funseekers

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“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.” - Groucho Marx

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On average, an American man will have sex two to three times a week; whereas a Japanese man will have sex only one or two times a year. ...This is upsetting news to me........... I had no idea I was Japanese.

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Never Choke in the South

Two hillbillies walk into a restaurant. While having a bite to eat, they talk about their moonshine operation. Suddenly, a woman at a nearby table, who is eating a sandwich, begins to cough. After a minute or so, it becomes apparent that she is in real distress. One of the hillbillies looks at her and says, 'Kin ya swallar?' The woman shakes her head no. Then he asks, 'Kin ya breathe?' The woman begins to turn blue and shakes her head no. The hillbilly walks over to the woman, lifts up her dress, yanks down her drawers and quickly gives her right butt cheek a lick with his tongue. The woman is so shocked that she has a violent spasm and the obstruction flies out of her mouth. As she begins to breathe again, the Hillbilly walks slowly back to his table. His partner says, 'Ya know, I'd heerd of that there 'Hind Lick Maneuver' but I ain't niver seed nobody do it!'

[funseekers]

The Importance of Walking and Exercise in general

Walking can add minutes ​(or if you play golf like I do, then hours and days) ​to your life. This enables you at 85 years old to spend an additional 5 months in a nursing home at $7000 per month. My grandpa started walking five miles a day when he was 60. Now he's 97 years old and we don't know where he is. I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me. The only reason I would take up walking is so that I could hear heavy breathing again. I have to walk early in the morning, before my brain figures out what I'm doing..   I joined a health club last year, spent about 400 bucks. Haven't lost a pound. Apparently you have to go there. Every time I hear the dirty word 'exercise', I wash my mouth out with chocolate. The advantage of exercising every day is so when you die, they'll say, 'Well, she looks good doesn't she.' If you are going to try cross-country skiing, start with a small country.   I know I got a lot of exercise the last few years,...... just getting over the hill. We all get heavier as we get older, because there's a lot more information in our heads. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.   AND I love this next one! Every time I start thinking too much about how I look, I just find a Happy Hour and by the time I leave, I look just fine.

[funseekers]

Mother’s Day Gifts

I heard a story about three sons who grew up to be very wealthy. The sons, as is often the case for brothers who had a kind of friendly rivalry, were like the Smothers Brothers, who were always debating who Mom loved the most. So one year as Mother’s Day approached, one of the brothers bought his mother a beautiful new house. He was convinced this would outdo anything his brothers could do. Well, Mom told her son she was so very grateful for the house, but that the house was too big for her, and she did not want to leave her neighborhood. So the second son decided to buy his mother a Lexus, loaded with every type of gadget. His Mom told her son that she loved the car and thought that color blue was wonderful, but she reminded her son that she had no license and had never driven a car. The second son was very disappointed. The youngest son, trying to learn from the mistakes of his brothers, thought long and hard about what he would buy his mother. He knew that she was a very religious woman who loved to read the Bible. But her eyes were beginning to weaken and so she couldn’t al-ways read the Word of God. So the son bought a parrot and spent more than $250,000.00 to have par-rot trained to memorize the Bible and speak it constantly. He had the parrot sent to his mother. On Mother’s Day, he called his mom, wished her a happy Mother’s Day, and asked how she liked the bird. “Oh son, what a great gift. That was one of the best gifts I ever got. I just cooked that chicken and we had a wonderful dinner!”

Mothers!!

[funseekers]

Belated Passover and Happy Easter

First of all to my Jewish friends, belated Blessed Passover.  Here is one for you:

May the herbs have not been too bitter, The wine not too sweet, The Bible reading fit in a Twitter, And the sandals not hurt your feet! As for you Christians, I will have to await tomorrow's services to see if Father has any little witticisms to share with you.  Til then, may each of you have a wonderful and blessed Easter! LIFE AFTER DEATH "DO YOU BELIEVE IN LIFE AFTER DEATH?" THE BOSS ASKED ONE OF HIS EMPLOYEES. "YES, SIR," THE NEW EMPLOYEE REPLIED. "WELL, THEN, THAT MAKES EVERYTHING JUST FINE," THE BOSS WENT ON. "AFTER YOU LEFT EARLY YESTERDAY TO GO TO YOUR GRANDMOTHER'S FUNERAL, SHE STOPPED IN TO SEE YOU!" PALM SUNDAY IT WAS PALM SUNDAY AND, BECAUSE OF A SORE THROAT, FIVE-YEAR-OLD JOHNNY STAYED HOME FROM CHURCH WITH A SITTER. WHEN THE FAMILY RETURNED HOME, THEY WERE CARRYING SEVERAL PALM BRANCHES. THE BOY ASKED WHAT THEY WERE FOR. "PEOPLE HELD THEM OVER JESUS' HEAD AS HE WALKED BY." "WOULDN'T YOU KNOW IT," THE BOY FUMED, "THE ONE SUNDAY I DON'T GO, HE SHOWS UP!" SUPPORT A FAMILY THE PROSPECTIVE FATHER-IN-LAW ASKED, "YOUNG MAN, CAN YOU SUPPORT A FAMILY?" THE SURPRISED GROOM-TO-BE REPLIED, "WELL, NO. I WAS JUST PLANNING TO SUPPORT YOUR DAUGHTER. THE REST OF YOU WILL HAVE TO FEND FOR YOURSELVES." FIRST TIME USHERS A LITTLE BOY IN CHURCH FOR THE FIRST TIME WATCHED AS THE USHERS PASSED AROUND THE OFFERING PLATES. WHEN THEY CAME NEAR HIS PEW, THE BOY SAID LOUDLY, "DON'T PAY FOR ME DADDY I'M UNDER FIVE." PRAYERSTHE SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER ASKED, "NOW, JOHNNY, TELL ME, DO YOU SAY PRAYERS BEFORE EATING?" "NO SIR," HE REPLIED, "WE DON'T HAVE TO, MY MOM IS A GOOD COOK!" CLIMB THE WALLS "OH, I SURE AM HAPPY TO SEE YOU," THE LITTLE BOY SAID TO HIS GRANDMOTHER ON HIS MOTHER'S SIDE. "NOW MAYBE DADDY WILL DO THE TRICK HE HAS BEEN PROMISING US." THE GRANDMOTHER WAS CURIOUS. "WHAT TRICK IS THAT?" SHE ASKED. "I HEARD HIM TELL MOMMY THAT HE WOULD CLIMB THE WALLS IF YOU CAME TO VISIT," THE LITTLE BOY ANSWERED. THE WATER PISTOL WHEN MY THREE-YEAR-OLD SON OPENED THE BIRTHDAY GIFT FROM HIS GRANDMOTHER, HE DISCOVERED A WATER PISTOL... HE SQUEALED WITH DELIGHT AND HEADED FOR THE NEAREST SINK. I WAS NOT SO PLEASED. I TURNED TO MOM AND SAID, "I'M SURPRISED AT YOU. DON'T YOU REMEMBER HOW WE USED TO DRIVE YOU CRAZY WITH WATER GUNS?" MOM SMILED AND THEN REPLIED..... "I REMEMBER!!" GRANDMA'S AGE LITTLE JOHNNY ASKED HIS GRANDMA HOW OLD SHE WAS. GRANDMA ANSWERED, "39 AND HOLDING." JOHNNY THOUGHT FOR A MOMENT, AND THEN SAID, "AND HOW OLD WOULD YOU BE IF YOU LET GO?"  

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The Sermon

Father Michael Fitzpatrick was an elderly priest. He had been the pastor of a small church in a farming community for many years. One day he was called to schedule a meeting with the Bishop, at the Cathedral which was located far from his small parish. Needing someone to cover in his absence, he contacted Father Sean Hanrahan, a teaching priest from the city in which the diocese was located. Having gone to the seminary together, Father Mike hoped the priest/professor would be willing to cover his small, impoverished parish for the weekend. Thinking this was a great opportunity to share his years of study with the poor, uneducated parishioners, Father Sean readily agreed. Immediately, he began putting together the perfect sermon, embodying his years of study, which he would give at the Sunday Mass. After weeks of preparation, the weekend finally arrived. Father Sean arrived at the small rectory with numerous books in hand – he hoped to polish his sermon one more time before giving it. Sunday morning arrived with a blustery wind blowing across the fields. Nervously waiting until the exact time of the scheduled Mass, he finally made his way to the altar. To his great dismay, there was but a single elderly farmer sitting in the church. At the appropriate moment, he climbed the podium to provide his sermon. Looking out upon the singular attendee, he asked, “Well, since you’re the only one here I’m not sure if you’d like me to give the sermon I have prepared. What do you think?” The farmer looked up and replied, “Well, I’ve been a farmer for many a year. And even if there’s but a single cow, he needs to be fed.” Inspired by the wisdom of the reply, Father Sean launched into his lengthy homily. He was confident that such an intelligent parishioner would surely benefit from his words. After the Mass, Father Sean stopped the poor old farmer as he was leaving the church. “How did you enjoy my sermon?” “Well, as I said earlier, even a single cow needs to be fed… However, I wouldn’t give him everything in the barn!”

[funseekers]

Quote from some Biblical scholar after 1492

"And God promised men that good and obedient wives would be found in all corners of the world.

Then He made the earth round...

and laughed... and laughed... and laughed!!"

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Second snowfaa of the year

Second snow of the year fell this morning. 

Not wanting to allow Wanda to beat me, I was outside before eight this morning. 

Continuing cold temps in the twenties ensured that the snow was powdery.  In fact, I could’ve just as easily used a broom to clear the driveway.  But this was the perfect opportunity to try out the electric snow blower that our kids had given us for Christmas.  No burgeoning heart attack for me, I’m a modern man.  Out to take advantage of the technology that my brains enable me to use, rather than the brawn that I’ve also been blessed with (though, some might say, to a lesser degree).

Not sure if I previously mentioned, but the kids also gave me an eighty foot extension cord to be used with the snow blower.  Guess they forgot that the driveway is only about forty feet long.

Any idea what eighty feet of heavy duty, exterior electrical cord looks like strewn around the floor of a garage?  I twice had to move my old snow shovels and other junk to keep the stupid cord from getting entrapped amongst them. 

Having connected the cord to the outlet and then the blower, I was ready at last to throw open the garage door and take the “behemoth” on its maiden voyage.

 The first thing I was greeted with was a gust of snow being driven by a twenty mph wind!! 

Inserting the starter key, I engaged the starter handle and the machine came to life.  I stepped into the freshly fallen snow and immediately became covered with blizzard-like driven snow. 

Dropping the handle to brush off my face and the front of my coat, the plow came to a stop (emergency feature to keep people like me from killing themselves – let go of the handle and the engine stops).

I realized that I had inadvertently left the directional funnel pointing straight ahead.  Aha, I merely needed to turn it to the right and all would be well.  The snow would then blow onto the grass next to the driveway.

Kicking the blower into gear it performed just as it was supposed to.  Of course, now the snow was blowing into the garage to my right.  Hmmm… where is that stupid operating manual?

Electing to not disrobe to enter the house in search of the instructions, I just picked up a shovel and cleared a three foot path parallel to the garage opening.  I then lined up the blower to toss the snow up the driveway as I worked my way across the driveway.  This might seem inefficient, but it was merely two inches of snow and I figured I would return to throwing it onto the grass when I got further from the garage.   

This worked for a single pass, but then the wind changed direction and I was once again getting covered in the stupid white stuff. 

Alright, not a problem.  Nice long sweeps up and down the driveway would be more efficient anyway.  As such, I pointed the blower up the drive, turned the nozzle to the right and began to clear the snow.  It worked like a charm. 

Once at the top, I turned to come back down the drive.  Surprisingly, I remembered to give the funnel a 180 degree turn and proceeded to push toward the garage.

Suddenly, the blower stopped functioning!  An interesting feature of this particular model is that if one disconnects the electricity, say by tugging on the cord hard enough that it disengages from the blower.  Hmm, and I thought I had plenty of cord. 

A quick review and I found that what had pulled the plug was the fact that the cord had gotten wrapped up in the snow blower’s blade!! 

It appeared that the stupid cord had gotten lost in the two or three inches of snow, and sure enough…

I headed back to the garage to disconnect the cord from the outlet and then spent the next ten minutes releasing the cord from the blower’s sweeper blade.  Fortunately, it had not cut through and a quick exam led me to believe I hadn’t uncovered any metallic wire, so I could resume using it. 

Knowing now that I had to ensure the cord was clear, I pulled it away from the snow that was awaiting plowing.  Did I mention I had eighty feet of cord?  I was tromping all over the lawn to find room to dump the excess!

Finally back at the blower, I resumed my second sweep of the driveway.  Again, all went well as the snow got tossed onto the lawn. 

Back at the garage, and about to make the return trip up the driveway, I immediately saw a budding disaster.  The stupid cord had followed me and was once again sitting partly covered in the snow that was to be plowed!! 

Another exercise in rearranging the never-ending cord.

Halfway through the next lap the blower stopped once again.  Fearing a repeat of my earlier near disaster, I checked the front I saw that the cord had not gotten caught in the blades.  Yet, it was no longer connected to the blower.

Following the snake of cord, I found that it had gotten stuck beneath the tire of the car that was parked in the driveway.  Dirt!  One would think it would have just slid by the tire, but no…  There it was tightly jammed under the tire – leaving a good sixty feet of cord behind it!! 

Did I mention that the temps were in the mid-twenties?  While that enabled the snow to stay powdery, it’s also a very cold temperature.  Coupled with the wind it felt like it was in the low teens!! 

One advantage that manual shoveling provided in such conditions was that the exertion caused the body to heat up.  Pushing an electric snow blower requires no such exertion.  My face and fingertips were becoming numb! 

Finally, I figured that if I curled forty feet of cord around my shoulder, and then dropped some off with each step, I could successfully play out enough line to enable me to make one pass on the driveway without running over the cord.  I’d then merely have to stop and roll up the cord over my shoulder…

This was taking forever!  I could have easily shoveled the entire driveway by now and been back in the house with a hot cup of coffee! 

Ah, but chalking this up to bding a learning experience I continued on – knowing that in some heavier snowfall I would be thankful for this mechanical aid.

Almost an hour later the driveway was cleared of snow.  I just had to brush the snow off the car and I’d be done.  (I hadn’t done this earlier, since I found that by walking on the freshly fallen snow packed it down, preventing the blower from clearing to the asphalt.)

Not sure why, but there appeared to be more snow atop the car than had been on the driveway.  (Might I have blown the snow in that direction on some of my laps by mistake?)

Successfully having cleared the car, I spied the newly heaped snow around the car.  No way would I shovel it manually now that I was proficient with the snow blower.  As such, I just fired her up and proceeded to work my way all around the car.   Well, make that three quarters of the way…

Getting a bit greedy, I tried to get as close to the car as possible, wanting to get every flake off the driveway.  I am positive the manual said nothing about avoiding all things made of rubber…

Yep, pushing like a man on a mission, I ran the stupid front blade right into the rear tire of the car!  As I learned in science, when two objects strike one must give way.  In this case the blower did not.  (How could it, when it had me pushing like a madman from behind it?)

The result was a nice gash in the tire.  Hmmm, wonder how much the kids paid for this machine? 

Turning away in disgust, I made a quick turn, not allowing the blower to stop even though there was no snow to plow. 

You guessed it.  The stupid cord had once again followed me and did not know enough to move when I turned in anger and headed for the garage.  Once again the machine tipped me to my error when it suddenly stopped working.

Having yanked the cord from the outlet I knelt in the nearly cleaned driveway to remove the cord from the blade.  But this time it was much easier.  My first tug brought me a piece of cord.  Rather than getting bound, it had sliced through! 

Not sure if it’s because it only weighs fifty pounds, or if I was that angry, but rather than rolling it back into the garage, I hauled the stupid blower by hand – tossing it the last five feet into its home until the next snowfall.

Fifteen minutes later I had the now stiff, though severed cord, wrapped in a not very neat coil.  I was already thinking about how short I would make it when I next returned with some electrical tape.  But that will have to wait – I had a date with a hot cup of coffee.

Having removed my snow covered coat, boots, and gloves, I stormed into the kitchen.

Our friendly aide, Wanda, greeted me, “I see you used the new machine on the driveway.  How did it work?”

“Pretty well,” was all I could muster in reply.

Failing to note the steam coming from my head, she offered, “Seemed to take long time.  Next time I just shovel and get done quicker.”

And you know what?  I just might delay long enough next snowfall to let her do just that.  What the heck, I probably still won’t have the cord mended anyway.    

[funseekers]

First snowfall

First snowfall of the year occurred this morning. 

Kids gave me a snow blower for Christmas.  It has been sitting on the back deck since then.  Figured today would be a good time to take it out of the box and assemble it.

Trekked through the dusting of snow on the back deck and carried the “monster” through the door and into my office.  Good place to assemble – assuming I will be able to get it back out through the door afterwards…

Not to worry, I checked the final specs online and determined that the width would indeed fit through the door and the weight is only 25 lbs. (It is really more a snow thrower than a snow blower, but the latter sounds more macho!)

Not wanting to mess it up, I spent a good half hour reading the assembly and operating manual – something I rarely do.  In my older age I have become more careful about such things – not enough years left to grow new appendages!

It is electric, and the assembly really only consisted of attaching the upper handle to the rest of the body.  I carefully lined up the holes and proceeded to attach it backwards!!  Drat.

Oh well, not much to disassemble – there are only two screws holding the whole thing together. 

Having reassembled it, I stood behind it, in the warmth of my office and practiced my stance and initial “thrust”.  I was now ready to tackle my first snowfall.

Carrying it through the garage was a minor hassle as I still had a ton of Christmas decoration boxes stored in there. 

Finally got to the garage doors and swung them open ready to tackle the snow!

Instead, I found my mother-in-law’s caregiver, a sixty-five year old Polish woman, had already cleared the entire driveway and steps with a broom!! 

Oh well, they say there is more snow in the forecast.  Now, if I can only find the huge extension cord the kids gave me…

[funseekers]

Football Playoff Weekend

Funseekers,

Late night, last night. 

No, not exactly “Saturday night, Date Night”.  No, it was the end of the first day of the NFL Football Playoffs. 

The first game was late afternoon and the second was a night game – not ending until after midnight.  It’s a football junkie’s dream.  Four good games, well, they should be since they all made the playoffs, but then again, others did have better records…  but that’s a story for another time.  Again, four good games to determine who will compete against the top four teams next weekend.  Like I said, a football junkie’s dream – those who don’t follow this are clearly not junkies.

Up early this morning nevertheless – the love of my life hates the music at the later Masses.  Lying in bed before the alarm went off (only day of the week it gets used), I was planning my day.  Were the games to be accompanied by a platter of buffalo chicken wings?  Or should I go the chips and dip route (my love makes a nasty cheese and salsa dip)?  Or might she surprise me with her infamous broiled chicken wings?  My stomach began growling and the 6:10 alarm had not even yet gone off!!

And so there we were, at the 7AM Mass.  Not many football junkies there, though I think if we polled them most would readily remember names like Bronco Nagurski, The Galloping Ghost, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  (This seems to becoming a story for the football junkies out there, but hang in there, it takes a turn…)

On the ride back from church, my love asked, “Were you paying attention in Mass?  Today’s the Feast of the Epiphany.”

Not knowing where she was going with this, I gave her a blank look.  I was wondering if she would now quiz me on the homily.

“Don’t you usually take the outdoor lights down on that day? 

I think the temperature is supposed to go into the forties with just a touch more rain.  Then it’s supposed to turn very cold tomorrow and for the rest of the week.”

“Hmmph, are you kidding?” I replied.  “Today is the continuation of the NFL ‘wake’.”

“Wake?  What’re you talking about?”

“The NFL playoffs continue today.  They’re like the ‘wake’ that leads up to the final game of the season.  The Super Bowl is like the ‘funeral’.  After it’s over there are six months of mourning before the ‘resurrection’ of the next season!”

I prided myself with my early morning analogies.  

I was going to continue with an explanation that the best part about the wake thing is that it’s like an Irish funeral – it’s accompanied by a ton of food to comfort the loss being felt by those attending.  But I knew it was too early to push my literary wit upon her.  Instead, I just glanced at her with a smug smile – only to find her focused on the weekly bulletin.

 “Hmm, I see the Brace’s won the weekly drawing. 

Also, the Kincaid kid is finally getting married.  I’ll bet his folks will be happy to see him finally move out.”

Oh well, I still had a great day ahead of me.  Nothing was going to stop me – or so I thought.

Not ten minutes later, having poured our first cups of coffee, we sat at the kitchen table only to find a puddle of water in the middle of it!

Looking up it appeared that the ceiling fan/light had a leak.  And I always thought its movement was electrically, not hydronically, driven. 

“Oh no, looks like there’s a leak,” astutely observed my partner in crime.

“But there are no pipes in this part of the ceiling.  There’s just the roof…,” and as the words left my lips I turned to see that it had again resumed the heavy rain that had been falling all night.  Oh no!!

“There must be a leak in the roof.  Do you think you can get up there to check it?” 

And with that, my carefully planned farewell celebration of the rapidly closing NFL season took a fatal shot to the heart. 

“Well, have your breakfast first.  You always seem to operate better on a full stomach,” continued my wise partner, leaning on years of experience with yours truly.

Shortly before noon, it was a long breakfast, found me on the internet seeking suggestions on how to repair a roof leak – assuming I could even find the stupid fissure if I abandoned all my fears of height and climbed upon the roof in the next several days. 

Just my luck, Elise was doing the same thing on another PC and found a roofing sealer that could even be applied to a surface that is underwater!!  So much using the ongoing deluge as a means of deferring this latest repair.  (My offer to continue to empty the pot she had placed beneath the continually dripping fan didn’t go far in seeking to delay the project for a few days – perhaps we’d have an Indian summer in January.  And, as unexpectedly, maybe my fear of all things requiring an extension ladder might go away!)

No, instead I found myself driving the two of us to Home Depot to purchase the “super sealer” that would solve this latest disaster.  (She does not usually accompany me on such excursions, but it was a Sunday.  And I don’t think she trusted me to get the right product.)

Once there we found that the item mentioned on the HD site was not available at this particular store!!  Ah yes, a reason for delay. 

But some overly helpful guy in an orange apron began chatting it up with the love of my life and explained that they had an alternative sealer that would work just as well. 

Drat!

It came in gallon buckets as well as those tubes that go into a caulking gun.  “You’ll probably only need a tube since, once you find the leak, it won’t take much to seal it.”

I’ve had enough bad experiences with those stupid guns to know better.  I “That assumes I’ll readily find the point of the leak.  Let’s go with the larger container – if nothing else it costs a lot less per ounce.”

Of course, my love then read the directions and determined that we’d also require a trowel to apply it and special gloves to ensure the sealer didn’t get on my skin.  (I hesitated to mention that we might also need to stop at the drugstore for some Dramamine to deal with my upcoming vertigo.)

Thus, while others were surely comfortably seated awaiting the opening kickoff, I was dragging my unwieldy extension ladder out of the shed.  (Did I mention that the rain had continued, though at a slow drizzle?)  Equipped with my newly acquired gloves, plastic trowel (no way was I going to be bothered cleaning it afterwards), and the gallon of sealer I approached the roofline.

Ah, the wonderful Pannetone and eggs that I had had with my coffee this morning made a return visit. 

With my head above the roof line, I did a quick inspection hoping to easily see some missing tile or two. 

But no, there was no readily apparent evidence of the location from where the water was coming.  Instead, I had a vision of my delectable chicken wings taking flight!  This was not going to be some quick solution.

Slowly climbing onto the roof, I got my footing and, with my head now up in the clouds, stood like a master of his ship.  Hands on my hips I gazed over the peak of the roof toward the fog enshrouded horizon.  No vertigo for me.  I was a man on a mission. 

Of course, I had not yet taken any steps on the gently inclined, though wet roof. 

Convinced that I couldn’t find any leaks from a standing position, I dropped to my knees.  In addition to allowing me to more closely examine the tiles, I found that the prone position added to my feelings of security. 

“See anything?” called the love my life who was now standing at the base of the ladder.

“No!  But don’t stand there and wait, I may be awhile.  I have my work cut out for me up here.”

Then, with trowel and gallon can in hand, I combat-crawled to the peak of the roof. 

If only the stupid roofers had stuck to a precise pattern when laying the tiles, it may have been easier to detect any that were missing or cracked.  Instead, over the years, what might be new cracks or missing tiles seemed to now just blend in with the pattern.  The only good thing was that the rain seemed to finally be stopping.

Working from the top down, I elected to finesse some of the black goop onto anything that looked like an unplanned seam in the tiles.  Row after row I slathered the black tar-like substance unto my brown tiled roof.  (So much for keeping the leak secret when we finally sell the house.) 

I found the area where we had previously paid someone to address an earlier leak in the roof.  Unbeknownst to me he used one of those small caulk tubes.  He left a fine bead of black tar along the row of tiles where the steeper older roof met the gentler sloped new one.  Rookie - he probably assumed that was the most likely spot for a leak (though that did suffice for the last four years.) 

Not me.  I had the huge bucket and was covering every crack and seam in sight.  And not just fine lines of goop.  Nope, I was slathering like a madman.

Oh, the first few spots got the recommended 1/8 inch of tar, feathered out along the edges.  But as the trowel became stiff with the extra sealer adhering to it, any finesse soon gave way to “ah, just cover it up – no one else is going to come up here to look at it.  If an eighth inch is sufficient then a half should be even better.  And who needs “feathered edges” – this is man’s work, not artistry! 

What had been a neat brown herringbone roof was starting to look more like a patchwork quilt of brown and black. 

Fortunately, Elise had read the label and insisted I get rubber gloves that reached almost to my elbows.  Though pretty thick, this junk was throwing droplets of black tar as I swept my trowel back and forth.  I ended up with tar on my jacket, pants, glasses, and even a couple spots on my ear (which Elise found later that evening while watching TV!)

I worked my way perilously close to the edge, going down row by row.  When I felt my feet dip into the gutters I knew that I had gone far enough. 

Rising to my feet, I again ascended the fog enshrouded roof and spread whatever was left of the gallon of sealer on anything that looked like it might leak at some future date.  Heck, I was tempted to begin applying sealer to the main roof though it didn’t have any leaks!

At last, with an almost empty bucket, a fully blackened and useless trowel, and gloves that would no longer flex due to their coating of sealer I made my way back toward the ladder.  Time for the most difficult part of this entire project – the descent to the ladder.

Once again on all fours, I crept backwards until I could feel nothing supporting my left foot.  I then stretched it out in search of the first rung of the ladder.  Where was it… 

Did Elise move it when she was last out here?  I know it’s there somewhere…

Alas, my foot felt something solid!!  Now, if I could safely sway my body in such a way as to get my second foot on the same rung, and not allow the upper part of my body to lead a swan dive to the bottom…

Oops, that’s the gutter…  don’t put your weight on that foot…

Nuts, there goes the trowel – hope Elise isn’t down below. 

If I could just grab the ladder – but I’d have to switch the bucket to my other hand… 

Great, now it’s really starting to rain hard.  Hope those stupid patches do the trick.  Heck, I hope I live to see the proof in a dry ceiling.

Finally, my second foot is on the ladder.  As I take my first step down my glasses slid off and fall to the deck! 

Two minutes and ten rungs later I am looking up at the bottom of the eaves, not even able to gaze upon my work.  Another job well done – or so I hope.  Only the next few days will tell.  (Though I am hoping the rain will stop and will never have to test my effectiveness in roof repair.)

A half hour of mineral spirited clean up (the trowel, gloves, jacket and pants all got dumped) and I was ready for a shower – the indoor kind which is followed by a soft towel.

Finally assuming my assigned seat at the aforementioned wake, I listened to fond stories of the lives of the teams that had just finished playing the first game.  My love surprised me with a delicious goat cheese and salsa dip.  “The kitchen has stayed dry, even though it’s continued to rain.  It looks like your patches may have done the trick!”

Not sure but there may have been a glimmer of pride in her eye. 

Then again, that may have been my eye as it reflected off the TV.  It may have been a tear, but as they say, there are no tears at an Irish funeral.

  PS  As you may have noticed I now have the W key back on my keyboard.  Nearing the end of her purge, Elise found an old keyboard in her office closet.  As such, my keyboard became item number 100!! 

Hmm, wonder if she remembered to deduct the Key, since she was now counting the entire keyboard.

Maybe I will keep that question to myself…     

[funseekers]

The Useless 100 Item Challenge

The love of my life, Elise, has embraced a Ne@ Year’s Resolution that @ill change our lives!! 

Thanks to my daughter Tara, she has accepted the challenge to rid ourselves of some of the material clutter that has taken over our lives. 

She @ill begin @ith the tossing out of one hundred useless items from our home.

Yesterday sa@ her busying herself in the kitchen.

Gone are the trivets @e never used.  (Say hello to scorch marks on the counter.)

Gone is a metal rack that @as meant to hold some forgotten pot @hen taken from the oven.  (Must remember to buy some good burn ointment in the next fe@ days.) 

Gone are those precious plastic dishes that @ere to be used @hen @e had snacks at poolside.  (Oh boy, I can see me diving to retrieve broken shards of china from the pool bottom after the next family gathering. )

Gone are those delectable seasonings that @ere to be used in the creation of some exotic Asian dish. (So much for that Mongolian shrimp stir fry I @as hoping to some day cook.)

I think I heard her say she @as up to 42 items @hen the football games came on.

Today she is scavenging around the entire house.  I asked that my garage and shed be excluded from her.

Gone is that expensive perfume I gave her ten years ago.  (So much for the fragrant memory to be created on that romantic candle-lit evening I’ve been planning since I bought it.)

Gone are those DVDs that @ere gathering dust in the cabinet beneath the TV.  (Does anyone kno@ if “High Noon” is available on Netflix?)

I last sa@ her moving stuff around in my office.  (Guess she found the broken key on my keyboard.  I no@ have to use the @ key every time I go to use that letter.  Drat!)

Oh @ell, she just told me she is up to 97!! 

Must run, I just heard her open up my clothes closet.  @ould not @ant to lose that torn s@eatshirt that I first @ore in college….

[funseekers]

Holiday Warning!!

When you drink vodka over ice, it can give you kidney failure.

When you drink rum over ice, it can give you liver failure.

When you drink whiskey over ice, it can give you heart

problems.

When you drink gin over ice, it can give you brain problems.

Apparently, ice is really bad for you.

Warn all your friends.I

[funseekers]

Christmas gifts...

“No More Ties… But Will There Be Donuts?”

“Too Few Donuts… Too Many Honey Do Lists”

Putting together your Christmas list? I've got the perfect gift for your parents, that kindly older neighbor, that aunt/uncle you got in the Secret Santa drawing, etc!

The two books mentioned above are a great gift. Available at Amazon.com, they are available in both eBook and paperback formats.

Allow me to quote a friend’s earlier review/recommendation (thanks, Lisa!):

My Mom's boss, Jerry, was downsized into retirement. He went from 30 years of the Corporate Life (Verizon) straight into the home life without a clue what to do for 40 hours a week!! He used to keep in touch with his friends by email. He would send the funniest writings that always started with "FUNSEEKERS"... They were always about his adventures of him attempting to do things like trying to fix the leaky sink and the epic fail it would be… “I just wasn't cut out for being a plumber” LOL. He told the funniest stories of his shenanigans at home. After you laughed through the email, he would close it with a touching ending, “…and remember, if you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours!” His emails were forwarded to so many people who all told him he needed to write a book!! He did and it is awesome! If you are in the corporate grind... you get the title "No More Ties" a dream come true... And the sequel “Too Few Donuts…” just continues the laughs.

So hurry, Amazon can have it to you before Christmas, and the eBooks can be downloaded in a snap!!

[funseekers]

Happy Channukah (or is it Hannukah?)

[funseekers]

... as we get older....

If my body was a car, this is the time I would be thinking about trading it in for a newer model. I've got bumps and dents and scratches in my finish and my paint job is getting a little dull... But that's not the worst of it... My headlights are out of focus and it's especially hard to see things up close. My traction is not as graceful as it once was. I slip and slide and skid and bump into things even in the best of weather. My whitewalls are stained with varicose veins...    It takes me hours to reach my maximum speed. My fuel rate burns inefficiently...   But here's the worst of it --   Almost every time I sneeze, cough or sputter, either my radiator leaks or my exhaust backfires!

[funseekers]

The value of a smile

"It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving,

but like morning light

it scattered the night

and made the day worth living."