Day 120
Another beautiful northern Michigan day. Temperature hit 58 degrees today. The snow is melting and it won't be long before the ice comes off the lakes. Then it's time to go fishing.
I have several new stories percolating in my mind and I will get one on the blog soon. The past two weeks have been rather hectic but I have plenty of time now.
Mac & cheese for dinner (not very healthy). Back on my diet tomorrow. Been putting on unwanted pounds and I need to get then off. Have to be in shape to do book signings and lectures.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Monday, March 7, 2016
Sunday, March 6, 2016
MMW Dinner a Great Success
Day 119
I went to the MMW 39th Anniversary Dinner and Awards Ceremony last night. It was a great event. We were shy a few members but no one noticed until the end of the evening. Just kidding, we noticed right away. But we did have fun on a special night and we did present an award to a very deserving member. We ate at the China Inn in West Branch. The food was excellent and the staff was very friendly and accommodating. We had several members and guests who are vegetarian and the kitchen recognized their requests for off menu vegan fare.
MMW is a great group of people and I am very honored to be associated with them. With their assistance I hope to realize my lifelong dream of being a published author.
Earlier in the day, drove mom over to the senior center to get her taxes done. Now she can relax until next year. That's it for today.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I went to the MMW 39th Anniversary Dinner and Awards Ceremony last night. It was a great event. We were shy a few members but no one noticed until the end of the evening. Just kidding, we noticed right away. But we did have fun on a special night and we did present an award to a very deserving member. We ate at the China Inn in West Branch. The food was excellent and the staff was very friendly and accommodating. We had several members and guests who are vegetarian and the kitchen recognized their requests for off menu vegan fare.
MMW is a great group of people and I am very honored to be associated with them. With their assistance I hope to realize my lifelong dream of being a published author.
Earlier in the day, drove mom over to the senior center to get her taxes done. Now she can relax until next year. That's it for today.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Saturday, March 5, 2016
Foot Steps
Day 118
Readers seem to like the stories of when I was young so here's another.
Every Saturday. I think it was at one o'clock in the afternoon, my friend Cliff and I would watch a horror show called Sir Graves Ghastly. It was a movie matinee with a kid friendly vampire host. Elvira Mistress of the Dark was a few years away or else my childhood could have been very different.
Anyway. Cliff and I would move the furniture in his parents basement and cover it with a heavy blanket. It had to be heavy to cut out as much light as possible from the basement windows, the darker the better. We would pull the blanket from the chairs to the television, like a tent. We used our shoes to hold the blanket in place because it would slip off the slick plastic surface of the TV. Then when we watched Sir Graves creature feature it would be even scarier.
Remember this was in the early 70's so these are old "B" horror movies mostly from the 50's and 60's. I loved the vampire and werewolf movies. Yet one of my favorites is a movie called "The Skull" with Peter Cushing. That skull floating through the air gave me nightmares. I loved it.
It was not uncommon for my brother and I to stay overnight at grandmas and grandpas house. This was a small older, two bedroom house. Off the kitchen, leading down into the basement, was a squeaky set of wood steps, about twenty in all. There were several storage closets and an original coal furnace that had been updated to natural gas. When the furnace came on and the element started to heat up, it would make this loud pinging sound with about a two second pause in between. The old duct work would amplify the sound. As the element got hotter the pinging sound came louder and closer together. Until it was finally hot enough and the fan would come on and the pinging would stop.
After watching horror movies in the afternoon my imagination was pretty fertile. So when I woke up, at night, in that small quiet house with the creaky stairs. And I heard a slow noise like a step and then another step, like something hard walking up the stairs. Like a bony foot, that belongs to a bony skeleton, of what used to be a human being. A skeleton with an evil grinning skull and hollowed out eye sockets, slowly climbing the stairs from the basement. Climbing faster and faster until it got to the door at the top of the stairs. I would swear I could hear it jiggling the door knob but it couldn't get a good enough grip to open the door.
I would wake up sweating (because of the heat being on) and rollover with the covers pulled up over my head until my bladder forced me out of bed and to the bathroom. I would realize there was no skeleton and go back to bed. Soon, I would fall asleep. Until the furnace came on and the footsteps started again.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Readers seem to like the stories of when I was young so here's another.
Every Saturday. I think it was at one o'clock in the afternoon, my friend Cliff and I would watch a horror show called Sir Graves Ghastly. It was a movie matinee with a kid friendly vampire host. Elvira Mistress of the Dark was a few years away or else my childhood could have been very different.
Anyway. Cliff and I would move the furniture in his parents basement and cover it with a heavy blanket. It had to be heavy to cut out as much light as possible from the basement windows, the darker the better. We would pull the blanket from the chairs to the television, like a tent. We used our shoes to hold the blanket in place because it would slip off the slick plastic surface of the TV. Then when we watched Sir Graves creature feature it would be even scarier.
Remember this was in the early 70's so these are old "B" horror movies mostly from the 50's and 60's. I loved the vampire and werewolf movies. Yet one of my favorites is a movie called "The Skull" with Peter Cushing. That skull floating through the air gave me nightmares. I loved it.
It was not uncommon for my brother and I to stay overnight at grandmas and grandpas house. This was a small older, two bedroom house. Off the kitchen, leading down into the basement, was a squeaky set of wood steps, about twenty in all. There were several storage closets and an original coal furnace that had been updated to natural gas. When the furnace came on and the element started to heat up, it would make this loud pinging sound with about a two second pause in between. The old duct work would amplify the sound. As the element got hotter the pinging sound came louder and closer together. Until it was finally hot enough and the fan would come on and the pinging would stop.
After watching horror movies in the afternoon my imagination was pretty fertile. So when I woke up, at night, in that small quiet house with the creaky stairs. And I heard a slow noise like a step and then another step, like something hard walking up the stairs. Like a bony foot, that belongs to a bony skeleton, of what used to be a human being. A skeleton with an evil grinning skull and hollowed out eye sockets, slowly climbing the stairs from the basement. Climbing faster and faster until it got to the door at the top of the stairs. I would swear I could hear it jiggling the door knob but it couldn't get a good enough grip to open the door.
I would wake up sweating (because of the heat being on) and rollover with the covers pulled up over my head until my bladder forced me out of bed and to the bathroom. I would realize there was no skeleton and go back to bed. Soon, I would fall asleep. Until the furnace came on and the footsteps started again.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Friday, March 4, 2016
Smelly Cat
Day 117
I have to hurry and write tonights post before my cat comes back in the house. You see he's a might bit sensitive about his condition and I don't want him to be depressed because I wrote about his affliction. Before I go any further I want it understood that he is not at fault. He has no control over this problem. I feel that I may be somehow at fault, something I've done, something I should have done but didn't. I'm not sure how to say this without seeming to be a cruel pet owner. So I shall just say it. I must be quick, he is scratching at the door to be let in. My cat has, oh dear God, my cat has flatulence.
I don't know how this could have happened. His mother does not show signs of this affliction. I'm embarrassed to say I never met my boys father. I believe I once had a glimpse of him but he just "hit it and forget it". We never saw him again. My little girl kitty blamed me because I had her fixed. She felt it changed her and the deadbeat dad cat never returned.
All I know now is that I was quietly sleeping last night when I began to choke, I though the gas line must have broke. But natural gas is scented like rotten eggs, this was ten times worse. As I rose from my pillow I noticed my cat had been sleeping close by and he to had caught wind of the foul odor. The stench finally dissipated and I returned to my bed.
Earlier to day as I watched a dvd I was affronted with the same noxious fumes. As my cat was resting on my lap, there could be no mistake from whence the stink arose. My own cat, with a look of innocence had contrived the ultimate SBD (silent but deadly) of which any man would have been proud.
The first thing to cross my mind was Lisa Kudrow singing her hit song Smelly Cat. The lyrics kept repeating in my head. "Smelly cat, smelly cat...what are they feeding you."
He's been outside for six hours now and I can only hope whatever combination that has caused this has been "dumped" somewhere away from my home.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I have to hurry and write tonights post before my cat comes back in the house. You see he's a might bit sensitive about his condition and I don't want him to be depressed because I wrote about his affliction. Before I go any further I want it understood that he is not at fault. He has no control over this problem. I feel that I may be somehow at fault, something I've done, something I should have done but didn't. I'm not sure how to say this without seeming to be a cruel pet owner. So I shall just say it. I must be quick, he is scratching at the door to be let in. My cat has, oh dear God, my cat has flatulence.
I don't know how this could have happened. His mother does not show signs of this affliction. I'm embarrassed to say I never met my boys father. I believe I once had a glimpse of him but he just "hit it and forget it". We never saw him again. My little girl kitty blamed me because I had her fixed. She felt it changed her and the deadbeat dad cat never returned.
All I know now is that I was quietly sleeping last night when I began to choke, I though the gas line must have broke. But natural gas is scented like rotten eggs, this was ten times worse. As I rose from my pillow I noticed my cat had been sleeping close by and he to had caught wind of the foul odor. The stench finally dissipated and I returned to my bed.
Earlier to day as I watched a dvd I was affronted with the same noxious fumes. As my cat was resting on my lap, there could be no mistake from whence the stink arose. My own cat, with a look of innocence had contrived the ultimate SBD (silent but deadly) of which any man would have been proud.
The first thing to cross my mind was Lisa Kudrow singing her hit song Smelly Cat. The lyrics kept repeating in my head. "Smelly cat, smelly cat...what are they feeding you."
He's been outside for six hours now and I can only hope whatever combination that has caused this has been "dumped" somewhere away from my home.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Thursday, March 3, 2016
On Cloud Gazing And Kite Flying
Day 116
As I was driving west along M-61 late this afternoon, I witnessed a beautiful sunset. It was the kind with a yellow sun just below the horizon and several clouds above. One cloud was a dark blue that transformed to a majestic deep purple. Another cloud was like a sliced loaf of bread, layers resting one above the other. The bottom edge of each slice had a yellow glow, the top was white. As each rose higher into the sky, the yellow darkened with each layer until it turned to a lustrous gold. I thought it looked like a Bob Ross painting, only better. It stirred old memories from deep in my mind.
When I was young, about 9 years old, my friend and I would walk or ride our bikes to the city park. We would play on the swings, the slides and the monkey bars shaped like a giant spider. This was a popular park for the local children as witnessed by the thick coats of paint on nearly everything, worn over time from hands and legs rubbing on them, grabbing, swinging and straddling. On warm summer days, after burning off our youthful energy, we would rest on the grass and look at the sky. The great fluffy clouds like cotton wadding floating past. But if you really looked, with a little imagination, you could see shapes in the clouds.
We would spend some time resting and searching for the most interesting clouds. Sheep were common as were other barnyard animals, people were a little more complex and combining two or more clouds with interacting shapes was the granddaddy of cloud gazing. Two rams going head to head. A single sailing ship was real exciting. Two ships sailing across the skies passing each other was a real coup. A true cloud master.
You might be thinking that anyone could say they see something in the clouds and you'd be right. But if the other person couldn't see it, it didn't count. Someone could still cheat and say they didn't see it when really they could see it. But it didn't matter, no one was keeping score. It was just fun to relax with a friend and share ideas.
When I was older I would do the same with my high school sweetheart. Just look at the clouds and dream about the future and the endless possibilities.
It also reminded me of flying kites on a breezy day. With long tails made from strips of cloth for stability. Higher and higher the kite would soar, until we swore it would burn up in the sun with just the burnt end of the string floating back to earth. Of course, the worst that would happen was the string would break and the kite would go sailing off to parts unknown or get caught in a tree.
Power lines were the worst because we just knew if the kite hit the power lines, a jazillion volts of electricity would come streaking down and electrocute anyone touching the string. Some of us took to tying an old iron key to the string, like Benjamin Franklin, to stop the electricity from reaching the kite pilot and averting certain tragedy.
Most often we would just reel the string back in, a little at a time, until the kite returned to earth. Ready to fly another day.
Want to do something magical? Go fly a kite.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
As I was driving west along M-61 late this afternoon, I witnessed a beautiful sunset. It was the kind with a yellow sun just below the horizon and several clouds above. One cloud was a dark blue that transformed to a majestic deep purple. Another cloud was like a sliced loaf of bread, layers resting one above the other. The bottom edge of each slice had a yellow glow, the top was white. As each rose higher into the sky, the yellow darkened with each layer until it turned to a lustrous gold. I thought it looked like a Bob Ross painting, only better. It stirred old memories from deep in my mind.
When I was young, about 9 years old, my friend and I would walk or ride our bikes to the city park. We would play on the swings, the slides and the monkey bars shaped like a giant spider. This was a popular park for the local children as witnessed by the thick coats of paint on nearly everything, worn over time from hands and legs rubbing on them, grabbing, swinging and straddling. On warm summer days, after burning off our youthful energy, we would rest on the grass and look at the sky. The great fluffy clouds like cotton wadding floating past. But if you really looked, with a little imagination, you could see shapes in the clouds.
We would spend some time resting and searching for the most interesting clouds. Sheep were common as were other barnyard animals, people were a little more complex and combining two or more clouds with interacting shapes was the granddaddy of cloud gazing. Two rams going head to head. A single sailing ship was real exciting. Two ships sailing across the skies passing each other was a real coup. A true cloud master.
You might be thinking that anyone could say they see something in the clouds and you'd be right. But if the other person couldn't see it, it didn't count. Someone could still cheat and say they didn't see it when really they could see it. But it didn't matter, no one was keeping score. It was just fun to relax with a friend and share ideas.
When I was older I would do the same with my high school sweetheart. Just look at the clouds and dream about the future and the endless possibilities.
It also reminded me of flying kites on a breezy day. With long tails made from strips of cloth for stability. Higher and higher the kite would soar, until we swore it would burn up in the sun with just the burnt end of the string floating back to earth. Of course, the worst that would happen was the string would break and the kite would go sailing off to parts unknown or get caught in a tree.
Power lines were the worst because we just knew if the kite hit the power lines, a jazillion volts of electricity would come streaking down and electrocute anyone touching the string. Some of us took to tying an old iron key to the string, like Benjamin Franklin, to stop the electricity from reaching the kite pilot and averting certain tragedy.
Most often we would just reel the string back in, a little at a time, until the kite returned to earth. Ready to fly another day.
Want to do something magical? Go fly a kite.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Not My Fault
Day 115
It's going on 10 pm and I have diddled the day away. I arose from my warm bed at a decent hour, at least decent for me, and after morning coffee and much deliberation I decided, rather than begin a new story, to crank up the snow blower and remove the offending white crystals from my deck, walk and driveway. I considered clearing the snow off the car but that would have put more snow in my driveway where I had just cleared it away. So I concocted a plan to take the car for a ride and let the snow blow off as I drove. Then it would be spread down the street and the township could not ticket me for blowing snow from my driveway into the road, as my snow would mix with the road snow and be indeterminable, in a court of law, which snow was mine and which was on the road already. Brilliant.
Having accomplished my original goal and being too exhausted from my labors to endeavor to put in motion the second, and most ingenious (if I do say so), part of my plan. I went inside and after having had a nice breakfast, I read my second Dan Brown novel until I fell asleep. At this juncture I must point out that although Dan Brown is one of my favorite contemporary authors, I do feel his novel, Deception Point, is a bit long winded. That said, I am enjoying it and should finish it tomorrow. At which time I will begin reading a collection of Mark Twain short stories.
As for the second part of my snow removal brain child. The sun came out, for just an hour or so this afternoon, and disrupted my plans. Whereas the snow originally had been powdery and loose, it now had a bit of a solid crust on top. Being of sound mind, I took the brush from inside my auto and began to thrash the offending snow, quite soundly. Being careful not to accidentally push any off and onto my driveway. I cleared a small round peep hole in front and rear windscreen so that I might back out of my driveway and not ruin someone's day.
As I approached 55 mph my plan was working perfectly until I engaged my wipers to clear the snow from my windshield. It seems the sunshine had melted some of the snow and the resulting slush had turned to ice on my wiper blades. I stopped at the local grocer and cleared the ice from my windshield and wipers. I then decided that as long as I was there, I should pick up an inexpensive bottle of grape nectar to celebrate my cleverness.
I decided on a nice cabernet sauvignon from Yellow Tail vineyards in Australia. It has a crisp flavor not found in the inexpensive American wines. Barefoot vineyards wines are also good (for low cost wines) but as with all inexpensive wines they could use more aging. A mature wine is often less bitter and has more flavor. At least, so I am told. I personally tried to bottle my own wine at one time, but I am too impatient to wait five years or more to drink it. So I save my pennies until one day when I can afford to purchase a more expensive mature wine and I can decide if it's worth the wait. Currently I must say, it is not.
So there you have it. That is the reason I haven't finished writing a new story yet. Now I must finish my wine. And so, adieu.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
It's going on 10 pm and I have diddled the day away. I arose from my warm bed at a decent hour, at least decent for me, and after morning coffee and much deliberation I decided, rather than begin a new story, to crank up the snow blower and remove the offending white crystals from my deck, walk and driveway. I considered clearing the snow off the car but that would have put more snow in my driveway where I had just cleared it away. So I concocted a plan to take the car for a ride and let the snow blow off as I drove. Then it would be spread down the street and the township could not ticket me for blowing snow from my driveway into the road, as my snow would mix with the road snow and be indeterminable, in a court of law, which snow was mine and which was on the road already. Brilliant.
Having accomplished my original goal and being too exhausted from my labors to endeavor to put in motion the second, and most ingenious (if I do say so), part of my plan. I went inside and after having had a nice breakfast, I read my second Dan Brown novel until I fell asleep. At this juncture I must point out that although Dan Brown is one of my favorite contemporary authors, I do feel his novel, Deception Point, is a bit long winded. That said, I am enjoying it and should finish it tomorrow. At which time I will begin reading a collection of Mark Twain short stories.
As for the second part of my snow removal brain child. The sun came out, for just an hour or so this afternoon, and disrupted my plans. Whereas the snow originally had been powdery and loose, it now had a bit of a solid crust on top. Being of sound mind, I took the brush from inside my auto and began to thrash the offending snow, quite soundly. Being careful not to accidentally push any off and onto my driveway. I cleared a small round peep hole in front and rear windscreen so that I might back out of my driveway and not ruin someone's day.
As I approached 55 mph my plan was working perfectly until I engaged my wipers to clear the snow from my windshield. It seems the sunshine had melted some of the snow and the resulting slush had turned to ice on my wiper blades. I stopped at the local grocer and cleared the ice from my windshield and wipers. I then decided that as long as I was there, I should pick up an inexpensive bottle of grape nectar to celebrate my cleverness.
I decided on a nice cabernet sauvignon from Yellow Tail vineyards in Australia. It has a crisp flavor not found in the inexpensive American wines. Barefoot vineyards wines are also good (for low cost wines) but as with all inexpensive wines they could use more aging. A mature wine is often less bitter and has more flavor. At least, so I am told. I personally tried to bottle my own wine at one time, but I am too impatient to wait five years or more to drink it. So I save my pennies until one day when I can afford to purchase a more expensive mature wine and I can decide if it's worth the wait. Currently I must say, it is not.
So there you have it. That is the reason I haven't finished writing a new story yet. Now I must finish my wine. And so, adieu.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Busy Day With Mom
Day 114
Been a long day today. Up early for appointment. Then pick up mom for the monthly trip to Walmart to get her fingernails redone while I do my grocery shopping. Off to Garrett's restaurant for lunch and back home before the snow get's too deep. We had about 4" of snow here.
I have some new ideas for short stories. I plan to put one on the blog soon. OK stayed tuned.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Been a long day today. Up early for appointment. Then pick up mom for the monthly trip to Walmart to get her fingernails redone while I do my grocery shopping. Off to Garrett's restaurant for lunch and back home before the snow get's too deep. We had about 4" of snow here.
I have some new ideas for short stories. I plan to put one on the blog soon. OK stayed tuned.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
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