Say Ah ….

This morning I am reminded of that old saying, “Life begins at forty.”  Ever heard that one?  Well, it is not exactly true, life doesn’t begin at forty … maintenance begins at forty!  Had to do the checkup thing this week with my doctor and it appears that my numbers are not all that good.  I am kind of used to it, if you want to know the truth, at my age, I kind of expect it.  But this time, they are not only bad, they are worse than bad, they are not good at all.  So this means, that I have to start exercising again.

It seems that my body has made a friend of fat, it no longer burns it, but rather openly invites it in and provides it a home.  I find myself metabolically challenged and do not seem to be ridding myself of this harmful substance, but storing it.  So I have to start walking, I have to start riding the bike, I have to quit bellying up to the salad bar with the big boys and make some changes.

You know you have health issues, but if you are like me, like most men, you just blow it off and continue on.  I would say on the whole women are more responsive to medical advice than men.  If a woman steps up on a scale and see’s numbers she doesn’t like, it is tantamount to the end of the world!  Now a guy, he steps onto the scale, and it says to him, “Only one person on the scale at a time” well, that isn’t a big deal, he just says to himself, “I will come back later.”

I could do as I always do, con myself into believing that this isn’t my problem, when it surely is.  I used to do that all the time, I gained 35 lbs when I stopped smoking and I used to conveniently use that for my excuse, but that was some 15 years ago, plenty of time to have shed the weight in the meantime.

Are you still smoking?

If you have not stopped or quit, you should.  A typical smoker who refuses or fails to give up has a roughly 15% risk of lung cancer over their lifetime. But with two copies of the genetic variant, this rises to 23%.  In contrast, someone who has smoked fewer than 100 cigarettes in their entire life has a less-than-1% chance of developing the disease.  As I have stated, I gave them up about fifteen years ago, and the other day I happened to notice a pack of Marlboro’s was $5.50 per pack.  Unbelievable, someone owes me about $28,000.00!

Smoking will kill ya …. No joke.

A woman goes into a drugstore and walks up to the pharmacist and says, “I need something to give to my husband to kill him.  Cyanide, some kind of poison.”  The druggist is flabbergasted, he cannot believe that she actually has said this to him.

“Listen lady, I cannot give you something to kill your husband.  First it is illegal, second, I would lose my job, third, my good standing in the community would be jeopardized.  I just cannot do it.”

So she looks at him and says, “Look at these, and hands him a handful of photographs of the druggists’ wife and her husband in bed together at the local motel.”

He looks at them for a while, and then looks up and says … “Oh, this is different, I didn’t know that you had a prescription.”

No good huh?  Well whadya expect for free?

I did notice something interesting the day after Valentine’s Day.  I was over at the store, and in the section where they sell the cards, I noticed one very peculiar thing.  All of the cards for the women, my wife, my girlfriend, all of them were gone, all of the female card selections were exhausted because of the holiday.

On the other hand, all of the masculine cards, the one for the boyfriend and the husband, well, there were ample supplies of them to be had.  Proof positive, it is a woman’s holiday.

I read something interesting the other day and I thought I might share this with you before closing.

Young adults can discern another person’s attitude toward sexual relationships just by looking at his or her face, according to a British study of 700 heterosexual volunteers.  The Durham University-led study also found that men generally prefer women who they believe are open to short-term sexual relationships, while women generally prefer men who they perceive to be potentially suitable for a long-term relationship.

The study participants looked at photographs of faces of members of the opposite sex (all in their early 20s) and were asked to judge their attractiveness and sexual attitudes. Their judgments were compared with the actual attitudes and behaviors of the people in the photos.

As it turned out, 72 percent of the 153 volunteers in the first study sample correctly identified sexual attitudes from photos more than 50 percent of the time.  Out of curiosity, I took several pictures of myself, showed them to the wife, explained the survey or test to her, she agreed to participate.

Handing the pictures to her at the kitchen table, she quickly went thru the stack, studying each one and repeating out loud … “NO .. NO… NO … NO-WAY!  DEFINITELY NOT.”

Oh well, so much for science … Back to the drawing board.


Remember When

You have made it to Friday, congratulations, the long awaited weekend is just now appearing on your horizon.  Good job!

Desperately seeking a respite from the snow, I plan on slinking out for some shopping today (Yes Margaret, men do occasionally go shopping, we just refer to it as Knocking Around).  Might go looking for one of them new tools for men I saw the other day.

Believe it or not, I could sit here all day and watch these commercials, they give me a testosterone rush which at my age is kind of dangerous.  But I like life on the ragged edge.  Kind of late with my hauling this morning, so I guess I best get back to the post.

Isn’t it funny how things change in our lives, and we hardly even notice?  (Nice blend huh?)  Outfit in town is selling “previewed DVD’s” and that makes me wonder … Whatever happened to the term Used? Pre-Owned cars, that is another one, what happened to a good used car? We have a good deal on a Program Car, which of course, used to be a lease car, or a rental car. Our finance specialist will be by to help you with the terms of the deal, how about our car salesman?

Emergency Brakes? At some point in life, the Parking Brake, became the Emergency Brake.
Things used to be store bought, another endearing term of my generation.
Coast to coast was a phrase I heard a lot growing up, that disappeared, it is now “World Wide.”
Which only lasted a fraction of time, only to be replaced with Global Market.

Wall to Wall … remember that, “wall to wall, a whole room full of carpet”  Now it is hardwood floors, which is what “wall to wall was invented for in the beginning” to cover them up.

In a family way, was changed to pregnant and that was changed to PG or In The Oven.
Divorce became divorcee, then it was gay divorcee, but now a days, that is not a good term to lay on someone.  Gay isn’t gay anymore, gay is a death sentence in a society that has gone over the edge. A sexually permissive self indulgent world where I believe they have 66 known sexually transmitted diseases floating around (STD’s), last time I checked.

Confirmed bachelors and career girls are long gone, replaced with career motivated.
Abortion is a Lifestyle Choice,
Adultery is an Affair.
Genocide has been replaced by Ethic Cleansing, and murder is still murder, no matter what you call it.

Trans-gender … Don’t even get me started.

Aging, replaced by Biological Clock, Senior Citizens, to New Age Generians.  Housewife, is now a Domestic Home Industrial Engineer.
Overweight has been changed to “Metabolically challenged” Revitalized carpet? (Resurrection of the dust ball?)
New and improved Dog Food?
(As if a dog is going to know the difference?)

I always liked “New Improved Tide, it gets out the grass and ugly blood stains.”
You have bloodstains on your clothing; it seems you have bigger problems than just dirt.

Removes 75% of dust, allergens, and odors, that other 25% must really be tough huh?
New and improved, fresher fragrance, no more old crappy smell, this costs .98 cents more.
A remote? Does that imply that it should be somewhere else?
Which is okay, most of the time, it is just that.

Percolator that was a fun word, now we have Mr. Coffee Maker. Pretty dull. Come to think of it, “If the kitchen is the domain of the woman, as we have all been led to believe, then shouldn’t that be MRS. Coffee Maker?”

How did pimple get shortened to Zit.
Hamburger, when it doesn’t contain any ham?
Big Sale, has changed to “we are overstocked again!”
Going out of business! (fifth time)
Now if you have been in business 25 years, how in the world do you get “overstocked” EVERY YEAR.

Saw this one last spring “Large Hail Sale.”
It was SMALL HAIL that caused all the problems.
Dyna-Flow, Electra-Luxe, Spectra-Vision …… where are they now?

More? Sure why not?

If you live in Oklahoma there is Miami (but pronounced by the locals as My-am-muh ) and if you are in Florida it is Miami (My-Am-mee) and then there is Demi (Dee-Me) Moore the actress, but I never saw a Semi (See-Me) truck on the Highway.

Aunt — Cant? Is this a crazy mixed up world or what?

And this brings me to supper.
In this part of the world it is “Breakfast, Dinner and Supper.”
Now what in the world happened to Lunch?
Was it ate up by brunch, which is not to be confused with dinner, that comes much later, just before …… Oh, well, you get my drift.

Life moves on … The television is currently rambling on about four old Geezers, riding around in a ‘57 Chevy convertible and spouting …… “Now men don’t have to worry about find a bathroom anymore!” Yeah right, like a MAN EVER WORRIED ABOUT THAT ONE … Take this and swallow it, your prostrate and your life coincidentally, will all be just fine afterwards.  Why are the people in the sex enhancement commercials always sitting, holding hands, in a bathtub?  I never in my life, had sex in a bathtub!

Trust me. Heh-heh.

So here I sit, with an organ the size of grapefruit growing inside my body that I was blissfully unaware of, and I don’t know what to do about it, other than watch the latest, late breaking news flash about male menopausal prostrate problems.  Drinking my masculine coffee, from my Mr. Coffee Maker that was Hecho in Meh-ico. Thank you Madison Avenue, for cutting thru all the clutter. How about addressing my other problem. I still need exercise.

Joggin didn’t produce the positive results for me that I had hoped for. Every time I went out and jogged, in my Chinese Tennis shoes, assembled in Malaysia, my fat thighs rubbed together and then my underwear caught on fire.

Got something for that?


Have a great weekend, we will of course, see you on Monday.


Down On The River

Patiently waiting on the sun to burn off the morning haze, so I can load up, take the bike and head on down to the river. Oklahoma City has about 30-50 miles of bike trails spread out all over the city and I like to go down alongside the river and ride in the mornings or late afternoon. By my calculations there remain not very many “good days” for bike riding left in this season, winter is on the way, there is a definite chill in the air.

October In The Heartland

October In The Heartland

My particular trail is 7.0 miles one way and I usually do about 14.0 miles round trip. One of these days, I am going to do it all (26 miles), but so far, I am fine with settling for half the distance. I have for most of the summer this year, been slinking over to the river and riding in the quiet of the day and gathering up what is left of my sanity each day around 10am in the morning.

The River I am referring to here is the North Canadian River and it runs thru the middle of Okie City. A few years back, the City Fathers caught up in the heat of their downtown renaissance, re-named it the “Oklahoma River” but to me, it is always going to be the North Canadian. We had at one time, the proud distinction of having a river we had to mow about three times per year. Weed strewn, full of trash and garbage and bone dry 95% of the time. But by spending some $22 million dollars and a little creative thinking, we now have three dams, miles of trails, and a nice user friendly environment.

No automobiles or motorcycles, fresh asphalt, quiet and serene

No automobiles or motorcycles, fresh asphalt, quiet and serene

Kind of nice.  Most of the trails are well maintained, easy to find and enjoyable for their public use.  One of these days, when it is all finished, it will compose some 203 miles of trails encircling the city itself. They are all paved and marked, smooth as a coffee table in most instances, private and still not all that used. Might call them the City’s secret. Oklahoma City has spent considerable time, money and effort bringing these area’s to life and making them available for use.

One of the few things that I find that I like about living in the metro-plex, big city is the park and trail systems. The rest of it, urban sprawl, traffic, dirty air, trash, modern day ailments of any big city, I can live without.

First weather of the season is approaching today, it left Denver yesterday and is racing across the plains as we speak. Bringing with it the high winds that tear at the corner of your eye, and the bone chilling cold temperatures associated with early fall. I am not all that ready for it, and I am certainly not looking forward to its arrival.

North Canadian River, Okie City Oklahoma

North Canadian River, Okie City Oklahoma

Little frost on the pumpkin this morning and the ride is going to be somewhat uncomfortable until I build up some body heat. Late Fall in Oklahoma. I suppose it is now time to dig out the “watch cap” for my head, locate the gloves to keep the fingers warm and check on the possibility of moving to Florida or Hawaii?

Jack Frost is once again nippin’ at my nose, and I of course, do not appreciate it. To put it succinctly some parts of me mentally have already went south for the winter.



  • Two Wheel Beginnings
  • Grandpa’s Low Rider

Two Wheel Beginnings

My First Bike was a used Schwinn that I bought off our paperboy.  You remember your first bike?  Maybe it was under similar circumstances, back in the fifties, money as it is today, was tight.  You didn’t get a lot of new stuff back in those days.

Everyone on the block was getting a bike, one by one, my buddies brought them by the house to show them off. New paint, shiny leather seats, bright chrome spokes and I wanted one. I wanted one so badly that I approached my father and I said to him, “Can I have a bike?” He looked at me, and then he said, “What did you say?”

So mustering up as much courage as a ten year old kid is possible of, slowly I repeated the question, “Can I have a bike? Everyone on the block has one and I was wondering if I could have one too?”

My father just replied, “God did not put me on this earth to buy bicycles, he said I had to feed you, clothe you, give you a warm place to sleep, he didn’t say a thing about bicycles.”

Not prone to give up easily I repeated the question as if I never even heard his answer. “But Dad, everyone on the block has one, and I want one.” So he said, “Listen, there is a lawnmower and a rake in the garage, if you want a bike, go get ‘em and start mowing lawns. I aint buyin’ you no bicycle.”

And thus, at a early age, I learned what would be a long series of life lessons from my father.

I got out and I hustled, that summer I mowed my share of lawns, and I got my first bicycle. Luckily for me, there was no shortage of lawns to mow on Mocine Avenue. I mowed a lot of lawns that summer and put the money back and saved until I had enough to buy my own bicycle.

It was not easy, first I have never been all that good at putting money away for a rainy day as my mother used to call it. And in those days, you got fifty cents for mowing a lawn, and that was it.

Over time my labors proved to be rewarding and I finally saved up the coin to purchase a bike. I found a teenager who had one that had just recently been painted and had racks for a paper route, he wanted fifteen dollars, I talked him down to twelve and I rode it home.

My father came home that day from work and mom and I were in the front yard admiring my new purchase and mom said to my father, “Look what Don bought. He says he gave twelve bucks for it, pretty sharp huh?” and my father said, “Sure is, let me take it for a spin” reaching down and grabbing the handle bars.

Gently I pulled the bike back and said to him, “God didn’t put me on this earth to provide you bicycles to ride.” And he smiled, and then said, “That’s it kid. You are learning.” Then he walked on in to the house, somewhat amused. Who knows, he might have been amazed that I actually got it?

That was my first bike.

I delivered the morning paper at 4am on it and threw the afternoon paper after school for a couple of years. That old bike served me well and it was a sweet time of life for me. Today I am not sure whatever happened to it, I think it was eventually stolen but I cannot for the life of me remember.

Later on came a ten-speed and my old man jumped in his pickup and drove alongside me down Goodrich Street and clocked me at thirty-three miles per hour. It seemed to amuse him to no end, I would often hear him repeating the story about that damn kid almost going 35 mph and how he could not believe it.

In 1963 or ’64, I am not all that sure of the year, President John F. Kennedy declared that every American should be able to walk 50 miles.

Even at that time, it was evident that American’s were getting grossly out of shape and eating way too much. So we all got together, all my buddies and I, and we determined that if you could walk 50 miles you ought to be able to ride 100. So we did that.  We started out from Franks’ Donut Shop one morning at daylight and we rode over hills out thru Niles Canyon, to the valley to Livermore, California, and back a distance of 106 miles.

And it was way after dark when we finally made it back home, tired, sore and very much wore out.

I used to go down to the meat market and beg off the scraps of meat, and then ride my bike down to the bay (about five miles) and sit on the rocks and fish for sand sharks, no licenses, no school, no lunch, none of that garbage.  When I was a kid, if you wanted to go somewhere you took your bike, no soccer mom in a SUV drove you anywhere. That is just the way it was.

You rode the bike, or you did not go. No ninentendo, MP3, Streaming Live Video, MTV or Hackey Sack … We had our own amusements  …  Just being a kid and having a bike played an important part of it.



The Simpatico Jogger

Big Daddy Is In Trouble

Big Daddy Is In Trouble

Ran into a friend at the Mall the other day, I went out there to carouse the book store and get some chinese, I like that Chinese Food.  He said “How you doing, I notice you have put on some weight.”

Which I thought was rude and I just told him that “I was my perfect weight if I was seven feet tall.”

And left it at that.

Contrary to popular belief, I do allow one every now and then to slip one by, and let them win a round.

Came home and turned on the TV, sat down with my take out of Moo Poo Gia Pan and finished off the day.  Watched the news and some infomercials.  There could be a small grain of truth in the statement, “Television will turn your brain to Oatmeal.”

I suppose if you watch it enough, it could be possible. I am especially drawn to those wonderful late-nite commercials where all the smiling people invite you to lose “30 lbs. in 30 days.”

Which we all know, is of course, impossible.

That was yesterday and this is today.  This morning, I am down around my ankles, wiping off the morning shower with a big fluffy towel, that is oh so warm and inviting, a caress to my tired old wrinkled skin. I am bent over and I am dutifully drying my ankles and I am wondering to myself, “Do I need to do anything else why I am down here, because I am definitely not coming back down here any time soon.”

And then there is the other nagging question of “Is a quart of water supposed to come out of your belly-button when you bend over?” … is that natural?  I wipe the condensate from the mirror and look upon my reflection in the mirror and I think to myself, “I need to lose some weight.”

Once again, I think of the “lose 30 lbs. in 30 day thing” as I scratch parts of my lower extremities I have not seen in close to five years now. It is appealing, the thought of being able to lose all that weight with the mere snap of a finger.

Stop and consider right now, how convenient that would be. You come home from a hard day at work, open the old mailbox and there it is, “the invite to the Class Reunion” and you suddenly discover that you have but six months to lose 30 lbs and of course, find a life.

But we all know that unless you are willing to sacrifice a limb or check yourself into a concentration style fat farm in Sunny-Southern-Arizona, losing 30 lbs in 30 days (yet alone six months) is virtually impossible.

As I am somewhat pragmatic I always try to do the math, see if it actually adds up.

In order to lose one pound of body mass (without sacrificing or losing a body part) you have to create a 3,500-calorie deficit. You can accomplish this feat in one or two ways. You can either feed your body, 3,500 fewer calories than it needs to support itself, or you can increase your activity level and burn off an extra 3,500 calories.

If you want to lose 30 lbs., you’ll have to create a total caloric deficit of 105,000 calories. The average person, eating 2,800 calories a day, consumes only about 84,000 calories. The average person, eating 2,800 calories a day, consumes only about 84,000 calories each month.

Even if you stopped eating completely, you’d still have to burn an extra 21,000 calories through exercise to lose some 30 lbs. in 30 days. (Is you’d a real word?) Running two miles or engaging in two hours of intense aerobic exercise every day for an entire month would take care of those extra 21,000 calories.

Maybe you can combine total starvation with a strenuous daily workout, but in my case, I just do not see that happening. Running two miles per day would put me some sixty miles out into the Panhandle of Oklahoma and a tad bit lighter.

Nope, that sure isn’t happening here, not today.

A wise person knows his limitations in life, I am not that heroic guy who rides the Tour De France with courage and ultimate victory, a Lance Armstrong I am not. I cannot make laps in an Olympic size pool and swim like a seal. I have to shoot for lesser events in my life, like maybe walking to the end of the driveway and back.

Might shoot for the Annual Mt Airy “Mayberry Festival” in Mt. Airy, North Carolina, where they celebrate each September “The Andy Griffith Show” and attend Mayberry Days. There is a statue of Andy and Opie and replicas of Floyd’s Barber Shop, the jail and Andy’s house.

I might fit in just fine there.

Screw the reunion, I am gonna have a Twinkie.


Eat well … Stay fit … Die anyway

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: “No man was ever shot doing the dishes.”

A cool front came thru last night and cooled the place down a little, that is nice. There is the hint of autumn in the air, but I know in my heart, that this is just wishful thinking on my part. There is still a lot of summer left, still some more heat to bear. I need to get out of the house and walk a little, get some exercise, but I absolutely HATE exercise.

Necessity is the mother of invention, so I am told. I have to work on my image in the community. I also know that in order to maintain my reputation as a vessel of masculine life force, it is necessary for me to work out. Be forewarned, I am not like all these happy-sappy-jerks you see on TV that are smiling and grinning like some kind of African Ebola Monkey, grinning from ear to ear.

For the record. I am not an enthusiastic supporter of this type of behavior.

Exercise is not fun … And … I am not a smiler.

I know that aging is a natural thing, exercising is not. Exercising is a lot like cleaning toilets, you know it needs to be done, but you always wish someone else would do it for you. Let’s face it, this wide-eyed boy from Oklahoma with a farmers tan, believes a balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.

So I suit up in my “walking attire” and I head out the door.

I have on my New Balance Tenny’s, white socks, shorts, ballcap, T-shirt. My trusty Sony Walkman and headphones, my pedometer (to measure the distance that I walk this morning, as if I actually care, but my doctor asks for the data), and my walking stick, to ward off the occasional stray dog.

I am walking around the neighborhood and I am doing my level best to get some kind of exercise other than bitchin’ about the Government or the Republican Party. I know that it is important that I get my heart rate up, I know that in order for me to burn calories at my age, I have to work “twice as hard” as I used to. So I begrudgingly walk on ….. At least it is cool today, that is a plus.

At the end of the block I see him appear.

He has on his walking attire, tennis shoes, white socks, ballcap and a pair of headphones on his head. He is heading straight for me, and I think to myself, “how is it that I should greet this fellow exerciser? He gets closer and closer and I cannot seem to figure out what it is that I would consider a reasonable greeting.

This is one of those awkward moments in life you are often not allowed to avoid.

As he approaches me, he smiles a big smile. Another member of the herd has been recognized, things are going well. I reach down and pat my noticeable belly under my T-Shirt and shout out …… “Cheeze Burgers!” He returns the male salute, pats his enormous belly and yells back ……. “Pizza!”

We continue on our respective journeys. Two ships meet and pass in the night.

The only exercise program that seems to work for me is getting up in the morning and “jogging” my memory to remind me how much I absolutely hate exercising. The first time I see a jogger who is not perspiring and smiling, I may consider it.


Add This To The Mix …

This accidentally posted yesterday along with another post, please don’t ask me why, but it did.  If you have received it via RSS or some other means, just disregard it and go onto the next post.


Ran out of steam today, muscle atrophy or maybe just outright laziness. It is as usual just too dog-gone hot here and I am not as young as I used to be. And because I want this blog to be positive, I want to tell you that I took a deep breath, pushed all those thoughts away and finished at my own pace and with a song in my heart. That I sucked it up, persevered and valiantly made it through in flyin’ colors!

But I didn’t. I trudged along berating myself, hating those in front of me and with the occasional tear leaking out behind my glasses. I suffered thru it. It is truly a sad statement on life, when a pregnant woman, pushing a baby stroller, passes you as you walk.

Which is as we all know, pretty bad.

I am in a foul mood this morning, browsing the net, looking at the various bloggs and doing some random reading. I go over to the WordPress Global page and I look at “the fastest growing” blogs and I just do not get it. I really do not. Far too many of them don’t have much in the form of material and there seems to be a marked propensity to flavor them up with profanity. Why?

So I try the random blog button on the right hand corner. I am treated to one woman’s interpretation of misery when she vividly describes her “monthly visit” and how she hates it. I continue my quest, I do find an interesting article on how nine British women where charged with prostitution after allegedly taking part in an oral-sex competition on the Greek Island of Zakynthos.

A dozen men were also arrested, but I could not figure out a way to “tag it” so I just passed on the deal. (Now I know some of you are possibly snickering there in your home, saying to yourself, this Twisted Okie is nuts.  But think about it, who could fabricate a name such as the Greek Isle of Zakynthos?  Really.)

Now that would be a slide show on “How I Spent My Summer Vacation” huh?

The familiar pangs of boredom and restless start to appear.  The media is my last hope at salvaging what appears to be a mid-week hum-drum morning. I go to the news feeds, perhaps the media has something uplifting for me, something humorous?

It doesn’t happen.

Army specialist, Joseph Dwyer, who became nationally known after being photographed carrying a wounded Iraqi boy in the early days of the war, killed himself in late June. He had struggled with post-traumatic-stress-disorder after returning from Iraq in 2003.

There is a high cost associated with war, always has been, always will be. Sometimes it lurks just below the surface and we miss it. Regardless of who gets elected, I sincerely hope they have the audacity to remove us from this miserable quagmire in the Middle East.  This oil based round of insanity that has looted our National Treasury and stolen our moral compass of who we are and where we are headed.

Noticed a new word in the mainstream this morning. I was looking for the word “Eurasia” in my dictionary, but my onboard/electronic dictionary doesn’t seem to have it. It has “Eurasian” (somebody of European and Asian descent and that is it) media is reporting that Obammer “is continuing his travels thru Eurasia” and that was the first time I had ever seen the word.

Must be some of that one world government crap.

So there doesn’t seem to be any good news, or at least, I cannot locate any. I found out that Liver Spots are not actually caused by the liver. Liver spots in fact, have nothing to do with the liver; they usually result from a lifetime of exposure to direct sunlight, which might be why they’re also called “Age Spots.” Scientists also say other possible causes are surgery, pregnancy, and some over the counter medications.

So as dismal as it may seem, here is the rainbow.  There is always a rainbow.

The federal government, that wonderful outfit that brought you not only the Iraqi war, but the Afghanistan war too.  Those wonderful folks in Washington DC announced today that Southwest Airlines Flight 2709 from Houston to San Diego was the most delayed flight in the country, arriving late 100 percent of the time!

So count your lucky stars that you are not sitting on that flight, with some precious four-year old kicking the back of your seat on the way out to the Shakey Side for a little R&R.

See?  It does get better, you just have to look for it is all.  Like my Daddy was fond of sayin’ … “You got to take the sugar with the salt, that is the way life is.”