You know it’s Monday when…

… you head to the basement to feed the cats and notice that the sanitary sinks near the washer are filled to the brim with swampy water.

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This photo isn’t from my house… but close enough for blogging.

It happens at least once a year. It’s not the washer drain that’s clogging (I have lint screen and a drain cover there), it’s just backup from the kitchen sink, and the basins near the washer are the path of least resistance.

This too is not from my house… mine is a lot grungier from years of use.

My trusty drain auger, which I got eons ago for less than $20, saved the day once again. I was able to snake the drain to clear the clog.

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Thank goodness… after all, I wouldn’t want to spend any dead presidents for an emergency plumbing visit on President’s Day.

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Going to the dogs… and cats

Many moons ago, we fostered a puppy named Bibo for 4 Paws for Ability, local non-profit that provides service dogs for children and disabled veterans.

My wife: “Such a pwetty widdle pupper-dupper…”

Our job was to cover the basics with bouncing baby Bibo: the usual sit/stay/come commands, potty training, and “socializing” him to get him used to public spaces. Meaning my wife took him everywhere – stores, schools, sporting events, restaurants, parades… any place where he’d be exposed to new sights, sounds and smells.

At age one, Bibo needed to go back to the non-profit (much to my wife’s dismay) for hardcore “boot camp.” The training runs the gamut, as the dogs could be put into service in a variety of roles: mobility assistance, Alzheimer’s, diabetes, epilepsy, etc. It’s like Navy Seal training for dogs, and only the very best make it through to graduation.

Bibo was a dropout. There’s no shame in that. But he needed a forever home. I’ll give you three guesses as to where he wound up (and your first two guesses don’t count).

Now that those silly “obedience” lessons are over, can I sleep on your bed?

Bibo is back (we should change his name to “Boomerang”). He joins Hope, our seven-year-old mutt (adopted from a local shelter)…

So good at hogging the couch.

…and Coco and Lily, our two cats (also adopted) in our house turned menagerie.

I should buy stock in pet companies… and lint roller manufacturers.

Every picture tells a story


When I saw this truck, I immediately thought of Cool Hand Luke. 

Has anyone under the age of 70 ever purchased this type of candy?

Candystore.com referred to ribbon candy as “the candy equivalent of, ‘he has a great personality.’ “
Customer comments:
“Whatever that ribbon stuff is, it isn’t candy. There should be a sign that says NOT FOOD.”
“My sister loves the ribbon candy, but she never eats it. Because, duh it’s nasty and awkward.”
“It should be a crime to call this stuff candy.”
“The worst Christmas non-candy candy.”

Saw this shirt at the local thrift store. I should’ve immediately purchased it because: A. I’m beat AND B. I’m a male.

The one on the left provides quicker relief. (Just for the record, this was not on the desk of my work manager.)

When it’s time to change…

Our youngest child is 13 and a half… and his voice is starting to crack. Of course, the first thought that springs to mind for someone my age is the Brady Bunch episode where Peter’s voice was changing.

But then when I clear the TV Land cobwebs from my puny brain (it takes roughly three hours to lose that stupid little Sha-na-na-n-na-na-n-na-na… sha-na-na-na-na! riff), I realize that our youngest child… our baby boy!… is leaving childhood behind.

That makes me sad, because if he’s moving to another phase, that means I am too. The phase where parents aren’t needed as much. We’re becoming accessories rather than necessities. Heck, we already have a kid in college (and another who will be there by August), two teenage drivers and another with her temps… They can fend for themselves. They’ve been off school for the past three days thanks to frigid temperatures and snow — and they probably didn’t even notice their old man was gone.

I’m not ready to be an empty nester just yet. In fact, the “failure to launch” concept is starting to sound appealing.

I know change is inevitable.

But that doesn’t make it enjoyable. At least not for parents.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste… on musical minutia

An email from my friend Steve:

Our office men’s room has a paper towel dispenser…

….that makes me think of Peter Tork of The Monkees at least daily.

You are one of the few people who can understand my daily frustration of picturing that goofy chap in my head!

Yes, that’s true, Steve. I do understand your frustration, perhaps better than anyone else, because I grew up just outside of Clarksville, Arkansas.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZcXpKiY2MXE

Thank goodness neither of us live in Pleasant Valley.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUzs5dlLrm0

Please buy this for me!

Car was parked this way via a sweet, high-speed 180° backturn.

Lot #1352 – This was one of three Firebird Formulas provided by Pontiac Motor Division to the TV show “The Rockford Files,” and was used from 1978 until the series ended in 1980. With a special Sierra Gold exterior and tan interior, the factory Formula 400 model was modified to look like an Esprit for the show. This car was the sound car, used for close-ups while driving, and still has the original mic box, holes drilled to run recording wiring, and a skid plate to protect the engine and transmission from damage during stunts.

Please, please, please buy this for me. I’ll gladly pay you back from my new earnings ($200 a day, plus expenses) as a private investigator.

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If you ever want to drive it, you can, just stop by my trailer near the beach, the address is 29 Cove Road in Malibu, California. But remember, I like to sleep in.

We’ll pick up Angel, my fellow ex-con, maybe print out a fake business card from the machine in the back seat, stop by the L.A.P.D. to see my pal Dennis Becker and get him to run some license plate numbers for me… and hope we don’t run into that jerk Lt. Chapman!

But don’t worry too much about him, my attorney Beth Davenport will put him in his place.

Fair warning though: if you hang around me, you’re probably gonna get beaten up… it happens to me once an episode… er, I mean day.

Call me up to let me know when you’re dropping this Firebird off. If you get my answering machine, at the tone leave your name and message… I’ll get back to you.

Also, the car might have $30,000 in the left front door panel.