Morning all:

Quote Of The Week:

“Nobody believes the official spokesman … but everybody trusts an unidentified source.” — Ron Nessen

Last night Marcia, neighborhood friends, and I went to a wine tasting. Robust Reds were showcased. A Napa Valley wine in addition to those from six other countries were sniffed, swirled, tasted, and in two cases dumped. This morning I find my coffee as it is swirling around my White Castle mug to be better more robust.

It has come to my attention that I should absolutely NOT involve my ramblings in any subject of substance. Marcia is especially keen to point this out. And, she is correct. I have tried to do exactly that (add substance that is) on occasion and it did come back to haunt me. Remember my infamous reference to Vietnam? Brother George made a stinging phone call regarding this episode, my apologies George. Another was an involvement into the world of medicine when I managed what I felt to be a lucid discussion on Restless Leg Syndrome. Here too, all my various ring tones sprung into life.

Against my better judgment then, let me try one more time.

Based on my collective years of reading USA Today over breakfast, at a myriad of hotels, here now is my take on this year’s State of the Union Address. My take is that I saw the well of the chamber filled with semi-panicked legislators. It would appear that the reason for their concern centered about a complete lack of understanding and training in speech “response etiquette”. None appeared to be certain as to when sit in stony silence, to clap, when to stand, when to do both (clap and stand), or when to bury their hands between the seat cushions and their bottom-cheeks. The whole event appeared a bit like “whack-a-mole”, and my take-away was that neither Democrats nor Republicans were in sync with each other; anything else on my part would be pure conjecture.

This week it’s been round two dealing with the abuse department of Ma Bell. I am accused of being the only individual in the whole greater metropolitan area who downloads the very lamest of television shows – illegally. Without getting too technical it would seem that I sit around the middle of the night (some zulu-time number) downloading pilot shows of something named Monk. Anyway, the long and the short of it all is that our connection has been re-instated, but only as long as I keep dialing various departments at the phone company, then listen to the complete directory of options – “since our options have changed to serve you better.” And, then not screw up entering my complete ten digit phone number when requested – said request repeats after every reading of the new and improved list of options.

Just in case you are asking, our annual Neighborhood Progressive Dinner last Saturday was a hoot. The fabulous coffee with the deserts at the last of the four houses visited had me staring at the bedroom ceiling at 1:30 am.

Life does not stand still and this week we are celebrating both Cathy and Kirstin’s birthday celebrations; both now at an age where the years start to slide by with increasing frequency. Then later today the ladies will be attending Cathy’s Baby Shower, without giving anything away, she is looking for pink stuff. On a more somber note, this week was the passing of Chief-the-wonder-dog, my favorite cabin pest. It is amazing how these critters, royal pains that they are, become part of you.

Make it a great week everyone: remember Henry J. Kaiser’s offering to the fine people at Ford: “trouble is only opportunity in work clothes.” (Ford lost $12.7 billion this year)

Cheers,

Dirk