SO JUST WHY AREN'T

they the Boston Keltics? I know it's not spelled that way, or is it spelt that way? If smelt is smelt, and by the way it isn't, then why can't spelt be spelt? Well, if you've had enough already, you may just want to return tomorrow to On the QT, because that what this entry is all about.

Another thing (one of my two followers has suggested that I take Andy Rooney's place when/if he retires, but I think I may have more in common, at least in writing style and subjects with author Bill Bryson as another faithful reader pointed out before I knew who he was. Byson that is: I've known the faithful reader since first grade) {what a long parenthetical expression, or more accurately use of parentheses} that annoys me is the the word toothpaste. Why do we not call it teethpaste? Who has but one tooth to put the paste on? "Today, I think I'll choose my favorite tooth, the left top bicuspid to apply the paste to." It's ludicrous (notice no capital to confuse you with the rap star) to call it toothpaste. Talk about a misnomer.

Did you ever notice that only skinny people drink coffee at Starbucks between the hours of 5:00 and 7:00 PM? It's true. Check it out at any Starbucks. With one caveat-- they cannot be eating a Starbucks sandwich with their coffee or all bets are off. If they have only a tall, then 100% of the time, they will be lean. I know, that had nothing to do with etymology or other linguistic terms I had to study for a year to get an English degree. That is a BA in English. Although I received a BS in English because I had a lot of science courses and education courses, I think. Anyway a BS in English seems more appropriate for me anyhow.

I have a drawing hanging in an extra bathroom/spare bathroom/necessary room when I'm returning full bladdered from a three mile walk that says "When I told him I had a major in English, he said 'Too bad for you for this is America', and he started me at the bottom." And I can think of no better way to end this missive.

WHEN THE CLOUDS MELTED AWAY




I was happy. I think that's why I'm destined to live where I do. With 320 days of sun per year, The Valley of the Sun couldn't be better for me.



Even in our hottest times, I like the sun. I may be inside, but just looking outside or just a brief trip to the mailbox requires sunshine for me. Scalding sun is better than clouds: gray that covers the sky like a wet sheet, is not welcomed by me.



I don't know why I'm that way. I know I've always loved the outdoors. And there's no latent Gene Kelly singing in any kind of rain for me. So again, it's the appeal of ol' sol.

I guess luckily for me, I almost never burn. Stupidly, I didn't use any sunscreen for years either. A reformed sun worshipper, I slather on a 15 everyday now just to be on the safe side. Yet I know every dermatologist around says to stay out of the sun and its harmful rays. That's like telling a country song writer to be positive when composing those lyrics. It's not gonna happen.

For far too many years I didn't wear sunglasses very much. Until Maui Jim came along, I just couldn't see clearly enough to wear them on the golf course. Now, you'll never catch me without them. I even wore them today on our two mile walk at 5:00 AM when there wasn't much sun at all. But that's the way I avoid the heat in June through September.

Sunny days, blue blue skies, ever so slight breeze, and Maui Jims--it's all good for me.

FUNNY GUYS ARE

When I found this picture of an old-time baseball player, I thought about facial hair. It seems that baseball players have often sported some kind of visible hair on their faces. Maybe because their hair is covered by a baseball cap. Which I have always believed led to the baldness that many display at a young age.

With today's style of shaving the noggin, it may be more difficult to discern styling from balding but generally a close examination will reveal slickness vs barrenness. So just maybe historically they wanted to show some kind of hair.

Certainly this year's and last year's Cardinal pitchers have quite a collective crop. Unless you look at their names on the backs of the uniforms or spot a number on the front, you might not be able to tell which pitcher was summoned from the bullpen to put out a fire. They're clones, at least facially. Only closer Ryan Franklin has a distinctive look with a goatee that does look very goat-like.

I never remember my brother ever sporting any kind of facial hair. So he doesn't like mine. Most of my adult life I've had some kind of hair growing on my face. Mutton chops in college. Moustache for several years. Beard for a few cold Winters. Fu Manchu for a few more. Full goatee with 'stache for awhile. Today, chin whiskers, not a lot, maybe a little like the new American Idol whose name I've already forgotten.

With plenty of hair on my head and owning only one baseball hat I bought in the Dominican Republic, I guess I can't use that excuse that I expressed earlier. I guess I'll have to rely on the old coach Red Eldridge when chastised by a fellow teacher for growing a full beard. "I'm trying to improve my looks and hide some of my ugliness. You must be proud of your ugliness."

They weer never very close after that. But I've found that there are guys who are funny about facial hair. They've either had some or not. If they've had some, then it's ok. If not, then they don't want to see it on anybody. Maybe tattoos are like that, too.

THE BEST OF THE BUNCH

Well, it wasn't Mr. Brady. Homer, duh nope. Fred, Archie, Herman, and Jefferson had their moments, but they fall well short.

Al may be the worst of the group though I don't recall the guy just below John Goodman, whom I don't remember being a great dad.

And how could they leave out Robert Young as Jim Anderson in Father Knows Best?

If you know me well, you would guess I would pick Ward Cleaver as the top dad. Oh, he was good. As was Cos who added much humor to fatherhood. Steve Martin as well, but he like all good dads really came through on the love part. Fred MacMurray would have been my father's choice for the way he raised his sons. But we had no Uncle Charlie to help out in our family. Which may have been a good thing, since he annoyed me at least a little.

Andy, well, how do you not pick Andy? Ben Cartwright had many great qualities, too, but my choice as the best dad is his son, Little Joe.

As the family head in Little House on the Prairie, he handled the tough situations honorably. He was a man's man, even though his exceptionally long hair quasi-coiffed seemed a stretch, and they had so many rough patches in their daily lives that you wondered why they just didn't leave the prairie and get a rental.

But he was a Christian father who was often seen praying, often seen in church, many times seen teaching from scripture. That, to me, makes the difference. Teaching the kids about the truth of the Word.

A PHOTOMOSAIC

Now tell me how they do that. I am impressed when an artist can take a very small image, put it with other very small images, match the color and shading and all the other stuff that goes into creating such a picture and make it look just like the person in the photograph. Amazing!


I never created much art work in my day except for a horse I drew and never could duplicate it when I was about 11. I guess I had one work in me and that was it. Hey, it happened with Harper Lee and others. But some relatives of mine, doubting my ability, claimed I must have traced the drawing. I didn't but how do you prove that you didn't and didn't get any help?

That's another thing, as I glanced at the photomosaic again: why do some old people like to do jigsaw puzzles? I mean they can't see as well, their fingers don't work as well. And it's darned hard work. I had an aunt, Aunt Bertha believe it or not, who loved the small, small 1,000 piece puzzles. She worked them all the time.

If a puzzle had more than 25 pieces, and wasn't as large as poster board, I'd lose interest. Maybe that's why geometry wasn't my thing either. I like stuff I can force to make it fit. My goodness, the things I've broken in my life with that credo. "All it needs is a little elbow grease, a little more force, a tad more pressure." Right.

An exercise in drawing for beginners is to take a photo and grid it into smaller pieces and try to draw or match what's in the small grid. Then when completed, you have a picture similar to the photo only with the little squares all over.

Maybe that was the idea behind the mosaics. But they're not uniform in size, so as I said earlier, I'm impressed.

MY CAR WAS MADE

here in the US, I think. I'm not sure though. I used to drive cars that sin duda de que (without a doubt) were made here. But I didn't quit on American car makers:they quit on me.

Quit making nice looking cars. That were safe. Let me 'splain.

For years and years, no one could touch American car builders. In styling, in efficiency, in safety, in price, in numbers. But something happened. Well, we all know what happened, but American automobile makers fell behind in the world.

I left them in 1989 when I bought my first Toyota. Made in Greenville, Kentucky. But it wasn't an American company, so I acquiesced. I didn't feel good about it, until 5 years later.

When I was on my way to the vet when a cattle truck ran a red light and broadsided me and my big dog near the police station in MTV. I wasn't hurt. Neither was my dog though he did receive a cut lip. The big guy wasn't buckled up.

But there was a reinforcing cross rod in the passenger door of my 1992 Camry that saved my lunch. The car door just molded around my body; otherwise, I could have been seriously injured since the collision totalled my car, and bent the frame.

I don't know if American made cars by American auto workers include that feature in their cars now. But my loyalty is still with the company who featured the reinforcement way back when.

But I could be persuaded to change if I saw something spectacular in the design of an American car. Maybe another '57 Chevy, or a '67 Mercury Cougar.

NEVER PASS A WATER FOUNTAIN
without getting a drink, a urologist once told me.

That was after a kidney stone. Fortunately I've never had another. But this episode is about water fountain, not water cooler gossip.

At MTV High we didn't have water coolers. We did have fountains and we did gossip.

Standing out in the hall of GBuilding before the first class of my Senior year were several guys in my Psych class. Lots of typical posturing, lots of comments on the passerbys. I mean it was a long line at the fountain.

One pretty Senior girl approached. The conversations went something like this:

"She's lookin' good."

"Look at that tan! Do you think she ever went inside last Summer?"

"I'm telling you, she looks better than ever."

"One good lookin' babe."

Then a voice with a question, "Who is she?"

And the answer, "How the hell do you not know her?"

I, the author of the last comment, turned around to see an adult in line with us. Our Psych teacher who said, "I'm kinda new here."

Being the helpful one, I identified the beauty by name and went to class.

Nothing was ever said about that discussion by Mr. Turner. He was a pretty cool guy. He knew I'd learned my lesson. Maybe that's why he was the Psychology teacher.