Side Effects

     One pleasant by product of aging, at least for me, has been the ability to buy more or less what I want, and when I want it.   Of course there is a preface to this.      After all these years of struggling to accumulate stuff that I desperately needed, Ive found that I'm just about full of all that and can now concentrate on things I want.   Sounds cool, huh?
     It has it's own weird little side effects though.  
Flash back to a time when I had just enough money to buy an album.   Just one and I even had to budget for that.   I was then stuck listening to this album night and day until I knew every aural nuance in every cut and groove.   It became one of my favorites and 40 years later I can still  sing along in near perfect unison with it.   Grand Funk Railroad, "Closer to Home".
     Flash forward a few more years, I had a little more disposable income and decided that it was time I stopped budgeting so hard to buy  music.  I was sick of doing without when I was surrounded by people who seemed to have everything they wanted.  In my mind I DESERVED it.   I bought a lot of albums at one time.   Like 15.    I felt absolutely wealthy and truly I was.   I mean, when you get exactly what you want you should be happy.   Eh?  
     When I got the albums home I listened to them rapidfire,  one at a time.    Now, I know that was a terrible mistake.    I couldn't absorb any of the music as there was simply too much of it.   I felt like I had to hurry to the next one and maybe there I would find that elusive perfect melody.    I wound up storing this music for years.   I only listened to a little of it and really dont remember hardly any of it now.   If I had bought one album and listened to it over and over I would have found the art and the beauty of the lyric and notes.   Jumping to the conclusion that there was something momentus going on that vinyl disk.    I missed it.   But before I beat myself up to much I will admit I'm a slow learner.
     Flash forward even more years.   Disposable income is about the same but I learned to save it better and make myself able to buy larger WANTS.    Sometime during all this I had just about taken care of all my NEEDS and they are greatly reduced.     I finally discovered that buying crap and sticking it on a shelf really isn't all that fun.   That each piece, whatnot, or album must have some connection to me other than my ability to just buy it.    I've begun to spend with great discretion.     I hunt for that item that will make my life or the lives of those closer to me better.    When I accomplish that the side effect is my personal happiness increasing.
     Sometimes material items become weighty and require their own upkeep, space, and effort to stay current.   I'm drifting away from all that wasted energy now.    It seems like energy is not such an endless commodity as it once was.    The side of effects of buying things can be so fun and enjoyable but they can also become their own PIA.    Im finding that the things I keep are in the latter, but the stuff I give away are the former.    Who would have thought of such cool and evident side effects from seperating my wants from my needs.

First Trike Ride Jan. 2012

First trip, 150 miles, went well.   Went to Old Town Spring, did a bit of walking, found a turkey leg, did some fried Twinkies, Cheesecake and Reeses.   Got to hang with my daughter and SIL and carry my grandson around a bit and visited my friends store, "Lauras Touch"  then took off looking for some campgrounds.     It was  cool and breezy on the bike.   We got to wear our new leather chaps and seriously they work well.   We had enough clothes on to get overheated if we weren't moving but pretty comfy at cruising speed.    Bike handles well up to 80 on the freeway.   Finally figured out how my cruise control works.   Plus our helmet intercom works perfectly.   I did threaten to turn Sandi off a couple times.
         Most of the campgrounds  seem to be closed this time of year.   We visited three places.  Cagle Campgrounds, the only one that seems to be open, and the only one actually located on Lake Conroe, was ok.   It had amenities like showers, toilets, water.    The area has had a terrible drought but the water still reached the dock, barely.   We've had a bit of rain in the last week so the open fire ban has been lifted.   We saw a several campfires.    The main thing I didn't care for was the closeness of the campsites to each other.   Another thing was that none of the sites were actually on the lake but set back quite a bit.
     We then visited Kelly Pond Camp but couldn't get down to it due to the horse traffic.   We will go back next visit and try to get there.    Stubblefield Campground was next but it was totally closed.   We think we will like that one the best as it is a bit more primitive and maybe a tad more private.

It was getting late so we headed west on 1375 till it ran into 149.    We made a quick right for 8 miles and found Drifters a biker bar in Richards, Texas.   Very hospitable and welcoming.    They have a large firepit outfront so Sandi and I warmed up for a minute before we bought a beer and a coke.   They told us about a large gathering they plan to have in May so hopefully we can go back and visit more.

We got out of there and headed south.   GPS said 50 miles to home.    Sun went down at 6:25 and so did the temperature.   Not sure what it was  but we were both glad for leather and small clothes.     The ride down 149 is really a great winding flight that I will do gladly do again.

We discovered how tired we were when we got home and laughed at our wind burned faces.   Our puppies were delighted and overjoyed to have us.

Confrontation in Business

Confrontation in Business.

     I hate confrontations.  I generally will avoid personal confrontations for as long as I can.  My friends will tell you that as they notice that I simply won't be around certain people.   I find it easier to just be over yonder when the aggressor or aggravator  is in my locale.
Business, however,  is a different matter.   Occasionally in business, I'm forced to confront someone or some entity who is strictly out for themselves.   Generally at my expense of course.
It took me awhile when I was young to slowly adapt.   I was a peacemaker from way back who believed in doing to others as I would have them do to me.   This attracted my many customers but left me open for some short sighted business people.     I found after many bruises that doesn't always work.  Some business people look at me like I'm an apple tree.   They only want the fruit and they don't care what they have to do to pluck it.   It's amazing to me that  DC Mach Inc.  has survived to this age.
I learned to recognize these particular scumbags and now avoid them if I can in my daily commerce.   If a deal surfaces, and it really has value,  then the confrontational battle can begin.   I have to deal with these less than honorable D-k Heads every so often now.
     Fine.
The trick is being ready for someone who has no interest in your well being whatsoever.  It takes a bit of practice for somebody like me.   Others get right to it with no problem.
So, here is the deal.   The vendors I hold close, know it.   I don't take advantage of them, I don't ask for too many concessions, I bend if they have a shipping problem or a cost issue.   Why? Cause we are of the same cut.  I will actively look out for that type of businessman or woman.   We should take care of each other as best we can.   Any deal we make is mutually beneficial.
What's better than that?
In business, nothing.
But those who try and take instead of trade are easily seen now.    I wish I knew this when I started many years ago.   It would have saved me a ton of money and grief.
The only advice I can give to newbies and youngsters is find an older business mentor.   It will save you much stress as you go.
There will always be that guy who will walk into your yard to steal your newspaper, or kick your dog if nothing else is handy.
He wants your stuff, plain and simple.  He thinks he has power.
Show him your teeth.

Circles

Imagine.   You, we,  have a handful of pebbles.  There is only so many but...

Really, quite a few, so throwing one in the water  is no big deal. I mean, that's life, and what we ought to do.   It's the effort we make to live.
  One at a time at first.
You see the circles the waves make.  They are perfectly round and spread out till you can't see them anymore.  They move in all directions at once.
Even in directions we really had no intention.
It doesn't mean they are gone but only that we can't see them.
Each pebble is an effort.   I won't quantify it.   Something I've done.  People I said hello to.  Actions I've made.  Doors I've opened.  Chances I've taken.  The leftover circle widens and disappears in the distance.   I have no idea where it goes or where it lands or what stops it entirely.
That also is life.
The really cool part to me is when several of us throw our pebbles at the same time.   We are all in the same circle. It is a miracle.   We all make circles within circles and these spread out to touch others we may never even meet.   We are joined by the  waves and by the combined efforts in tandem with others.  We are each other's circles.  We are truly not alone.
It is my most favorite part of life.  It is something I've tried hard to keep going even when all trace of the circle is gone.  Like when I miss the water and my pebble lands on sand.  There is no reverbration or wave or anything that living things need.
Time moves on.   Seasons change.
The water in which I throw my pebble seems small and uninviting.  No one is here to make waves with me. This has been coming for a long time.   I could feel it.
Maybe my choice of pebble type is too discerning.  Or my choice of water.   None of it may matter anyway.
Still, I begin to see only my circle made from my single pebble.  Like when I was young.  Alone.
Then, I notice new Circles begin to show up and from the most unlikely areas.   I barely noticed them before yet they were there all the time.  Just like at the beginning I discover that once again I'm throwing my pebble into the same circle as my buddies.   Life is sweet and not lonely.
I do miss my old acquaintances and I miss the person I was when I was with them.  Yet, my water is stale and old to them.  It doesn't attract those I thought I needed so badly as I once did.
I do miss those days.  Badly.   As I miss my youth, and my middle age.  Maybe I will miss my old age one day too!
I'm at the point where I throw way out.   I can't even see where my pebble lands.  I know there is a wave. I have seen so many.    I have faith.   I will throw those pebbles for as long as I can and make all the circles there are.
I do love my circles.

The Dead Months (tween summer and Christmas)

Ive been online with ebay, dcmachinc.com, amazon, and other online venues since 1999.   Not selling all that time, but almost.     The learning curve has drifted from benignly brutal at the beginning to outright torturous in these later years.  I began to see selling patterns that seem to follow certain months of the year.    The easiest pattern to see comes during Nov and Dec.   The holiday season is our largest selling opportunity for the year.    However, Jan thru Mar has proven itself to be a good strong selling session too.    The rest of the year is what I consider the plodding months.    Business is good  and we sell constantly now but it's just plodding along to our very busy end of year.
I'm beginning to see another pattern which happens along with the start of school.    That is a remarkable sales drop-off.    Ive taken to calling it the Dead Months.   This is when I have to buy tons of merchandise for the Christmas buying season even though sales are down across the board.
It makes it very hard.    How can I be so sure of the sales outcome in Dec when the economy is so bad all over the country and maybe even the world too?
How can I deplete my cash reserves and invest it in merchandise that just sits here in the warehouse and gathers dust?   How can I weaken my company overall by spending money in this wanton and careless manner?
While I'm in this two month time period paranoia creeps up and makes me second guess every move.   I cut expenses and corners on every conceivable outlay.    I double check my employees and their effectiveness.  I go over my notes every day to make sure I'm not forgetting something.   I still try and find deals  but I'm generally too scared to buy them for fear of running out of cash.
This is the time of year when I ought to take a vacation.    Sales are lower so we need fewer people here.   But being the business owner, and sales being slower, it makes it even more difficult to leave.
A quandry.
Then as the days move slowly by something begins to happen.  Sometime in Nov. our daily sales figures  go up a notch. (oh so slightly)    The packing guys don't finish up by 12 noon but by 1:30.    Our rolling shelves start filling up and take two guys to move them to the loading area.     Then Thanksgiving, and it's too late to change what I started in Sept.   Whatever stock I bought then, whatever plans I made, supplies I stored up------are all plunged into shipping chaos.   Everyone is working at max speed and max concentration.    We all run face-into-door of our own limits.   I'm cursing myself for not ordering more merchandise!   What was I thinking?    The whirlwind is upon us and we are on the edge of failure for 5 to 6 weeks.
I find at the end of this miraculous rush that the Dead Months are indeed real and terrifying.   At least for an online business owner like me. 
Looking into the face of terrible short term sales and forecasting a boomtime is just one of the things I've learned over the years.   The boom is coming, no matter how bad it looks now.       We all have to work through our Dead Months and have faith that the good days are right around the corner.
Prepare now!
dc

Surpise! Your roof is gone!

After a wonderful and touching trip up north to see my nephew and his family, Sandi and I arrived on a delayed flight in Houston.    We were exhausted from the trip.    Delays of all kinds tortured us on our return home.   It was like God was reminding us that no matter our humanitarian and Christian intent, we still had business to attend to at home.    We loved on our little dogs Mixie and Max as hard as we could and collapsed in bed thinking that we both had to go to work the next morning and somehow be coherent.   It was about 1:00am I think.    During the night Mixie hopped up on the bed to snuggle between me and Sandi.    She was trembling and looking up to the ceiling.    I could see her worried little face and her laid back ears as she listened to the storm that was blowing through.    I calmed her as best I could and threw a sheet over her.
Sure enough, the next morning we awoke late feeling sore and out of sorts.    Still we got ready.   I kissed my bride goodbye wishing her a good day.   She gave me a wry smile as I headed out.
My guys were waiting for me at the overhead door of my shop.   Vince wanted to know how my weekend was and did I have a great time.   I was immediately wary.    Stoney pipes up "Cause if you did, Vince is about to ruin it".      Vince waved for me to follow and we walked out back.     The shop dogs were delighted to see me and were jumping everywhere leaving muddy paw prints all over me on the way to the back storage building.    Walking in I see that Vince has already started rearranging and moving pallets and boxes to get the dry.   Our skylights had blown out of the roof and let a considerable amount of rain in.    Lots of wet boxes and merchandise surrounded us.    Vince was in his element taking care of moving and organizing.    He is a natural born organizer.    I highly recommend a guy like him if you don't have one.
As far as calamities are concerned I suppose this was a minor one.    I can get the roof repaired for about a $1500.    However the issue was a lack of security on my part.   I had the building built but couldn't decide on the type of door so I just ignored it and basically allowed this to happen.    The door is fairly large at about 10' square so a lot of storm wind could enter to do damage.     The merchandise that got wet is hardy and will dry without loss.   The boxes are another story.   I will probably have to buy several hundred dollars of cardboard boxes to replace them.    
Another lesson.    Personal and business security needs to be addressed every day.     I'm lucky I didn't suffer the loss of the entire roof instead of just a few skylights.  
I look at the sky.  
"Ok, I get it.   It's a warning.     Thanx!"

Epic Fail Sales Tactic from the Past

When I was a young oil field supply salesman in my 20's, I had a route I followed much like a bread or milk truck would now.    I had inventory at customers sites and would show up once a week to check the "counts".  Whatever was missing I would replace and give the customer an invoice copy on the spot.   Many times at these warehouses I was just one of many route salesmen and we competed for space, speed of delivery and depth of merchandise.      I drove a relatively new Ford van with shelves in the back that was sometimes dangerously overloaded with inventory.    I never wanted to miss a sale.   I was a kid and didn't have much mentoring, not to say I would have listened anyway.    I considered myself to be the BEST SALESMAN IN THE WORLD.   
About the only advice I would take from anybody concerned sales tactics.   For instance, while lame, sometimes gimmicks worked.   I mean, giving a pack of matches away in a bar probably didn't make any bar a penny.   While giving a coupon for a half price meal brings customers in.  Some things work and some don't.     I tried buying lunches, bringing lunches, delivering free beer, free Six Flags tickets, free hats, free Tshirts, pens, lighters, notepads, license plate frames, bumper stickers...........
Nothing worked.    So while visiting with an old salesman one day he mentioned that he would stick a piece of gum in each box he delivered.    That way whenever someone opened it they would get the delightful surprise of a nice piece of chewing gum.    Sounded really great to me  so I tried it.    After a couple of weeks and about $10 worth of chewing gum, sales hadn't increased at all.   $10 back then was probably comparable to $50 now.    So I decided that since my commission made it worthwhile I would tape a crisp $1 bill to the inside lid in each box.   I bet that would knock my competition totally out of the ring!
I made my delivery of the specially prepared boxes in my corner of the warehouse.   I could barely wait to see the sales figures the following week.   
As I drove into the yard the following week to count the inventory I was surprised to see a mound of boxes and other trash that nearly blocked the overhead door.   Two or three men were rummaging around in the hill of trash looking for something.    My contact  was standing there looking POd too so I began to kiss butt the moment I walked in.  I was in shock to see the entire warehouse had been ransacked from one end to the other.   Every box opened up and dumped on the floor, piles of boxes and litter everywhere, emptied shelving, and smashed Styrofoam like snow all over the floor.
" Hey Shorty!"  (for real)   What's going on, spring cleaning?"    He gave me a grimace and waved his arm at the mess. 
"I don't know exactly, but one of the hands must of broke in here and tore up everything.    Kind a weird that nothing seems to be missing though.   Maybe you can help me separate your stuff so we can get it back on the shelf."  
Sure I said  and started picking up boxes.     It was then  that I began to look for the dollar bills I had taped inside the lid.  None in that box, or that one, or this one.   It dawned on me.   Oh my God,  punks came in here and practically destroyed the warehouse looking for those dollar bills! 
I helped straighten up the warehouse most of the rest of the day.   I never mentioned that my dollar bill trick was probably what pushed the "worms" over the edge.    I learned a lesson like the sorcerer's apprentice.    I used just enough of the gimmick to get myself in potential trouble with my customer.    Giving stuff away for free generally attracts freeloaders.
And that just wasn't my customer.

Blue Marlin for the Wall

Nothing is more memorable to the fisherman than a big fish to hang on the wall.   Problem is that it winds up being one less trophy in the water.   After you've owned a wall mount for a while you begin to feel that, yeah, it's nice, but it would be better if the fish was still alive to be caught another day.  That's where our blue marlin wall mounts fit in so well.   Hand painted resin sculptures that look gorgeous on the wall and serve the exact same purpose of reminding the fisherman or fisherwoman of a great day on the water.   Plus they are remarkably less expensive than taxidermy mounts.    For the purist, taxidermy is probably the only way to go but in the end, the memory is the thing we treasure the most.
http://www.dcmachinc.com/modules/store/HUGE-Gorgeous-48-Hand-Painted-Blue-Marlin-4-Long_P102578C7140.cfm

How To Have A Terrible Garage Sale

I buy stuff from garage sales all the time.   For one reason it stokes my primal desire to get stuff cheap!   I also resell some of it on line.    A little extra cash can't hurt anybody.
     That's why it annoys me so much to see them done wrong.  If you really want to have a terrible garage sale please follow these steps.
1.  Use only one sign.  Be sure and place it on a pole that no one will see.  The lower to the ground the better.  Make sure that it can't be seen until the driver is past the turn.
 2. Also please don't use a large marker to write with.  Use pencil or a light colored crayon.  That way your buyers will have to slow down and obstruct traffic (possibly risking life and limb) to read the sign.
3.  Never use a sign larger than a child's paper plate or a single sheet of of school paper.  Write all over them in small print.  Also use a small stick to tape them to.  That way whenever the wind blows the sign will fold up and no one can read it.
4. Never use an "arrow" on your sign.  If you must, make it so small that the buyer can't see which way it is pointing till they are past the turning point.
5.  If you insist on using colored cardboard for your sign then please use black ink on blue, red ink on orange,  gray ink on green , etc.
Now that we have the rules for signage figured out here are the rules for setting up your driveway for the sale.
6.  Never put a large sign at your driveway.  No balloons on the mailbox either.  Don't do anything to draw attention to your sale on your own street.
7.  When laying out clothing to be sold be sure and throw them down in piles all over the driveway.  Never hang them up or arrange them by adult, teen, children, etc.
8.  Be sure and have lots of mixed up mismatched clothing, broken toys, inexplicable pieces of cracked glasses, plates, plastic, bent forks and spoons,  all in a jumble in a box.  Turn the box over so  they get stepped on a lot is even better.
9.  Let buyers kids play with whatever they can get their hands on.  The toys are pretty much used and worthless and the electronic items probably wouldn't have sold anyway.
10.  If you have books be sure and leave them in piles on the driveway.  If you treat them like trash then the buyers will too.
11.  If you are selling tvs, computers, toasters,  telephones, lamps, tables, etc.  never clean them prior to the sale.  Greasy fingerprints and cigarette tar/nicotine generally do wonders for sale items.
12.  If you are selling rugs and have dogs and cats in the house please remember to not vacuum them.  The new buyer loves to see thick animal hair all over their new purchase.  Makes them smell nice too.
13.  Hopefully there will be no parking on your street and you will have to stop every buyer from parking in your driveway just because you have that power.
14  If you can't speak English that will instantly cut down on a lot of your buyers.  Definite plus!
15.  Make it impossible to test electric items.  No extension cords, no outlets, no nothing.  Even better cut the plugs off all the appliances you are selling.  Just tell your customer to replace the plug and it will work fine.
16.  Never, absolutely never have any change.  Make it impossible to be paid with a ten dollar bill and expect change back.
17.  Always ask way too much (suggested retail is best) for your wore out crap.
18.  Never offer help loading, or bags, or extra boxes.  They should have brought their own.
19.  Never smile or say hello, and especially don't welcome anybody into your driveway.  Buyers are such an interruption anyway.
20.  Be sure and stop selling whenever you are tired of it. (no matter what the fine print on your sign says).  Remember to leave all your signs up too.  It's pretty funny to see your garage sale sign up for a month at a time.   Maybe you can mess up other garage sales just a little bit and they can have the same success that you had.

Another Sandi Quip

Ive been thinking about starting a workout routine at the local gym with Sandi. I asked her which machine I should concentrate on so as to impress the young ladies. She looked me up and down and said "the ATM".

Sandi Quips

I come in from outside and my hair is blown every which a way. One of my buddies says hey you are just like Einstein, and Sandi pops up with, "Only without the brains!"

Santa Works in Mysterious Ways

I tend to buy odd items that hopefully dont have much competition. So...I found these flying chickens that squawk when thrown. They actually have a rubber band throwing device built into them. I know, pretty silly, but we did enjoy throwing them around the shop. One problem is that the little squawk mechanism didnt work well. Hence the reason it was a closeout.
I called the company and complained and got a RTA.
We left the box open in the middle of the shop floor and went home that evening.
The next morning we arrived at the shop to find chickens scattered the entire length and breadth of the whole acre here. Our shop dog discovered the box and assumed they were 100 dog toys. He carried the chickens everywhere, buried some in the back, and dismembered quite a few all over. Most of the intact chickens were covered in mud and quite unsaleable or returnable. To top it off one of my Einsteins here decided the only thing to do was wash the chickens in a clothes washer, thereby ensuring the squawk mechanism NEVER works again, for any reason.
The only one really happy was the shop dog who now has a chicken dog toy for every nook and cranny of the place. 
Yes, he had a great little Christmas.

On Looking Like a Grandfather

     I travel to Las Vegas twice a year on wholesale buying trips as I am the principal buyer for www.dcmachinc.com.   Generally it is a whirlwind trip and pretty hard work.    This year, however, I arranged to add another day which allowed me to slow down just a bit and not give myself a heart attack running around non stop for three days.
I have to travel between two convention centers and take the monorail most trips.   If certainly saves on shoe leather.  
As I was walking down a long hall at the Sands Convention Center late in the afternoon a beautiful young lady noticed me and came walking toward me with a warm smile.    I was taken aback, but I will admit I look pretty good for my 57 years.    I slowed my approach but she sped hers up.   It appeared this young and gorgeous girl was tipsy, which is not unusal to see in Vegas.   
She threw her arms open and with a great big smile said, "You look just like my GrandFather!"
At that moment two young men ran up and grabbed her before she fell down.    I must have had an odd look on my face as they both started apologizing for her explaining that she was drunk.
They led her off tottering and careening down the hall, giggles and singing followed them for a long time.
My time for that being past, I walked to the card tables and found comfort amongst the other gnarled and aged fellows.    
I fit right in with them.

I Remember

I remember when I felt that summer was a year.   It ended though and school began.
I remember when the fall semester was a year.   Christmas was the end of it.
I remember spring when green was the most impossible color and I couldn't help but stare at it.
I remember my first girlfriend, Sherry, and I loved her more than anything.   Except Momma.
I remember falling into the storm shelter when the tornado was coming and I went entirely under water and came up to see row upon row of pickles.
I remember my first day at school and being late, but loving it after I got there.
I remember the men running across a field to put a grass fire out and the sound of the old gasoline pumping units.
I remember the horror of seeing a cow eat my book off of a fence post just before the bus came.
I remember the sound of the brakes on the bus.   We could hear it from a mile away and knew it was ours.
I remember Momma washing my face with a wash rag moments before I was to do, meet, act, on anything.
I remember our old dog Buck and another dog Tuffy.    They were absolute equals to me and my brothers and sometimes held higher position.    Especially Buck since he was our Squirrel Dog and Dad loved him.   If Dad did we did too.
I remember Chester the Rooster.   The most lucky rooster that ever lived in our neighborhood on Whatley Road.  .   He learned to play piano at Randy's hands.  That was before he ate a whole box of rat poison.   He lived two more years still.
I remember how Danny could hoola hoop perfectly and I could hardly skip without falling down.
I remember asking Daddy what the "Red Light District" was at the end of our street.
I remember Randy being pushed in front of the right tire of the school bus and me screaming and the bus driver crying while he carried him in his arms.   He had just gotten his leg brace removed and Momma was terrified for him.
I remember my brothers putting a live chicken in our neighbor's mailbox.    Thankfully he saved the chicken.  Later he gave us a baby goat.    I cried when it didn't survive through winter even though I bottle fed it twice a day in the freezing cold.
I remember Officer Pitts coming to talk to Dad.  Again and again.
I remember the three of us going across the street with a hatchet and cutting down a pine tree in our neighbors front yard so we could surprise Dad with a Christmas tree.   He was very surprised, along with our next door neighbor.
I remember Dawson, with all her brothers.   And her famous Dad.   I remember Maurita and her sisters throwing us in the ditch if we passed in front of their house.    They had the best plums on earth and they were worth the punishment.   We called her Maurita the Mosquito Eater.    It kind of rhymed.
I remember the hot tamale man who got in trouble for selling some sort of drugs.   He must have been terribly unsuccessful as he lived in a house much smaller than ours.   He was not a Mexican so that probably didn't help at all.
I remember a man who pulled up beside me as I walked to the pool on a summer day and asked me if I wanted a ride.   He was very persistent.   Still, I was told to never take a ride with anyone I didnt know.   With time, afterwards, and now after all these years, knowing the heart of my Dad, I know I probably saved that assholes life that day.    
I began to feel that life had a charmed edge to it.    I had found a sort of religion by then.   I knew most of the required words, at least.   I asked questions and was verbally spanked.   I didnt ask them again till maybe,  now.
I was entrusted with guns.   I could run with the squirrel dogs with grown men.  I began carrying the squirrel bag if it wasnt too heavy.   Then  I began carrying an ax until I proved myself.  Modern children had no need to prove themselves as they were simply given guns like they were equal.
  We actually chopped trees down for squirrels in those days.   Afterwards, when the sun was down,  I held the legs while Dad cut and pulled the hide when we cleaned them.   He would pull me all over the kitchen as I wasnt very strong then.   I love the smell of the woods and of squirrels to this day.    It is home and safety and life somehow.   Momma was proud of us.
I remember when I got tired of the woods and aspired for something more.   Boy Scouts.
I discovered I could  make a camp and swim a mile.  And Camp cook which was no surprise really..   Me and my brothers were actually advanced woodsmen due to Dad.   We could find wild water to drink, Huckle
Berries, muskiedimes, and wild grapes.   We could even survive on sour weeds.
I remember digging muscles from the river bottom and Uncle Donny cooking them on the bank.   They tasted like crap.   Still we were foragers.
Then black kids were introduced into our school.
We were scared to death.   Hereto before, we were threatened with a beating if we should have even talked to a black kid.   They were respectfully called negroes by my parents then.   My parents didn't bad  mouth black people and neither did we.
I was forced into the choir, though I didn't fight really hard.    I wanted to take a shop class but  I discovered I could sing.
Still I played football for Dad.   If not badly.
I wasnt very good, at football.   I did however excel at singing.   I sung Latin, Italian and German songs that I didnt even know what the words meant.    No matter, I went to Region that year and failed in All Area.
That was also the same year that the junior high got air conditioning.    The elementary got nothing which was only right.
It was the year that blacks started carrying knives.   Or at least they acted like they did.   I don't know about the rest of guys but I believed them...   They were black after all!
A bunch of buses were blown up near by and we were wide eyed wondering what it was all about.
I remember Viet Nam and us boys being young and wondering if it would still be blazing when we were of age.   Sadly, we knew it would be over and we would have no war.   Somehow we would miss this great event.   We studied war comics and memorized weapons and vehicles nomenclature.
I remember the fear of the war looming up real and mysterious and my family being no safety at all.   We were supposed to go to war cause the government said so.    I learned my first lesson in how to say no.  If only very quietly and luckily since my lottery numbers were very low that year.    The next year Nixon was pressured to kill the draft.
I remember not trusting anyone older than me, for a long time.   After all, I didn't put them in harms way the way they willing put me.
I remember red lights in a pasture.  Me and my girl in the car seat trying to find the keys.   It was the cops, and they accused of us cattle rustling.  It wasn't funny that night.    I owe those old men an ass kicking to this day.
I remember forgiving all the older ones.   That was much later.   We are all pawns it seems.
I had a great many secrets to keep.   Some I had to swallow and  digest and some that are still like a rock in my shoe.
I was an actor and singer in high school.
I remember moving away to sing and dance in an outdoor theatre.   The money was so bad that I applied to the Marines.    The recruiter smiled after I took the test and said I had no business being in the Marines and suggested the Airforce.    I wish I had heard of the Coast Guard.
I starved awhile longer.
I found a job with a pizza place and met the mother of my children.   She was so quiet yet had her own apt with cat.   I met her little sister then running around naked after a bath.   One of my fondest memories of those days.  I carved my future wife a little guitar out of a piece of found wood.   We were pretty poor in those days.
This is ongoing.   I will be back. 3/14/11

Thoughts on Dogs

Sometimes I think dogs are us in smaller, freer form. They play as we wish we could play, they love as we wish we could love. 

--Doyle Carver

The Art of AD Carver

    My Dad is retired from the hustle of the working world.   He worked in the oilfields of Texas, Arkansas and even Montana all of his life.   He admits now that he enjoyed his work but I'm sure he wouldn't have back then.   Too much hard labor in miserable weather.     He spends his hard earned time now retired, fishing, and tinkering.   If you want to see some of that oilfield history you can visit the East Texas Oil Museum.
Lately he picked up his pocket knife and began to whittle.  (he doesn't call it carving)
     Whittling goes way back in my family and was a men's social tradition of sorts.   When  I was a child I remember sitting under Papaw's mimosa tree with the old men of the family.  Im sure some as young as 17 or 18.   They were all old to me.    As they settled down in the old colorful metal lawn chairs they would all produce a bit of wood or a stick found  underfoot and whittle as they talked.   Most of them didn't have to make anything either.   They just whittled away and  probably wound up with toothpicks.   Even me, I had a small pocket knife and would whittle away at whatever I could find to fit in with the men.   In those days you simply weren't a man if you didn't have a pocket knife.    I don't feel much different about that even now. Its something about being prepared to work at a moments notice.   It feels manly somehow and Ive tried to convey that to my son and others over the years.
     Dad I think remembers all this as well but with the added effort of actually making something.    Cool thing is he whittles scenes from his memories of his working life.    I'm very proud of him doing this and wanted to share it a bit.   The whittling art of A.D. Carver.

...

Whiskey Dick's Bike and Car Show

Written  Aug 2001.

 Saturday the 28th of July was a rare day for me and my shovel.  Everything was working, nothing needed repair, the sky was blue, and the my lady wanted to ride.  As every item I just mentioned can go to hell in a couple a minutes, I didn’t mess around.  Off to Whiskey Dick’s we went  for the Bike and Car Show.  It threatened rain that morning and did actually sprinkle on me in the driveway.  That moisture made a lot of bikers and car owners puss out at the ice house.  We didn’t get a drop though.
     Why I relive this weekend is based on an article I just read of Gypsy’s.  I have read her often in the free motorcycle rags found in the bike shops.  When you read someone for awhile, you begin to feel like you know them.  At least a little.  Her burnout statement had made an impression.  I was introduced to Gypsy, unbeknownst to her, at Whiskey Dick’s by a red head named Alex or Lexx, or Alexia.  Now, Lexx, is your typical red headed- model- writer- music- editor- biker- babe.   She was very talkative and friendly as she pressed L2R propaganda on us.  I also had the pleasure of watching Fat Robert take a picture of her as she straddled one of the beautiful bikes.  A beautiful pair man!  I’m speaking of her and the bike of course.
     Oh, back to Gypsy.  I never actually met this woman as she seemed preoccupied and busy, like she was on a mission or something.  After reading her article, I realize now that she actually was.  I don’t know what I expected but Gypsy is a knockout!   A lot of guys forgot what they were doing for the moment in time it took for her to walk by.  A bunch of dumb bastards frozen in position from scratching their ass to polishing their bikes.  Did time stand still?  I don’t think I’m the one to ask as I blanked out with the rest of the them.  She was wearing this bikini top too.......
     Anyway, me and the group I was with were slamming long necks and jostling for position around the fans.  Whiskey Dick’s has no ceiling fans so we had to make do with about 5 floor fans.  They were those big round 4 foot tall bastards you find in mechanic shops.  The bar had just about half of what was necessary to actually keep us cool.  Then again, maybe staying cool was impossible that day.  Every time we would hear a  new bike roll in we had to run out side to stare at it.  Did I mention that there was a bike show going on?  And a car show?  We would be standing in front of Buster’s Leathers admiring these insane rides when heat stroke would near overtake us.  Buster’s woman would then spray us down with this mist thang.  Then, feeling momentarily human again, I would buy beer for us all.  Don’t know how many times this happened.  Heat, mist, beer.  Over and over.  Twilight Zone, only with a good ending.
     In the midst of this self-induced sun trauma some glib talking bro managed to convince two bikini clad cuties to wash cars.  What kind of car?  Who cares!  Did I mention that these two were wearing bikinis?  I do remember in the wavering heat that these two poor beauties were having to wash a black vehicle.  Sheesh.  Like trying to wash a hot muffler.  Then, a burly biker hurryed by talking about a wet t-shirt contest.  I grabbed my camera and joined the stampede into the bar.  I was distracted by two rather buxom young ladies stepping into this wading pool by the building.  I don’t know about the other men present, but I was dumbfounded as it dawned on me that I was about to watch two, for real, bathing beauties battle it out in this over size wading pool.  They circled each other warily then flounced, I mean pounced!  The war was on!!  I didn’t think my poor camera could keep up.  These beautiful Amazons straining the very seams of their scant clothes pummelled and tossed each other about brutally.  I kept my camera ready for the impending explosion of breasticles to come.  One poor guy, enthralled by these feminine wrestlers got a little close and was threatened about having his favorite appendage removed by a dark haired wrestler’s teeth!  Needless to say we all backed up.  The two battlers, finally winded and generally pooped, clung to each other for long minutes and climbed slowly from the pool and went into the bar to find a fan and rest.  I was left standing there with my camera throbbing, I mean smoking.  How they managed to be so seductively violent and acrobatic and NOT LOSE THEIR TOPS will be a mystery I will sadly ponder for years.
     We all ran inside and gangbanged fans.  Did I mention that I loaned the blond wrestler a pen and she bought me a beer?    Next time I’ll bring a typewriter to loan out.
     In the midst of all this they began the loud bike contest.  Not sure who won as I couldn’t understand a word anybody said for quite awhile after that.  I drank more beer to clear the ringing outa my ears.  Amazingly it worked!  As I was taking my new ear medicine the judges gathered and began to choose the best of the best in their categories.  While they were doing their nit picking I met a lithe young lady with a white custom dresser with 76,000 miles on it.  It just goes to show, you can’t judge an iron butt by its cover, or something like that.  How these judges choose between two seemingly perfect custom bikes baffles me.  They even had a single rat bike to look at!  Don’t see many of them anymore.
     After they handed out the plaques to all the winners the place began to thin pretty fast.  We were pretty much baked through and through by that point.  We gathered ourselves up and began to consider where to go next.  Never did see  where Gypsy got off to.  Maybe she entered the wet T-shirt contest but I doubt it.  She was probably on the sidelines somewhere doing her reporting thing.   She ain’t very tall so we probably just lost her in the crowd.  Maybe we should have invited her to run with us that evening.  My group had a large time of it mainly because we don’t do it as often as we would like.  It’s a pleasant change from our daily grind.  To others it is the daily grind and I hate that for them.  We traveled to two other bars that evening and made our way home pretty late.  The only mishap being the loss of low beam on my headlight.  I pretty much blinded my bro all the way home.  Oh yeah, I could have ridden in the front but he’s so picky about that little bit of oil I’m blowing.  Hey Dirk, it wipes off!
Till the next one.
Green skies, blue lights.
dc
8/8/01

Adventures of Jay & Doyle #1

     Me and Jay go way back.   Back when he was skinny and I had long hair.   Oh wait, I still have long hair.  Sorry Jay.
     We've hunted and fished together and worked at all the chores that pertain to that type of diversion.   His favorite chore is camp cook.    He goes on and on about the eggs, the toast, the bacon, etc.   He always ends his diatribe with a stern remark that he doesn't clean up.    I've probably heard this 50 or 60 times and by now am an excellent pot washer.  I can opt out of washing if somebody complains about the food.   Complaining results in instant KP duty.
      His excellence at cooking is only overshadowed by his snoring.    The snoring is a cross between the sound of a cement mixer and an industrial food disposal.    No that's not quite right.   Throw a couple of spoons in the disposal to get the proper effect.   Yep, that's the sound I'm talking about. 
     We had buddies show up at the camp house one evening.    The old house had several rooms and we had claimed one wall of the rearmost and built a bunk bed.    Jay on bottom and me on top.   He was afraid that he might fall out of the top so he voted me up there.  I mean if anybody is going to suffer a broken leg I suppose I'm it.    One of the new guys asked if he could throw a sleeping bag on the floor.
"Sure, you can but you better wear some ear plugs."   I show him my plugs like they are made of gold.  I hover my other hand over my hunting knife so he get's the idea of how protective I am of them.
He says, "Don't need no ear plugs.   It's only proper for hunters to belch, spit,  fart, and snore around each other.    This is the only place we can really do that sort of thing.     Don't worry about it."
     With as serious a face as I could muster, "I'm not kidding.   Get plugs of some sort.  Use a piece of newspaper or tie your socks around your head.   Old cigarette butts work in a pinch.    Jay snores worse than boar after a slop feast.    It's the most horrible thing I've ever heard.    Most men don't live to report it.   Before I had ear plugs and didn't know better I think I about ruin't this left ear.   I guess I could give you that ear plug out of charity.   It's all waxed up and ready to go."
     With absolute disgust he reiterated, "I won't need no ear plugs.   I'm just naturally tough to that sort of thing."   He looked down his nose at me and Jay and began to make his bed.
     After cards, stories, beer and whiskey, and lots of genial cussing,  we finally decide to hit the sack.    Jay warned me to go outside and relieve myself now since he didn't want a shower during the middle of the night.
     Dang that guy holds a grudge.
     We bed down and I insert my ear plugs and listen to Jay warming up.    Even though my ears were muffled I could still hear Jay snoring away.    Our buddy on the floor set up and looked incredulously at Jay.   I gave him a thumbs up.   He gave me the finger and wrapped his coat around his head.
After a few more moments I while I was watching him he sat up and started talking.   I removed the earplug to hear him whining about Jay.   Course Jay couldnt hear a thing.    He asked,   "Is that for real?   Is he doing that on purpose?   Sounds like he's strangling a pig!"
I look at him coolly.   "Ah, he'll stop in a minute or two."
The guy laid back down.   He had wrapped himself up till you could only see his eyes.
Jays snoring continued.   I drifted off.
Sensing a commotion I looked to see our buddy standing up with his sleeping bag in a wad on his head.   He stumbled into the wall and slammed into the door trying to get out of the room.   I removed my earplug to listen to him talking in a high and strained voice.
"I gotta get some SLEEP!"   He finally got through the door and fell over a guy camped out on the floor in the next room.
"What the he...!."
In a kind of a terrible man shriek I will never forget , "I gotta get some SLEEP!."
He made it to the front door, got it opened and the house settled back down.    Jay never halted his throaty, choking, fart of a snore.
I drifted back off to sleep.
Morning comes early.    Somebody's alarm went off and Jay hopped up.   I suppose hop is an exageration but he slouched through the house and opened the front door.    It didn't open right so he leaned his not inconsiderable weight against it and it slowly moved open.     Our buddy was sleeping on the freezing porch with only his upper half wrapped in his sleeping bag. He laid there shivering in a heap.   He opened his eyes and sat up to show an absolutely miserable morning face.   Eyes as red as fishing bobbers and protruding just like that.   Under those bulge eyes he had  bags as big as garden slugs.
He had slobbered in his sleep so his sleeping bag was stuck oddly to his unshaven face.   In the most pitiful voice I ever heard come from a grown man,
"I had to get some SLEEP!"
Jay says, "You should of just slept in our room.    It's cold out here."
Only my intercession kept our buddy from attempting to throw Jay off the porch.
Not sure what happened to that guy.   After the morning hunt he was simply gone.   As I gathered the pots and started washing it occurred to me that we have a little trouble keeping hunters lately.

How to Have a Terrible Garage Sale

Originally written Aug, 2006

Since I need  items to list on Ebay I spend nearly every Saturday  morning running all over my part of town going to garage sales.  The amount I buy, determines how long I stay out doing it.  Due to the heat in the summer here I almost always quit at lunch though.  If I get a lot of items I know that Ive loaded myself down with photography, research and listing to last me several days.  While garage sales are fun, they are also dead serious work.
     That's why it annoys me so much to see them done wrong.  If you really want to have a terrible garage sale please follow these steps.
1.  Use only one sign.  Be sure and place it on a pole that no one will see.  The lower to the ground the better.  Make sure that it can't be seen until the driver is past the turn.
 2. Also please don't use a large marker to write with.  Use pencil or a light colored crayon.  That way your buyers will have to slow down and obstruct traffic (possibly risking life and limb) to read the sign.
3.  Never use a sign larger than a child's paper plate or a single sheet of of school paper.  Write all over them in small print.  Also use a small stick to tape them to.  That way whenever the wind blows the sign will fold up and no one can read it. 
4. Never use an "arrow" on your sign.  If you must, make it so small that the buyer can't see which way it is pointing till they are past the turning point.
5.  If you insist on using colored cardboard for your sign then please use black ink on blue, red ink on orange,  gray ink on green , etc.
Now that we have the rules for signage figured out here are the rules for setting up your driveway for the sale.
6.  Never put a large sign at your driveway.  No balloons on the mailbox either.  Don't do anything to draw attention to your sale on your own street.
7.  When laying out clothing to be sold be sure and throw them down in piles all over the driveway.  Never hang them up or arrange them by adult, teen, children, etc. 
8.  Be sure and have lots of mixed up mismatched clothing, broken toys, inexplicable pieces of cracked glasses, plates, plastic, bent forks and spoons,  all in a jumble in a box.  Turn the box over so  they get stepped on a lot is even better.
9.  Let buyers kids play with whatever they can get their hands on.  The toys are pretty much used and worthless and the electronic items probably wouldn't have sold anyway.
10.  If you have books be sure and leave them in piles on the driveway.  If you treat them like trash then the buyers will too.
11.  If you are selling tvs, computers, toasters,  telephones, lamps, tables, etc.  never clean them prior to the sale.  Greasy fingerprints and cigarette tar/nicotine generally do wonders for sale items.
12.  If you are selling rugs and have dogs and cats in the house please remember to not vacuum them.  The new buyer loves to see thick animal hair all over their new purchase.  Makes them smell nice too.
13.  Hopefully there will be no parking on your street and you will have to stop every buyer from parking in your driveway just because you have that power.
14  If you can't speak English that will instantly cut down on a lot of your buyers.  Definite plus!
15.  Make it impossible to test electric items.  No extension cords, no outlets, no nothing.  Even better cut the plugs off all the appliances you are selling.  Just tell your customer to replace the plug and it will work fine.
16.  Never, absolutely never have any change.  Make it impossible to be paid with a ten dollar bill and expect change back.
17.  Always ask way too much (suggested retail is best) for your wore out crap.
18.  Never offer help loading, or bags, or extra boxes.  They should have brought their own.
19.  Never smile or say hello, and especially don't welcome anybody into your driveway.  Buyers are such an interruption anyway.
20.  Be sure and stop selling whenever you are tired of it. (no matter what the fine print on your sign says).  Remember to leave all your signs up too.  It's pretty funny to see your garage sale sign up for a month at a time.   Maybe you can mess up other garage sales just a little bit and they can have the same success that you had.

Barbque Time!

This is moved from a story a wrote in January of this year.

I had the great pleasure to be a BBQ judge again this weekend. We have a small rodeo here every spring "Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo" that has numerous qualifying bbqs held for the chance at the prestigious honor of First Place Brisket, Ribs, etc.
I judged only bbq pork ribs. I could have judged brisket and chicken too but hey there was 138 entries. Enough is enough!
I had the honor of tasting 15 entries at my table and on a scale of 1 to 10 I had mainly 7s, 8s, and ONE 9.
The best round of ribs Ive ever had the pleasure to test.
The beer was free too!
Prizes for this particular contest ran over $10K so it was dead serious competition.
The winners of this get free entry into the even larger bbq contest at the main rodeo at the old Astrodome.
All for a good cause, mainly scholarships and bragging rights, both of which go far in this part of the world.
After the event while visiting different bbq teams under their respective tents I found out about a benefit for the next day for our local flower lady.
FYI, our flower lady goes from bar to bar each Fri and Sat night and sells flowers. Mainly roses. She has done this with for 20 years and it has kept her afloat due to illness and other bad luck that has affected her and her family.
As things go she wound up with breast cancer. Her insurance paid for surgery. Not long after that her day job closed down so she was left with nothing but COBRA insurance which is outrageously high and flowers sales.
Shes looking for a job now. The benefit was to tide her over and keep her electricity on, etc.
After, bbq, silent auction, live auction, cake sales, karaoke bids, raffle tickets, etc, we managed to raise 25K in cash in one day for her. I dont know the final tally but that it went over the 25K range.
This wont fix her problems but it will certainly give her some time to figure something else out.
Going home after two days of charity and fun it just occurs to me to be thankful for this great place Im in right now. Things can change in the blink of an eye but hey, as long as you got friends in this world all is not lost.
dc