"TEDDY WANTS TO GO OUTSIDE"

One of the many bad things about getting old (I know growing old sounds softer, but it's also an oxymoron) is forgetting whom you've shared stories with. And for that reason alone, I'm very happy I'm honest. As soon as I told a dog story the other night to a friend, I thought to myself,"I'm sure I've told him that at least once." Oh well.
So maybe I've blogged this story before, so bear with.
At age two I stood at the door to my house (occupied now by my brother) and announced,"Teddy wants to go outside." And I still do.
When I can, I like to eat outside. And cook outside, and just be outside. I'm so glad they've decided again to open the roof at Chase Field. It just feels so much better.
When I taught at the high school, I could be spotted many days grading papers from a fire escape. Of course I was facing the sun. Sometimes it would be a second story one in Buildings B or C or a third story one in Building C. It all depended on what classes were empty and the sun's angle.
If that's not bad enough, in the coldest months I would raise the top windows in my room and sit three rows over to grade more papers and feel the warm sun, sans screens, bathe over me. Keep in mind the temperature at 8:30 might be 20 degrees; with bright sunshine and heater going, I was fine.
Whenever there was a window of opportunity for me to be outside, or let some of the outside in, I took it.
I'd tell you, faithful reader(s) more, but I'd probably just repeat myself. And besides, "Teddy wants to go outside-"-it's beautiful here.

THERE'S NO ACOUNTING FOR TASTE

At least I never thought those little candy Valentine's Day hearts had much culinary satisfaction. Not like Peeps. Or Sweet Tarts. But it was all about the message.

So what makes your heart melt? For me, first of all it's anyone who would think I made their heart melt. I mean, that's quite a lot of like to melt another's heart. And does it have to be romantic? I mean, can seeing a hummingbird get juice from an aloe plant, yellow even, just on the other side of my window as I sit typing this entry? He wasn't the first morning visitor either. A large woodpecker shook several stalks as he lighted and stuck his pointy beak into the same aloe.

Roadrunners maybe don't melt my heart, but I really like to see them on area golf courses (we have none in our citified 'hood) but I haven't heard one, "Meep, meep" yet. I have also seen coyotes, although none ever on the prowl for roadrunners.

Little kids can melt our hearts, and they don't have to do or say anything. They don't even have to be among the people we know. They have the melting ability just by being adorable in appearance, actions, or words. Like pets, especially puppies. I wouldn't call it melting, but new puppy breath, when the roof of their mouths is still black, is pretty neat.

I don't think sports' thrills, such as a ninth inning home run or last second shot, qualify as melting hearts. Pumping them up or breaking, but no melting.

Good conversations, good moments, good sermons all warm hearts, but it takes something special to melt one.

The woodpecker's back shaking five stalks. If I opened my window I could touch him. He's that close. And now he's gone. He didn't stay long enough to melt. But sometimes that's the key to melting, too.

TWO SWINGS, TWO ACES SAME HOLE, UNSEEN

Yesterday. At Number 17. Club West. One of my favorite courses. But it wasn't Jeff or I.

We only came close. On different holes. At Coyote Lakes. Another of my favorite courses. But we only made birdies.

And that's the whole (or hole) story. Well, not quite. And why is Cupid asleep? This is a crazy entry today.

Jeff and I have a combined one hole-in-one in our lives. Yet yesterday, on separate par threes we came extremely close to knocking in two of them in the same round. I know; everybody's been close to a hole-in-one. I don't know how many times I've seen shots hit the pin but not go in. Both our shots yesterday were tracking right at the pins only to miss and wind up just passed the hole for short birdie putts. When you don't quite get it there is one thing, but when you have a chance for it/them to drop is another.

The two golfers at Club West hit from an elevated tee down onto a green some 80 yards below. When they got to the green, there were joking about whose ball was on the green and since they didn't see another ball, whose was in the cup. When the first golfer looked into the cup, he found two balls--his and his partner's. The other ball was from their third player in the group. Odds: astronomical.

Yet another golfer in a threesome behind us yesterday, hit a beautiful shot on another par three tracking right at the hole, but it stopped and backed up. It was that good. I haven't been able to do that much, ever. But with a little bit of luck, he, too could have had an ace.

Often times people talk about golf gods looking favorably or unfavorably at golf shots and the breaks, good or bad, one receives on the course. To me, it's Cupid. Hey, ok, yeah I love the game. And he was asleep at Coyote Lakes yesterday. But his eyes were wide open at Club West, just down the road.

I LOVE THIS PHOTOGRAPH THANKS FOR LOOKING

ALEX AND JEOPARDY

An Arizona quirk is that Jeopardy is on Sunday afternoons out West. At 4:30. Now who ever heard of that game show being on Sunday?

One problem I have with the show is Alex. Is he really that smart or does he rely on the answers in front of him? If the latter is true that could get him in Dutch (Oops, I probably offended some Netherlander for that term) if he's not careful. Remember all the hype over Dan Quayle's spelling of potato? He was just following the text, but hey, he was political fodder for a growing liberal media anyway(s).

Is Alex, (following my long digression) really such a language expert? Any foreign term, especially one not well known, gets his tongue and nasal passages all geared up for an expert pronunciation. I tried to do that and read Spanish real fast like a guy by the name of Bobby Beerup did in my high school class. The senorita stopped me every time because I bungled words even when I tried to read them fast. She never stopped Bobby. And no one ever stops Alex. Ok, I guess he's good.

Final Jeopardy (after yet another long diversion) is the funnest part to me. Ok, I know I can't use that word, but my kids both did and it sounded good to me when they did, but it might have been like B Beerup's reading--it only sounded good when he did it; not when I tried. I still like to tune in just to try to get the Final Jeopardy question/answer right.

But the show still shouldn't be on on Sunday. It's like Friday Night Lights being on Wednesday. And what in the world is Phone Jeopardy anyway?

HAPPY E. A. POE DAY

It's really not today. There may not even be an Edgar Allan Poe Day. But when the Colts bolted for Indy, the new football team in Baltimore called itself the Ravens after the famous writer's most famous poem. So I guess if you're worthy of an NFL team, you're worthy of a day.

If there's not a day fro him it wouldn't bother me. When I taught Poe, I found out high school students who thought they knew him, knew Vincent Price and some of the old movies. They never got to know him much better after having my pedagogery either. He was just too tough for me. My gosh, you had to sit down with a huge dictionary to grasp his choice of obscure terms. And laborious, oh yes. In "The Fall of the House of Usher," he spends four or five pages describing the tarn (lake) in front of the house. And this is to get the readers' interest?

In the same tale, he also strays from his own guidelines of what makes a good short story by writing a framework story, or story within a story, in the one that the narrator reads to the failing Usher. Ok, I quit. I'm getting as boring as old E.A.

The French liked him best for his poetry and the musical sound. And if the French like him for sound, he must be good, because if any language sounds good to the ear it's French. I think they, too thought it took him too long to get a good scare out the reader.

If brevity is the soul of wit, then so is horror. Remember The Hook that was stuck in the car door as the teens drove away? Now that's horror!

CARDINALS 12 CUBS 9

My Cardinals won their first series against their arch rivals and I'm so glad. To top it off, the Suns beat the Lakers, too. Now if the Rams had beaten the Patriots, I would be too euphoric.

You see I was a Cub in Little League. And that hurt. And then I went to college. Well, I skipped a few years there. At college I met Cub fans and people from Chicago. We didn't much like each other. (Except for my high school buddy, Larry, and I still feel bad for him when the northsiders lose.) When I went to Wrigley once I was mistreated by all associated with Cubdom or is it Cubdumb? And I haven't gotten over it. So I root for the Cardinals and whoever plays the Cubs or Bulls.

And the Suns are just plain fun to watch. Sure, I wish they played a little more defense at times. And I wish they played a few more players, but they sure are entertaining. Would Pistol Pete have made a great Sun or what? Kobie ( I read in the AZ Republic today that spelling Kobie that way disrespects him) and the Zen Phil and the Lakers are too much glitz for me. I liked them better when they were in Minneapolis.

So for me, I'll sleep a little better tonight. But it'll start all over again tomorrow. This fan stuff is tough.

BARTON G's in MIAMI BEACH

Friday, March 22 found my wife and me in Miami Beach with friends Carol, Mike, and Michelle Hicks. We dined at one of the most memorable restaurants I've ever been to. Barton G's at 1427 West Ave.

Operated by Barton G. Weiss, this restaurant created the most impressive presentation of food that I've ever seen. It was beyond description. And the taste was terrific, too.

We ordered G Fries Quartet, 4 cone shaped dishes filled with french fries, sweet potato fries, tator tots, and curly fries, for an appetizer and were not disappointed. The Barton G. chopped salad was equally good. Braised short ribs for CQ, bass in a bag for me. And for dessert--fire and ice baked Alaska with vanilla, chocolate and strawberry ice cream wrapped in marshmallow and skewered on a stick. After toasting over an open flame, the Alaska was rolled into chocolate, graham cracker crumbs, and nuts. Smore style.

Linguini was served in a large conch shell, duck in a dish shaped like a duck, shrimp on this large native looking guy statue holding a big spear. Another dessert was a huge cotton candy ball with sparklers.

And if I haven't whetted your appetite, then I haven't done my job. Believe me, Barton G did theirs.