Home, again.

Since I’ve been here for two three weeks, I think its safe to tell you that I’m no longer in Texas, but rather have crossed a few state lines to make it up to Michigan. Besides it being part of my usual summer migration (it was WAY hot in Texas), this year’s trip had a special meaning – that of the celebration of my parent’s 50^th Wedding Anniversary! Yep, even with kids like me they managed to stick it out for 50 years together! And let me tell you, there’s nothing more special than to spend an afternoon with over 200 people telling you how much your parents mean to them! What a great day, despite a bit of a weather issue early on. Here they are with their grandchildren!

So, I’m currently parked here in “The Thumb” (look at a map of Michigan if you don’t know what I’m saying) and enjoying family and friends.

So far, besides the big Five-Oh celebration, I’ve gotten to tour an Alpaca farm with my niece Whitney and attended the 10^th Annual Cheeseburger in Paradise Festival in Caseville, MI.

For those of you not familiar with small town festivals, lets just say that the town of 863 swells to as many as 15,000 for 10 days of fun, silliness and more Jimmy Buffet bands than you ever thought existed!

Yes, that is a margarita glass they are about to fall out of.

I’m enjoying temps in the 70s and 80s, spending time with family and friends and a few side trips while I’m here in the mid-west. Watch here for an entry or two and be sure to contact me if you are anywhere close by.

Lon

Life is good, so is home cooking!

Route 66 – The Mother Road – America’s Highway – RELIEF!

Yep, relief is what Rick and I felt last year when we jumped off the Interstate due to a traffic jam and ended up on Route 66 somewhere in nowhere Missouri. At that point its been in the back of my head to travel as much of 66 as I could on the way to and from this year’s Blues Fest in Chicago. So, as I crossed the state line from OK to MO I hit my friendly Visitor Information Rest Area and grabbed what few maps and brochures they had of the famous road. A real nerd would have used the internet prior to the trip to research the route and all the interesting places to see. So, it just goes to show I am NOT A NERD! So there. Okay, I feel better now.

So, with brochures neatly crammed into the saddlebags where they were as useful as a bald tire in a rain storm (that reminds me, I also need to write an entry about my ride to Colorado in July), I was heading East across Missouri.

At this point I’ll digress just a bit to tell you that if you haven’t seen the Disney-Pixar animated movie, “CARS”, you really should check it out. I had the pleasure of watching it with Justin (okay, so he invited his mommy along too) prior to the trip so I knew a little history of the road, and the characters that I’d actually come in contact with along the way!

The great part about 66 is that it is not interstate. It’s a trip through rural America, which is basically where I grew up. So things like barns, large trees, cows on the road and neighborhood taverns were all reminiscent of my days growing up in Michigan. You want to drop your stress level a bit, just get on a 2 lane highway with no set time schedule and watch what you’re capable of finding!

On the way to Chicago I traveled 66 in Missouri and Illinois, and on the way back to Dallas, I hit more of Missouri as well as Kansas and Oklahoma. Seems there’s a Route 66 Association(s) that has been working with the states and communities to get the road marked (in most places it now has highway designations other than Route 66, if it exists at all). So of course I took a picture of the respective signs in each state.

Some states, like Kansas and Oklahoma even painted it on the road, so you couldn’t get lost (brochures point out the fact that often road/direction signs are missing because they are such coveted souvenirs.

So, along the way I encountered some of the original structures, such as the Route 66 Drive-In (also showcased in CARS), and other roadside attractions.

Of course I had to stop along the way at a few of the watering holes, purely for journalistic purposes, of course.

But of all the sections of the road, Kansas provided the most surprises. That part of the trip started out at the State Line Bar, which actually had a line painted on the road in front, with one drive-way on the Missouri side (helmets required) and one drive-way on the Kansas side (no helmets required).

Just prior to Galena, KS I happened upon a couple other riders snapping pictures and stopped for a chat. We all moved a bit further up the road to the edge of town for the ubiquitous sign photo and after they rolled away I was greeted by the attendant at what looked like a gift shop in an old gas station. Well, it turns out that not only is it a Route 66 gift and sandwich shop (http://www.4womenontheroute.com/), but it was also a source for a great wealth of information. It seems that the director of CARS spent a considerable amount of time at this station and in this town while doing research for the movie! The gift shop even had a book from Disney-Pixar that showed pictures of a lot of the buildings and people from the town.

But right there, on the corner, next to my motorcycle was the truck that was the inspiration for Mater! (http://rwarn17588.wordpress.com/2006/11/12/meet-maters-inspiration/).

This was a fun and informative visit, which of course caused a lot more picture taking. Those two other riders that were “on a schedule” have no clue what they missed!

The next surprise was in Miami, OK (pronounced Mi-am-uh by the locals). As I was passing thru town I noticed a couple old (as in vintage) motorcycles propped up in a store front window, so I circled around and found the place. Upon entering thru the side door, all I found was a T-shirt shop. Now I’ll admit, they had some nice T-shirts (this coming from a guy that only buys T-shirts from blues and bike bars and events), but I couldn’t find the bikes. That is until I walked thru a narrow doorway between buildings and found a bike MUSEUM! It was the Route 66 Vintage Iron Works (http://www.route66vintageiron.com/), with many, many finely restored bikes. The neat thing is that the bikes weren’t just “shown”, but displayed with other period items!

I HIGHLY recommend this stop for bikers and non-bikers alike.

It took me 3 full, 12 hour days to make the 950 mile trip from Chicago to Dallas, if that’s any indication of the amount of stops I made. Now I figure I need to follow the rest of 66 from Vinita, OK, where I turned south, all the way West to California. Course before I do, I need to watch CARS again so I can pick out more memorable attractions. I wonder if Justin will invite me over to watch it again?

Be sure to check out the rest of the pictures!

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=9922v5mu.9b81mxbu&x=0&y=hp6nhb&localeid=en_US

Lon

Life is good. Enjoy The Road.

Chicago Bluesfest '08

If you'll remember (I seriously doubt anyone remembers. For that matter, I doubt anyone even cares), it was last year that I sold the house, moved out and hopped on the bike and headed to Chicago for the Blues Fest. Well, this year was the 25th Anniversary, so I needed to do it up right.

I decided this year I'd hit Route 66 for as much of the trip as possible, so it truly was about the journey as much as it was about the destination. The good news is, that's gonna be a posting of its own.
The bad news is it will probably take me till December to post it. But the pictures are worth the wait!

So the Blues Fest plans were similar to last years; I'd ride the bike to Chicago where Joy and I would stay at Victor's condo on Lake Shore Drive. We'd meet Bill at the fest all weekend, along with special guest appearances by regulars Russ and Debbie, along with Ken and Robin, Linda, and a bunch of friends of Joy's whose name's I can't seem to recall right now (probably best for their own defense).

One difference this year is that I picked Joy up in Quincy, IL

and she rode with me the distance that would take normal people about 4 hours to travel, to get to Chicago.

Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so get ready for a few thousand words!


Of course the ride had to include some stops.


And then we got to the festival, with music


friends...


more music...



and apparently rain...
And after the rain came the pondering......

Where did we park the car?



And there were autographs...




















We even made some new friends...

And, we survived!



This part of the journey ended with me having the honor of giving Tillie a ride.

If I didn't know better, she was giving the international sign for "Does this look like I need a drink?". Nah, couldn't be.

But, come back soon for the adventures on Route 66.


For all of the pictures, feel free to visit here:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=9922v5mu.2t89r7ey&x=0&y=8yx9u1&localeid=en_US

Jazz and Heritage Fest

I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but this trip was another one of those ‘must do’ events where we had no clue what was going to happen. Seems to be a theme with Rick and me. If you’ll remember, we went to the Crossroads Fest in Chicago where we picked up the tickets he bought on e-bay, at a sports bar between here and Chicago.

I’m not real sure if it’s our spontaneous nature, or the lack of willingness for either us to plan anything, but we never really know what’s going to happen along the way and often times where we are going. The only given is that every ride that leads us out of the state ends at the Ramblin Rose. The Rose is a watering hole that is exactly half way between Rick’s house and mine (if I mention that Rick and I live about 5 miles apart, you get the idea why the Rose falls into a lot of equations).

Alright, time to get to the point. This trip was to N’awlins for the Jazz and Heritage Festival. I was fortunate enough to be taken to this fest from Chicago by Al and Paul many, many years ago, and have been there 3 or 4 times since. There’s more than a half dozen stages and tents with continuous music ranging from Gospel and Blues to the Congo Stage with reggae. Throw in food and art vendors and of course the music around the city during the night, and you have 10 days of over indulgence. We would only be there for four days, which would prove to be plenty enough.

I left Dallas on Thursday on the Valk, taking back roads to Baton Rouge. LA and catching a blues jam at Phil Brady’s Bar and Grill that night. On Friday I rode into N.O., grabbed a po’boy in the French Quarter and then ventured out to the fair grounds to see if I could find a safe place to park the bike. Keep in mind that I had all my clothes, etc, for the weekend packed on the bike. Since Rick wasn’t coming into town till later that night, I had no place to stash my stuff. As a matter of fact, I had no clue where we were going to stay. I wasn’t even sure if Rick knew where we were going to stay. All I did know was that Rick would show up, some time.

This story will be long enough without me going into all the details of how I found a (relatively safe) spot to park, but meet Margaret along with her friends. We parked in front of her porch each day of the festival (which was across the street from the entrance to the fest!). After the initial night, we were greeted each morning with reserved parking, a cooler full of cold beverages, a chance to purchase rain ponchos (it rained HARD on Friday) and even the opportunity for tickets to the fest (this came in very handy on Sunday). Each evening after the festival, we returned to our well guarded bikes, a porch full of people, homemade hot tamales and the ever popular cooler full of beverages. Ok, to be fair, there were many coolers with a variety of beverages only rivaled by a well stocked 7-11. We met people from out of town/state that come to "Margaret's Porch" every year during the fest for the fun and friendship. They were gracious hosts, including inviting us in so we could change from our festival attire (shorts and sandals) to riding attire (jeans and boots). Okay, maybe she just didn't want us changing in the street in front of her house, but by the second night she'd just point and say "you know where the bathroom is".

But this trip wasn’t about the parking. It was about the Fest, and what a great fest it was. There were a lot of musicians there. Frankly, I’m getting tired of telling you who’s at these evetnts. You really need to start showing up yourself. Your next opportunity is June 5-8, when I’ll be in Chicago for the Blues Fest. So, come on down. But, as I was saying, lots of good music. I have to be honest, among Stevie Wonder, Carlos Santana, Marsha Ball, Sonny Landreth and of course the Neville Brothers, my favorite performance came in from Ruthie Foster from Austin, TX. Not only did she have guests performing on stage with her from the Gospel Stage, she also sang an A Capella song so sweet it would make you tell a movie star to shut up (okay, in my defense, I didn’t know she was an actress when I told her to shut up).

The best “moment” of the fest was meeting a young lady while watching, I think, Jimmy Buffett. It wasn’t the performance that touched me, but rather the message I received while sharing just a few words with Addi (course I told her I’d change her name if I write about her, so if you see a future story about someone not called Addi, you’ll know its about her). Anyway, one of the things I really like about blues and jazz type festivals is that everyone is so welcoming and friendly. There’s just a great feeling and vibe in the air.

The following picture is a pretty good indication of the type of values you find in the people at the festival. This picture was taken on the second Saturday of the festival, which coincidentally is also the busiest day of the festival. You have to admire a business-person that holds to their values above riches.

We made it a point to stop by on Sunday to show our support with the purchase of a couple…few…many pies. We highly recommend Mr. Williams pies and will make this a regular stop during all future fests.

Alright, so on to the adventure. Remember, I got in Friday morning and Rick was still in Minneapolis on Friday morning. I spent the day listening to music and enjoying the energy, having no clue where I was going to sleep and not being too concerned with it. Rick spent the day flying to Dallas, prepping his bike and then riding it the entire 400 and something miles into N’awlins! While sittin on Margaret’s porch eating tamales that evening, I get a call from Rick telling me he’s “an hour out” and to meet him at The Corporation, which is apparently New Orleans’s answer to the Ramblin Rose. (This next part is true) – Rick tells me that its near the Convention Center, and when (if) I find the Convention Center, try to call his buddy Willie to see if he knows what street its on. Seems Rick knows how to get there, but has no clue how to tell me how to get there! So, sensing an adventure, I get crude directions to the Convention Center from one of Margaret’s porch partiers (I think he was from Houston, but he spoke with such assuredness that I believed him) and headed off into the night. Sometime later I was surprised and quite proud of myself when I realized I was rolling down the street…with the Convention Center covering the three city blocks to my left! Well, that was easy. Now its time to find The Corp. I started scoping side streets, knowing that Rick was not sending me to a fern bar in the properly lighted section of town. After a couple turns, and as I came to a screeching halt to avoid running over a couple of kids on their way to their prom, The Corp made its appearance on my left. AND, between the bumper of a pick-up truck and the “No Parking Here to Corner” sign, there was room for my bike! (Okay, considering the shape the pick-up was in, I wasn’t too worried about it running long enough to run into my bike, so I knew it was safe to park there.)

Now, this is where it gets good (I know, its been good all along, but just like with life, things just keep getting better). Not even half a beer after I get there (without having to call Willie, I’d like to remind you!), Rick comes pulling in. Seems he got to spend the last hour or two riding in the driving rain, but he pulled in on time and in good spirits. And when he called his friends, who it turns out were setting up a show at the Convention Center, they were just walking out the door and were on their way to the Corp! Everything just fell into place! This is when I found out that one of the guys coming over was Willie and that we were going to follow him home and that’s where we were staying for the weekend. An escorted ride home! What more could you ask for? Well, a home cooked meal, that’s what! After a couple beers at the Corp we followed Willie on what would otherwise have been a nightmare ride thru some washed out neighborhoods (remember, they're still rebuilding from Katrina) and cool old cemeteries to Willie's house, where he wasted no time pointing out (yet another) cooler full of beverages and started cooking!

THIS was to be the purpose of the weekend. Not the cooler full of beverages or closed pie stands or music from international stars, but time spent with good friends. As it turned out, each evening after the fest was spent with Willie, Abe, cousins and other friends. Talk about a feeling of welcoming and love. I’m sorry I didn’t get more pictures of the families and friends I met, but this one of Willie, Abe and Rick (left to right) and 2 of the 3 killer dogs kinda gives a sense of the hospitality we experienced.

Like Crossroads, the Jazz Fest is another event that will only be missed in the future due to a wedding or funeral. Yeah, I thought the wedding part was pretty funny too.

Here's a picture of the bikes parked in front of Willie's house. Not too shabby, eh?

Till later,

Life is Good, Family is better.

Lon

Here's a link to more pictures.

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=9922v5mu.3szr402q&x=0&y=-tmlhel&localeid=en_US

Bonfire and Bugs

I made it!
They said it couldn’t be done! And frankly, after 2 previous failed attempts I too was starting to doubt my abilities. But as of April 20, 2008 I made it an entire year’s existence away from corporate America!

And what a better way to celebrate than with the 3^rd First Annual West Nile Resort Bonfire and Bugs (mudbugs that is) Party! And what a better place than the newly created Ricker Resort (seems West Nile has some negative connotations?).

As usual, the event that was planned for Saturday began on Friday evening with the pre-party party and a few close friends coming by to help. As you can see, their idea of help basically includes lighting the grill and testing the beverages in the cooler.

The weather was perfect all weekend, and Saturday had folks coming by on bikes, cars and Mutt on the lawn tractor. We had about 35 lbs of crawfish, a couple guitars and of course a bon-fire large enough to signal the aliens. Not that I necessarily believe in aliens, but if they’re out there, I’m sure they were watching some of the evening's antics questioning their theory that there is intelligent life on this planet.

Since I catch grief about not posting pictures of myself, I thought this one was kind of fitting. Its much better than the one of me using the dog’s shock-collar on a gal that was eating more than her share of bugs. Besides, its my blog so I get to post pretty much whatever I want.

Rather than a midnight run to the Rose like in the past, this year we torched a Christmas Tree at midnight (Tubbs foolishly “bet me a dollar” I wouldn’t throw it on the fire. Little did he know that I would have paid HIM a dollar just for the idea!)

Its been a great year. I have to thank my family and friends for their support and strength along the way. The good Lord has brought many blessing on me. Its been so incredible to spend quality time with family and rekindling many friendships. There’s been a new relationship or two along the way, most ending similarly to that with corporate America – if they’ll pay me enough, I’ll go away quietly. Restraining orders work as well.

I’ve found a business opportunity that allows me to travel, have fun, and most importantly help others, so it looks like returning to telecom and the world of cubes is no where in my future. That means, when you least expect it you may find me parking my house in front of your house!

So, till next year’s Bon-fire and Bugs stay tuned.

Life is Good. Burn Something.

Lon

Hopefully this link works, for more pics from the party.

https://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=wAasnDVs1YtmbVyQ&emid=shareprintsharer&linkid=link5&cid=EM_sharshar

Fashion By Lon

(I realize I owe write-ups for both the latest bon-fire party and now the Jazz & Heritage Fest in N'awlins. So, till I get the pictures uploaded and in the right mindset to appropriately convey the adventures of those events, here's a little story I wrote a couple months back. Make sure you have a coffee or a beer, cause as usual I rambled a bit. Lon)

Its funny the comments I’ve gotten as I’ve traveled, regarding my “looks”. As I come and go around the country, my hair, both on my head and my face changes with my mood, my ability (or lack there of) to attract women, and my access to such minor things as running water.

I’ve never been a fashion follower (okay, you can quit laughing now), so basically if I was clothed and didn’t smell, I was content (wait, what do I mean “was”, those are still keen indicators in my world of social graces).

After college I got a good paying job, a new car and a girlfriend. Julie was a real lesson in personalities (all of them), which you would have thought I would have learned from. No such luck. But I digress (as is often the case when the fingers get to spewing all over the keyboard). She was also very interested in image. Something that didn’t interest me. So, once I moved Jules (and Jeepers the cat) out of my apartment, I promptly sold the fancy car and bought a $400 Buick Skyhawk (with a hole in the driver’s floor – some people own cars for their entire lives before any worries of the front seat falling thru the floor, eh Russ?), brought my brother’s bike out from Michigan and started skydiving. I figured it was a sure fire way to guarantee that no self-respecting gold digger (is that an oxymoron?) would be interested in me! Well, it appears that wasn’t the case. Or perhaps I met women that are the type that find a stray puppy on the road and feel some need to bring it home and nurture it, but some women still wanted relationships. In case you haven’t figured it out by now, that wasn’t my thing, back then either.

Anyone that knew me back in my Clear Communications days in Illinois knew that I just let my hair grow for my “utter contempt for society” look (it was spoof on a spoof of a radio commercial for some speedy hair cutting place).

So, once I landed the job at this start-up company, I figured I wasn’t “customer facing” AND I was working around the clock and the hair thing just kinda got outta hand. Add to the long hair what it would look like after wearing a motorcycle helmet, and well you can imagine. Now figure what it looked like on those times (don’t tell Mom) that I didn’t wear a helmet when riding to work.

Well, pretty much since then I left the rest of the fashion industry behind. Blue jeans, t-shirts (typically with writing from either a blues fest or bike bar) and hair that, well, was clean but not neat was my statement.

Now gets to the fun part. Some women actually seem to be attracted to it (you women sure are interesting creatures). My ex- not only liked the longer hair, but convinced me to grow a mustache. Now, whether I looked decent in a mustache was never an issue. If that’s what she wanted, that’s what I was going to do. I’m now convinced it was a cruel joke to make sure that no other woman would talk to me in public. And it worked (but frankly, I don’t think it was the mustache).

But, since women talking to me was the LAST thing I wanted after the divorce, I kept it. I even attempted to trim it on occasion. One time, after not shaving for a week or so, after a few drinks, I even attempted to shave a go-tee, to see how it would look. I believe that turned into an email story about shaving my entire head, but that was in the days before blogs. Maybe I’ll dig it up and share it. Anyway, I kept the mustache until the night I had been drinking (go figure) and I attempted to trim it, but forgot to put the trimmer head on the razor, and well, next thing I knew I had half a mustache. Frankly, to me, it didn’t look any worse than a full mustache, but deep down inside I knew THIS look just wasn’t going to fly so I shaved the entire thing off. The ironic part was that this was AFTER I had been laid off. And, since I was tired of buying both shampoo AND conditioner, I got my hair cut shorter (I said shortER, not short). And, since I only go out in public every couple weeks and I make a special effort to put on nicer (cleanER) clothes, everyone is commenting about the fact that now that I no longer have a job, I’ve cleaned up my act and finally look respectable. (Notice no one has said anything about me looking good, just respectable).

So, I have this dilemma. Ya see, I have no clue what actually looks good on me. I surely can’t trust my so called friends to tell me. And I don’t want to look like some old dude trying to look young and hip. And do I REALLY trust a women’s input? After all, it was one of those that got me to grow the mustache. So, when its hair cut time, I stroll into a place and say “please do what you can” and they end up cutting it basically the way it was. Is that cause it looks good, or cause they don’t want to upset me, or cause they don’t know any better (most likely the case)?

So, even though recently I had an attractive woman tell me that my hair “looks good long”, I still had this sinking suspicion that she was just telling me what she thought I wanted to hear so I’d buy her a drink and leave her alone. And, knowing it was time for at least a trim, I decided to go to a “salon”.

I walked in at 5 minutes after closing (hey, the door wasn’t locked) and asked the lady if she was open. She looked at me, said “you need a hair cut, come over here and sit down”. Notice that was NOT a question. I told her I was ready to move into the 90s, and did she think she could help. She informed me it was 2008, and yes she could help. Perhaps at this point I should tell you that I found her to be quite attractive, so frankly paying her to run her fingers through my hair didn’t seem like all that bad of an idea, regardless of the outcome (remember the mustache?). She had all kinds of ideas and called over other women that were trying to scurry out of the shop, to point out my request to come into the nineties, and the need to get out of the 80s. She actually seemed to CARE about me. At this point, I was noticing pictures of kids, dogs and flowers around her station. No men. She made comments about us being about the same age. THEN I found out she OWNED the shop and I was instantly in love! I figured who better than to know a modern hair style for a guy “my age” than a woman that owned a hair salon? After all, if you wanted to buy a used car, you wouldn’t go to your butcher, you’d trust a used car salesman, right? AND a business owner to boot! It wasn’t till half my head was shaved (here we go again!) that she tossed in the dreaded “my husband blah blah blah” line. And this wasn’t as in “my husband left me for a younger woman so I buried him in the backyard and collected the insurance money” or “my husband that died of old age and left me the insurance money”, but more like “my husband will be showing up any minute to show me his new hunting rifle, complete with bayonet. Do you have insurance?”.

But, at this point it was too late. I was madly in love (there’s hope he’ll fall on the bayonet) and she was having her way with my hair. And besides, do I REALLY know what looks good anyway? Obviously not.

So, once again, I have a new hair “style”. Am I in the latest decade? Is it age appropriate? Will women still avoid me in the blues clubs (I know, it has nothing to do with the hair)? All I can say is, who cares! She was cute and I’m going back every 2 to 3 weeks for a trim.

Now, I’m sure you’re wondering how I got onto this tangent to begin with. Actually, I’m more sure that you quit reading this about 10 paragraphs ago when you realized there were no pictures of cool fall colors or campgrounds, but I’m going to continue anyway. Tonight I got a call from a research agency for a project titled “Beer Survey” (I know, I’m about as qualified for that as I am for….wait, I AM qualified for that!). Anyway, she was asking lots of questions, which I had to indicate my level of “agreement or disagreement”, which basically amounted to “Sir, you are cheap and drink too much”, BUT one of the questions was “I look to my favorite celebrities to show me the latest styles and fashions”. Well, I basically spit out my beer all over the phone laughing. She got the idea.

And it got me to thinking, who ARE my favorite celebrities?

Life is good. Send shampoo.

Its All About Image

So it turns out parking your RV on a nicely treed piece of land in Wylie, Tx for any period of time is kinda looked down upon. In comparison, parking the same RV in a campground is seen as camping; or traveling; or better yet “full-timing”, which is the socially acceptable term for people that live in their RV. And just so I don’t offend any full-times, I’m sure that 95%....85… I’m sure that at least 75% of the people that live full time in their RV are doing so by choice and traveling the country and enjoying their leisure. Either way, “full-timing” is a lot more glamorous than living in your trailer on a nicely treed piece of land in Wylie, Tx.

So, I’ve decided to move the house to a campground, and once again take up status as a “full-timer”. I’m now parked in a “nicely treed campground” in Wylie, Tx. That’s right, I’ve officially declared the land a “Campground”, and thus improved my social status immensely.

And with that improvement of status comes a lot of perks. For instance, in a campground it’s socially acceptable to stand outside in plaid pajama bottoms and t-shirt and fry bacon and eggs on a portable stove set up on a picnic table. It’s also okay to wash your dishes in a couple basins and toss the water around a nearby tree when you’re done. After all, you’re just adding the bread crumbs and bacon grease back into the earth where the plants and insects can organically recycle them. Try doing those things in a subdivision or neighborhood.

So, I’m currently living high on the hog, so to speak in a nice little treed campground in Wylie, Tx. If you happen to get to the area, we’ll run an extension cord for you. We accept all types.

For example, just this weekend a stray border collie showed up, and since there’s always a dish full of dog food outside, she made herself right at home. Seems she likes us and has decided to stay for a while. Course as I just now look outside and see the two dogs sprawled out sleeping next to the pick-up truck, I can’t help to think, You Might Be a Redneck If…..

Life is good. God provides.

I'm THAT Guy

While walking the dog the other night, I had a revelation. Ya see, living out in the country, with no street lights and no neighbors, when I walk the dog I don’t worry too much about “dressing up”. So, I was standing there in the middle of the field, in my house shoes, boxer shorts and holey t-shirt, drinking a beer while my dog was smelling along the fence row where the coyotes seem to play.

Now, I was staring up at the stars, pondering the universe, when it hit me. I’m that guy. You know, that guy you see on TV, standing there in his house shoes, boxer shorts, holey t-shirt and drinking a beer, explaining that while he was outside walking his dog, aliens swooped down and picked him up! And, because he’s standing there as he is, in his house shoes, boxer shorts, holey t-shirt, and probably still drinking a beer, you just don’t give his story much credibility.

Now, no one cares that I’ve climbed the corporate ladder. Okay, so I didn’t climb it all the way to the top, but Dad always taught me not to stand on the top rung of a ladder, else you fall off. And no one cares that every 6 to 8 years I quit my job, travel the country and “find myself”, knowing that if and when I’m ready to work I can always find a new state and insert myself back into that corporate world. And no one cares that I have a successful E-commerce business with the added benefit of being able to help people become financially free. Heck, no one even cares that I have TWO motorcycles, neither of which is a Harley, which means they both run and no one is interested in stealing them.

Nope, all anyone would care about is the fact that I was standing in the middle of the field, in the middle of the night, in my house shoes, boxer shorts, holey t-shirt and drinking a beer. And they wouldn’t believe that aliens swooped down and picked me up. And, once the aliens were done learning everything I know about the world, which really wouldn’t take too long unless they asked me about energy drinks or how to quit your job, they’d swoop down and drop me off, knowing that no one would believe me.

So, I decided right then and there that when I’m out walking the dog in the middle of the night, I need to have a much better image, so that way when the aliens swoop down and pick me up, people WILL believe me.

So from now on, when I walk the dog, I make sure I wear one of my best t-shirts. Preferably one without swears words on it.

Life is good, see ya in the National Enquirer.

Stupid Bowl 2008

In 2007, the Chicago Bears were playing in the Super Bowl in Miami, FL. So, being the really intelligent guy that I am, I decided to fly from Dallas, TX to Chicago, IL to surprise some friends that were getting together to watch the game. The one thing that I remember (besides the fact that the outcome of the game sucked) was that when Bill and I left the Underground Wonder Bar after listening to some great music, it was -6 degrees!

But, that must have been short term memory which was lost, because when I heard that this was the Tenth Anniversary of Stupid Bowl, I had no choice but to book another flight north.

Stupid Bowl is where the guys book a condo in the Wisconsin Dells, which is a summer resort town, where we take over the indoor pool and hot-tub for the weekend and find some local drinking establishment to watch the game. It was started when the Green Bay Packers were in the Super Bowl, and when we were young enough to enjoy ice fishing, walking in the snow and 60 degree temperatures (yeah, this global warming myth is a bunch of crap!).

So, I booked my ticket based on Russ's sage advice (something about Wisconsin women and Spam) and the next thing I knew (did I mention that neither Chicago, nor Dallas, nor even Green Bay were even IN the Super Bowl?) I was stuck in the Memphis airport for 8 hours waiting for Chicago O'hare airport to open long enough for the snow plows to clear the runway.

The good news was that Debbie let Russ drive the All Wheel Drive SUV to pick me up. The bad news was that Russ had already drank 2 beers before I found out that Northwest had sent my luggage to Detroit.

Now, I'm not going to go into the details involving shopping for new underwear (you tell me, Victoria Secret or Kmart?) nor the two nights in Chicago prior to leaving for Wisconsin, but best I can recall White Castle hamburgers used to come in bunches of 6, not 3. Ken, you didn't fool anyone blaming it on the rabbits, or squirrels.

After driving thru a snow storm on icy roads, MANY accidents and emergency vehicles, and a pit stop at an abandoned port-a-john at a closed, truck weigh station, we arrived at the Caribbean Club Resort. Again, you must realize that this is on a lake, which is surrounded by resorts, and is known for the Tommy Bartlett Water Ski Show, which, in case you haven't been following along, requires LIQUID water. Something we did NOT have. So instead we had empty condos, ice fisherman, and a hot tub built for 12. As is often the case with this type of gathering, either I don't recall all the details, or they aren't fit for publishing on a blog that my mother might read. Either way, the New York Giants won the Super Bowl, we learned about spitting, Russ learned about lap dances and Depends, Ken's new knees made the trek half way across the lake, Jim could work at the Mystery Spot, house on the hill, Gary makes great pickled bologna and Al, well he's the philosophical one that probably said something we all thought was great but can't remember what it was.

The trip back to Dallas was nearly as eventful as the trip there, with a "fuel stop" in Austin due to weather in Dallas and the shuttle bus driver dropping me at at Nate's Seafood for a Fat Tuesday celebration complete with blues music and a LOT of boiled crawfish. It was good to be home and I'm already starting my lobbying for next year's Stupid Bowl to be held in Texas, or where ever it is that my house is parked, which HAS to be warmer than the Midwest.

Life is Good, Send...whatever it is you cook with Spam.

Into the new year!

I know, I know, I need to do a better job of keeping up. Its just that I still hate computers just like when I worked with them, so given the choice of trimming trees, riding motorcycle, or poking myself in the eye versus computers, I'll grab a beer and think about it.

I'm currently holed up in Wylie, TX, where I've been trimming trees, riding motorcycles, and (prior to getting the trees trimmed) poking myself in the eye. Yep, life is good.

I'm setting the property up for my own little campground, complete with water, electricity and (when the neighbor isn't looking) a sewer connection. (face it, their garden needs all the help it can get).

So, till the next update, that's where you can find me. If you are anywhere near here, be sure to let me know and we'll burn a brush pile in your honor.

Life is Good, Bring a chainsaw.
Lon

Rick helps set up.

Initial parking place while I clear the woods.


A burning ring of fire.