Anyone else remember it?
Fluke is not quite a 'flook'...check this out;
11 minutes ago
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Scalded to Death by the Steam
When I was just a tiny kid, I can still remember my entire family getting up and dancing around the living room singing this song.
Anyone else remember it?
Anyone else remember it?
Friday, March 2, 2012
In Memory of Tornado Victims
Today, several people lost their lives in southern Indiana, Kentucky and Ohio. The devastation created by these powerful storms is unimaginable.
Below is a post I wrote in November 2010, remembering the five year anniversary of the day my niece and her husband won the tornado lottery.
Please say a prayer for all those affected by today's horrible storms.
THE DAY MY NIECE WON THE LOTTERY
It's been exactly five years today.
So I rationalize that he is telling me that their house had just a bit of damage from a tornado. Destroyed is so often a misused word and especially an overly emotional one, and I'm all about connotation of words. I figure either he is overly emotional or my niece, his sister was.
So Brian calls me again an hour or so later. He's still pacing back and forth and wondering what he should pack that they will need. The only helpful hint I can give him is to pack some toilet paper.
Obviously anyone would be upset, but here's the background story.
My niece lived in a '70s tri-level home. She and her husband had luckily been out late that night. They had just gotten home and realized that the weather and wind was a little scary. They slipped into their jammies, went upstairs to their bedroom and turned on the local news station. The doppler radar and the weatherman was precise enough to tell them the tornado was nearly upon them.
This was a picture of the twister that was captured on a local hospital's video cam.
They grabbed their dog and headed to the lowest part of the tri-level, a "downstairs" bathroom where the floor was only about 4 feet below the ground. The first thing she did was call her brother. Apparently as kids they used to huddle together during severe weather without waking their parents. He was her "storm buddy". They remained on the cell phone together during the entire event.
While my niece, nephew-in-law and their dog huddled in that barely underground bathroom, the bathroom door was rattling so badly, her 6'7" husband had to brace himself with his back to the tub and his feet holding the door closed. Her brother is listening the entire time, unbelievably the cell signal never dropped.
Brian held his phone to his ear while listening to destruction and his sister screaming in his ear. I'm sure he was thinking the entire time he was listening to his sister's death. Finally, finally the noise stopped and my niece stopped screaming. She told him there was a huge crack in the refuged bathroom wall. She wasn't kidding. Part of the wall was about 2 inches inward from the original wall.
Her husband finally opened the bathroom door and instead of looking at a messed up house, he could look up and see SKY. That's right, where there should have a ceiling of a lower floor, there was sky.
About 5:00 a.m, I get a call from my niece. They are in their car sitting in their driveway.
Of course they can't drive anywhere because there is utter destruction around them. They could not even turn their car on for an hour or so because of the gas leaks in the area. Remember, this is November, it's COLD. Tornado "season" is long past in Indiana, but not that year.
I remember a couple things about that call. She first said, "What am I going to do?" I told her, "You are going to wait until daylight and then you are going to go through what's left and pick up what you can find and you are going to start over. Your only choice is how you deal with this. You can choose to be strong and deal with it or you can let it destroy you." At some point in the conversation she told me that because they had been ready for bed, they had no clothes other than pajamas. Her voice was suddenly like a little girl when she said, "AND I don't even have a bra." I told her that her mother could go buy her a bra at Walmart on the way down that morning.
As soon as daylight hit, my nephew, sister and brother-in-law and a few cousins that lived close made their trip down to Evansville. And as you can see, when my nephew told me the house was destroyed, it was not an overly emotional description.
I believe the green wall was their bedroom they were in where they listened to the news reports of the impending monster heading their way. Notice the mattress. The outside walls appeared to have folded inward and took away everything in their way, including the carpet in the bedroom.
See that boat between the trees? That was in the back of my niece's house. That boat wasn't there before. Not sure if the original owner ever found his boat.
Yes, their place was utterly destroyed, but the amazing thing is what they located when digging through the rubble.
A suddenly patriotic tree.
My niece standing where her garage used to be. One of their neighbors lost the roof of their garage. It was found UNDER another neighbor's car. The power and randomness of tornadoes are unbelievable.
A picture of my niece and her brother, who lived through the nightmare with her by cell phone. She is holding a wedding gift and he is holding one of TWO identical books found in the rubble. If you can't read the title, it's a copy of the WIZARD OF OZ!
Tornados are odd, terrifying, horrible AND amazing.
So, as I told my niece that horrible morning, your only choice is how you deal with the horrible situation. After the initial shock, our family thanked the Lord that my niece and her husband won the lottery that day. Their's was the only house in their neighborhood that was destroyed. Sadly, a nearby trailer park was the site where 25 people lost their lives.
Below is how my sister, her husband and a couple cousins celebrated their blessings that day. Houses and all the material belongings can be replaced. People cannot.
Below is a post I wrote in November 2010, remembering the five year anniversary of the day my niece and her husband won the tornado lottery.
Please say a prayer for all those affected by today's horrible storms.
THE DAY MY NIECE WON THE LOTTERY
It's been exactly five years today.
Does anyone ever have a GOOD call at 3:00 a.m.?
I was sound asleep. Dead asleep. Then our home phone rings.
You know that feeling, right? We all know that feeling.
Bob arouses enough to grab the phone and I can still see him standing by the bed. I'm assuming/hoping/praying that he'll say, "wrong number". But he doesn't.
Instead, in the dark, in my nearsighted blindness, I can see his arm take the phone from his ear and it slowly, ever so slowly moves the phone towards me.
My mind is screaming NO NO NO. Don't ever hand me a phone in the middle of the night. That's always a bad sign. Unless you're expecting a new baby in the family, a phone call at 3:00 a.m. is just plain BAD.
I dreadingly take the phone and say, "Hello?"
I hear the voice of my nephew. And unlike most dreaded-middle-of-the-night-callers about to deliver bad news, Brian is smart enough to start off the conversation like this: "They are OK. "
Everyone take a lesson from my nephew. If you have bad news to deliver that does not include the death of a family member, say those three wonderful words FIRST. "EVERYONE IS OKAY"
WHAT A RELIEF!
My memory is a little foggy after that, but someone how I either heard or knew that he was talking about his sister and her husband. I'm thinking traffic accident, but thankfully they are both okay.
He proceeds to tell me that a tornado "destroyed" his sister's house, but that they are safe.
So I rationalize that he is telling me that their house had just a bit of damage from a tornado. Destroyed is so often a misused word and especially an overly emotional one, and I'm all about connotation of words. I figure either he is overly emotional or my niece, his sister was.
He lives about an hour away from her and daylight is a LONG time off. He's not overly panicked, but I can tell he needs some comfort. He had already called his parents and was pacing the floor. I tell him he has to wait until the storms pass through and there is some daylight. I run downstairs to check out the news. Our favorite local weatherman is already on the air because the storms were heading our direction and nearly all over Indiana. I kept waiting for news of the tornado that hit southern Indiana, but he is too busy reporting on our local bad weather.
So Brian calls me again an hour or so later. He's still pacing back and forth and wondering what he should pack that they will need. The only helpful hint I can give him is to pack some toilet paper.
My niece lived in a '70s tri-level home. She and her husband had luckily been out late that night. They had just gotten home and realized that the weather and wind was a little scary. They slipped into their jammies, went upstairs to their bedroom and turned on the local news station. The doppler radar and the weatherman was precise enough to tell them the tornado was nearly upon them.
They grabbed their dog and headed to the lowest part of the tri-level, a "downstairs" bathroom where the floor was only about 4 feet below the ground. The first thing she did was call her brother. Apparently as kids they used to huddle together during severe weather without waking their parents. He was her "storm buddy". They remained on the cell phone together during the entire event.
While my niece, nephew-in-law and their dog huddled in that barely underground bathroom, the bathroom door was rattling so badly, her 6'7" husband had to brace himself with his back to the tub and his feet holding the door closed. Her brother is listening the entire time, unbelievably the cell signal never dropped.
Brian held his phone to his ear while listening to destruction and his sister screaming in his ear. I'm sure he was thinking the entire time he was listening to his sister's death. Finally, finally the noise stopped and my niece stopped screaming. She told him there was a huge crack in the refuged bathroom wall. She wasn't kidding. Part of the wall was about 2 inches inward from the original wall.
Her husband finally opened the bathroom door and instead of looking at a messed up house, he could look up and see SKY. That's right, where there should have a ceiling of a lower floor, there was sky.
About 5:00 a.m, I get a call from my niece. They are in their car sitting in their driveway.
Of course they can't drive anywhere because there is utter destruction around them. They could not even turn their car on for an hour or so because of the gas leaks in the area. Remember, this is November, it's COLD. Tornado "season" is long past in Indiana, but not that year.
I remember a couple things about that call. She first said, "What am I going to do?" I told her, "You are going to wait until daylight and then you are going to go through what's left and pick up what you can find and you are going to start over. Your only choice is how you deal with this. You can choose to be strong and deal with it or you can let it destroy you." At some point in the conversation she told me that because they had been ready for bed, they had no clothes other than pajamas. Her voice was suddenly like a little girl when she said, "AND I don't even have a bra." I told her that her mother could go buy her a bra at Walmart on the way down that morning.
As soon as daylight hit, my nephew, sister and brother-in-law and a few cousins that lived close made their trip down to Evansville. And as you can see, when my nephew told me the house was destroyed, it was not an overly emotional description.
Above is a picture that was taken by an AP photographer of my niece and nephew. This pic ended up on websites and papers throughout the world. The doorway my nephew is standing in had just been replaced and seemed to hold up more than alot of the house.
Yes, their place was utterly destroyed, but the amazing thing is what they located when digging through the rubble.
A picture of my sister and niece.
Inspired by a friend of mine. Her son was saying his prayers one night, he added this saying. Another friend of mine remembered the funny story and after the tornado said that Kyle's prayer applied to my niece.
How right she was.
How right she was.
Tornados are odd, terrifying, horrible AND amazing.
So, as I told my niece that horrible morning, your only choice is how you deal with the horrible situation. After the initial shock, our family thanked the Lord that my niece and her husband won the lottery that day. Their's was the only house in their neighborhood that was destroyed. Sadly, a nearby trailer park was the site where 25 people lost their lives.
Below is how my sister, her husband and a couple cousins celebrated their blessings that day. Houses and all the material belongings can be replaced. People cannot.
God had bigger plans for my niece and her husband. Last year they became the lucky parents of two wonderful girls that needed a new home and family and I've written so much about. If only we could have seen five years into the future and envisioned how much all of our lives have changed.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
What a Sport
The season started out like all the others. Not a great one. A couple of pretty good players. But it's not a competitive league. It's one geared toward kids like my grandson. He likes to play, but his parents have to force him to join a league. He doesn't much care for the competition. When he plays ball at our house he always just wants it to be for fun.
 |
| Yes, their feet are bigger than their heads |
So they lost the first few games. But I was so impressed with the referees. When one of the boys would make an error, such as dribbling the ball back and forth over the center line, they would make the call, then bend down, touch the boy on the shoulder and demonstrate what the young boy did wrong.
All the parents cheer when a boy even on the opposing team makes a great play. When one little boy tried to argue with the ref he didn't foul a kid, his mother was sitting beside me and yelled out, "Yes YOU did." while she laughed at her son trying to claim innocence.
As the season progressed, I was even more impressed that the boys became better at how the game was played. They understood more of the rules, they played more aggressively. They understood when a foul was called on them what they had done and they accepted it.
We watched the boys getting hard fouls. They took it in stride. Our grandson was accidentally kicked in the face. He shook his head a second, took off back down the floor and only rubbed his cheek now and then. It had to hurt. I saw him skid along the carpeted basketball court and get up and run. His leg had a nice rug burn at the end of the game but he never complained. These boys are learning to play and learning taking a tumble, learning that the world doesn't stop if you get bruised up while playing a fair game.
His team began winning. I don't think he's ever been on a winning team before. There are always a couple of very good players on the teams, usually the coach's sons.
Yesterday afternoon was the first playoff game. The competition was much more intense. But it was good to watch the boys play with gusto. Of course, we've been more impressed as we've watched our grandson fight for the ball instead of running off it was heading in another boy's direction.
The game was close, especially toward the end. More parents were yelling when some of the hard fouls weren't called, but it remained just a fair, competitive game.
Until the last 15 seconds.
My grandson's team (# 17) was up by 3. It seemed unlikely the other team would win. Team 17 had the ball at their end of the court, the one closest to us. The boys were playing. Hard. The ref called a foul on the other team. I realized then that a couple of the boys right in front of us were finally getting mad. There was just a quick little scuffle which I only realized because I could see them square off and I saw the other team's player's face as he glared at the boy. They separated a couple of feet and I was just beginning to joke with the guy beside me by telling him there was almost a fight right there.
That's when I realized that suddenly there was a tall man, probably over 6 foot who ran in between the boys. He bent down and began to scream at this 10 year old boy from our team. He was the assistant coach of the opposing team.
For a couple seconds everyone sat there in shock. I've seen this stuff on TV, but never right in front of my eyes. The crowd around me all began to yell at the coach. We were screaming, "Leave him alone. He's a KID."
My grandson's coach ran from the bench and inserted himself between the boy and the other coach. He literally had to push this bastard back from the kid. By then every parent in the place was yelling at the assistant coach.
I don't know what happened to the refs.
Finally the coaches were off the floor and the poor kid was shaking. The parents began to tell him it was okay, to shake it off. There was a missed free throw and last second rebound and final shot to win the game.
Normally I stay by the bleachers as we wait for my grandson to come over, but I realized that the assistant coach was just walking over by his area as if nothing had happened.
I started his way.
I could almost hear Bob's imaginary voice telling me not to make a scene, but by then I had flames coming out of my ears. I watched some lady walk up to this guy and I wasn't sure if it was his wife or someone else. I could see her making some hand movements that suggested he had been out of line,, just swipes of her hands. He was shaking his head at her as I made my way over. It was the little boy's mother.
I didn't yell, but I was HOT, "YOU, owe that little boy an apology." He said in a snotty voice, "NO I don't." I told him he did. Told him it was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen. I made myself aware that I could NOT call this "man" the filthy names I wanted to call him. It took every ounce of energy to make sure I didn't say anything inappropriate just in case there were kids within earshot.
As I started walking away, I see my step-daughter leave her family and storm her way toward the man. I knew he was in for a tongue lashing. Then her husband started that say. By then, I can hear her screaming at the man, "HE'S A LITTLE KID."
Apparently his excuse was that the boy had sometimes glared at him at other games.
Then I see Bob heading that direction. Bob, who never gets involved was also on a mission. Bob tried to explain to him how unsportsmanlike his actions were. I was trying to get the grandkids away at this point and the guy storms off.
I couldn't help myself. I yelled at him as he turned, "Whaddya gonna do next, beat up little girls?"
I noticed the refs all sitting in the corner, so I went over to them and talked with them a little. I told them that any adult that acted like that toward a child needed to be ejected from the building immediately. One of the young refs began to tell me about some incident that happened the week before but was interupted when the coach of the other team came over to shake the refs hands. I looked at him, pointed to his assistant coach and told him that guy was a bully and should never be allowed to be around children.
Several people went over to the boy during this time and began to explain to him the assistant coach was out of line. I shook the boy's hand, told him he did a great job. His eyes were filled with tears. The mom kept thanking everyone who was consoling the boy.
By the time the gym was cleared all of us were so upset that a grown man would not only lose control at a little boy on the opposite team, but then try to justify his actions that we couldn't see straight.
When I got home, I located the club that organized the league. I emailed them the account of the incident. Within an hour the athletic director emailed me back, said she had heard about another incident the week before and that she would be calling the commisioner that afternoon.
I can tell you this as a fact. If that ass had confronted my grandson like that, I would be posting this from jail and that man would be having surgery extracting his testicles from his throat.
There would have been blood. Lots of it.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Too Freakin' Mad
I really, REALLY want to write a post about something that happened today, but I'll be so upset again I won't be able to sleep. Maybe I can manage it tomorrow without my blood pressure blowing my aorta in two.
So, for tonight I'll direct you to my brother's post.
He didn't exactly have a great day either. But then again, maybe he kinda won the lottery.
So, for tonight I'll direct you to my brother's post.
He didn't exactly have a great day either. But then again, maybe he kinda won the lottery.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Justifying My Position
Genetic mutation aside, the left side of the stove pictured below is why I invariably turn on the wrong burner.
NOW do you see what I mean?
See, Joe implied my excuse of the angle was lame. But I look at these controls and I see the dot closest to me as the burner closest to me. I see it automatically without a thought.
Perhaps that part of my brain just never developed but I always have to look at the right side of the stove to refer to the burner I use most and then I have to look at this side to make sure I turn on the right burner.
And to make matters worse, we've had this stove for about EIGHT YEARS.
Making ham and beans today.
Yep, turned on the back burner by mistake AGAIN.
NOW do you see what I mean?
See, Joe implied my excuse of the angle was lame. But I look at these controls and I see the dot closest to me as the burner closest to me. I see it automatically without a thought.
Perhaps that part of my brain just never developed but I always have to look at the right side of the stove to refer to the burner I use most and then I have to look at this side to make sure I turn on the right burner.
And to make matters worse, we've had this stove for about EIGHT YEARS.
Making ham and beans today.
Yep, turned on the back burner by mistake AGAIN.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Testing My Theory
Apparently I've been missed. Well, at least Jess missed me. Just visiting relatives and finishing taxes.
So now I have a quiz. It's a theory and you will all be my test subjects.
Ready?
Here goes.
Below is a picture of the dial on the front of my stove. Not from the top, the front.
Now. Picture yourself standing in front of the stove and answer this question.
Which burner does this control? Does it control the one closest to you or the one farthest from you?
Take a stand.
I want to see if my theory holds.
So now I have a quiz. It's a theory and you will all be my test subjects.
Ready?
Here goes.
Below is a picture of the dial on the front of my stove. Not from the top, the front.
Now. Picture yourself standing in front of the stove and answer this question.
Which burner does this control? Does it control the one closest to you or the one farthest from you?
Take a stand.
I want to see if my theory holds.
Monday, February 13, 2012
It Takes a Thief
I had the cloth laying on the work table in my junior high school Home Ec class when Sue announced to the teacher that she was missing her seam ripper.
For you men, a seam ripper is exactly what it sounds like. If you inadvertently sew the seam of the fabric incorrectly, you use the seam ripper to take out the stitches. It's among the required tools of a Home Ec class along with scissors and a tape measure.
As you can imagine, there's not a great deal of technology involved in a seam ripper. Not that the word, "technology" even existed in our vocabulary back then. Thus all seam rippers were identical in the class.
Just after Sue reported her loss, she walked past my table and said, "MY seam ripper looked just like THAT."
If I hadn't been a kid I might have said, "No shit, Sherlock". Everyone's seam ripper looked just "like that".
But I was a quiet kid back then. I know. It's hard to imagine now. Personally, this is one area I do thank my brother Mark (aka CnC) for helping me to develop. I'm sure this was not his intention though.
So I explained to Sue this was my seam ripper. She glared at me, knowing that I had stolen her 99 cent seam ripper while failing to notice the other 20 girls in the class also had HER seam ripper.
But throughout the semester there seemed to actually be a lot of missing items. Not just Sue's but other people's things also. Of course I would get the evil eye from Sue every time something came up missing.
One day I was pinning the pattern to my fabric when someone could not locate their scissors.
With that announcement, Sue walked right over to my table, threw back the fabric and I'll be damned if those missing scissors weren't right there under my fabric. I could feel my face turning beet red as if I had really tried to steal someone's scissors.
I suppose this is how some innocent people end up on death row.
I saw Sue's name on someone's Facebook friend list yesterday. Luckily, I am incognito on Facebook but I knew that to this day she probably still believes I was the Home Ec thief. Thank goodness the statute of limitations should have expired by now.
For you men, a seam ripper is exactly what it sounds like. If you inadvertently sew the seam of the fabric incorrectly, you use the seam ripper to take out the stitches. It's among the required tools of a Home Ec class along with scissors and a tape measure.
As you can imagine, there's not a great deal of technology involved in a seam ripper. Not that the word, "technology" even existed in our vocabulary back then. Thus all seam rippers were identical in the class.
Just after Sue reported her loss, she walked past my table and said, "MY seam ripper looked just like THAT."
If I hadn't been a kid I might have said, "No shit, Sherlock". Everyone's seam ripper looked just "like that".
But I was a quiet kid back then. I know. It's hard to imagine now. Personally, this is one area I do thank my brother Mark (aka CnC) for helping me to develop. I'm sure this was not his intention though.
So I explained to Sue this was my seam ripper. She glared at me, knowing that I had stolen her 99 cent seam ripper while failing to notice the other 20 girls in the class also had HER seam ripper.
But throughout the semester there seemed to actually be a lot of missing items. Not just Sue's but other people's things also. Of course I would get the evil eye from Sue every time something came up missing.
One day I was pinning the pattern to my fabric when someone could not locate their scissors.
With that announcement, Sue walked right over to my table, threw back the fabric and I'll be damned if those missing scissors weren't right there under my fabric. I could feel my face turning beet red as if I had really tried to steal someone's scissors.
I suppose this is how some innocent people end up on death row.
I saw Sue's name on someone's Facebook friend list yesterday. Luckily, I am incognito on Facebook but I knew that to this day she probably still believes I was the Home Ec thief. Thank goodness the statute of limitations should have expired by now.
 |
| Caution: DO NOT Google images of a woman in handcuffs on a work computer. |
Friday, February 10, 2012
Bacon Rights
The Obama administration today announced that all hospitals will be required to offer bacon and other pork products on their menus.
The mandate includes Islamic and Jewish hospitals.
Kathleen Sebelius, the Secretary of Health and Human Services, announced that this mandate was in no manner an infringement of religious freedoms, but simply providing fair services for pro-pork advocates that have been the victims of discrimination.
When asked about the mandate, the Detroit Director of the ACLU applauded the mandate stating that the pork producers had been suffering unimaginable losses by hospitals that believed they should not have to provide free pork products for all their patients stating, "Pro-pork advocates have been unfairly targeted by the Islamic and Jewish hospitals long enough."
The activist group, Code Pink Ham has also been protesting in front of Jewish Deli's across the nation demanding they serve ham to the disadvantaged pro-pork victims. It's been rumored that mandate will follow shortly.
A lone wingnut Congressman, who asked not be to identified, wondered aloud, "I might actually have to finally read the Constitution, but I was almost sure there was freedom of religion in there somewhere."
The mandate includes Islamic and Jewish hospitals.
Kathleen Sebelius, the Secretary of Health and Human Services, announced that this mandate was in no manner an infringement of religious freedoms, but simply providing fair services for pro-pork advocates that have been the victims of discrimination.
When asked about the mandate, the Detroit Director of the ACLU applauded the mandate stating that the pork producers had been suffering unimaginable losses by hospitals that believed they should not have to provide free pork products for all their patients stating, "Pro-pork advocates have been unfairly targeted by the Islamic and Jewish hospitals long enough."
The activist group, Code Pink Ham has also been protesting in front of Jewish Deli's across the nation demanding they serve ham to the disadvantaged pro-pork victims. It's been rumored that mandate will follow shortly.
A lone wingnut Congressman, who asked not be to identified, wondered aloud, "I might actually have to finally read the Constitution, but I was almost sure there was freedom of religion in there somewhere."
Thursday, February 9, 2012
You Get What You Incent
I watched this video at Joan's a couple of months ago. It'll be the most entertaining and educational video you've watched in a long time.
Why be responsible when it's more profitable to be supported by the government?
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Super Indy
Of course it would have been much more fun if Peyton and the Colts had been in better health and playing in the Super Bowl.
But....
Unless you live here, you cannot imagine just HOW crazy Indianapolis is right now with all the festivities during this Super Bowl week. An interesting little fact, never before has a Super Bowl been played in a city where everyone, all the teams, all the media and all the fans AND the game were held all within one city limits.
My brother and I visited downtown Indy on Monday. Thank goodness we went early in the week. The crowds are picking up and unfortunately the idiotic unions are protesting Right To Work as we speak right in the middle of Super Bowl Village. If they think they are going to garner sympathy with this ploy, they are sadly mistaken.
Thankfully we are being blessed with way above normal temps this week also, so there will be no nasty ice storms or 10 inches of snow to deal with either.
Forrest Lucas gambled $121MM for 20 year naming rights for Lucas Oil Stadium back in 2006. A 30 second ad during the game cost $2.5MM. Lucas calculated the cost IF Indianapolis was awarded the Super Bowl and knowing that the entire game would bear his name along with every regular season game held at home and gambled that Indy would get the Super Bowl and thereby get a big bang for his marketing dollar. Homeland Security is saying this weekend, the stadium will have as much security as the White House.
A few years back, an Indianapolis businessman went bankrupt. His $35MM estate was part of the bankruptcy. It sat empty for years until Forrest Lucas bought himself another bargain for $3MM not to live in, but as a place to share with other corporate executives and special guests.
Once Indianapolis was awarded the 2012 Super Bowl, JW Marriott built their largest hotel in the world just a few blocks away from Lucas Oil Stadium.
Indy has been preparing downtown for a couple years now and all the surrounding interstates.
Now all the prep is done and we are in full blown Super Bowl week here. The daytime crowds are getting larger and larger and the nighttime crowds are something I do not want to be in the middle of.
They've blocked off several streets and made them into a walking village with concert stages, large TV screens, kids activities and a zip line.
Don't forget to watch our town on Sunday. OH, and there's a football game on too.
Monument Circle
So warm the ice sculptures were melting
Not Rocky
The Zip Line
Union Station - Owners and Corporate Executives $700 daily hangout. Not hotel rooms, but daytime activities BUT food and drinks are included.
Peyton's New Job
The crowds - HEY! Who's that guy with the Colts sweatshirt?
(Other than the overhead shots, all rights reserved.)
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Ground Control to Major Tom
As I was getting dressed this morning I noticed my eyes felt like they had spent too many hours looking online or staring at an optical illusion.
So I switched outfits to run off to the grocery store.
As I stepped out and realized the weather was not quite as sunny to match my couture, so I changed once again.
But then my colon started acting up and I changed once again.
But then, I remembered back in the 70's when people started decorating their living rooms with clocks made out of a tree section and plastic beer holders stapled together.
So I decided on a retro look.
But then I decided I would rather not look like from Michael Jackson designer freak strung out on a three day crack high.
Give me a break.
Here's my idea of being dressed up.
(And yes, I do realize I am about 25 years past this look. )
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Did You Ever See Such a Sight in Your Life
I"m struck between a 100 things to post and nothing. So I picked something in between.
Have you ever just been quickly browsing through some of your old pics and found so many that you have completely forgotten about?
I decided to grab a random pic and this is what I found.
The muscles are real, the knife is not.
This guy was my good buddy that I worked with several years ago. He liked to call me his mom. Obviously this was not his normal work attire. As part of our team's Halloween costumes, he was the farmer's wife to our three blind mice. Ya gotta love a man that will toss on a dress and a wig for part of the Halloween fun.
I miss working with him. Great guy.
Got a random pic to share?
Have you ever just been quickly browsing through some of your old pics and found so many that you have completely forgotten about?
I decided to grab a random pic and this is what I found.
The muscles are real, the knife is not.
This guy was my good buddy that I worked with several years ago. He liked to call me his mom. Obviously this was not his normal work attire. As part of our team's Halloween costumes, he was the farmer's wife to our three blind mice. Ya gotta love a man that will toss on a dress and a wig for part of the Halloween fun.
I miss working with him. Great guy.
Got a random pic to share?
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Time to Vote - No Write in Candidates
Here's your chance.
Our state rarely makes much of a difference in decided who ACTUALLY will run for President, but here's your chance with the current field.
Rank them and indicate what you find good about them and what you do not like. Then rank your winner against Obama.
And lastly. Add in someone in the field that decided not to run that you think would have been the PERFECT person to run and win.
I'll list in alphabetical order just in case someone might not be paying attention to the real candidates.
Newt Gingrich
Jon Huntsman
Ron Paul
Rick Perry
Mitt Romney
Rick Santorum
And then would (if they could) win against Obama.
Now, who would have been your ideal candidate. (I mean OTHER than me, of course.)
Our state rarely makes much of a difference in decided who ACTUALLY will run for President, but here's your chance with the current field.
Rank them and indicate what you find good about them and what you do not like. Then rank your winner against Obama.
And lastly. Add in someone in the field that decided not to run that you think would have been the PERFECT person to run and win.
I'll list in alphabetical order just in case someone might not be paying attention to the real candidates.
Newt Gingrich
Jon Huntsman
Ron Paul
Rick Perry
Mitt Romney
Rick Santorum
And then would (if they could) win against Obama.
Now, who would have been your ideal candidate. (I mean OTHER than me, of course.)
Monday, January 9, 2012
Cool Coincidence
And yes, I believe it's a coincidence, but it IS very cool.
You can argue, of course everyone DOES, whether Tim Tebow is showboating or just honoring his faith. I believe he more likely draws criticism from the media elite because he takes a pro-life stance.
In either case, you might have seen the strange statistics today about last night's game.
He threw 316 yard against the Steelers yesterday.
Averaging 31.6 per pass.
With a 31.6 million OT viewing audience.
Go Tebow.
Hope you're playing here in 27 days. Well, since we know Peyton's out. :(
“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”
John 3:16
You can argue, of course everyone DOES, whether Tim Tebow is showboating or just honoring his faith. I believe he more likely draws criticism from the media elite because he takes a pro-life stance.
In either case, you might have seen the strange statistics today about last night's game.
Averaging 31.6 per pass.
With a 31.6 million OT viewing audience.
Go Tebow.
Hope you're playing here in 27 days. Well, since we know Peyton's out. :(
“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”
John 3:16
Saturday, January 7, 2012
The Greatest Conspiracy
The government......has issued a proclamation asking the people to be patient and put up with hardships just a little longer.......... to raise everybody's standard of living and provide a roast of pork every Sunday for every man, woman, child and abortion in the People's State of America.
Now the planners are asking people not to blame the government, but to blame the depravity of the rich.
OK, I'll fess up. I didn't write that. Well, I typed it, but I didn't write it. And I changed the word in italics.
But someone, anyone PLEASE explain to me how those words were written in 1957.
It's a conspiracy. A grand conspiracy, I tell you. Either that or the author was our first evidence of a time traveler.
Now the planners are asking people not to blame the government, but to blame the depravity of the rich.
OK, I'll fess up. I didn't write that. Well, I typed it, but I didn't write it. And I changed the word in italics.
But someone, anyone PLEASE explain to me how those words were written in 1957.
It's a conspiracy. A grand conspiracy, I tell you. Either that or the author was our first evidence of a time traveler.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Please, By All Means, Read Me Your Resume
I'm easily impressed.
Really. I wouldn't just say that if it weren't true.
When I was a young kid working as an internal auditor full time and taking my first couple of accounting classes, I can't tell you how impressed I was by the CPA in the office.
The bank had received $30k as restitution from an embezzler. When I asked the Controller why he had booked the money into investment income he responded, "I'm a CPA. I'm a CPA."
Seriously. That's what he told me. Maybe I was just a cocky kid, but that explanation didn't exactly fly with me, especially since I was the person who discovered the embezzler.
Several years ago, I directed the Internal Audit department of a bank holding company which owned a mortgage company. Loans held for sale were marked to market. Simply meaning that you estimated the days to sale and the price you might sell each loan. The calculation was a little complex, but certainly not rocket science.
The running joke among the executives involved the senior manager that was responsible for the calculation. CEO, "I talked to Eric today". CFO, "Did you understand anything he said?" CEO, "No."
I was responsible for conducting the audit of the mark-to-market. It really was simple mathematics, but the gentlemen just loved taking 12 left turns and one right to walk across the street. When I would ask him a question regarding a calculation, he told me he was a math major.
About five years ago when I started as an independent project management consultant, I scheduled a conference call with the third-party project manager to go over the project plan that had been developed a couple of months before I started.
At the beginning of the call, the outside PM started off introducing himself by telling me he was a PMP, Six Sigma, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. When he took a breath, I replied in as friendly a tone as possible, "That's nice. I'm not. Now can we go over the project plan?"
Interestingly enough, the most intelligent guy at the company the CIO, always boiled things down to the simplest solution. When going over tasks, he only wanted to know one thing. Done or Not Done? And when all chaos would reign around, he could quickly throw out all of the overwhelming issues to just concentrate the team on the top priority.
Remember the movie, Apollo 13?
"Calm down people, Calm down. work the problem." Once you boil it down to dealing with the top priority first, then recreating the universe doesn't look so overwhelming.
This is the reason I like guys like Chris Christie. I may not necessarily agree with every political position he might support, but there is something refreshing about people who are intelligent, yet can express their position clearly, without all the bull.
Unless I am conducting a job interview, I really don't care about your resume. And I am not particularly impressed when anyone tries to express themselves by attempting to get their point across using an inordinate amount of words when a couple will do.
I would have loved to have studied psychology, but Psych 101 taught me one thing. I would never be able to endure the arrogance of the professors who thought they got paid by the word.
I remember when the Prof got through rattling on for about 20 minutes in one class, the guy next to me asked, "What did he just say?"
I said, "He said drinking alcohol affects the motor skills."
The professor wasted 20 minutes of my life that I will never get back to not only state the obvious, he wasted his own time waxing on with 3,500 words when six would have been sufficient.
After spending too much time reading or listening to people who simply must express themselves in overly pretentious words or hurling insults at anyone who might disagree with them, I begin to feel like I'm sitting next to Charlie Brown listening to his teacher saying, "Waaa, waaa, waaa, waaa."
Really. I wouldn't just say that if it weren't true.
When I was a young kid working as an internal auditor full time and taking my first couple of accounting classes, I can't tell you how impressed I was by the CPA in the office.
The bank had received $30k as restitution from an embezzler. When I asked the Controller why he had booked the money into investment income he responded, "I'm a CPA. I'm a CPA."
Seriously. That's what he told me. Maybe I was just a cocky kid, but that explanation didn't exactly fly with me, especially since I was the person who discovered the embezzler.
Several years ago, I directed the Internal Audit department of a bank holding company which owned a mortgage company. Loans held for sale were marked to market. Simply meaning that you estimated the days to sale and the price you might sell each loan. The calculation was a little complex, but certainly not rocket science.
The running joke among the executives involved the senior manager that was responsible for the calculation. CEO, "I talked to Eric today". CFO, "Did you understand anything he said?" CEO, "No."
I was responsible for conducting the audit of the mark-to-market. It really was simple mathematics, but the gentlemen just loved taking 12 left turns and one right to walk across the street. When I would ask him a question regarding a calculation, he told me he was a math major.
About five years ago when I started as an independent project management consultant, I scheduled a conference call with the third-party project manager to go over the project plan that had been developed a couple of months before I started.
At the beginning of the call, the outside PM started off introducing himself by telling me he was a PMP, Six Sigma, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. When he took a breath, I replied in as friendly a tone as possible, "That's nice. I'm not. Now can we go over the project plan?"
Interestingly enough, the most intelligent guy at the company the CIO, always boiled things down to the simplest solution. When going over tasks, he only wanted to know one thing. Done or Not Done? And when all chaos would reign around, he could quickly throw out all of the overwhelming issues to just concentrate the team on the top priority.
Remember the movie, Apollo 13?
"Calm down people, Calm down. work the problem." Once you boil it down to dealing with the top priority first, then recreating the universe doesn't look so overwhelming.
This is the reason I like guys like Chris Christie. I may not necessarily agree with every political position he might support, but there is something refreshing about people who are intelligent, yet can express their position clearly, without all the bull.
Unless I am conducting a job interview, I really don't care about your resume. And I am not particularly impressed when anyone tries to express themselves by attempting to get their point across using an inordinate amount of words when a couple will do.
I would have loved to have studied psychology, but Psych 101 taught me one thing. I would never be able to endure the arrogance of the professors who thought they got paid by the word.
I remember when the Prof got through rattling on for about 20 minutes in one class, the guy next to me asked, "What did he just say?"
I said, "He said drinking alcohol affects the motor skills."
The professor wasted 20 minutes of my life that I will never get back to not only state the obvious, he wasted his own time waxing on with 3,500 words when six would have been sufficient.
After spending too much time reading or listening to people who simply must express themselves in overly pretentious words or hurling insults at anyone who might disagree with them, I begin to feel like I'm sitting next to Charlie Brown listening to his teacher saying, "Waaa, waaa, waaa, waaa."
Want to impress me, take a complex issue and state it simply. Not because I need some concept "dumbed down" for me, but simply because spouting on endlessly wastes my time.
As do those who ruin someone else's blog by creating numerous online persona and overtaking the discussion.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
The Green Generation
I don't normally post from an internet story, but this one was so true I couldn't resist. Ok, not my words, (I've added mine in red) but certainly what is accurate....
Checking out at the grocery store recently, the young cashier suggested I should bring my own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment. I apologized and explained, "We didn't have this green thing back in my earlier days." The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations."
She was right about one thing -- our generation didn't have the green thing in “Our” day. So what did we have back then…? After some reflection and soul-searching on "Our" day here's what I remembered we did have.... Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles repeatedly. So they really were recycled.
And we left with our groceries in paper bags, you know the B I O D E G R A D A B L E kind?
But we didn't have the green thing back in our day. We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks. But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.
Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days.
Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. But that young lady is right. We didn't have the green thing back in our day.
When we turned 18, we likely got some clothes or some money, we didn't get a financed trip to the plastic surgeon to buy some Barbie Doll boobs making us all look like a relative of Dolly Parton. Our mothers and grandmothers faces and breasts fell as God intended them too. They didn't have them drawn back, pushed up and their lips implanted to make themselves looks some cartoon character like this.
Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana.
In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.
We had stray mutts as our pets, not some designer dog born in a disgusting puppy mill paying hundreds or even thousands of dollars feeding an industry that should never have been created to begin with.
Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity. But she's right. We didn't have the green thing back then.
Neither our house, school or family car had air conditioning, which forced us outside in the hot summer and kept us from being obese children playing tag, hide and seek and climbing trees.
Our schools were just schools. They didn't have swimming pools and NFL type football fields. Our football fields were just FIELDS with a few bleachers lined up on the sides. They were the same fields that we used to play field hockey in summer school.
We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty or the garden hose in the summer instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water.
We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. But we didn't have the green thing back then. Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus, and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service.
We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.
But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?
Checking out at the grocery store recently, the young cashier suggested I should bring my own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment. I apologized and explained, "We didn't have this green thing back in my earlier days." The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations."
She was right about one thing -- our generation didn't have the green thing in “Our” day. So what did we have back then…? After some reflection and soul-searching on "Our" day here's what I remembered we did have.... Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles repeatedly. So they really were recycled.
And we left with our groceries in paper bags, you know the B I O D E G R A D A B L E kind?
But we didn't have the green thing back in our day. We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks. But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.
Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days.
Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. But that young lady is right. We didn't have the green thing back in our day.
When we turned 18, we likely got some clothes or some money, we didn't get a financed trip to the plastic surgeon to buy some Barbie Doll boobs making us all look like a relative of Dolly Parton. Our mothers and grandmothers faces and breasts fell as God intended them too. They didn't have them drawn back, pushed up and their lips implanted to make themselves looks some cartoon character like this.
Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana.
In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.
We had stray mutts as our pets, not some designer dog born in a disgusting puppy mill paying hundreds or even thousands of dollars feeding an industry that should never have been created to begin with.
Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity. But she's right. We didn't have the green thing back then.
Neither our house, school or family car had air conditioning, which forced us outside in the hot summer and kept us from being obese children playing tag, hide and seek and climbing trees.
Our schools were just schools. They didn't have swimming pools and NFL type football fields. Our football fields were just FIELDS with a few bleachers lined up on the sides. They were the same fields that we used to play field hockey in summer school.
We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty or the garden hose in the summer instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water.
We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. But we didn't have the green thing back then. Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus, and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service.
We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.
But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
