For Shame..

Well, well..The Nanny State is at it again. Pretty soon, you will be required to check in with the local authorities every time you need to leave the house. That way, they'll know you're out and about. You know, for your own good. You're not competent enough to go somewhere and eat responsibly. You're just not smart enough to do that, so we'll pass laws that prevent any sort of new establishments from opening their doors if they're "unhealthy". Forget the fact that you, having sound mind and body, can of your own volition, choose whether or not to walk in and buy something to eat. I'm speechless. I just hope the lunacy and socialist bullsh%* that passes for government in The Socialist Republic of California doesn't make its way to the rest of the country. Absolutely unbelievable, and for the most part, very scary.

A day off...with Bri and Alexis

Awakening to the sound of mi chica is music to my ears first thing in the morning. I open one eye, then after a bit of protest, open the other. Of course, my blindness prevents me from seeing clearly first thing in the morning without glasses. I see big shapes (one is Karen, the other the window) and can discern what are two scientific-looking vials in her hand.

"Good morning, baby, are you awake enough to listen to instructions?"

Interesting, indeed, but it registered that I was expecting this.

"Take this cup, pee into it, and then fill both of these vials up to, but not past, this blue line in the middle, ok?"

"Alright. I think I can handle that."

I had told Karen not to wake me up until the nurse was ready for a sample because after I rise and do business, I usually don't have to relieve myself again for a couple of hours. I didn't catch her name, but the gregarious, somewhat older nurse seemed like she had places to go and people to see.

"Ooooh, wow. You expanded five and a half inches, and most guys I measure can only get two or two and a half!!"

This was her reaction to my chest measurement after a deep breath. Evidently, I have the lungs of an olympic cyclist. I'm not complaining, for they have served me well for the last thirty some odd years. Her scale was mysteriously light by about fifteen pounds, though, and I'm not really sure why. It read 170 as I stepped up on it, but I know I am always in the 185 to 190 range. Interesting.
I'm still six one, so I now know I'm not shrinking. Whew. Not for another few years, I guess.

" BP, One fourteen over seventy. Boy, I'm just wasting my time with you two."

Apparently, those whom she usually visits are not quite as healthy as K and I. Again, nothing in the complaint box as she pokes one of the enormous veins on my arm that resemble a spewing oil well if pierced properly. All is done in a scant ten minutes.

Karen and I had discussed a life insurance policy even before exchanging rings, so this was the formal procedure before binding contract. All is well and we shall soon be covered if one of us has an untimely meeting with the grim reaper. I'm not prepared to cross the River Styx just yet, so I think this is good peace of mind, and I know K won't have to worry about a thing if I ever do hop in the boat for a ride with Charon before our thirty years is up on the term policy.

My sister Mandi just sent new pics of my gorgeous lil' nieces, and I thought everyone should get a good laugh. The email was titled Hannah Montana and Spider-woman. Briana is wearing makeup, and I hope she doesn't get used to that for another ten years or so. I'd hate to be a "Pageant Uncle". Mandi is doing well, and she seemed in good spirits while she was visiting for our reception two weeks ago. She was too kind, and even recited a loving letter that was cheerfully peppered with obscenities and altered somewhat by alcoholic beverages. That alone made me realize how much I miss her. Of course, the fact that she came bearing kick-ass gifts like a featherbed and that she cleaned our kitchen the night of the squad poker game really helped add to her shine in my eyes. Love you, Mandroni.

The Livingstons were here this weekend, down from Omaha for Mary's father's twenty-fifth anniversary, so they stayed at our house with their son, Evan. He's two and a few months, but as big as a few four year olds, so he can do some damage if provoked. We all made it just fine, and so did our house and three dogs. It was a good time seeing them, grilling out, and having other friends over Saturday night for drinking and games. Sailor Jerry really was good to me, but I'm out now, so that means another trip to Liquor Mart sometime soon before the next barbecue and good times. I think the Crooks and Colleys had a great time, too, and Jen's corn dip and my good burgers were the culinary coup de grace. Thanks everybody, for a great weekend. I hope to see another sixty years of the same thing.
CZ

Wild Romance

This world can be a very punishing world if you are unprepared, even to the extent that it takes that which is most coveted-life. I watched a movie last night that bore this truth. It was based on the book Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer. This book, when I first read it a few years ago, really spoke to me because I identified with the main character and adventurer, Chris McCandless. I liked his purpose and drive, but felt bad for him in his credulity toward 'making it' in the wild. Many men have made a life for themselves, alone in the wilderness, but they were thoroughly prepared for what it takes to survive. Chris fell in love with the idea of the wild and being one with it, but he didn't take the time to truly understand the skill set and tools required for success. His purpose was clouded by romance, which unfortunately, led to his demise.

I've always loved being away from the city, crowds, and the daily grind. I've always relished my time in the woods by myself or with a good friend. If I happened to be alone, it was that much more real because I didn't have to answer for anything or to anyone. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, be free to contemplate religion, life and my purpose in it, or anything I so chose, without any interruptions or hindrance. I used to take these trips a couple of times a year, usually during hunting season, for a few days at a time. I haven't done this in a while, and I think I need to get back to it.

Watching that movie last night made me remember my sometimes torrid affair with the outdoors. I'll have to make it a point to get away later this year. Maybe I'll take Pops with me. He likes the outdoors as much as I do, and last year we went on a brief trip in search of a bobcat that has eluded me for a couple of years now. There was another trip planned, but it was canceled, and the season was over that very weekend. I have come as close as having crosshairs on this cat's thick fur, but he slid into thick brush as fast as he had appeared, just as my finger kissed the trigger. I've seen him three times to date, and most hunters and experts say that for every time you see a bobcat, he or she has seen you eight or nine times. Some people go through life without ever seeing one in the wild. Nary a shot was fired at my ultimate prey, but I think this year is his year and mine. See you soon.

CZ

Drowning in the Gene Pool

I am a firm believer in genetics. I think I inherited a bit of my father's temper, but I've figured out how to damp it a bit over the last 32 years or so. Unfortunately, even when I mean no harm at all, I have a tendency to let my anger seep out and it can rub people the wrong way. My last post was a little harsh, even though that was not my intention at all.

I couldn't seem to get past my anger over working on downed tree limbs that were full of leaves, and that showed through in my feelings while writing my post about the party aftermath. Yesterday, while tackling this bastard of a pile, I was absolutely infuriated, but I couldn't figure out why I just couldn't let it go. Taking care of the pile needed to be done, but the fact that the pile even existed was unavoidable in the focus of my anger. The decision was made for me in a way, and that's the root of the problem. It didn't help that it was 105 with the heat index yesterday, and I couldn't seem to drink enough water since it was running right through my sweat glands. Just a tip to tree-trimmers-to-be: Don't ever trim when it's above 85 degrees and the tree is full of leaves.

Whenever the wife and I tackle problems within our young marriage, it's usually discussed, and the tree project just popped up one morning while we were doing the regular lawn maintenance. Reluctantly, I agreed to a trimming of a particular tree, and that was a poor decision on my part because it snowballed into a huge pile of trimmings from several of our green, shade-making friends. It doesn't take me long to learn something new, and even though marriage is a constant learning process, I'll soon have that part of mutual agreement down to a science. In the future, we'll be discussing thoroughly every team project that may come up in hopes that we can avoid stoking the reaction on my sometimes crucible of a temper.

My wife is a beautiful, and loving person, and I consider myself one of the luckiest people on earth to have found someone willing to put up with my bouts with pent up anger and fervent desire for time by myself. I sometimes let anger seep out in subtle ways, and I did so on my blog, imparting a slight singe to my beloved. My mistake and poor judgment. I love my wife to death and can't fathom my life without her. I had no intentions of shedding poor light on the woman I hold closest to my heart, but it read like that in a public forum (well, as public as friends and family gets). I'm sorry, baby, and I'll try never to burn you.

Luckily, genetics played another role in my ability to do things or be 'handy' around the house. Pops showed me how to do quite a few things when I was growing up, and I seem to have inherited a basic love for tools and wrenching on things. I've come a long way from my meager beginnings in Adolescent Professional Lincoln Log Cabins and Impeccable Lego Vehicles for kindergarten graduates. Today, I had to return the favor and show Pops how to send and receive email, and showed him how to work his new DVD player since he is new to everything electrically technical unless it's electronic diagnostics related to the measure of natural gas, which is his occupation of choice with the local gas company. While these things aren't exactly wrenching, I'm returning the favor of years of tips and tricks.

While I'm here, I want to drop another brief about my good friends here in the fort. As many of you know, two great friends I hold most dear will soon be bringing a little Faldon into this crazy world. Because of this, Jen has decided to join the fray in the blogging world, and I wanted to bring it to the attention of everyone. Jen's a Mom is her new home on 'the internets', and you all should check it out since you've all now met her at the reception last weekend.

Scott is her husband and father-to-be, not to mention one of my best friends, and he is the recipient of the Arkansas Press Association's award for best sports article in 2007. That's the best in Arkansas in all of 2007, people. Scott's the man. Congratulations, my brother. Everyone enjoy. His blog is also at the bottom of my favorites list if you want to partake of his web ramblings.

http://swtimes.com/articles/2007/12/19/commentary/scott_faldon/faldon01.txt

My step-father was right about you all these years. I don't think he reads the blogs, but I know he reads the paper and there's a reason he asks you about Arkansas sports every time he sees you. HA!

Mmmm. Meat is goooood..My dearest wife Karen loves meat almost as much as I do, and that is a beautiful thing. We grilled burgers out on our sweet Brinkman (wedding gift from Pops-thanks-love ya) last night for dinner, and they were fantastic. We've used it about four days a week over the last month, and we won't be slowing down with the production of perfect pork chops, suculent steaks, and heavenly hamburgers. I also have been utilizing the grill to heat up my excellent red potatoes in a cast iron skillet. A half hour to forty-five minutes is perfect for getting nice home fries that are both crispy and soft at the same time. Perfect dinners usually ensue when the grill is fired up. I'm currently enjoying the leftover burger from last night, and it's nearly as good the day after. Still dripping full of flavor. Meat Euphoria, baby.

Good Times

The party, well, Wedding Reception is over and it feels like the weight of a keg of beer is off my shoulders. It seemed like a last-minute scramble to get everything ready, but that's mostly due to living with a woman that is ridiculously spontaneous sometimes. There were projects on top of projects that kept coming up every time I turned around. I like contributing, but not under duress. I like to do things at my own pace, and sometimes that doesn't jive with K's pace.

This weekend we get to finally cut up the tree limbs that we downed a week before the party because they just HAD to be trimmed so everyone would see what a wonderful house we have. I mistakenly agreed to some trimming one morning while mowing the lawn (because K got a wild hair to do it right then), and as I turned the corner with the mower a scant fifteen minutes later, I was greeted by half of one of our Lavender trees dismantled on the ground next to the trunk where it once proudly stood full bloom. Argh.

I'll be borrowing a chainsaw to dismantle the pile of thick branches out behind the shop, and I'm really not looking forward to it. Once it is done, though, I will be free from spontaneous K projects for a while. One day while getting frustrated over the amount of projects we were inexplicably tackling, we made a deal. You know, just like when you were a kid on the playground and made the 'pinky swear'. That day, my beloved wife swore that if I helped with everything she needed before the party, she would let me have free reign at working on my beloved Jeep after it was over. Well, those days are here, and after I cut up all those damn branches and haul them off, I'm going to hold her to her promise. CJ, here we come.

We really had a great time at the party, and we can't thank you all enough for everything you gave us, and for flying or driving many miles (Kevin, Sam, Brownie, Tammy, Rich, Trace, K's family, JohnL, MaryL, etc..) to have fun with us, albeit for only a couple days. It's not cheap to travel these days, and we will forever be grateful to you for coming to celebrate with us. To the Squad, even those of you that couldn't make it -Craig, Katie, & Jr. Martin-we will enjoy your gift nearly every weekend when we fire up the commercial waffle maker and enjoy fat, delicious Belgiun waffles. Sunday will be a good day, indeed.
CZ

1,984

"What's in the case?"





One of my favorite parts of the movie Pulp Fiction is the recurring interest and mystery surrounding the briefcase carried by a few of the characters for their boss, Marcellus Wallace. At two points in the movie, the case is opened with only the warm golden glow of it's contents shining on the characters' faces. The movie-goer at no point finds out what's in the case.

I got the same distinct feeling yesterday as the trunk of the Ford Taurus was opened to reveal a dull gray, cylindrical container with red stripes. Innocuous and plain, but I knew exactly what it was, for what is in that hulk of a container IS gold. Sweet, liquid gold from the Yuengling Brewery. D.G. Yuengling & Son is officially the oldest brewery in America, having been founded in 1829 in Pottsville, Pennsylvania. This beer isn't even distributed in Arkansas, but one of my best friends found out that it is readily available in Memphis, TN. A five hour drive is all that is needed to aquire the beloved brew.

I focused on the half-barrel keg with complete joy, and my entire peripheral vision seemed to be filled with a golden glow. Fifteen and one half gallons of wonder, One hundred sixty four 12oz. servings, or 1,984 ounces of the glorious nectar of the gods.

"Where do we want it?"

"You know, I was thinking I'd put it in the same place you had it after picking it up from Memphis. I'll try to get it into the beer fridge out here in the garage."

"Let's do it."





Peppas reached into the trunk of the Taurus and hoisted the large treasure with the rear of the car rising in relief from the great weight. Peppas manhandled the keg to the front of the fridge where we discovered many shelves and drawers would have to be removed in order to contain it. After several minutes of shoving, turning, and trying to close the door, the sweet Vitamin Y was safe and sound in an icy cold place of rest. Karen and I will tap that keg in celebration of our marriage, along with many friends and family almost exactly 32 hours from now. Giddy like a schoolboy doesn't begin to describe it.


CZ

It is true....

I couldn't believe my eyes when I read Scott's post yesterday about my beloved Stillers needing a serious restructuring because of the Rooney brothers' discontent and desire to get their money out of the storied franchise. I am still in shock, really, even though I knew all along that the entire family wasn't 'one' when it came to the Pittsburgh Steelers. If Stan Druckenmiller can save the Steeler legacy by buying a major share in the franchise, then so be it. I really think he has good intentions, and I think it will be better for the team and the city if it happens that way. Long live the Pittsburgh Steelers

http://www.post-gazette.com/steelers/

CZ

Vintage Geek

Anyone that knows me well also knows about my passions for anything vintage. The reason isn't really nostalgic, but is more or less quality based. History plays some part, of course, as exemplified in my affinity for military firearms. Nearly everything vintage and/or built by Americans (before it became cost effective to manufacture and import everything from China and Taiwan) was built with care and attention to detail. This is why my favorite watch is a 1962 Bulova automatic (Swiss), and my current vehicular passion is a 1982 Jeep CJ-7/. This vintage quality isn't true for everything, but "Made in China" is most often found on things that are disposable and designed to last only a few years at best. Nearly every manufacturer of anything today outsources in one way or another. The problem is that quality control generally takes a turn for the worse when it comes to things manufactured out of country where labor is cheap.

This brings me to my latest infatuation. I've always been a fan of music, and since I got my first receiver and eight track as a hand-me-down from my stepfather, I've always had music readily available. I've accumulated a small collection of music that includes both vinyl and compact discs. With moving into a new house comes disarray of sorts, and the time consuming process of finding the magic place to put speakers and audio equipment. Of course, I had my amplifier hooked up to the LCD flatscreen and good Yamaha speakers, but my CD changer took a crap on me right before we moved into our wonderful new home. I can play anything I want to hear in the DVD player or Playstation, but this isn't optimal, so I'm looking for a good 5-disc DVD/CD player.

The wedding reception we're having at the house next Saturday also kickstarted a move toward finally getting good sound in our home. I spent a few days getting things organized to play the digital audio files I have on my computer, but I had to relocate my amp right next to my computer because the 25ft RCA cables I purchased brought about horribly muffled sound because of the resistance accumulated in the wire over that excessive distance. The voltage output from the computer was way too low to produce quality sound. Anyway, the shorter cable fixed the problem, but showed me I had to get a separate receiver/amp for the office. I had been planning to do this anyway, but have spent the last couple of months shopping for a vintage receiver or amplifier.

Any audiophile will tell you that unless you're willing to spend big money on audio equipment, you're wasting your time trying to get good sound. I'm talking receivers and amps starting in the THOUSANDS of dollars, not hundreds. This is mostly true for new equipment manufactured after about 1980 or so. Yes, some people spend this on home audio, especially for vintage tube amplifiers, but that's a discussion for another time. Now, it's absolutely ludicrous for me to spend thousands on new audio equipment to get good sound, simply because I'm not financially independent yet, and don't plan on achieving it anytime soon.

My best option, of course, brings me to vintage audio equipment. Nearly from the outset, I settled on something from Marantz.

Click the link to learn about it. I'm in the middle of negotiating with a guy from Portland that has a 2238B he put up on Craig's List. I've been looking at this model or possibly a model 1060 on Ebay for several weeks now, but have come up short. I either get outbid, they want too much, or they are sadly neglected pieces of equipment. Anyway, I'm hoping the guy from Portland can hook me up with some good sound. The 2238B was released in 1977 and went on sale for about $370 in most stereo shops. These stores are almost completely gone now, since audio equipment sales have been taken over by the big box stores like Best Buy, WalMart, and various vendors on the internet. That price in dollars today, accounting for inflation, would make that 2238B cost about $1250. Of course, the joy of vintage audio is that I can get one for about 10% of that since everyone wants new, prettier, louder, faster. I'll get awesome sound with high quality analog electronic components for what a low end brand new piece would cost. Any low end piece would last five or ten years and be made out of fragile plastic (like my CD changer that crapped out on me), but I like the fact that the Marantz has already been going strong for 30 years, and I can replace any transistor or capacitor in it for a few bucks instead of trashing the whole thing. We'll see what happens, but I hope to have wonderful, warm and clean vintage sound in my home very soon.

CZ

Strange Days

These are strange days, indeed. It's a time of change, and it's becoming more obvious as the days go on. I've got several members of my inner circle, aka "The Squad", that are now pregnant or have recently given birth. Years ago, when we all first met and started hanging out, it was all talk about partying, drinking, sports, our jobs that paid peanuts, looking forward to the weekend, and everything BUT adult life. Now we're in a transition period of less drinking, (some of us still know how to throw it down-just not four or five days of the week) more talk about home improvement with a lot more work around the house, and lots of discussion of having and dealing with children.

The discussion over on Scott's blog is all about JimmyJoe/JimmiJo on the way and the fun hormones in pregnancy. Good Times, just a different kind of good times from five and ten years ago. Most of the Squad has moved away to different parts of the country, but we are still a very tight group and we can stay in touch with annual trips and the magic of the interwebnets. The Crooks and Colleys have become part of the local Squad, and that's who K, myself and the Faldons ( both of us old, original Squad) hang out with regularly here in The Fort.

The Hermsmeiers in California, The Browns from DC, The Livingstons in Omaha, Peppas in Little Rock, and the Martins in St. Louis all are original squadders, but sadly, live too far away to partake in the cookouts, drinking and gaming, and the Nertz & Wii sessions of the new age. This makes me sad in ways, but I understand it's the nature of life to deal with loss. We've been forced to part with good friends, but they are still with us. We've gained new friends that are every bit as much fun, and keep our lives vivid with new experiences that aren't quite as juvenile as the keg parties of years past.

One week from Saturday will be an official wedding reception for Karen and I. It will be good times, indeed. Nearly the entire Squad will be here, along with about 60 other people, to celebrate our new lives together. Nearly every year, we're all doing the same for one of us in the group. Last year was the Browns on the Jersey shore, the Hermsmeiers before that, you get the picture. We all support each other and love each other to the point where any one of us would do anything for the other in times of strife. Sadly, the Martins won't be able to come down, but they are a scant few months from welcoming their first child into the Squad, and I completely understand the inability for a pregnant, hormonal woman to make a long road trip to a party where she can't drink. Craig, good luck to you, buddy. Katie, I love you, and good luck with everything that comes with carrying a child.

This weekend, Karen and I will embark on a lot more house work (and have already done a ton) before everyone gets here. Karen's family is travelling from far away, some from Puerto Rico even, to make the party. They never come here because it's so expensive to travel, let alone to a small city in Arkansas. I've never even met K's mother, but I'm looking forward to meeting her and a few others in her family. It will be a grand time, indeed.

So, without further background, this weekend will be heavy with work and heavy with play Saturday night. We will be having the local Squad over for a little grilling, a little drinking, and a little preparation in the music department for the throwdown on the 12th. So, anyone reading this who will be coming over this Saturday, bring me some music. I recently took possession of a sweet external Western Digital hard drive and will be installing mucho musica on it in order to have great, neverending sounds for the reception next weekend.

Jason, Angie, Steve, Jen, Scott, and Jen---bring whatever music you want so we can have it on the playlist. Anyone that's out of town reading this, feel free to send it. Whatever you want to hear is welcome unless it's some country bullshit. I refuse to play it. Yes, Jen, I'll play some Abba because it just wouldn't be a Squad Party without Dancing Queen. You've gotta bring it, though, because I don't own it. Be sure that whatever you bring over is in MP3 format or on a CD. I can save it either way. Flash drives would rock.

Also, chime in with what kind of meat you guys want to eat this Saturday. It will be Meat Euphoria, so let the chef (yours truly) know what you prefer. Hot Dogs, bratwurst, chicken, burgers, pork chops, steak, you name it. BUT--you have to let me know. I'll get it and make it. I don't want to cook anything that won't get eaten, though, so don't be bashful--it's a celebration of the good times we've had and the good times we'll continue to have in Fort Smith with our local Squad Family. I've got 465 Gigs of memory burning a hole in my pocket, so let me have it, kids.

CZ