Celebrity Roast

On 1.13.22, we held a celebrity roast for my good friend, David.  After 7 years of hard work as president of our pickleball Association, he decided it was time to pass the gavel on to someone new.  And someone younger; he's 78.

Dennis was emcee, quick-witted, great sense of humor.

I was the first roaster.  David provided several old pictures that were displayed during my presentation - with appropriate (?) comments, of course.

David as a Playboy Bunny in a melodrama.

Hard to believe this hottie is the same guy as the one in the picture below (with the ear).

Grant, an impromptu roaster, commented on David's competitive nature.

Both he and David had scary 'widowmaker' heart issues, but both are doing well now.

Although the roast was my idea, Janie and Rodney did the heavy lifting: venue selection, organizing event signups, collecting $, and setting up the A/V.  They teased David about his hearing (right ear is toast), presented him with the gavel above and the enhanced ear below.

David.  He got a large charge out of the tribute but didn't do a rebuttal.  Too bad; I was looking forward to him taking some shots at me.  He did, however, point out that he outranked me because he was commissioned before me.  We were both in the army with a final rank of captain.

The Association Board of Directors.

David's cap and tee are additional props provided by Rodney and Janie.

The tee says 'STAND HERE IF YOU WANT ME TO HEAR', with an arrow pointing to the left.

Despite the grimace on my face, I was not in pain.  Never was good at smiling on command.

80+ attended the event.  Lots of laughs and lots of banter.  

The no-host bar may have been a factor.

Vladimir and Me

 Yup, that Vladimir, Vladimir Putin.  President, prime minister, whatever; the infamous leader/dictator of Russia since 2012.

Vladimir and I had a pleasant conversation one evening in the hotel lobby where he was staying.  I was just sitting there, dressed in suit and tie, enjoying a bit of alone time.  Mr. P took a seat in the chair next to mine and introduced himself (as if I didn't know who he was the minute I saw him).  He spoke perfect English, only slightly accented.

He asked me where I grew up (northern Minnesota), and commented that he, too, was raised where the winters were bitterly cold (St Petersburg).  The conversation continued for several more minutes, just a couple of guys getting to know each other.

And then, I went on to the next dream, which had nothing whatsoever to do with Vladimir.  

Dreams are our subconscious minds, hard at work, dumping the daily trash or performing other functions, which nobody really understands.  Vladimir probably deserves to be in the trash but I have no idea how he got into my trash.  He was a spy in the KGB before rising to power, and spies are very clever.  That may explain it.

B B Guns for Christmas

 Summers meant a lot of hard work on the farm in northern Minnesota, where I grew up.  Feeding the livestock was a year-round constant, as was milking the cows twice a day.  Plus, in summer: plow, disc, drag, pick rocks, plant, cultivate, harvest 3-4 crops of hay, harvest grains and bale straw.  Come fall, we were more than ready for the end of the growing season - and hunting.

We hunted for meat, not trophies.  Squirrels, ducks, pheasants, partridge, deer; all were a nice change from the usual beef and pork served up 3 times a day.  Our guns were relics, a single-shot 22 and a single-shot shotgun.  Two of my brothers bought a new German Mauser WWII era rifle and modified it to use as a deer rifle.  I shot my one and only deer with that rifle.

Fast forward several years.  I'm living in the Seattle area, married and have 2 sons, Tod and Adam.  I think they're old enough to learn how to shoot, so I bought them each a BB gun for Christmas.  I showed them the basics of shooting, how to hold it, aim, and so on.  Cautioned them against shooting at each other, or anybody else (you could put an eye out).

Anxious to give the guns a go, they took them outside Christmas morning.  This is where it gets ugly.  

I was big on holiday decorating, both inside and out.  Large, freshly-cut tree with all kinds of decorations inside; lots of lights and other stuff outside.

My mistake was not providing my sons with targets.  Not to worry, they found their own targets - the large-bulb Christmas lights strung along the eaves of the house.  A couple days later, I noticed that several outside light bulbs weren't working.  Upon closer inspection, I discovered the shattered remains of the bulbs on the ground.  I. Was. Pissed!  I confiscated the guns and gave them back to the guys several months later.

On the upside, the boys sure learned how to shoot those guns in short order!

Present Day Gladiators

 I posted this on Facebook a while back, forgot to post it here.

Maces and swords have been replaced by small round missiles.  Missile launchers (aka paddles) propel the missiles (aka balls) towards the opponents at incredibly high speeds. Small courts have replaced arenas, ensuring combatants are always within missile striking distance.  Instead of heavy body armor, braces and wraps are used to protect vulnerable body parts. 

Some things haven’t changed, totally ripped physiques for one (see image below).  Also, spectators still applaud, cheer and make disparaging comments as in the old days.

However, giving the thumbs-down gesture to indicate the losers should be put to death is now a rare occurrence – except in parts of Texas and West Virginia.

Chef Boyardee Pizza

Ever buy it, make your own pizza back in the day, 60 years ago?  I did.  Don't recall how I and others in rural Minnesota even became aware of it.  TV ads, probably.  

My first real pizza (1962), at a small restaurant in Moorhead, MN was sheer delight.  OMG, it was good!  Couldn't wait to bite into it, burned the roof of my mouth several times.  

I thought the rapid growth of pizza restaurants and grocery store frozen pizzas would wipe out Chef B's business in short order.  I was wrong.  Most grocery stores have it in stock.

Hector Boiardi started his pizza and pasta business in 1928, changing his last name to a more phonetic version.  He built a factory in Milton, PA, and hit the jackpot in WW II, producing 250,000 cans a day for the troops.   The C-rations I ate in Vietnam probably included some products from that factory.  The brand is now owned by Conagra Foods: https://www.chefboyardee.com/

Fly Ribbon

 Circa 1960, typical family farm in Minnesota: 40 cows, 30 pigs, 50 chickens, 200 sheep.  And, what do all those critters produce?  You got it, MANURE!  And, what does manure produce?  Flies.  Zillions of 'em.  

We sprayed good old DDT - long since banned - by the gallons in the barn.  I swatted thousands of 'em on the front porch of the house.  Regardless, lots of flies got into the house.  We didn't spray DDT in the house, uh uh: we hung fly ribbons.  I doubt that many if any, city-dwellers used fly ribbons.  Correct me if I'm wrong.

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The most prominent fly ribbon in the house was the one that hung from the light fixture, right above the dining room table.  Can you imagine a more appealing centerpiece?  It did the job though, mostly.

Can't help but think all that exposure to crap, flies and who knows what else, strengthened my immune system.  Could it be, I'm immune to the C-19?  Possibly, but I'm still gonna get the booster shot.

Boise Botanical Gardens

Finally, we have dependable internet and wifi so I can start posting again.

We were in Boise in early June, took a 3-day break from traveling.  We visited fraternity brother Curt Elton and his wife Naomi, Trish biked and I played - you guessed it - pickleball.  Biking was excellent, long paved trail along the river.  PB was lousy: 12 new public courts but the few players there when I went were all beginners.  I don't mind playing with newbies, but it's more fun and much better exercise when playing near one's skill level.

We visit botanical gardens wherever we find them.  The one is Boise is worthwhile but not as awesome as some others we've visited.  The 'tree' below is made of wood scraps, an art class project.

Rose garden.

Koi and reflections.

The gardens overlook an old penitentiary, now a museum.