STAPLES AND NECESSITIES

Some people don't get it. They choose to go through life missing out. They go through stop lights on yellow, but won't venture out culinarily.

Take jalapenos. If you eat nachos and don't try a jaepeno or two on them, then you're depriving yourself of a taste sensation. Granted, a hot sensation, but one that will stay with you. Maybe longer than you desired.

Anchovies. But be careful here. They have such a bad rep, that almost nobody orders them, so watch carefully and get them at the expensive restaurants. Where some people don't care what they eat. But on a Caesar salad or an ingredient on a pizza, well they're great. Not Tony the Tiger great, but they definitely add.

Garlic. The roasted kind split into sixes. Dip them into more garlic butter if you want, but they're great just straight out of their little covering which is almost pastry like. And if you relish garlic bread, then go for the roasted garlic. One requirement may mean that a breath mint is not an option but a necessity. But it's worth it.

There you have it. If you don't try at least one before next Saturday, then you'll have me to deal with.

EXPLAINED AWAY

True story. The names have been changed to protect the innocent as they used to say.

A Cub fan entered a tattoo parlor in Nashville, Tenn, in July this Summer. He wished, for whatever sordid reason, to have the Cubbie logo imprinted somewhere on his body. The tattoo artist, a Cardinal fan, added the "Go Cards" at the bottom of the C.

When he showed his customer the creation, they shared good nature ribbing and a laugh consummated by "You better fill that in with red ink now."

He did. But the "Go Cards" bled through, or was at least readable. He didn't charge him the $190 for his work.

Since the Cub fan saw his team go ahead and win the Central Division, he thought nothing about it. Until The Sweep by the Dodgers in the first round of the playoffs.

Now he feels he cursed the team and city.

Get in line, buddy. But I won't reveal your name. I won't even give a hint. It's not that I feel sorry for Steve Bartman, but I don't think another undercover Cub fan in the Witness Protection Program is good for the baseball.

A FEW ELECTION QUESTIONS

Some of which I have answers. Others I seriously don't. I'll let you, loyalists, decide which is which.

Did the sun come up yesterday after the election results? It did in AZ but it took a while. There seemed to be some haze.

In the picture is the sun coming up in America or setting?

Will our do-nothing AZ Gov. take a position in the Obama cabinet and allow her attorney general, a Republican, govern our state?

What if White Americans celebrate because Obama is the first half-White US President? And would that be racist?

Why did Black Americans not embrace Lynn Swann, J.C. Watts, and Alan Keyes? Plus, they were not half-White.

Will we now have to change the name of October to Baracktober? I mean July is named after Julius Caesar? August for Augustus Caesar.

Will we have to change our country's name from the USA to the USSA?

Ok, I better quit before I break my Monday vow.

Try to have a good post-election day and please pray to the one true God for our country.

CROONING IN CORONADO

In July we resided in Coronado, California. The AZ heat took its toll on us this Summer, so we took leave for awhile. We became Zonies as Summer people are called in California.

The house we rented was built in 1914 as I think I've shared in an earlier entry. The older I get, the more I appreciate history. Maybe that's why they only let old codgers teach that subject in high school and college. At least, that's my experience.

Two cool things about the history. The second owner of the house won it in a poker game at the Coronado Del Hotel. Can you imagine winning a house? How about losing one? How about explaining it to your family?

The other cool thing was that Bing Crosby knew an owner of the house in later years and often times visited and sang in the massive living room. How cool would that have been.

I'm about the only person who ever sings in our house. Lots of times it's just stupid stuff. Like an old song that jumps into my head. Sometimes, just a partial lyric. Except for when we've hosted our Sunday School Christmas parties, then we sing carols. But no Bings in our midst.

I don't remember singing any songs in Bing's living room, but I might have. I recently sang "Happy Birthday" to our granddaughter in a Donald Duck voice. I think she liked it, but I'm sure no one else did. I even offered to sing it again for our daughter-in-law just two weeks later for her birthday. She declined.

If I could just learn to croon.

AN ESCAPE

From the confining stagnant classroom awaited me on sunny days. That's where I went to grade papers.

From journals to term papers. Armed, rather handed, with student papers squalling out to be colored, I attacked them while breathing fresh Southern Illinois air.

I had three fire escapes in two buildings. All dependent on the sun's location that morning or afternoon. And since we were on a block schedule for six or eight of those years, I'd have an hour and a half to do my work and let the sun do his.

Until sweat started to smudge my corrections. Then I have to return to my un-air conditioned classroom. Prayers for an easterly breeze usually went unanswered. But as Coach Feuquay said about a hefty female teacher complaining about no air conditioner, "It must not be too bad. It hasn't melted off any of that fat she's carrying around."

So while unmelted fat kept its place on me, I basked inside the classroom and finished my task. Probably the papers I graded on the fire escape got a better grade. At least the one I could read through the sweat drops.

WELCOME TO THE WAFFLE HOUSE

Yes, I've given up the hope that Americans were smart enough to honor a decent man with electing him as President. John McCain, the better candidate will go down to defeat tomorrow in a big way, I'm afraid.

Rather than to write about all the reasons I believe he was the right choice, I've chosen this day to disparage our new President before it's official. Somehow that makes me feel less unpatriotic.

Never has there been a bigger liberal elected to such a high office. Oh, Pelosi got close--only 2 heartbeats away, but she wasn't really elected.

Never has there been a candidate with less experience. Period. No need to expand.

Never has there been a President with such a following of unmitigated radical extremists--the racist Rev. Wright; the bomber of the Pentagon, Capitol,and a New York Police Station--Wm Ayers; the Palestinian who supported terrorism against the US--Kadali. And that's the ones we know about.

Enough, already. It's going to happen. It literally sickens me. Although he will be my President, I'll never write or call him President Obama. He's just not worthy.

That being written, I'll also try very hard not to denigrate him any more. This entry will be my final salvo. No snide comments; no frontal assaults. For you see, I'm afraid it's not really my country anymore. Oh, I'm not going anywhere, Lord willing, I just mean it will be changed so much that I might not recognize it anymore. And not all change is good. I know that for sure.

Mr.Obama, my prayers are with you as an individual and as President. May you rely on God the Father as you lead. A final warning: if you expect God to continue to bless our country, then don't even contemplate abandoning support for Israel.

FULLER AND THE DOME

The last geodesic dome I saw was just outside Yuma, AZ. It was used as a residence near the 8, the interstate to San Diego.

The designer was R. Buckminister Fuller, a prof at SIU when I was there. I remember seeing him a few times, perhaps at a convocation we used to be required to attend. I remember the dome on one of the streets that ran north and south, perhaps Springer.

I don't know why they never took off. I have no idea how many might have been erected. I was never inside one, but they looked pretty cool to me.

I think there was one by highway 40 in St. Louis, too. If there aren't that many, and their architect was famous like Frank Lloyd Wright, then owning one could be valuable. Or not.

Who knows in this economy what anything is worth anymore? Maybe it's a good time to purchase something now. Before.

WHAT'S A LITTLE HOT AIR ANYWAY?

Why is it that balloons make us happy? Not just little French kids either. Balloons make nearly everybody happy.

Unless you're on the other end of a water balloon. But even then, paybacks are great. Especially since you're already soaked.

It's a good business. Big birthday balloons, helium filled, wrapped in mylar are carried out of stores and into waiting at-home arms. Not just for birthdays, they've become decorating necessities for big football games, too.

The little balloon man that poet e.e. cummings writes about makes kids

go "whee". Then there are the specialist who make wiener dogs and all sorts of animals as he ties them off before giving them way.

I still like to talk helium (who doesn't?) and blow up a balloon and before tying, let it flatulate around the room before coming to its desired rest.

And who doesn't love to look to the heavens and see hot air balloons rising and gliding above through a crystally clear sky of blue?

Put into a mathematical formula, one balloon equals one smile, visible or unrevealed, in everyone who sees it. I guess I should have used the greater than sign.

In medical or folk home remedies, I'm not sure a balloon a day will keep the doctor away, but it's practically guaranteed to produce a smile. So, if a warm puppy is not available, happiness is just around the corner when you present a balloon to someone.