Hmmm… An actual serious post from me… Actually, it’s from my kids, four years ago. They all got together and decided to create a web page to celebrate my 70th birthday… I was blown away. Anyway, I decided to link to it here, not to advertise myself, but to let people know that I have some pretty grawesome offspring.
Love you guys…
Dad
Click the photo to go to the page…
Sometimes Judy has to be more clear when she asks me a question. For example, this morning she was deciding what to make for breakfast, and she wanted to know my opinion…
Judy: “How do waffles sound?”
Bill: “I don’t know. I have never heard one.”
We had waffles. And I still have yet to hear from one.
Hello again, Gentle Reader(s?),
Time, once again, for another delve into things that make one a geezer…
That’s it for now. Have a nice day.
Ah yes… I remember it well…
It was on Mars. I went to Mars to make a Door-Dash delivery. Big mack, Fries and chocolate shake. With extra chocolate. I was happy because it was toward the end of my shift, and it was the closest place to home I had been all day.
I pulled up to what some people would call a house, got out of my vehicle, picked up the bag of delicious, nutritious and practically edible food, and approached the front door, all the while keeping an eye out to make sure that there were no neighborhood dogs about who would try to snag the bag and make off with some stranger’s dinner.
And my tip. (It had already been one of those days – twice occurring previously – and I was, understandably, I think, wary.)
I was within four feet of the doorbell when the door flew open and… there you were… Standing before me with those eyes… and that smile… and a look that said, “It’s about time you showed up! I’m really hungry! And I have lost five pounds since I called in my order!!!”
After a sincere (sort of) apology on my part, I reached out with with my right hand, which was grasping your weight-replacement material, in an effort to assist you in your task of becoming less skinny, when suddenly your dog appeared and…
Within a micro second, your order had been stolen and devoured, leaving you, at least, five pounds lighter. And a lot less friendly than you were when you first opened the door and sneered at me.
I, of course, was quite (and truly) apologetic… Partly because I had failed in my mission to deliver to you your meal(?), but primarily because I was about to forfeit my third tip of the day. (My tri-tip.)
I turned to leave. I got into my vehicle. I started the engine. I put it into “Drive” and was about to take my foot off the break, when, suddenly I heard a knock on the window next to me.
It was you. You were smiling. At me. You were motioning for me to roll down the window. Frankly, I was a bit, and not unpleasantly, surprised at the change in your demeanor, and I, perhaps a bit hesitantly, cautiously even, rolled down my window… I looked into your smiling eyes and said, “Uh…Yes?”
Then the smile left your face and eyes and you replied, “You forgot your bag,” while throwing the scraps of semi-eaten paper onto my chest, from where it slowly made its way down to my lap and onto the floor, all the while leaving a trail of dog saliva, mayonnaise and the occasional chunk of pickle from my left shirt pocket down into my right foot shoe…
At this point, I felt it was safe to leave and return to Earth.
So I did…
If it wasn’t for grab bars, counters and furniture, I probably would have been dead a long time ago…
BK
When Two Words Sound Alike
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Hello again, Gentle Reader(s?),
Many people have difficulty misinterpreting words (and phrases) that not only sound like other words, but are actually pronounced the same as those other words that they sound like. Some of them are even spelled the same! For example, the words “read” and “read”.
Others may sound the same, but with slightly different spelling. For example, “for” and “four”. Then, of course, there is the infamous example of the words, “the” and “the” – (“the”, pronounced “Thee”, and “the”, pronounced “Thuh”, two words that mean exactly the same thing, but may confuse people as to when to utilize witch.)
If you are one of those people who have a problem misinterpreting words that sound the same, you have come to the right place because I can help.
I can show you how to easily misinterpret words (and even phrases) that sound like other words. With a little practice, you can be successfully misinterpreting words by the end of today. Guaranteed!
Here is an example…
I was talking with a friend (I would call her my dearly beloved cousin, but she may not want anyone to know we are related). She was very excited about her gardening efforts and said, “My tulips are blooming!”
I was pleasantly surprised for her because…
“Well, at least, both of your lips are blooming together. Mine tend to bloom one at a time.
“That makes me look really funny for up to a week until the second one decides to bloom. Do you know how hard it is to go out into public with your upper lip all bloomed up but your lower lip is as flat as a dime sitting under a steel plate beneath a hippopotamus?
“It’s hard. Real hard. If I hadn’t run out of coffee, I would never have gone out into public looking like that. But I did. So I did. You cannot imagine the looks I got from strangers who had equally blooming two lips. People can be so cruel.
“But I got through that trip out into the nether world. And I got home only mildly deranged from the receptions I got out in public. I brewed up a pot of my favorite coffee. I went to the refrigerator and opened the door. There was no half and half. Crap…”
Well, that’s ’bout it for this lesson. Give it a try! You can do this!
Until next time…
Buy-buy!
BK
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Hello again Gentle Reader(s?),
Time for another lesson on how to live a successful life. Today, we begin to explore ways to be a good husband.
Let’s get started, shall we?
I try to be a good husband. I really do. So when Judy gets upset, I let her color in my tattoos.
That’s because I know that she really needs a shoulder to crayon…
That’s it for today… Thanks for tuning in! You’re a GREAT audience!
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Good morning, Gentle Reader(s),
Today is January 8, 2024. The Time is 16:43 ZULU.
Well, as of one hour and eleven minutes ago, I turned seventy-two years, three hundred-sixty-four and one-quarter days old.
I plan to celebrate by trying to make it to seventy-three years even. And beyond…
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The Cleaning
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OK. It’s clean(ish) now…
Hello again, Gentle Reader(s?),
At long last, it is time to pick up where we left off last time in our discussion (monologue?) on Bird Fecal Material and how it arrives in and, subsequently, interacts with our fountain (Bird Toilet).
Today, I will present my version of how to rectify the situation and, therefore, once again, be able to employ our fountain in a manner commensurate with its primary intended use (to look pretty without smelling too badly).
Several items were wielded in the process of accomplishing the desired end, and I would like to list them now (not necessarily in the order of use).
Let’s get started, shall we (I)?
Well, on second thought, I’m not going to get too descriptive, here. Let’s just say that the odds are somewhat better than even that I won’t be using my garden trowel to eat out of my shop vac very soon…
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At our house, on the patio in the front yard, there resides a fountain. We really like our fountain.
And so do birds.
We seem to have a lot of birds where we live. They are all over the place – in the trees. In the air. On the ground.
And in the fountain.
For some reason, known only to the birds, they think our nice fountain is a bird bath. This makes no sense to me because, not far from the fountain, we have supplied an actual bird bath.
The other day, we were out front admiring our fountain when I realized that it seemed a bit on the lethargic side. There was barely a dribble of water exiting the “spout” and dripping over the side of the top bowl into the larger “tub” below, where it recirculates back up to the top in a never ending cycle of – well -circulating water.
This, of course, caused both Judy and I to ponder over why it was so slow and weak. We thought there may be a clog in the pump. This caused Judy to dip her hand into the fountain to see if she could find something that might clog up the works.
She did find something that could clog up the works.
Bird fecal material. Lots of bird fecal material.
As it turns out, the birds also believe our fountain is a giant toilet.
Just prior to discovering that I was not willing to shake her hand, she said, “Ewe ewe ewe ewe…” and started to shake her own hand, not with her other hand, but to cause the removal of as much of the contaminant from her hand as she could. She then ran into the house and sterilized her hand and entire arm utilizing all sorts of anti-everything soaps, sprays and alcohol. Then she took another shower (her second of the morning). After her shower, she reapplied all of the germ-killing liquids she had previously utilized. then, just to make sure she had gotten everything, she took another shower (her third of the morning).
It was at this point that she started to feel better, less contaminated.
Which brings us to the conversation…
Judy: “We need to clean out the fountain.”
Bill: “And, by ‘we’, I assume that you mean ‘me’.”
Judy: “Yes, actually.”
Bill: “OK, I’ll do that after the rains stop.”
Bill, back in ‘pondering’ mode: “Why do you think the birds defecate in our fountain?”
Judy: “I don’t think its intentional, it’s just inadvertent. But that doesn’t make it any nicer.”
Bill: “I disagree.”
Judy: “You think they do it on purpose?”
Bill: “No. I think they do it on poopose.”
Ahem…
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**Note: While this is an absolutely true account of absolutely true events, there may possibly be a detail, or two, that may possibly have been ever so mildly enhanced. – BK
I am going to say something that many people would never, under any circumstances, allow to fall out of their mouths.
I love my dentist.
Yes, I love my dentist. In fact, I love his whole staff right along with him.
You would have to make an appointment and go see them to understand, so I won’t try to explain in a few measly chapters why I love them. You’ll just have to accept the fact that I do and we’ll go on from there.
I had occasion to visit my dentist today. I didn’t plan to visit my dentist today, it just sort of became necessary late yesterday afternoon, and they were kind enough to find a way for me to squeeze into their schedule before 8:00 this morning.
Yes, I said before 8:00 AM this morning. For some of us 8:00 AM is the same as ‘zero dark thirty’, only lighter. And this was BEFORE 8:00 AM.
I also won’t go into much detail as to why I needed to go see him this morning, suffice to say that I felt the necessity for a root canal coming on. Or, at least, I thought I did. So I called his office to see if he could get me give me a referral to his good friend the endodontist.
Fortunately, he asked me to come in to see him before he would give me the referral.
As it turned out, I din’t need a root canal because my problem wasn’t with my ‘root’ (nerve), it was that my tooth was broken. Yes, somehow tooth number 14 was busted, and the nerve was exposed. (That really hurts, by the way.)
What a relief! I was so happy to hear that!
“This Tooth Shall Pass”
Alarm goes off…
Judy turns off the alarm, yawns, turns to me and says:
Judy: “This week has really dragged on. Is this Thursday or Friday?”
Me: “It’s your Friday.”
J: “Are you sure? Because you don’t often know which day of the week it is.”
M: “Yes, I’m sure. Today is Saturday number five. I know this because I had to get new tires yesterday, and yesterday was Saturday number four. Saturday number four equates to Thursday. It naturally follows that today is Saturday number five for me, which equates to Friday for people like you.”
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Ironically, Judy made waffles for breakfast this morning.
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One of the many positive things about the weather cooling down this time of year is that my T-Shirts pass the smell test for an extended number of days. – The Very William H. Kammerer, Esq. (not)
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As I have progressed in age, I have learned that some days are more flatulent than others, and some days are more flatulent than those days… I believe that this is one of the latter mentioned days… – The Very William H. Kammerer, Jr. Esq. (not,)
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Things With Six Strings 