Saturday, February 7, 2015


Here in the Great Northwet we have some pretty amazing winter storms. Along the coast where I live the storms seldom bring snow. They bring what the National Weather Service carefully christens “Wind Events”. A wind event can bring category 2 hurricane force winds that drive copious amounts of rain. Creeks and rivers flood. Trees are uprooted or broken and splintered. These storms aren’t once a decade as are hurricanes. They are several times a season nearly every year.

And today’s topic is wind. Wind that uses the trees and the rain as weapons of mass destruction. I should know better than to anthropomorphize but it is hard not to hear it freight-training up the field and slamming into the walls of the house without thinking it some sort of malevolent beast or at least a child in the midst of a screaming hissy-fit.

Last night in my bed I listened to it and found myself listing words and descriptions for the “near Cape Blanco” winds:

Live thing
Whirling, swirling, howling, growling, 
Screaming, yelling, muttering, moaning
Shivering around corners
Muscling through trees
Pummeling, pounding
Battering and bashing
Crashing, thrashing, and shoving
Shaking, breaking
Insomnia making

Thursday, February 5, 2015


Today’s subject is the biting of a lip. Specifically the repeated biting of a lip since my experience is that when you nip that flapping lower target it is seldom a solitary act.

Nip isn’t the right word though. That first bite is usually a super CHOMP. No delicate nibble, No dainty approach of the pearly-whites. Nope. It happens when you are intently chawing at a stubborn hunk of sandwich or taking a mega-bite into some hard crunchy snack. Those cutting incisors aim for the soft lips or slightly-slower-than-usual tongue and Whammo! And wouldn’t you think that lip and tongue would thereafter be wary and on guard? Instead they seem to dangle the damaged area even closer to dental disaster.

I speak, albeit somewhat carefully today, from recent, painful, and sequential experiences. 

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Super? Bowl

I’m having a grand time watching folks trying to distance themselves from the hype, and the actual events, of today’s game. Apparently if you refuse to watch you are a nobler and better person and somehow above the crass beer-guzzling low-lifes that watch competitive football? Or perhaps just a snobby panty-waist elitist?

Another group of folk step back and remind us that is is “Just a game!”

Where do I fall among these positions? As is my wont a little from column A, a little from column B, and yes, some of column C. I may even borrow a smidgen from other alphabetical orders.

I applaud those who don’t watch but hardly grant them particular credit for disparaging those who do. And the crowd antics at football games often makes me cringe and despair for the future of human endeavor. So much for A & B.

As for “Just a game”, none of us are that naive, are we? Professional football, and especially the Superbowl, is Big-Time Big-Business. There are nations on the planet whose gross national product is less than the price of a one minute Superbowl commercial. Think of the ticket outlay money, the salaries of the players, coaches, and support staff. Imagine all the cash involved both over and probably under the table. Convert it all to $100,000 bills and it’d fill a swimming pool - probably Olympic-sized.

All this for a bunch of heavily-muscled hunks of man-meat dashing up and down the lawn grabbing at a pigskin.

(And yes, I’ll be watching.)