna off at church so she could eat with her youth friends and Deanna, Brian (son), and me went to enjoy a delightful supper at Paradiso with Deanna’s entree being free on account of her birthday. Things had started looking up.</p><p>The coffee maker plug, letter, and check were sent off the next morning. Thursday was uneventful and passed without incident. I alternated between moments of relief that the dreaded 3rd thing would yet come to pass, and trepidation that this was just the calm before the storm and things were setting up to really get bad. It turned out the calm before the storm was exactly that.</p><p>We woke up Good Friday morning to a howling mad blizzard, in April. Though not unheard of, the magnitude of this storm is something I hope never to see again. My wife, Deanna, and I were supposed to be in church to participate in our time slot in a prayer vigil we have every year before Good Friday. Various church members sign up for hour-long slots so there is a continuous stream of prayer. The plan was for us to leave early, go to my in-laws house, put in a load of clothes, and then head to the prayer vigil. After our hour was up, the one load would be done and we could do another. </p><p>Because of the weather and some errands I needed to run in town, Deanna was going to drive herself to her folks and would try to meet me at the church. But if the weather was too bad, she would just stay there and pray at the house. I would go to the church so I could run my errands afterwards. She left first and wasn’t on the road 5 minutes when she called back telling me under no circumstances was I to leave the house, the weather was that bad. Unfortunately, I had already left.</p><p>Horrible driving conditions. Wet, slushy, and very slippery. I don’t think I exceeded 15mph all the way to church. It’s a miracle both of us made it to our destinations. After calling Deanna to ensure she was safe and letting her know I was safe, I proceeded to pray. I really enjoy this quiet time. If you have never participated in a vigil, it can be an extremely moving and rewarding time. Praying for a whole hour seems kind of intimidating but you get used to it very quickly and usually my time is up and I'm still going strong.</p><p>I was a little disconcerted the lights kept flickering on and off in the church. At the end of my hour the power went off for good. I shoveled the entryway and dug out my car. The snow was still falling in huge amounts so I was sure the entryway would fill in 10 minutes after I left but I had to make the effort anyway. I got in my vehicle and called Deanna to tell her I was on my way to the grocery store. The driving conditions were still bad but not quite as much as they were North of town where I live. It was almost fun plowing through the slush.</p><p>After getting the needed groceries, (I was getting ingredients for a fantastic cheese ball made from cream cheese and shredded beef jerky of all things, it tastes amazing and gets better the longer you leave it in the fridge-recipe available upon request), I called Deanna again to let her know I was on my way home. The power was still out and she had a load of clothes half way through a wash cycle. She had to stay at her parents just in case the power came back on.</p><p>I made it home. It’s always interesting to watch me open a heavy garage door with no electrical power. The kids, of course, were home alone. Our daughter is 14 and our son is 11. They are, for the most part, responsible, and can be left at home for a few hours. Brian was a little freaked out the power had been out so long. He was pretty excited to see me. Brianna was rocking away with iPod plugs in her ears, not a care in the world. I expected she would change her tune when the battery ran out.</p><p>Before leaving for prayer vigil we had boiled a dozen eggs for dying purposes. I had a dozen more to go with no power in sight. I was not discouraged, however. I’ve got a propane grill and a camping cook stove. Three burners just begging to be used. I’ve mentioned in a previous blog, my son likes to cook. So we loaded up with eggs and utensils and made our way to the garage now turned camp kitchen. I set Brian to work monitoring the boiling water for the eggs. You have to do this carefully or else your hard-boiled eggs get that ugly green colorization around the yolk.</p><p>I’ve also got this barely ever used camp cook set which includes a coffee pot. The old fashioned kind with no filter. You do remember I’m a coffee junkie and had been without for a few days? I also remember the hideous coffee we had on my <a href="http://morewordstoponder.blogspot.com/2009/08/great-fishing-adventure-part-1-welcome.html" target="_blank">fishing trip to Canada</a>. (I’m sorry fishing buddies, but the coffee just wasn’t the best) I was determined to do better. I carefully read the instructions (I know, a novel idea) on how to make camp coffee. So I monitored the coffee production. My son enjoys coffee too.</p><p>The trick where we went wrong in Canada is to take the coffee pot off the burner when the water boils before adding the grounds. The grounds just need to steep and we boiled the beans out of them up North. Brian enjoyed it so much he wanted to make coffee like that all the time. We went for the whole experience and drank out of the camp cups that came with the cook set.</p><p>While waiting for water to boil, we passed the time throwing <a href="http://whitewings.com/" target="_blank">Whitewings paper airplanes</a> around the garage. These are really cool airplane kits which involve cutting out index card pieces and gluing them together, they fly so sweetly and come in all different styles. We had a great time. </p><p>Deanna, not so much, the power never did come on and wouldn’t for several hours yet. Deanna had to go to work, not to mention getting Brianna prettied up for a Good Friday Passion performance at church. It was getting desperate for the females. Deanna gave up, left the soggy laundry in the washer at her parents and came home.</p><p>Curling irons and hair straighteners don’t work very well with no electricity. Deanna had the brilliant idea of trying my mom and stepdad’s house. They were celebrating Easter weekend in Minnesota, so I had to call a buddy who lived close to them to see if he had power, he did so off we went. Sadly, the house probably did have electricity, but the snow plow had gone by and left a ridge comparable to the Himalayas so there was no way to get in the driveway. We turned around and went to church, hoping they might have some power we could borrow.</p><p>Alas, it was not to be. Funnily enough the vigil had been cancelled. Ah well, at least I got my great hour of prayer in. The only thing left was to go back home, throw Brianna’s hair in a pony tail and call it good. There are times when a husband just needs to keep his mouth shut, and this was one of those times. I could have said all sorts of things, but none of them would have improved the situation.</p><p>One of Brianna’s school friends was also in a Passion reenactment at one of our local Catholic churches and she wanted to go to that. At that time, it was still up in the air if our own Good Friday service was going to be held, so we had to pack her clothes for that as we would have to go from one church to another. Deanna went work.</p><p>Meaning no disrespect or offense to the Catholics at this church, but it would be nice if non-Catholics wouldn’t get stared at as if they were little green men who just stepped off the mother ship and wandered into the sanctuary. It was extremely uncomfortable. We watched the service and left towards the end when everyone stood up for communion.</p><p>I called Deanna who told me our church service was cancelled. There was still no power so the service was moved to Saturday. We needed something to eat, so rather than worry about what we could manufacture at home, I called A&B Pizza, who blessedly, had power. We are not Catholic, but have a family tradition where we abstain from red meat on Good Friday, so we had a cheese pizza and a shrimp burger and french fries. We went home and to our delight, found electrical power restored. It turned out we were the fortunate ones as there were people who would be without power several weeks. The very wet ice and snow created so much weight on the power lines, huge metal towers crumpled like aluminum foil and the wooden poles snapped like toothpicks.</p><p>Since my mom and stepdad were out of town, I had mailbox and paper retrieval duty. So Saturday found me shoveling a wet slushy mountain just so I could get in their driveway. With any luck most of what was left would be melted by the time they got back.</p><p>It was an extraordinary week.</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-16923582404121844762010-05-07T11:30:00.005-05:002010-05-07T15:48:08.695-05:00When It Rains, It Pours<p>This post is a bit dated but I had enough things happen to me the week between Palm Sunday and Easter, that I just had to write about it, albeit a bit late.</p><p>Monday, the coffee maker died. People who know me understand I can drink coffee by the gallon. I’ve alluded to this in a few older posts. I love the smell of coffee. I love the taste of coffee. I can drink it all day long and still not really get enough. When people look at me like I’m some sort of freakazoid from the java solar system, I usually respond with some comment along the lines of, “there are worse things to be addicted to.” I drink decaf as much as possible to keep the heartburn at bay and moderate my caffeine intake. Other than that I see no adverse affects I’m doing to my body.</p><p>My wife also uses the coffee maker to make hot water for her foo-foo cappuccino powder. Our coffee maker gets used every day and sometimes 2-3 times daily on the weekends. Having it malfunction is not a good thing.</p><p>So I called the 800-number support line. Of course they were closed for the day. So then I brought the user’s manual to work because that had the model number on it. After waiting on hold for 30 minutes I finally got to talk to a live body. Here’s a hint to businesses that use automated answering systems. It gets a little wearing when I’m told every 20 seconds that my call will be answered in the order it was received. I can’t even enjoy a whole song on the waiting system because the voice has to interrupt and remind me my call will be answered. I knew that, now please just let me listen to the music. Even bad music is better than an annoying voice telling me for the thousandth time my call will be answered.</p><p>The live body asks me what my problem is. “My coffee maker doesn’t work”.</p><p>“Did you clean it with vinegar?” she asks, way too quickly.</p><p>I was ready for this question. “Several times,” I said.</p><p>“When did you purchase this unit?”</p><p>“Less than a year ago.” I answered, patience running very thin at this point. I told myself to be thankful she was at least speaking English with an American accent. A rarity in phone support these days.</p><p>“I need to have the model number and series number, this can only be found at the bottom of the unit.” </p><p>“Excuse me?” I asked</p><p>“I need the model and series number from the bottom of the unit.”</p><p>“I don’t have that.”</p><p>“I need to know the series number before your warranty claim can be processed.”</p><p>“I need to call back later, are you sure I don’t need anything else, any other number?” </p><p>“That’s all you need, sir”</p><p>“You’re sure, absolutely nothing else?”</p><p>Now she’s laughing at me, “I’m sure, sir, just the model and series number.”</p><p>I groan, now I’m going to have to wait on hold again and who knows when I’ll have the coffee maker with me during business hours? But I resign myself to my fate.</p><p>Tuesday, the washer died. Things just got a little more serious. We’re a family of four and we wash clothes practically every day. Not being able to wash is huge. They say bad things come in threes, I can’t wait to see what Wednesday has in store. My wife calls me early that afternoon shrieking because the washer won’t drain. So I took the rest of the afternoon off and raced home to see what could be done.</p><p>The code on the washer was “LD” which apparently means “Long Drain”. I called an 800 number for this as well, I was put on hold again but this time it was only for a few minutes. I found out the washer was still under warranty and they would dispatch a repair person at once.</p><p>Now a smart person would have just left things in the hands of professionals. Unfortunately, I’m not always what one would consider a smart person. There was still a load of soaking laundry in the washer half filled with water. The “LD” code meant that the drain hose was clogged. So that sounded simple enough if I could get the drain hose out and clear it, maybe I could at least finish the load in progress.</p><p>I must also register a complaint with the Whirlpool owner’s manual. I found the page that listed the error codes. We have a wonderful digital push-button washer, too bad it didn’t work. “LD”-means long drain. The solution is to clear the drain hose. Absolutely nothing else to tell you how to clear or disconnect the hose. Totally worthless instructions.</p><p>The back of washers and dryers are never in convenient places. I had to pull out the washer, disconnect the power and water hoses, vacuum and clean the several inches thick of dust, and finally I was able to squeeze myself back there.</p><p>The hose entered the back of the washer at the top, but then fed down inside and connected to the wash basin at the very bottom. So I had a panel and some plastic tie-downs that I needed to remove first. Then I was able to see where the hose attached to the reservoir underneath the washer.</p><p>If you can picture the most cramped, hard to get to place, that’s where this hose was connected. There was a huge clamp securing the hose but no good way to press the pinchers together. The clamp was really big so I had to get my large long-handled pliers to get around it. My patience really started to get tested as I moved and jiggled the pliers in every direction imaginable to try and get the clamp off. Finally, I managed to squeeze the pinchers and remove the clamp. Then I pulled off the hose.</p><p>It was then that Hoover Dam broke open. The reservoir underneath the wash basin probably held 2-3 gallons of water. When the drain hose was removed all that water started gushing out. I quickly slammed the hose back on the outlet and considered my situation.</p><p>My hand was holding the hose onto the outlet, the clamp was off, and large amounts of water were spreading across the floor of the laundry room and soaking into the seat and legs of my jeans. What on Earth was I going to do?</p><p>I believe “Lord help me,” were the first words out of my mouth. It was then I noticed several rags lying about that I had brought in to help keep things clean and (chuckle) soak up any leaking water. I thought if I could twist a rag in a tight enough wad, I might be able to shove it into the outlet so I could take the hose off and clear the blockage. I might not stop it completely, but hopefully I’d avoid any more gushers.</p><p>It’s not easy twisting a rag one-handed. My other hand was still holding on to the drain hose. So I used my teeth, an elbow, and my one free hand to twist up a rag I hoped would be the right size. I went through step by step in my head the motions I would have to go through. Take the hose off, quickly insert the rag, twist and push it in far enough so it would not pop out once I let go.</p><p>It really helps to plan things in your head before acting. The rag plug worked surprisingly well, and I was able to avoid a repeat deluge of water. I twisted and shoved the rag as far in as I could and let go.</p><p>It stayed. I had to stare at it awhile to convince myself it wasn’t going anywhere. I grabbed the now separated drain hose and stood up. Grimacing as I experienced the cold soaking wetness of my pants. </p><p>I took the hose into the garage. I tried to blow through it. Nothing, totally blocked as I was told by the worthless manual. But now how to clear it? It was very long and narrow. I had nothing in my garage that would be able to snake its way through the hose.</p><p>Still holding the hose, I paced around the garage, thinking now what? I knew that rag plug wouldn’t last forever. It would either become too saturated with water, or it would pop out and then I’d have a real mess. I usually gesture when I’m talking to myself or others, so as I paced, I shook the hose up and down.</p><p>I heard rattling. Something inside the hose was loose. Well, maybe I could at least shake that out. I tipped the hose down and listened to the pleasant sound of rattling as the obstruction made its way down the hose. It finally stopped but nothing came out. When I looked at the end of the hose, I saw a kind of gasket inside that was preventing whatever it was from escaping. So I turned the hose the other way and listed to more pleasant rattling sounds as the object made it’s way out the other end.</p><p>I was very surprised when a penny fell onto the sidewalk. At some point in my pacing I had wandered outside. I have no idea why so don’t ask.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjQQ8T5O-yIUSf_MJGpPnyJU2XoYrDZ_di81Qa58RWlji7CRUV0_ERi_noA2Mh2kcQfor79ijFAX2AGv_sXwEfEWnaH5Pn8JHpNXx4mv8RGXf3XzkP9ao6r_IKqWFBGvSyNdC-f3TqJY/s1600/pennies.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468619153611181538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjQQ8T5O-yIUSf_MJGpPnyJU2XoYrDZ_di81Qa58RWlji7CRUV0_ERi_noA2Mh2kcQfor79ijFAX2AGv_sXwEfEWnaH5Pn8JHpNXx4mv8RGXf3XzkP9ao6r_IKqWFBGvSyNdC-f3TqJY/s320/pennies.JPG" /></a></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXC5BypGhde24uZraE_jxCEYFM-TbZElwxXOXqqeTbARwoYRF5Ru9uUyxilHCJk4oeqR8JzZLxoquRnsinIa6mfL3yhnRcgCB_KTwocbaurBLjtX-yfYHdyYT0xkQIfOtcIK70UzvcpmE/s1600/pennies.JPG"></a><p></p><p>Here’s a picture of the obstruction. I apologize for my poor photography skills. I’ve placed a new penny next to it for comparison. It appears the penny had been there for some time. It was fairly worn around the edges. It’s possible it just finally got moved and jostled around enough by the water that it clogged the hose. I blew through the hose again and to my delight found it was completely clear.</p><p>I charged back into the house flushed with my success. I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts after I’d finally squeezed back behind the washer. There was a steady stream coming out of the outlet. The rag was quite soaked by now. I went through all the motions in my head again.</p><p>The hose went on much harder than it came off. Then I had to fiddle with it to get the clamp and these two notches in the hose to line up with the two pins on the outlet. People who’ve been around me know I have this annoying tendency to have everything perfect so I didn’t quit until the hose and clamp were in proper order.</p><p>Then my wife came home from work. (Queue the sinister background music.) She works weekday evenings and had gotten some groceries so it was around 10:30PM. She was hopping mad. “SO WE’RE NO LONGER GETTING IT REPAIRED TOMORROW?” Then, before I could respond, she launched another attack. “EVERY LIGHT INSIDE AND OUTSIDE THE HOUSE IS ON!” We’ve really been trying to cut expenses so any unnecessary power usage is a bad thing.</p><p>She had no way of knowing that it was only about 15 minutes ago I had turned any lights on to go out to the garage and then outside. I'm still not sure why I went outside. It’s not like they had been on all night.</p><p>She also had no way of knowing why I was in my predicament. Yes, I admit, I have a difficult time letting things go if I think I have a solution. But my real reason for attempting the repair myself was because the next day was Deanna’s birthday and we had planned to go out for her free birthday lunch at Paradiso, a local Mexican restaurant. Waiting for a repairman had not entered our plans so it was debatable we would even get to go. You don’t get a free meal every day so my plan was to try and repair the washer enough so we could still use it and then it wouldn’t be so critical for the repair person to come over so quickly and we could schedule the repair another time.</p><p>She didn’t know any of these things and if she had, she probably wouldn’t have shouted at me considering everything I had gone through to get to that point. As it was, now I was hopping mad. I told her to go away until I was done otherwise I would lose my temper. We would discuss this after I calmed down, cleaned up, and found a dry pair of pants.</p><p>I got the washer all hooked up, mopped up the residual water, and cleaned all the disgusting filth that lurks behind washers and dryers. Then I attempted to finish the load of laundry. Would you believe it still didn’t work? “LD” was still blinking in bold red digital letters. If I had a sledgehammer I might have fixed the washer permanently. Thankfully, the sledge was still in the garage.</p><p>Finally, I surrendered to the inevitable. The repair person would still be coming tomorrow and we probably would have to forego the free lunch.</p><p>I still had to have a conversation with the Mrs. I found some dry pants and she had made a nice cup of cappuccino (courtesy of microwave oven heated water) We were able to debrief like calm, grown-up adults. (how’s that for redundancy?) We both apologized and all was well. Considering we still had a defective washer and coffee machine.</p><p>Sorry folks, I know serials aren’t for everyone, but I’ve got to save the rest for part II. I’ll try very hard not to run into a part III.</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-63024912531598431002010-04-27T09:52:00.010-05:002010-04-27T12:58:47.468-05:00I’ll Miss You, Grandpa!<span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464830389880967474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhdY4TMrxy-kw-MpqOkF2dpg9oyNAwJXHOiwRnON_1MCahQUPvylrz0QRbMepguTV8nda7F9S8zirDCsxTXcjK8k8ldFBN1yQl265uHvbJwPRrrFMRS5RtSPswHx-qaSORoewdrtOQi4/s320/grandpa1.jpg" /> <p>I said goodbye to my grandpa a few weeks ago. After celebrating a really nice Easter with his wife, children, and a few grand and great grandkids, his earthly journey came to an end. </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I will miss him for sure, but I do count myself fortunate to have had him in my life for so long. A lot of grandchildren and great-grandchildren in the case of my kids do not have the wonderful opportunity to get to know their grandparents for as long as we did.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">He had a very full life during his 97 years in this world. My earliest memories were of the family farm where he worked until 1976. I spent a lot of Summers at that place. The Tangen farm was known for an old chicken coop they renovated into a playhouse once the chickens were gone. There was a table and little kid chairs in there and various assorted play dishes and other toys necessary to complete the experience. My cousins and I spent hours having secret meetings in that old chicken coop, running races around it and sending the younger kids out on silly errands. Being one of the older grandchildren definitely had its privileges.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The farm also had a tire swing. There really isn’t anything like an old tire swing. You can swing back and forth, you can spin, and you can even climb on top and hang from the rope if you want to pretend your Tarzan. Many more hours were spent playing with that thing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">It was a very sad day when they retired and moved to town. But even their house in town has special memories for me. There was an unfinished basement where we could have fun playing Skittles.</span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzZ7yJQCLYUo455eWEBk8khAiD0YSy4uavxRRfi1LPDyyyFAH-0qhvai2UfrR5_k0eyaFHW5zTeXdPHe_pFcrWoI-OOpHA3iSkDXK6hBlD4Wido-wkp-WNV0-y2U9y4zcXr5f7p0rXKn8/s1600/Skittles.gif"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464831631416575826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzZ7yJQCLYUo455eWEBk8khAiD0YSy4uavxRRfi1LPDyyyFAH-0qhvai2UfrR5_k0eyaFHW5zTeXdPHe_pFcrWoI-OOpHA3iSkDXK6hBlD4Wido-wkp-WNV0-y2U9y4zcXr5f7p0rXKn8/s320/Skittles.gif" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">What is Skittles, you may ask? It is a super cool bowling game where you place little wooden pins in various rooms on the board. On the lower right you can just barely make out an opening that resembles the letter “T”. In this opening, you place a top which has had a string wound around it. You pull the string which sends the top flying across the board. The object being to knock down as many pins as possible. The pins farthest away give you the most points. That game got many hours of playtime. I have never seen this game anyplace else.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">When grandpa moved to the nursing home, the game was sold at auction, but I’m told it remains somewhere in the family. Wherever it is I hope it’s still bringing enjoyment to kids. I was talking to my mom and she said they found the original invoice for that game when they were cleaning out the house. Everything was mail-order. The game sold for $100 which was a substantial amount back then. It makes me wish us grandkids would have treated it with a little more care. Years later when most of us grandkids were getting married and having kids of our own they upgraded to a pool table and Skittles disappeared.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">There was also a park across the road where we’d always travel when we went outside, or sometimes we stayed at the house and set up a game of croquet. Grandpa would always come out and sit in a lawn chair. He would chuckle at our antics. After awhile the goal wasn’t so much to win the game, but to hit such a weird or spectacular shot that Grandpa would exclaim over it. I will never forget his laugh, no one could laugh like grandpa. He made a sound that seemed to come from his whole body and you just knew how much he was enjoying himself.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Although he retired from farming, he never really stopped doing what he loved. Grandpa’s lawn was always one of the greenest in town and not a weed anywhere. It was like playing croquet on plush carpet. His garden was also in pristine shape. His tomatoes were always perfect. I could never understand how he was able to have such “seed catalog quality” looking vegetables. I sweat and weed and water and fertilize all Summer long and my garden is a joke compared to grandpa’s.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">He didn’t stop at his own yard either. During the prayer service before his funeral, there was a time of sharing memories. Someone commented that she spotted grandpa one day watering petunias in the park across the street. She said something to the effect, “Melgard, those flowers aren’t your responsibility!” Grandpa looked at her said, “who else is going to do it?” </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Once a farmer, always a farmer. Grandpa hated to see plants suffer. If something needed watering or weeding he got it done. He was always mowing other people’s lawns if they needed some help and any other yard or garden jobs that needed doing in his neighborhood.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I remember our walks. When grandpa wasn’t working in the yard, he was fond of walking around Hawley. Us grandkids would usually tag along. Hawley has gotten a little bigger and more modern over the years, but the Hawley of my childhood was about as close to a real life Andy Griffith’s Mayberry as you could get. Kids could run and bike all over town and no one worried too much about them. As we walked if there was anyone outside a cheerful greeting and a wave was standard procedure. I love towns where everyone knows everyone else. It is sadly lacking in our society today.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I’ve rambled long enough, how about some family pictures to look at?</span></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnje12xti05eaAq5KHMz0lL_ENDoATdScSH_3HEcUEZcgThPI-wQ9CdBy-by6qSoK1m7_1ugG0GaQuJJFiBSR9yRG5Z5zXzT58U9PVL2E_l52clNvUL-ofA78mG_s2lYNtviu0JNwGOXc/s1600/happybday.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 173px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464830740355403618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnje12xti05eaAq5KHMz0lL_ENDoATdScSH_3HEcUEZcgThPI-wQ9CdBy-by6qSoK1m7_1ugG0GaQuJJFiBSR9yRG5Z5zXzT58U9PVL2E_l52clNvUL-ofA78mG_s2lYNtviu0JNwGOXc/s320/happybday.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Here’s a big birthday party I was actually able to attend. I’m not sure how big the photo will turn out but in the front row from left you have grandpa’s older brother Elmer, grandpa (Melgard, then 91), and younger brother Leonard. My grandma (Annie) is on the right. In the back from left is grandpa’s sister Agnes (feisty lady), another sister Clarice and her husband Alfred Amundson, then Jewell, Leonard’s wife. Leonard and Jewell are my mom’s godparents. Alas, only half the members of this photo are still alive today. Grandma, Leonard, Clarice and Alfred. If you can see them, the birthday boys are wearing fancy bolo ties. They were given to them by a distant cousin Robert who lives in Norway and manages to visit every now and again.</span></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFF6iyP-8aVmmL85JMeCyt-S6ubfKOmSNZLBS4bCVsrJ99sW80iwaBS5Uuilg3a9zHJcpoO01VzjyfeOC8S5UPVVzDBQmnRup9fGQ3nrQiAlBFfucANJkHQCmnoypxybk0-aDyAP8-Fc/s1600/3kids.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 209px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464830730956683538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFF6iyP-8aVmmL85JMeCyt-S6ubfKOmSNZLBS4bCVsrJ99sW80iwaBS5Uuilg3a9zHJcpoO01VzjyfeOC8S5UPVVzDBQmnRup9fGQ3nrQiAlBFfucANJkHQCmnoypxybk0-aDyAP8-Fc/s320/3kids.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Here you have a better picture of the 3 kids. Grandpa, Agnes, and Leonard. Agnes was so much fun to visit with. She would have you laughing the whole conversation.</span></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBqpqAdn4ANtubGeiR0xa5Bm_nPSdbfv4XdkTTGawyg6TDM_Z10X5yQqVrwYtTU85WSY3wiPC9vGH2LjVgPZpXdaQcVPKQzIwGK8jAw8bDWZPofxO6xfA707F7UV5vBgQmgDBNnDWY8I/s1600/flattop.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 237px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464830720398681938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBqpqAdn4ANtubGeiR0xa5Bm_nPSdbfv4XdkTTGawyg6TDM_Z10X5yQqVrwYtTU85WSY3wiPC9vGH2LjVgPZpXdaQcVPKQzIwGK8jAw8bDWZPofxO6xfA707F7UV5vBgQmgDBNnDWY8I/s320/flattop.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Look at this dapper gentleman sporting a fancy new flat top hat. I don’t ever remember him not wearing suspenders.</span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxb0aL8ag-AM1Nn7_lcjl8XamPY71j9-AXs2jZoVFkAZ4Ie2VUdE_2-rbvlN_ib7WWYd5TtgP0qnaNZxMZWlZuIQ7Th2a-QD0ZcEUZw4EW8EfM2nLoqATXLV9HXFUW2mFQisa3lV2WKg/s1600/sweaters.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 211px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464831041444004210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxb0aL8ag-AM1Nn7_lcjl8XamPY71j9-AXs2jZoVFkAZ4Ie2VUdE_2-rbvlN_ib7WWYd5TtgP0qnaNZxMZWlZuIQ7Th2a-QD0ZcEUZw4EW8EfM2nLoqATXLV9HXFUW2mFQisa3lV2WKg/s320/sweaters.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Here is grandpa and Elmer wearing some fancy Norwegian sweaters. More Christmas presents from Robert.</span></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul32fu1L3oHV0XN_XYZhd-FNgimEXRP6l_ph6hyAP2SrH_B_2jscGQ4JeMWseaThSdKwmw4rutuFV4c8RCfwg76L-eIBcktV8YfqDt2eEnPEUH07Dc3WvOYhKOdNu_UqmlRq3aJ2hcdg/s1600/happycouple.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464831023992952082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul32fu1L3oHV0XN_XYZhd-FNgimEXRP6l_ph6hyAP2SrH_B_2jscGQ4JeMWseaThSdKwmw4rutuFV4c8RCfwg76L-eIBcktV8YfqDt2eEnPEUH07Dc3WvOYhKOdNu_UqmlRq3aJ2hcdg/s320/happycouple.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Finally, my favorites in the bunch. Here are the happy sweethearts. Grandpa and grandma on their wedding day, September 8, 1940.</span></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0bQYcJH8qzZ5xuPVBQBpMf3sqUqK74SxJZuSwdCPd__Ofr2sTTspkrONWL47LLAzwAWLCi5VS18ESltX0qccjCdHLYEU5lZfxPCzaoyulrXn3SlCzbSf2ds1Hct-kgD2i3-XozcEhK0/s1600/hotrod.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 175px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464831029648592194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0bQYcJH8qzZ5xuPVBQBpMf3sqUqK74SxJZuSwdCPd__Ofr2sTTspkrONWL47LLAzwAWLCi5VS18ESltX0qccjCdHLYEU5lZfxPCzaoyulrXn3SlCzbSf2ds1Hct-kgD2i3-XozcEhK0/s320/hotrod.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I don’t know anything about cars, but I sure like to look at them. This is grandpa’s 1937 Studebaker. Note the “suicide” handles in the door.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;"><a href="http://www.wrightfuneral.com/content/obituaries/view.jsp?OID=56827">Click here for the obiturary </a>from the funeral home website if you wish to read more about my grandpa's life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">As my brother said on his Facebook page. “Goodbye grandpa, I will miss your smile and your laughter.” I will as well. Thank you for being such a wonderful part of my life.</span></p></div></div></div></div></div>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-594288801288849952010-04-01T00:54:00.007-05:002010-04-01T12:48:58.935-05:00Two Guys and a KitchenFood is easily in my top 3 list of things to blog about. It just so happened Palm Sunday afternoon I had another blog-worthy event involving food. I mentioned in my last post the Meissner men can feed themselves if they have to. To my hearts delight, my son has inherited this love of cooking as well. The last few months Brian has gotten into making dinner for our family. He also likes to try new things. <p></p><p>Interestingly, my beautiful wife has had a habit of collecting “recipes to try”. In our almost 22 years of marriage she’s collected only about a gazillion or so recipes that cram almost a whole drawer in our two-drawer recipe box. We’ve maybe actually made 20 of them, but that might be stretching it a bit.</p><p>I’m constantly giving Deanna a rough time when I look through this box. “Sweetheart,” I’ve found it usually works pretty good to start off with this word. “We can’t possibly make all these in 3 lifetimes.”</p><p>“I know,” she agrees, “we have to start making some of these so we can decide whether to keep or throw.”</p><p>“Honey,” this is also an appropriate starting word, “we’ve been saying that for almost 22 years. We’ve hardly made a dent in this thing.”</p><p>You get the idea. A few months ago Brian started rifling through the box too. He pulls out this Mexican Torte and asks if he can make it. I get this brilliant idea, if I do say so myself. Why don’t we let the kid make some of these? If they’re good we mark them appropriately, put them in the appropriate section like, oh, I don’t know, “main dishes” rather than this huge pile of “recipes to try.” But if they’re not so good, we trash them.</p><p>Sounds like a plan so we made this Mexican Torte. It was a daunting task. I tried very hard to let Brian do as much of the work as possible, but things get complicated and hard and I have this annoying way of just assuming I can do things better. In the end Brian was a little disappointed, both because he didn’t get to do as much as he wanted and because the torte wasn’t any good. We ended up taking the filling between the flour tortillas and dipping chips in it. That wasn’t too bad but it wasn’t good enough to keep and we tossed the recipe. I still declared the exercise a success because we succeeded in eliminating at least one of the recipes.</p><p>Brian was still disappointed, last week he pulled out an Italian pinwheel meatloaf and a tater-tot casserole. He wanted to make them, I said OK. Then he demanded that I would stay out of the kitchen completely and he would do everything himself.</p><p>Let’s think about this. I’m supposed to turn an 11-year-old loose in a room filled with sharp knives and electric appliances that get extremely hot? I don’t think so. I told Brian, “No deal!”</p><p>He got mad, pouted, and said, “fine, just do it yourself then.” I told him I would let him do absolutely everything he could but I would be right there to supervise. He still said no, but after pondering the wisdom of this choice, conceded. But it was so cute the way he looked me in the eye and said, “but you can’t help me unless I ask, ok?”</p><p>“Deal,” I said.</p><p>The groceries were bought and away we went. Step 1, mixing the first nine ingredients. 2 eggs beaten. I handed him an egg. He looked at me like I just gave him a loaded hand grenade. I said, “you want me to do it?” His eyes are huge and keep flipping back and forth between me and the hand grenade. He’s speechless and just nods his head.</p><p>“This is what you do, hold it firmly like this and crack it on the flat inside of the bowl, never crack it around the rim because that will make a mess.” I demonstrated and continued, “then you take your two thumbs and dig them into the crack and pull the two halves apart.” I finished and a lovely, unbroken mind you, egg fell into the bowl. “Now you try.” Good thing the recipe needed two eggs.</p><p>More confident now, he barely hits the side of the bowl. “you can hit it harder.” A muffled crack, not quite perfect, but an admirable first attempt. He dug his thumbs in and pulled apart the shells. “Good job, Brian.”</p><p>I handed him a fork, “whisk them up.” His technique was pretty good but he allowed me to show him how to fine tune it a bit for maximum efficiency. He was a pro by the time that job was done.</p><p>The other 8 ingredients went off without a hitch, he gracefully measured seasoned bread crumbs, a little spaghetti sauce, Italian seasonings and copious amounts of salt and pepper. For some reason, our hamburger dishes just don’t taste good unless we put what seems like way too much salt and pepper. Just my personal opinion, but it seems to work for our family.</p><p>Mix thoroughly. So I handed him a large spoon and he went to work. It became apparent he would need a little spatula to scrape the sides so he did that too and a fine job it was.</p><p>Crumble hamburger over the top and mix well. I unwrapped the raw, bloody hamburger and handed that to him. He looked at me like I was now handing him a cruise missile. The raw meat freaked him out. “You want me to do it?” More head nodding.</p><p>So I crumbled and was about to dig my very clean, scrubbed hands into the mix when I tried one more time. “You sure, this is actually the really fun part.” Vigorous head shaking now.</p><p>I shrugged, dug in my hands, and mixed the loaf. When I was satisfied I handed him the aluminum foil and asked him to rip off a sheet about yay big. I gestured with my hands how large. He quite skillfully pulled out the foil and set it and the box down on the counter. “You have to tear it off the box.” He nods and rips away.</p><p>I sprayed the foil with PAM and dumped the loaf on top. “Now we have to make an 8 X 12 rectangle, you want to try?” All right, I get a head nod this time. He presses his hands down in there and starts to flatten it out. All I really did was give a little help squaring off the edges. But he got this done, for the most part, himself.</p><p>Then a few handfuls of shredded cheese, he’s really good at this, and a layer of deli-sliced ham, topped with some more cheese. “Now the hard part, we have to roll this up.” I showed him how to get it started and realized I really need to take a picture of these events. “Give it a try.” I said as I ran to get the camera.</p><p>I’ve tried pinwheel things several times and have never quite gotten them to work with either hamburger or bread dough. Imagine my chagrin when I came back and he’s got a neat, rolled loaf, looking just like a little sleeping bag.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhah-SJSfI0Jphj44LxJXLlZATCBBYa3atjVSPSJ-Drq6XYDtar5bGCfT2g9lTdi-TStJZWzR5If7v26itKhQZhYXkrumGudOrRpOoZaWEqUx0RvB6SRrpRr_8ryIqMt9SQHoQ6usMPxpk/s1600/DSCN2503.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455043702593528738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhah-SJSfI0Jphj44LxJXLlZATCBBYa3atjVSPSJ-Drq6XYDtar5bGCfT2g9lTdi-TStJZWzR5If7v26itKhQZhYXkrumGudOrRpOoZaWEqUx0RvB6SRrpRr_8ryIqMt9SQHoQ6usMPxpk/s320/DSCN2503.JPG" /></a><br /><p>Look at that expression, it’s like he’s saying, “Whaddya think of that dad, huh?” I was impressed, I have never rolled anything so perfect in my born days. Now I was the one that was speechless, I took the picture and said, “good job, Brian!”</p><p>I think his choice of shirts is worth mentioning, if you can’t read it, it says, “I see an old fashioned BEAT DOWN in your immediate future.” I told him to never wear that to school or the one getting beat down just might be him. So he just wears it around the house for fun. I still had an ominous feeling when I looked at his shirt and then looked down at his perfect loaf.</p><p>It was quite heavy, but he tried to roll it into the pan anyway. I had to help just a little. Done!</p><p>Tater-tot casserole involved a bag of tater tots, of course, then a mixture of sour cream, cheese, and “cream-of-whatever kind you like-soup.” We used the cream of chicken variety. Salt and pepper, then layer French fried onions over the whole thing.</p><p>He didn’t need my help at all with this one. Just some general instruction and finger pointing. This one was a walk in the park.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19A9X-IJJYaaIbxg5TDrLu7gtZDd-arm_DELVIwN-Pt3-pd_Sav19gkDSNg667iv-XAfk5TwJI2B2n_oEP0tvH86NHY7F0b5ki1U72Y9KNFrQZ-4MU44zEsD8U-AiDQzsnEBEezzCFdM/s1600/DSCN2504.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455043963391912226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19A9X-IJJYaaIbxg5TDrLu7gtZDd-arm_DELVIwN-Pt3-pd_Sav19gkDSNg667iv-XAfk5TwJI2B2n_oEP0tvH86NHY7F0b5ki1U72Y9KNFrQZ-4MU44zEsD8U-AiDQzsnEBEezzCFdM/s320/DSCN2504.JPG" /></a><br /><p>We got the items in the oven and I had to go help our daughter, Brianna with solo & ensemble music. I chewed her out last year because she signed up for too many things, and warned her again not to sign up for so many things this year. So she promptly signs up for even more. “Resistance is futile.” I keep picturing the Borg from Star Trek coming to assimilate me. </p><p>The reason this bugs me so much is because you do nothing but run around the school frantically trying to make it in time to play all these pieces. She was in band and choir for 7th grade and had to miss two of three choir songs last year because she was busy playing her saxophone. She got an excused from the music teacher but I still didn't think it was fair to the rest of the choir.</p><p>The other reason I get upset is because I suffer through practicing these too. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one in the house who knows how to count, or has any rhythm and I refuse to have her walk up there and sound like she’s never even seen the music. So I practice with her, over and over and over again. Counting, playing my trumpet, clapping, whatever it takes to get the beat down. Maybe I should wear Brian’s shirt?</p><p>I’m being unfair, I have to remember she’s only in 8th grade, can’t say no to her friends who want to play duets and trios with her. She can’t say no to the high school band director who “makes” her play the sax in the ensemble. Plus she’s playing extremely complicated rhythm’s in cut time, 3/8 and 6/8 and don’t even get me started on dynamics. Things I didn’t have a clue about until 10th, maybe 11th grade. She is an amazing musician, make no mistake. I just get a little tired of having to go through the practicing of HER music.</p><p>So we’re in the middle clapping, counting, squeaking, squawking, over and over and over and over again. Brian walks in a bit concerned. “Dad is it ok if cheese is exploding out the sides of the meatloaf?” I assure him as long as it’s staying in the pan and not making a mess of the whole oven it should be ok. </p><p>Reassured, he abruptly withdraws to the quiet of downstairs.</p><p>I’m sure you’re wondering how the meal turned out? Not so good. After years of apartment ovens and the lackluster oven in our old house, I’m still not used to how quickly things cook in our new house oven. Baked, bread goods like cakes, bars, and cookies may take up to as little as half the recommended time or they burn. casseroles and things are either right on the recommended time or about 10 minutes earlier. When you add that I didn’t think Deanna would be home as late to the equation you get a slightly burnt dinner.</p><p>The meatloaf wasn’t bad but this is our 2nd or 3rd time trying an Italian meatloaf mix and I’m convinced the two were never meant to be united. We have an absolutely fantastic German meatloaf recipe that we make all the time and the whole family likes so if you can’t find anything better why keep something else?</p><p>My suggestion is if you want meatloaf, find a good German recipe that you like. If you want Italian, stick to lasagna, or some spicy sausage Manicotti. (another recipe Brian tried that was delicious, a keeper) I’ve given up trying to put the two together.</p><p>I really liked the potatoes, but I was the only one. They were barely warm on the bottom and the onions were burnt black on top. I should have covered it with foil, but the recipe didn’t say that and I’m a stickler for following instructions. And it actually could have baked longer with the foil and then uncovering the last 15 minutes.</p><p>We threw both recipes. But still I count that as a success because we eliminate two more from the pile, I enjoyed a very pleasant afternoon cooking with my son, and practicing music with my daughter. I do enjoy the music practices deep down through all my complaining, especially when I sit and finally listen to her play another masterpiece she’ll get a superior rating for. It is all worth it in the end.</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-46692788948598017652010-03-29T08:02:00.002-05:002010-03-29T08:03:45.719-05:00TraditionWow, it’s been awhile since I’ve checked in here. I had to clean out the cobwebs before I could start typing. I’m not going to bore you with my usual excuses of not enough time or nothing to write about (this is just a fancy way of rationalizing laziness). Oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you with that. Let’s get on with the thing then.</p><p>The morning of Palm Sunday it struck me to say something about tradition. Every time I hear the word, I think of the musical, “Fiddler on the roof”. In the beginning, Tevye, the poor milkman, is extolling the customs of the Jewish people to his family by singing a song called “Tradition”. When I was in Middle School (aka Junior High), I sang in the show choir (aka swing choir). We did a Fiddler on the roof medley and that song is one that will be forever etched on the walls of my skull. Ah, Good memories though, all the same.</p><p>In my youth, I would have described old man Tevye as out of touch with reality. These days I’m much older, and of course, much, much wiser and can totally respect Tevye’s point of view. Traditions are quite literally the glue that hold families and communities together.</p><p>Sunday morning found me and my family enjoying a fabulous breakfast at one of our local Catholic churches. The Knights of Columbus put on an annual fund-raiser for Special Olympics. I also enjoyed the company of my in-laws who were very generous to provide the tickets.</p><p>We’ve done this a couple years now and we all have a really good time. The breakfast is sensational. Pancakes that taste like they have a hint of vanilla in the batter (my secret ingredient) Some spicy country-style sausage and some baked ham for those whose digestion doesn’t care for pepper. (or for healthy eaters like myself who have some of each). Breakfast is dressed up with some cut up pieces of banana, juice, milk, and my Norwegian gasoline, coffee.</p><p>We show up bright and early at 8AM when everything is fresh and hot, enjoy a meal and fellowship, and finish with plenty of time to make it to Sunday School and church.</p><p>I enjoy the breakfast, not only for the food and visiting, but of the memories it brings of my youth. I was blessed to grow up in a family that took mealtimes seriously. We did a special breakfast once or twice every week. We either went out where my favorite place was what was then called the Kirkwood Inn which is now the Best Western Ramkota. You felt just like you were dining in a castle with separate dining rooms each with its own roaring fireplace and the water served in heavy metal goblets it took both my small hands to lift.</p><p>Or we ate in and dad did the cooking. We’d have his famous “loaded” scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast and a big pitcher of orange juice. Another blessing is growing up in a family where the men on my dad’s side are no strangers around the kitchen. Many years ago my dad told me it was never a good idea to be totally dependant on someone else for your next meal. Wise, wise words I am finally now beginning to appreciate.</p><p>Yes, sometimes our youth will groan at the mention of traditions. You have to get up beastly early so everyone is cleaned and prettied up in time to face the world. And sometimes I’ve asked myself if this is really worth it as I deal with the complaining children and a stressed out wife.</p><p>Happily, I can still say, most emphatically, YES! Traditions are important, even if you don’t appreciate them until years later. I wouldn’t give them up, or the memories they create, for anything in this world.</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-39186191238068672142010-02-15T22:06:00.001-06:002010-02-15T22:06:27.355-06:00Another Rookie Delivers Meals On Wheels<p>This is actually a sequel post to my friend, Steveatrandom’s blog. If you haven’t read that, <a href="http://steveatrandom.blogspot.com/2010/01/rookies-attempt-at-meals-on-wheels.html">you may want to read his blog first</a>. He got to deliver meals on wheels a couple weeks ago and last week I decided to take a turn.</p> <p>Steve was at a bit of a disadvantage as him and his family were doing it for the first time. Though it was going to be my first time as well, I was riding shotgun with Vern, a seasoned veteran whose been delivering meals for over 20 years.</p> <p>So, I wasn’t worried the least when I met him at Golden Age Services to wait for our edible cargo to be ready. We visited awhile and after a few minutes got the two blue coolers which contained the meals. We loaded up Vern’s SUV. I was to deliver the goods and Vern was driving the getaway vehicle.</p> <p>I had read Steve’s blog previously so I was aware that one cooler contained the hot items and the other cooler contained the cold items. Each recipient was to get one of each. With 2 pairs of hands the vehicle was soon loaded and we were off. Along with the coolers we got a clipboard with the names and addresses of each customer. </p> <p>I was very confident that Vern knew where we were going. We probably should have studied the clipboard a little more thoroughly. We had driven several blocks when Vern realized there were some new addresses on his route he hadn’t visited before. We found out we were heading the wrong direction. So we drove the scenic route and finally arrived at our fist stop which to our chagrin was very close to where we started. Ah well…</p> <p>I jumped out and opened the rear hatch. As this was a husband/wife delivery, I grabbed 2 hot trays and 2 cold sacks. The trays were wrapped in a quilted cozy to help keep them warm. These people are ready for their lunch so the door was opening as I was walking up the steps. The nice lady led me inside and I deposited their meals. “Oh my you’re a young one!” She exclaimed. At 41, I’m approaching the far side of middle aged, so that was very nice to hear. They thanked me profusely and I tried to make my exit. “Wait you need to take these back!” the nice lady informed me. Evidently, the quilted cozies go back to the assisted living center.</p> <p>I jumped back in the vehicle and Vern commented, “Oh good, I forgot to tell to remember to bring back those warmers.” Lucky me, my first customer was an observant woman.</p> <p>Next stop was more of the same. “Oh you’re so young!” The next one also commented. “Yes, I’m in training today.” I said. “Well, you’re doing a very good job!” Buoyed by her complements I was on top of the world. Age is definitely in the eye of the beholder. I’m the father of a 5th and an 8th grader who continue to remind me how old and “out of touch” I am. Here these wonderful people getting meals think I’m a spring chicken.</p> <p>Just about every house we stopped at had the same nice words. “My you’re young!” I was beginning to think I should have still been in school. We pulled up to another house. I walked up the steps and rang the bell. No answer, well, our instructions are to just bring the meals back if that happens. But I happened to look again at the house number and on the cold sack which had the address on a label. This wasn’t the right house.</p> <p>So I jumped back in and showed Vern we were at the wrong address. He said this is where the guy lived for years and he just read the name and didn’t bother looking at the address. It turns out he recently moved. So we drove on until finding the correct house. As I was walking up the very many narrow steps I thought this must have been the house Steve talked about with all the slippery icy steps where he had to go back down and up twice because he didn’t realize they got both a tray and sack for their meal. But the steps had been liberally salted and we had gotten some sunshine so thankfully the ice was gone. That guys television couldn’t not have gotten any louder. I could hear it from the bottom of the steps outside.</p> <p>The 2nd to last stop was an old apartment. Vern told me to take a deep breath of fresh air before going in. He wasn’t kidding. The smell was almost unbearable and the place was quite a mess. I managed to choke out “meals on wheels!” as I came in. I asked the woman where she wanted her lunch and she said put it right on the table here. Every surface of the table was piled with 2-3 inches of paper. Lacking any visible space, I took the meal out of the warmer and laid it down on a pile of envelopes and put the sack down next to it. “Thank you very much!” the woman said quite politely. I was happy to breath fresh air when I got back to the vehicle.</p> <p>The last stop was Lewis & Clark apartments, Steve’s blog will tell you this place has an unpleasant odor about it and it does, but it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the previous stop. These apartments smell like a century of cigarette smoke had been absorbed into every surface. I started coughing as soon as we walked in. Vern wanted to deliver the last two meals also so we both went up the stairs. There were two stops in this building so we delivered the first one and made our way to the last customer. A very sweet woman ushered us in and invited us to help ourselves to a piece of candy. We set her meal down and I grabbed a Snickers bar. She commented on how young I was. Wow! candy and a compliment, what a day! Vern asked her if she had gotten her hug today. She answered, “No!” so Vern gave her a hug and I said, “we’ve got a two-for-one special today.” And I had to hug her as well.</p> <p>We walked down the steps and stopped at an old horse-drawn buggy that appeared to be in excellent shape. I enjoy looking at stuff like that. It was pretty cool. Vern said, “mission accomplished.” And we drove back and dropped off the now empty coolers and I said goodbye and made my way back to work.</p> <p>It was fun. A pleasant diversion to an otherwise fairly dull day.</p> randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-67674532859163891932010-01-23T22:31:00.001-06:002010-01-23T22:31:36.708-06:00Bible Study Class<p>I did say I was going to write about my bible study class. Since it actually occurred over halloween weekend 3 months ago, I should probably get this done.</p> <p>In order to maintain my lay speaking certification, I need to take an approved lay speaking class at least once every three years. 2009 was my last year to take a class or I would lose my certification. I have put a lot of time and effort into getting my certification and  it’s important to me to keep it current.</p> <p>I also really enjoy the classes. I’ve taken four classes now and each one has been better than the last. This year I signed up for “Lay Speakers Lead Bible Study”. The textbook used was called, <a href="http://www.abingdonpress.com/forms/ProductDetail.aspx?pid=598" target="_blank">“Introducing the Bible,”</a> by <a href="http://www.abingdonpress.com/forms/authors.aspx?contributorid=11506" target="_blank">William Barclay</a>, and revised by John W. Rogerson. It was very good, it answered questions I’ve had about the bible for many years. I still have a lot of questions, but it was nice to get a few answers.</p> <p>The classes generally start on a Friday evening, break around 9:00-9:30 for the night and resume Saturday morning ending about 4PM. As this class was in Jamestown, ND, it involved an overnight stay.</p> <p>Total class time was 10-12 hours and covered the entire bible, both Old and New Testaments. By the time I was done, my head felt like a sponge that had soaked up as much as it possibly could. The bible is an awfully big book to cover in that space of time.</p> <p>One of the first items of interest to me was learning the huge time period during which the biblical events occurred. There are roughly 2,000 years of information recorded in the events between Abraham and the birth of Christ. It was interesting to note that almost the same amount of time has occurred from Jesus’ birth until now. It’s kind of overwhelming to think about how much the world has changed since Abraham made his covenant with God.</p> <p>By the end of the first evening we had barely scratched the surface of the Old Testament and I went back to the motel room with doubts we would get through the whole bible. But I have come to realize that sometimes it’s necessary to spend time laying the groundwork so that the rest of the class progresses more smoothly. We spent a lot time talking about different translations and establishing a timeline.</p> <p>The evening concluded, I went back to my motel room sleepy but excited about the learning that would take place the next day. I had my work laptop with me so I turned it on and tried to get some work done before going to bed. It had been a long day and I was struggling to keep my eyes open as I read through several email messages. The ringing of the phone jolted me back into wakefulness. It was my wife, home alone with the kids. Someone had just pounded on our front door and she didn’t know what to do. I groaned. Weird stuff never happens when I’m home. No, it has to wait until I’m gone.</p> <p>Dee was understandably a little freaked out. We tried to figure out who it might have been. She said she was carrying around our son’s tennis racket in case she needed a weapon. I told her she’d do better to go get one of my golf clubs. A 5-iron smashed against an intruder’s head may slow them down a bit. My wife thinks a little differently. She doesn’t want a golf club because that would hurt her too much if the intruder would happen to grab it away and use it against her.</p> <p>I felt rather hopeless 100 miles away. Even if I were to go home I certainly wouldn’t get there in time to prevent anything that might happen. I was struck with a sudden inspiration, “they knocked right, they didn’t use the doorbell?” Dee said yes. I told her the Schwan’s man was supposed to come that night. “This late?” she said in disbelief. “Yes,” I said. We live in a rural area and our Schwan’s service had been sporadic. They had been going through several driver changes. “Sometimes they do come that late.” It was around 10:00. “Did they leave a sticker on the door?'”</p> <p>Dee rushed to our door to look, she couldn’t see anything, but noticed something wedged in the outside door handle. It turned out to be the latest Schwan’s catalog. So that was that mystery solved. We talked a bit and said good night. My productivity was dissipating rapidly so I shut the computer down and went to bed.</p> <p>The next day was filled with yet more bible study. One thing that stands out from that session is the importance of trying to put yourself, as much as possible, in the time period during which the particular scripture passage was written. You have to be somewhat careful reading scripture that was written when mankind’s understanding of the world and the culture of that particular time and place were drastically different than they are today. Too often the meaning of a passage is misinterpreted or not fully understood because we try to place it into today’s context. Scripture is best understood, and really all writing for that matter, when you put yourself into the shoes of the writer.</p> <p>During the break I wandered around the building. I’m fascinated with the architecture of old church buildings, you often find several narrow hallways that lead to various, almost hidden, areas. This church was no different, there were all kinds of places to explore. At one point I came out into the foyer and was looking at some of the items they had out on display. I was drawn to a stand of coffee that was being sold as a fund raiser.</p> <p>People that know me understand my addiction to coffee is almost legendary. I get teased at work that my 16 oz. thermal mug is just an extension of my hand, that is when I’m not leaving it in some obscure place as I meander around solving various co-worker’s computer problems.</p> <p>I saw one bag that was labeled, “Love Buzz.” Now that was a title I just couldn’t pass up. Listen to this description, “Sweet, sultry and smooth with an unexpected bite from small farmer co-ops in Latin America.” Equal exchange, fairly traded, and organic. How could you not buy something like that? It was on the honor system, so I dutifully deposited the money in the bag and helped myself to a bag of “love buzz.” It is quite tasty too, as far as coffee goes, really flavorful and full-bodied. I really detest watery coffee. My coffee needs to taste like coffee.</p> <p>Lunch was provided by the host church as well as snacks on both days. United Methodists, as a general rule, know their way around a kitchen. There was never a food shortage. There were meats and cheeses, chips and salsa, and an extremely delicious knoephla soup and choice of ham or turkey sandwiches for lunch.</p> <p>The classes concluded with the passing out of certificates and a worship service. It was definitely a learning experience.</p> randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-61033576156596247212010-01-15T07:39:00.005-06:002010-01-15T07:44:42.724-06:00The Gift Of Life<p><span style="font-family:arial;">One of the most meaningful gifts I received at Christmas was not even a gift that was presented to me. My two children, as well as my niece and nephews received a gift from their grandpa which I hope they, as well as their children and grandchildren will cherish long after my dad and I have passed away. </span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHbYNR-b_jTxtr_rcFtcXD_s5_M7kRYmvVMCeYmcRvpc5pCNosRJ1sG0PYHvdE0WrXH3k3PYWjaWQDoe8_zQu8KCJnWKK67YRk8Y9e2AuIKA2FIUgRyn1jEHZgkrxQPxMatVbm06M5wDk/s1600-h/webcam+photos+002.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426960931651322274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHbYNR-b_jTxtr_rcFtcXD_s5_M7kRYmvVMCeYmcRvpc5pCNosRJ1sG0PYHvdE0WrXH3k3PYWjaWQDoe8_zQu8KCJnWKK67YRk8Y9e2AuIKA2FIUgRyn1jEHZgkrxQPxMatVbm06M5wDk/s320/webcam+photos+002.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">My dad, in his infinite wisdom, recorded a CD for each of his grandkids. On the CD are 17 bible verses which he reads, along with a devotion about each verse, followed by dad singing a song tying the devotion and scripture together. The title of the disc is, “God’s Word Through Music.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I can’t tell you how touched I was that dad would do this. I truly hope my children understand and appreciate the timeless value the CD holds if not now, maybe when they are adults. I know I do. I appreciate the time and effort dad put it into as well as his love for his family that led him to make the recording. I must also thank his friends in Arizona who helped him with the recording.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">To say thank you seems to fall far short in expressing the depth of my appreciation. But I say it anyway. Thanks dad, this CD means more than could ever know.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">I’d like to share with you the words he inserted into the cover. Hopefully dad won’t mind. Click on the image below to view the words on your screen.</span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgzmCcI8gnIe770vO7XVujbKhbr_MDzWmiRmlNLUNid04VbNVWqhSWpjt-D_p9U4hrwtCJJJI-83QqK4cRgnuS5IWko4Fm_pSkgam0rwbr19aafR4UQi7NgTl8KkZj_lV9o39Illfs98/s1600-h/FaithJourney.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 146px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426961234676779042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgzmCcI8gnIe770vO7XVujbKhbr_MDzWmiRmlNLUNid04VbNVWqhSWpjt-D_p9U4hrwtCJJJI-83QqK4cRgnuS5IWko4Fm_pSkgam0rwbr19aafR4UQi7NgTl8KkZj_lV9o39Illfs98/s320/FaithJourney.JPG" /></span></a>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-47324839251015962602009-12-02T23:27:00.003-06:002009-12-15T15:46:57.402-06:00Ode To a Root CanalAs I type this, I’m just now beginning to get feeling back in the lower-right section of my face. I just got back from a root canal. For some time now, I’ve been having a good deal of pain with one of my teeth. I was prolonging going to the dentist as much as possible because I’m a cheapskate and every once in a while my teeth problems take care of themselves. <p>But Christmas is approaching and a significant part of my holiday celebrating involves feasting on delicious food. Especially certain items we only have this time of year. I really don’t know why that is. If we like certain foods why do we have to wait until Christmas to enjoy them?</p><p>But I digress, (I do that, don’t I?) The pain was approaching unbearable levels and actually drove me to tears last week before I finally went to the dentist. If I was ever going to enjoy eating and drinking again something had to be done.</p><p>So I went in to have things looked at. The pain had gotten so bad I could no longer isolate it to one individual tooth. The whole right side of my mouth was in agony. This meant the dental visit involved tapping, scraping, and rubbing with ice each individual tooth so they could determine which tooth was causing the problem.The verdict was a root canal and then an eventual crown to hold all the repair work together.</p><p>I would have been more scared if I hadn’t already had a root canal several years ago. It is a very involving procedure taking around 90 minutes on average, but not much worse than a good-sized filling. And to be able to enjoy food and hot or cold drinks again, was well worth 90 minutes of agony.</p><p>My appointment was set up for this week. I’ll try to spare most of the gore for those of you with squeamish stomachs, but if you’ve never had this done, it is really quite fascinating what this involves.</p><p>First, you get copious amounts of Novocain injected. For me this is always the worst part of any dental procedure. I donate plasma twice a week and think nothing of it, but those shots in my mouth send me through the ceiling. I really hate them.</p><p>That done, they proceed to clamp a very stretchy piece of rubber over the tooth so that only the part being worked on is exposed and the rest of the mouth is covered with a stretchy raincoat. It’s not painful when they put it on, but it feels extremely weird and unpleasant.</p><p>The Novocain finishes it’s magic leaving the injected area numb and swollen. Then the fun begins. The dentist now needs to drill out the canal area and all the nerve tissue. The only difference between this and a regular filling is the drilling does go pretty deep. Novocain only does so much so as they clean out more of the interior of the tooth, they need to reapply the medicine so the process continues to be pain free. </p><p>I have to say my dentist really is a master at this. He knew exactly when to halt the proceedings and get me some more medication. I won’t go so far as to say it was a pleasant experience but he was really good at trying to make it as painless as possible.</p><p>When the excavation is complete, they proceed to fill in the cavity with an inert material. (i.e. stuff which allows me to chew without pain) Then, they took an X-ray to check the filling was complete.</p><p>They’ve got these digital pictures now so you can see the X-Ray on the screen right after they push the button. It was cool. There were three canals since it was a back tooth. It looked like the three claws on one of those crane games you see in arcades that never ever give me any stuffed animals.</p><p>And that is basically it. Eventually, I’ll need a crown but that needs to wait until next year as I’ve maxed out my coverage. I’ve got a temporary filling covering it up and that is supposed to get me through the next couple months until I can go in for the crown.</p><p>The other uncomfortable part for me is the amount of saliva I tend to generate. I seemed to have inherited an everlasting fountain in my mouth. The dentist and hygienist assured me this is a good thing and generally means fewer problems with dry mouth as I get older but it makes me feel like a slob as spit is running down both sides of my mouth.</p><p>But oh the joy when the Novocain started to wear off and my mouth felt normal again. To eat without pain is a marvelous thing. I went home that night and grilled some good sized brats. Yes, I was grilling brats in this weather. We also had some cheesy company potatoes leftover from a previous meal so I had a healthy scoop of those as well. It was amazing to be able to bite and chew again without agony.</p><p>Bring on the Christmas goodies!</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-11814606657758584912009-11-19T09:36:00.004-06:002009-12-03T07:48:30.049-06:00How To Assemble a Treadmill in 75 easy stepsSomehow I've gotten behind in the blog posting again. Still, I like the excuse of not having enough time better than not having anything to say. There's a few blogs I want to write, the problem is finding time to do them.<p>If you read my last post, I left off with the treadmill and assorted parts downstairs but nothing yet assembled. It wasn't going to be of much use to anyone until I got the thing put together. I picked up the user's manual.</p><p>My first indication of trouble was when I saw it was 35 pages divided into chapters, complete with a table of contents. But instructions are what I live for, which you would know <a href="http://morewordstoponder.blogspot.com/2009/02/show-your-colors.html" target="_blank">if you've ever read my "Show Your Colors" entry</a>.</p><p>I must admit I did have a little trepidation when I started to read. I am a firm believer in at least skimming over the whole manual (as directed) before attempting to complete any of the steps. Too many times I've gotten to a critical juncture in a process with nasty consequences because I failed to read all the instructions first. </p><p>My first sign of trouble was when I read step 21 on page 4 in the "Important Precautions" section. This step reads as follows;<br />"Do not attempt to raise, lower, or move the treadmill until it is properly assembled.”</p><p>Oops. If you have been reading my last few posts, you will know this treadmill has most definitely been raised, lowered, and moved extensively getting it downstairs and it most definitely HAS NOT yet been assembled properly or otherwise.</p><p>Excuse me, but what a dumb thing to put in step 21 on page 4! I do try to read manuals before assembly, but I don't always read manuals before transporting the goods to their destination. If they were really serious about people following this instruction they should have posted it in big bold letters on some fluorescent colored paper so you'd notice it right away when opening the box. You don’t put things like that on page 4, step 21.</p><p>I consoled myself with the fact that there didn't appear to be any damage to the treadmill and even if there had been it was way too late to do anything about it. Besides, the thing would have been that much heavier with all the attachments and would have been an extremely tight squeeze getting down our narrow stairway and even narrower hallway.</p><p>Before getting to step 21, I had already read step 12 which said, "Use only a single-outlet surge suppressor that meets all of the specifications described on page 12". I realized no one would be using the treadmill until I could get to Lowe's. We were fresh out of single-outlet surge suppressors meeting the specifications on page 12, and I wasn't going to power the thing up without proper surge suppression.</p><p>On to Page 5 - Before You Begin, "For your benefit, read this manual carefully before using the treadmill." Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, next page.</p><p>"Assembly requires two persons." </p><p>"Brian, get down here!" I yelled. My son loves putting things together more than I do. If you know me at all that is really saying something.</p><p>"Assembly requires the included hex key and your own Phillips screwdriver, adjustable wrench, rubber mallet (yeah! this was gonna be fun), and scissors."</p><p>The Meissner men ventured into the garage to pick-up the required tools. Thus supplied, we moved back downstairs. I turned to Page 7.</p><p>Step 1. "Make sure that the power cord is unplugged." DUH! I couldn't plug it in (or wouldn't) until I had the single-outlet surge suppressor meeting the specifications on page 12. I read on, "With the help of a 2nd person, carefully tip the treadmill onto its left side. Partially fold the Frame (56) so that the treadmill is more stable;" </p><p>"Ok, Brian, lift." We got it on its side and I folded the aforementioned frame.</p><p>I'm still on step 1 by the way. "Remove and discard the two indicated bolts (A) and the shipping bracket (B)." The user's manual included pictures with all the parts they were referring to labeled with letters or numbers. I set Brian to work removing bolts. He immediately started to tighten the bolts rather than remove them.</p><p>So we had a quick class in the "righty-tighty, lefty-loosey" method. Meaning to tighten things you turn "Right" or clockwise, and to loosen you turn "Left," or counter-clockwise. My son is sharp, he picked up on this right away and started attacking those bolts with reckless abandon. </p><p>He sounded so cute when he shouted, "lefty-loosey!" The bolts were pretty secure, especially after he tightened them to begin with, so he also managed some pretty impressive grunts and tongue-biting while he struggled.</p><p>While Brian was working on the bolts, I read ahead, still on step 1, “Cut the shipping tie securing the Upright Wire (38) to the Base (83). Locate a tie in the indicated hole in the Base, and use the tie to pull the Upright Wire out of the hole.”</p><p>There was an electrical wire hidden inside a metal rail, supposedly to protect it during shipping, which now had to come out so you could use it. There was plastic tie that allowed you to pull the wire out of a very small hole.</p><p>Brian got the shipping bracket removed so I was able to pull out the wire. I’m still on step 1 if you’ve forgotten.</p><p>“Attach a Base Pad (81) to the Base (83) in the location shown with a #8 X 1” Tek Screw (2) and a Base Pad Spacer (13). Then attach another Base Pad (81) with only a #8 x 1” Tek Screw (2).” So evidently only one side got the Base Pad Spacer. I love instructions but this was getting a little carried away. Nevertheless, I attached the indicated base pads.</p><p>Step 2, Yeah! only 70-odd steps more to go. “Remove the 3/8” Nut (8), the 3/8” X 2” Bolt (4), and the shipping bracket (C) from the Base (83). Attach a Wheel (84) with the Bolt and the Nut that you just removed. <strong>Do not overtighten the Nut; the Wheel must turn freely.</strong> Discard the shipping bracket.”</p><p>Brian had more experience removing shipping brackets so I put him on the job. “LEFTY-LOOSEY!” he yelled. That’s my boy! I had to wipe away a brief tear I was that proud of him.</p><p>His experience showed, he got the bracket off in no time. I attached the wheel and we had great fun making sure it was in fact spinning freely. It’s the little things in life that make it worth living.</p><p>Step 3, (I bet you’re wondering if this will ever get put together) “Identify the Right Upright (78) and the Right Upright Spacer (79), which are marked with stickers. Insert the Upright Wire (38) through the Right Upright Spacer as shown. Set the Right Upright Spacer on the Base (83). <strong>Be careful not to pinch the Upright Wire.”</strong></p><p>So I located said spacer and fed this wire through another tiny hole, of course being careful not to pinch the wire.</p><p>“Have a second person hold the Right Upright (78) near the Base (83). <strong>See the inset drawing.</strong> Tie the wire tie in the Right Upright securely around the end of the Upright Wire (38). Then, pull the other end of the wire tie until the Upright Wire is routed completely through the Right Upright.”</p><p>It was a good thing Brian was helping me. It would have taken a lot longer and I would have gotten a lot madder if I would have done this myself. As much as Brian cannot sit still, ironically, he can be a statue when he needs to hold something. He held the upright rock steady while I fished the wire through another tiny hole, attached this fishing line to it and pulled it up through the upright so I assumed it could then be attached to the control panel at the top of the machine.</p><p>All right, I’ll spare you just a few of the grisly details. Steps 4 and 6 were more of the same. We got the electrical wire fished up through the right upright, attached both uprights, and got the treadmill starting to look like it was supposed to.</p><p>We finally got to use the rubber mallet. We were both excited about that. There were these plastic caps that fit over the sharp heavy metal ends of the base. Evidently to protect your feet and any other body parts that may come into unfortunate contact with them. We each took turns whacking the plastic caps into place.</p><p>Now we had to attach the wire to the handrail assembly. Brian again proved his usefulness. I was amazed again at how I can’t get this kid to sit still in church for 5 seconds but he can stand holding these handrails without moving a muscle.</p><p>Step 7. “<strong>See the inset drawing. The connectors should slide together easily and snap into place.</strong> If they do not, turn one connector and try again. <strong>IF THE CONNECTORS ARE NOT CONNECTED PROPERLY, THE CONSOLE MAY BE DAMAGED WHEN THE POWER IS TURNED ON.</strong>”</p><p>That kind of freaked me out. The last thing I wanted was for the thing to be fried as soon as I plugged it in. So I gingerly tried sliding the connectors together. I was dismayed to find out neither way resulted in them sliding together easily. The lighting isn’t very good down in the basement so I was squinting trying to see which way the ends went together.</p><p>Finally I decided one way met with less resistance than the other and slid them more forcefully together. There was no reassuring snap into place. I really had to pinch the ends together until I finally heard the satisfying “snap”.</p><p>The wire, now connected, could then be placed back into the upright so the handrail assembly could be attached. Brian, the little trooper, hadn’t moved an inch so he was very happy to be able to put the handrails on to the uprights so he could finally relax.</p><p>After attaching the handrails, we then had to hook up the console assembly that is attached to the top of the handrail assembly. Step 9 was basically a repeat of step 7 with the baloney about the connectors sliding together easily and clicking into place. </p><p>This time there were two connectors, but I was able to see a bit better in this area so I could tell how they went together. I didn’t get the satisfying click from either of these wires, but I gently pushed and pulled on them and they did seem to be locked together, so I called it good.</p><p>Step 10 turned out to be the shortest instruction, but the biggest source of grief. “Insert the wires from the console assembly into the handrail assembly. Attach the console assembly to the handrail assembly with four 1/4” X 3/4” Bolts (5). <strong>Be careful not to pinch the wires.”</strong></p><p>Sounded simple enough, especially after what we had now gone through. I could see where the console was supposed to go and how it fit onto the handrails. The problem was where to stick the two wires. There was all this excess wire and no cavity or holes to stick them into. I couldn’t help but pinch the wires if I couldn’t find out where to put them.</p><p>The next several minutes were nothing short of torture. I messed with those wires and repeatedly tried to place the console in such a way as nothing was pinched. I could get one wire squeezed into place and then the other wire would pop out. We almost needed three people to take care of this problem. One to hold the console, and one person on each of the wires.</p><p>Finally, with luck more than anything else, I got both sets of wires squeezed into the handrails and the console dropped easily into place. I briefly thought about lifting the console just to make sure no wires were being pinched, but I knew if I did that, those wires would pop out and I’d have to go through the whole process again.</p><p>“Get the screwdriver, Brian.” Pinched wires or not, that console was getting secured.</p><p>Well, I’d had enough by that time and it was past Brian’s bedtime. Should I stop here and do a part 2 later?</p><p>All right, I’ll keep going. </p><p>In spite of there being 75 steps, we are almost done with the assembly. The next morning, Brian was in the shower so I enlisted the help of the gorgeous woman I married. Would you believe we are now on step 12? “Raise the Frame (56) to the position shown. <strong>Have a second person hold the Frame until the step is completed.”</strong></p><p>“Ok honey, I need you to hold this.” Dee complies, and the frame is now upright in the storage/transport position. </p><p>“Orient the Storage Latch (53) so that the large barrel and the Latch Knob (54) are in the positions shown. Attach the Latch Bracket (14) and the Storage Latch (53) to the Base (83) with two 3/8” X 2” Bolts (4) and two 3/8” Nuts (8).</p><p>Attach the upper end of the Storage Latch (53) to the bracket on the Frame (56) with a 3/8” X 2” Bolt (4) and 3/8” Nut (8). Note: It may be necessary to move the Frame back and forth to align the Storage Latch with the bracket.”</p><p>So I located said Storage Latch (53) and began to fiddle with it making sure the right end was up and the holes properly aligned. Dee gave a humongous sigh. She was obviously getting tired of standing there and my facial expressions and obscure mutterings were doing nothing to instill her confidence in my abilities.</p><p>Our mornings are chaotic at best making sure all four of us are showered, dressed and made to look presentable to the world at large. Dee really needed to get back to making our middle-school daughter look beautiful and her patience was wearing thin.</p><p>After convincing myself I knew what I was doing, I attacked the storage latch with the hex key and bolts. There were three bolts, one at the top and two on the bottom. There was also a 4th bolt on the bottom which did not get tightened as that was for holding the latch in place as you raised and lowered the frame.</p><p>There was of course, no way for Dee to know this, so she immediately assumes I haven’t got a clue and exclaims, “You forgot one of the bolts!”</p><p>“Which bolt would that be exactly?” I asked. She points with her toe since her hands were busy holding up the frame.</p><p>I shouldn’t, but I immediately get defensive at any indication I don’t know exactly what I’m doing. So I was a little miffed as I tried to point out in the instructions that particular bolt was not to be tightened. She looked at me dubiously as if she didn’t believe me which turned up my thermostat a little bit more. She wisely offered no more comment.</p><p>“That’s all I needed, thank you very much honey!” Dee looked like she was afraid to let go so I took the frame and demonstrated how to raise and lower it and how the latch locked into place. She experimented with the latch herself and seemed satisfied, whew!</p><p>Would you believe we are done? There were an awful lot more instructions, but they were mostly how to operate the treadmill and control panel, various exercise programs and so on.</p><p>I made sure the whole family knew it was done but not to plug it in or turn it on until I was able to get the single-outlet surge suppressor meeting all the specifications on page 12.</p><p>I got the surge suppressor and we finally were able to power the system up. This was a big deal, we actually had a little father-son ceremony celebrating our achievement. The family agreed that Brian would be the first person to use it as he was such valuable help.</p><p>I’m pleased to say everything worked great and we are now on fitness programs. I’m sorry to say that the kids are the only ones who have used it thus far. But we’ve got really good intentions.</p>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-81814592448906201362009-11-04T05:37:00.013-06:002009-11-09T15:41:26.299-06:00Peace At Last<span style="font-family:arial;">I never got another treater. The good Lord had mercy on me and it was well with my soul.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It took awhile for me to calm down. I jumped out of my skin every time the furnace kicked in. I kept expecting that doorbell to ring at any moment, and I would have to give away one of Dee's Reese's cups. The memory continues to haunt me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But things really became peaceful after I got the last of the smaller parts downstairs. I was able to get the bigger box down after I tilted the treadmill on it's side. So all that was left was the treadmill itself. Getting that downstairs was going to take two people.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So I settled down in the easy chair with my laptop and got caught up on some work. I still had to fill out my Lay Speaking Certification renewal form. I was waiting to make sure I successfully completed my class that weekend. I did, so I was able to start working on that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I heard the garage door open and people disembarking from our van. I jumped up and realized the bag of Reese's was still on the steps by the door. I forgot to put away the evidence. Even though I hadn't given away a single one. Just the appearance of the bag outside it's concealed area might be enough to send Dee over the edge.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Dad!" Brianna came in to give me a hug.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"How was the party?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"It was so much fun, you should seen mom on the Wii."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Mom played the Wii?" I asked incredulously. My wife gets motion sickness badly, and the huge moving screens you get when you're racing Mario go-karts, or just looking around a 3-D world can give her an instant headache. So she's somewhat limited in the games she can enjoy. Besides that, video games just aren't her thing. My <a href="http://morewordstoponder.blogspot.com/2009/01/tribute-to-video-games-part-1-telstar.html">several chapter blog on video games</a>, in her opinion, was one the most boring blogs I've written.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Brianna continued, "yeah, she had to slice this fruit in the air like a Samurai warrior, it was great."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">That caused me to chuckle, I pictured Dee flailing the control stick like a sword going through the air. "No one was hurt were they?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"No, but you had to stand back a bit."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"I bet."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Dee walked in. She saw me standing in the hallway. "Hi," she said before her eyes fell to what I was holding in my hand.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Yes, unfortunately I was literally caught holding the bag. I witnessed a transformation right before my eyes. My sweet, loving wife's eyes suddenly began getting very big. I stared into them and thought I could see the laser beams charging up. "You didn't!" She sneered.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I immediately flew into panic mode, "No honey, honest, I didn't give away one." She had just been through sword training, anything was bound to happen. "I thought I was going to run out of Snickers."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"THEN YOU SHUT THE LIGHTS OFF AND LOCK THE DOOR!" Things were getting desperate.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"You can't do that!" I pleaded. I hurried to embrace her. If she was locked in a hug it might be more difficult to wield any weapons. At least the large flailing variety. "I promise no one got your Reeses." I wanted to reassure her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Put them back in the pantry." She said back to her calm, sweet, voice. Whew!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The sacred Reese's were put away and we visited about each others night. The party sounded like fun. The Wii went over pretty good and the antics of our church youth group are always interesting to hear. I learned there were not two, but three flatbed trailers roaming our streets that night. I can only remember 2 mobs but parts of the evening are rather fuzzy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">She described one she saw that contained a Native American chief, decked out with head dress and feathers. She said everyone else on the trailer was sitting but this kid was standing up towards the front with both hands holding on to a front side rail behind the driver. Dee described how his feathers were flowing behind him as they traveled. He looked like Chief Crazy Horse coming to lead his warriors in a charge.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I told them if they wanted to hear about my night they would have to read this blog.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Well, that treadmill still had to get downstairs. We went out to the garage to see what could be done. Very few things I've lifted are as heavy, or as awkward as treadmills. This one was even worse because it had some hinges on either side so you could tilt the running deck upward for storage and "easy" relocation.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So you basically had to carry this thing on it's side to try to keep the front heavy part from swaying back and forth. We hoisted it in the air and brought it up the few stairs into the house. Immediately I could feel the metal rails cutting into my hand. "I've got to get some gloves. Put it down." Please and thank you kind of fly out the window when you do something like this.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">My gloves, of course, were in the garage, which was now blocked by the treadmill. I rushed into our coat/laundry room and rummaged through hats and scarves. All I could find was my son's little pair. I squeezed my hands into them. Tight fit but it would have to do.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">We lifted again and brought it in. There was sharp 90 degree turn going downstairs so we had to go all the way into the family room, pivot, reverse and go down. Since I had the heavy side I was going down first. We had to stop in the middle of the stairs because my strength had given out. I'm not a Hulk Hogan if you catch my drift. The treadmill slid a little bit and Dee panicked because it felt to her like we were going to lose it. A heavy treadmill sliding downstairs under it's own volition is not a pretty picture.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"I got it," I breathed as I leaned against the thing, "just have to rest a bit."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This whole time my son, Brian, is following us. He likes to mutter under his breath, something we're trying to cure him of. "I knew this was going to happen." He whispered, but we heard him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Brian, what was going to happen?" Dee asked.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"You weren't going to get it downstairs."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Brian, what do you think we're doing?" I fired back. "We're going to be fine."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Yeah, after you go to the emergency room."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"We'll be fine." I repeated. "Ready?" I said to my lovely wife. She nodded.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Up again, we made it downstairs. Now we had 180 degree turn but it wasn't important that I was in front anymore so we could move all the way into the basement and then she would take the lead down the hallway into our storage, now turned exercise room.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">We made it with relatively few injuries. Dee didn't make it to WalMart by the way.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Another interesting evening in the Meissner house.</span>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722591592957517033.post-13267860469256665982009-11-01T08:11:00.006-06:002009-11-01T23:45:49.906-06:00Trick or Treat<span style="font-family:arial;">Ok, here's how it went down. I'm driving back from Jamestown. Dee and the kids are gussying up for the big party they would be going to that evening. The plan was for me to come home, do trick or treat duty, and figure out how we're going to get 2 tons of treadmill down in the basement. After the party, Dee was going to bring the kids home to bed, help me muscle the 'mill downstairs, and still make it to Walmart for some much needed necessities. Getting all this done was going to take a small miracle. One way or the other, that treadmill had to get downstairs before we went to bed, otherwise my car would have to sleep outside for the night. I've grown very accustomed to having my car in the garage on chilly, frosty Fall mornings.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So, to make the best use of my time, the plan was to open the box and get as many of the smaller pieces of the treadmill downstairs, so that by the time Dee got home, all we would need to do is team-lift the monster into the bowels of our home. Granted, that was going to take some time, but having all the unpacking nonsense done would hopefully speed up the process.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">These companies must hire teams of mutant elf engineers to pack everything. It continues to amaze me how tightly things can be squashed in a box. There was a very distinct dotted slicing line so I could take a utility knife and make the first incision. I did, only to uncover yet another smaller enclosed box with no guidelines whatsoever. This smaller box, was of course, taped and stapled and banded together so it was going to take some real guesswork to figure out what and where I should cut next.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This is a high-dollar piece of equipment. You may remember I DIDN'T pay the maintenance agreement. So I performed the "laying on of hands" and asked God to please allow me to cut in the correct places. I started with the corners and carefully folded down the remnants of cardboard.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Now the cardboard is all laid flat on my garage and I'm now looking at the machine itself, all packaged and banded together in the same original shape as the outside box. Just a few cubic centimeters smaller. So it will still take some major disassembly to get anything resembling small pieces out of it. DING DONG! my first guests have arrived.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">TRICK OR TREAT! A pretty harmless couple of kids, they needed to work on their delivery a bit. They had somewhat staggered entrances. I dispatched a couple snickers and they were off. I looked around, no one was coming, so I shut the door and went back to the garage.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">At least now I could see what I was cutting so I expertly slit the poly wrap and got my first treasures. The user manual packet and the blister package of all the screws, nuts, and bolts. DING DONG! GRRRRRR!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So I carried those items in, laid them on the floor, and raced to the door, sliding in my socks. I hear some boys outside whispering at the top of their lungs. "SSSHHH WAIT, HE'S COMING, HE'S COMING!"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I opened the door, TRICK OR TREAT! eeehhh, about the same as the last group. 2 more snickers later and the first mob arrived.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">We have some neighbors, I dare say, that go overboard on this holiday. They take four-wheelers, hitch up flat-bed trailers, and then proceed to pile on so many kids it's a danger to public safety. They then take these contraptions and start ripping around our development. We live in a cul-de-sac so the first one came tearing up the road, screeched around the curve, and slid to a stop.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I closed the door. I'm not going to spoil the fun by having it open and waiting for them as they come up. I could hear them first by the pounding of their little feet on my sidewalk. DING DONG DING DONG DING DING DING DING DING DONG! Evidently more dings give you better service.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">TRICK OR TREEEEEEEEEAT!!!!! hit me like blast from a freight train. Wow, that was impressive and I told them so. Yeah's and hi-fives all around. I unloaded more snickers and as a single unit they flew from the steps. It was then I noticed our steps really trip people up. We have concrete stairs, with a row of decorative brick on the front of each step. Add to that platform shoes and all the other manner of footwear kids have to wear with their costumes these days. The footwear and rough corners of those bricks was a proving a considerable stumbling block. Here's a hint from my childhood. We dressed however we wanted, but the shoes were always tennie-runners. That's what they were for. Efficiency+Speed=Much more candy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">After the mob left, I finally noticed an extremely small, cute little fairy princess slowly making her way up my stairs. She was so small each step was like scaling a mini-Mt. Everest. I was about to comment how cute she was when I noticed tears streaming down her face. She was inhaling and exhaling, trying to use all the courage she could muster to get out a tiny little '*sniff*trick, *sniff*, or treat."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I was concerned, "What's wrong?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">*sniff* "I fell off the trailer!" *whimper, sniff*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Oh no! are you ok?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">She inhales deeply as if to somehow make herself taller, silence, just a tough couple head nods.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Does anything hurt anywhere?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Finally she exhales as the gasps out, "my knee."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"You're sure you're going to be all right?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">More tough head nods, "all right," I said, "be careful now" as I tossed in another snickers for good measure. I stood and watched her walk all the way across to the neighbor's yard to make sure she got to the next place all right.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I saw a couple of girls walking up, but I shut the door anyway. You have to earn your candy at my house. This time I hid around the corner. Silence, nothing for the longest time. So I peered around the corner and saw them still standing there.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">What? no doorbell? This can't be right. I'm not going to open my door to a couple complete strangers. I slowly walked up to the window and gave them my best cranky old man glare. They glared at me right back. I opened the door just a crack, TRICK OR TREAT! blew in like a jet engine blast. I grudgingly opened the door and handed out the goods, asking, "you weren't going ring the bell?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The one furthest from the bell suddenly yells at her partner, "YOU DIDN'T RING THE BELL?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"NO!" she scoffs. They turned around and started to bicker with each other.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">I was sorry. I didn't mean to start a squabble, "be careful on the stairs!" I thought those things were a lawsuit waiting to happen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This time I got the manual, hardware package, wheels, and some side rails downstairs before the next summons.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">A very musical "trick or treat" followed. A trio of young ladies. You could tell these girls had been practicing. "Nicely done," I said, "watch the stairs."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">They were all smiles as they left. One said to the others, "I told you we sound good."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">I went out to the garage. Everything was off the top of the big heavy piece but I hadn't seen the front control panel yet so that had to be underneath. I lifted the thing up on its side. There it was. How am I supposed to slide or carry that thing out one handed while I'm holding up the other very heavy part. DING DONG! "Dear Jesus, give me strength!"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Ugh, I lay the whole thing back down and went back inside to distribute more candy. It was another mob. I had to stare. They looked like the same group of kids only all with different costumes. I looked at the four-wheeler and trailer. This one was decked all out in Christmas lights. Ah well, even if it is the same group of kids, I'll give them some more sweets if they were going through the trouble of changing costumes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The one that really impressed me was a huge spongebob squarepants. I'm not kidding, this thing was almost as tall as me and much wider, (yes, I said wider, don't you believe me?) I was looking for the peep holes. I hoped there was a small child in there somewhere. I couldn't find any. The only thing I could think of is either a see-through fabric, or he was somewhere deep inside the gaping black mouth looking out at me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I don't know about you, but that big yellow sponge coming up the stairs terrified me much more than any of the assorted vampires, ninjas, or serial killers I had already seen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">A little girl shouted, "DOES BRIAN LIVE HERE?" in a sing-song girlie voice.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">My son, the 5th grader, is quite a little Casanova. He's got this cute little face and quiet boyish charm that has all the girls googly-eyed. He must get his looks from his mom.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"YES HE DOES," I sang in my best little girlie voice.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Tell him, Chantel says bye!"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Ok, I repeated it just to make sure I understood the message, "Tell him, Chantel says bye?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"YES!"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I said, "ok", in my normal guy voice.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"AND TELL HIM, Chelsea says hi AND bye!" another one pipes up.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Hi AND bye?" I ask, still in normal voice.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Yes."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"ok."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I'm chuckling as my eyes drop to the candy bowl. The chuckle suddenly dies in my throat as I realize with utter horror, that I have only 6 snickers left. It's not even 7:30. What am I going to do? Running out of candy is a huge, huge, no-no. I rush to the pantry.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">My goodness we have a lot of pasta, I wonder how the tykes feel about dry macaroni? Probably not so good. Tortilla chips? no. Diet, kiwi-strawberry, sparkling green tea? no, that's mine. No candy anywhere?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Well, there is the sacred horde of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in the way top shelf in the way back corner. But that, dear readers, belongs to my wife. Touching those peanut butter cups could sentence you to a fate worse than death.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I wasn't ready to go there. Not just yet, anyway. I raced back downstairs to the secret horde where I got the original halloween candy. We have to have secret hordes because we have children with sticky fingers, if you catch my meaning. I knew this was an exercise in futility because I had already gotten all the candy that was there. But I thought maybe I missed a bag lying somewhere in the folds of other plastic shopping bags. I tore through them in slight desperation now. Lady deodorant, mascara, 2 Colgate Motion toothbrushes, and a big fat zero on the candy scale.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I hung my head in sorrow and slowly made my way upstairs, into the pantry, and with trembling hands grabbed the bag of sacred Reese's.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I was utterly woebegone. Only six snickers lay between life and death. Or, as I said, something worse. DING DONG!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It was the neighbor boy and his sister. "Trick or treat". T-4 snickers now.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" the little guy shouts.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"WHO AM I?" I shouted right back.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Um, Um, Um, I'VE BEEN TO YOUR HOUSE!" He replies.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"I know that, but who am I?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"Um, Um, Um, I forgot." He finally acknowledges.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"That's ok," I let him off the hook.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I closed the door, sat down on the steps going upstairs, hung my head, and began to weep.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This was my prayer, "Dear Lord, let these 4 snickers be enough."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">DING DONG! 2 more snickers down the tubes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I sat back down and started sobbing. DING DONG! I had to dry my eyes before getting up. There's a very small chance they were tears of laughter, but I think I had just arrived at a point somewhere between despair and hysteria.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">2 more boys. As my last snicker was swiped from the bowl. The young man shouted. "We wiped him out! I've never done that before."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">They jump down all the steps at once. "Hey dad, we wiped out his candy bowl!" I'm so glad I could give this young man some satisfaction during this night to end all nights.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">"I've got more!" I shouted, but without any real conviction as I choked down a sob.</span>randymeisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14100394906350879643noreply@blogger.com1