Where Dogs "Rule" the Roost

L-->R: Eric Stephanie, Huge dog, Sausage dog, Margaret. I think I got that right...Huge dog ate the other two girls before we got a chance to meet them.

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I've always thought that out of every bad event comes some good. When my mom died, we re-connected with a number of folks from long ago...old neighbors, grammer school friends, and high school friends.

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One of the real surprises was my old high school swim buddy Eric and his wife Margaret (sister of my inseparable twin of different mothers, Bob). They had never dated in high school, but met sometime later at a rally for Ralph Nader...or maybe that was for Ralph Cramden...one of those.

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They hit it off immediately, agreed that they would both be virgins until 2 years after they were married (Stephanie, take note of this!), and promptly eloped to Las Vegas. Margaret was so shocked by what she saw there, that it turned her hair blonde!

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Since then they've had 3 lovely kids, and 2 homely pooches. The kids are all roughly the same size, but the dogs are hysterically different...a St Bernard (named after the catholic saint who grew so big he burst), and a dachsund, the consumate sausage dog. This one is a blind sausage however, so it walks around the house, barking fiercely, and running head-on into chair legs. Quite humorous to watch. They're hoping to adopt a 3 legged ferret and a dead racoon soon.

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Eric's built a nice career running a local golf course. He was always into food, leisure, and rich white people. Margaret is a teacher, working primarily with blind dogs...teaching them to use canes and read dog-braille and such. Stephanie is approaching college soon, and the dogs couldn't stop talking about finally having the house to themselves. She has her own horse...what else would you own living in a subdivision in suburbia? Noteably, it's smaller than the St Bernard.

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Anyhow, always good to catch up with old friends, see how their life has evolved over the years, and reminisce about the good times. And Eric sure learned to cook a mean corned beef...

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"Catch-up Stroke" Lumpy out

Low-Low Doubles

TOP: Bowling (like fishing, football, and pole dancing) is really just an excuse to drink and play cards. Well, maybe not pole dancing.

MIDDLE: The team was big on "group hugs" after every frame that Will actually hit the pins. Note the old guy in the middle; he wasn't actually bowling, just hanging out at the lanes panhandling for change

BOTTOM: Will and Grace in their final shot before heading off on their bowling honeymoon. They make a lovely couple

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With Tom out with knee surgery, the "Off Target" bowling crew needed a super-sub yet again. Unfortunately, I was the only one available. So, I YET AGAIN had to miss the American Idol results show to go bowl. Man, life is not fair sometimes.

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My knee was bothering me quite a bit, so I knew that it was not going to be a stellar appearance. The only option was to "enjoy the moment". And what an evening it was...girl watching with the oversize lesbian bowling league down the lanes...basically just tossing my hard-earned singles down the drain playing poker all evening (6 weeks of cards now, and I've yet to win even a single hand!)...watching Will shove slice after slice of grease slabs masquerading as pizza down his piehole, and, best of all, studying the various bowling styles.

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Unlike golf, where pretty much everybody has at least the concept of the perfect swing down (if not the execution thereof), bowling styles are all over the board. Some bowlers do the "I think I can hit the pins on the fly" mode, others, the "parabolic trajectory", and still others subscribe to the "Set the ball down and pray to Allah that it hits something" theory.

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We have all kinds on our team. Will, a big strapping young guy, sets the ball down like a 90lb girl, and then jumps and squeals if he gets any pins. Sean, all of 110 lbs soaking wet, starts his approach from outside of the building, running in full sprint at the line, as if pitching a cricket ball. He only ever gets a strike or a 1. Grace, who's apparently quite an athlete in other sports, screams "Hallelujah's" every time he actually hits the pins. It's like being at a Southern Baptist revival prayer meeting with him around. Well, except for the lilly white thing, and the endless stream of profanities coming out of his mouth. And Zach, he's clearly the team leader...in everything except average. Frankly, he's just thrilled to death to have a night out with the boys. Even if these are the boys. And every time somebody gets a strike, he sees the "X" and starts singing the Xavier fight song. Weird.

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The evening of fun is finally over, bowling is done for another year, Will and Grace head off on their honeymoon, Zach goes on to play "hubby-in-training", and Sean heads down to the Mike Tyson camp to serve as training bag. It's been a lot of fun hanging with the young guys, and hopefully when they're old somebody will return the favor. There has to be more to life on a Wednesday than American Idol!

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"16 pounder" Lumpy out

When Irish Eyes are Smiling

TOP: An ewok trying to sneak into the party

BOTTOM: The "Michael Jackson" of leprecans

For St Paddy's day we went over to a friends house to enjoy the festivities. Although we were both still sick, we figured the only cure was to be Irish whiskey. While there, the bartender (i.e. the one chick who was still mildly sober) was making a drink called a milkshake. 2 parts Irish Cream, one part irish whiskey, and 1 part get naked and dance on the coffee table. The heck with modern pharmaceuticals; after about a dozen of those I left the party able to breath again, no stomach ache, and raring to go.

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Unfortunately, the next morning (well, really afternoon by the time I was able to climb out of bed) didn't yield the same results...I was still "wearin' the green" if you catch my drift!

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"Stowage" Lumpy out

The (Card) Sharks Swarm

TOP: The perfect quiche (OK, at least a "better than mediocre" quiche)

BOTTOM: Card sharks in a feeding frenzy

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Two of the things we really like to do are eat and play cards. So, combine the two, and you have a great evening of fun. We try to have card parties every month or so while whenever we're at home.

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Last night we had a small party, only 8 players (vs. 70 or 80 usually). I decided to try my ongoing quest to be Rachael Ray with another new recipe..this time "quiche".

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Now the only thing I know about quiche is that real men don't eat it. So, given that almost all my buddies are now "snipped", quiche seemed like the perfect meal for them. Of course, my excellent souis-chef Kathy helped tremendously. She bought all the ingredients, made all the quiche innards, baked the crusts, and prepared the quiches. I, however, did the most important parts, such as putting the quiche INTO the oven, and loading the dishwasher. So I get credit for the cooking.

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The quiche's turned out quite good...we were totally surprised. We made an asparagus and tomato, a multi-mushroom, and a bacon. They were devoured by the card sharks, who then went over the top with Jan's giant Ho-Ho cake, and Fran's homemade eclairs. Diabetes ahoy! Players could barely get vertical enough to move table to table.

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The game itself was its usual highly competitive one. It came right down to the end, with Gill getting a "1" in her final game to win the booby prize (don't make me go there), and Koz dealing himself a loaner at 9 points to win with 13, and tie Fran for the overall top prize. Nothing fishy there, nope...

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Final Scores

Fran and Koz 68 (tie for 1st), Gary 62 (3rd), Wiz 61 (how's it feel to miss by 1 point...just curious), Mark 56 (admirable for ingesting 2 bottles of wine), Jan 49 (and yet, she's still getting the cottage in the will), Kathy 47 (got some quiche in her eyes, obviously couldn't see the cards), and Gill 45.

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"Ready for Vegas" Lumpy out

An Egg-streamly Funny Story

So, Kathy has our niece Joanna over to color some (hard boiled) Easter eggs, an old family tradition. I think it comes from the days when her Irish ancestors didn't have enough eggs to go around for everyone to eat, so they used to mix in pebbles from the local creek. If you colored the eggs, the kids were none the wiser whether they were eating pebbles or eggs. Kids are dumb like that...

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Anyhow, I digress. To continue, Kathy buys 4 dozen eggs...3 dozen to color, and 1 dozen for use throughout the week in her continuing quest to get my cholesterol up over the 300 mark. She invites her family over to color..The Queen Mother, The Queen, and the rest of the clan. They color up a storm all afternoon, and make frankly, some beautiful eggs (as evidenced above). Everyone takes 1/2 dozen eggs home so they have hard-boiled eggs for lunch during the week.

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Exit Sunday...Tuesday morning I get up and go to make an omlette for breakfast. I pull the dozen eggs out, go to crack one, and, huh, it's hard boiled. Ok, whatever. So, I go to crack another one...hard boiled also. I test the rest of the dozen, and they're all hard boiled. So, I go have some cheerios instead.

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When Kathy gets up, I ask her, "Why did you keep a whole dozen hard boiled eggs, but no fresh eggs?". Loooong pause. Then "Oh, CRAP..."

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And THAT's how the O'Sullivan's had egg all over themselves at their lunches that week :-)

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"I am the eggman, coocooachoo" Lumpy out

Gotta Love a Game With Big Balls

TOP TWO SHOTS: #1 vs #2 team anchors go head-to-head in a shoot out. Note Tom with his pretty orange ball...always the fashion plate.

BOTTOM: Will with yet another blazing 3 pin open. He's considering turning pro next season if the roofing thing doesn't work out

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I got a call yesterday to sub for my friend's bowling team. I sub'd a couple of time last year, and not that I totally suck, but I'm certainly no Don Weber or Johnny Petraglia (HAH! What are the chances that YOU could name two professional bowlers? )

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They're deeply in last place, and nothing I'm going to do it going to make a difference there. But, I do buy a good pitcher of beer, so I'm their favorite sub. Plus, they don't have to buy age credits when I'm there.

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So, we're bowling along our merry last place way, and on the lanes next to us are the #1 and #2 teams. They are T-ing off in a steel cage match for first place, one point separating the two teams. Now, I've been a sporadic bowler since I was a little kid, but I'd never seen the likes of a game like this. They went toe-to-toe, and across all 10 bowlers I don't think that they had more than 4 opens the whole game. The two anchor bowlers (who I felt deserved a pix above) both rolled 9 strikes in a row. In the 10th, after #1 (who resembeld a full-size Ewok) had rolled his 10th strike, the lane broke. It took the inept lane people some 15 minutes to fix it. By then, the entire population of the establishment was crowded around the alley. Finally, #1 anchor threw his 11th ball...to a resounding 7! Oh, the pain, and was he ever pissed off. He spared out for a fine 280 something, and then came the #2 anchor ( a short, squat guy with shorts, black socks, and a flattop haircut). He threw strikes #10, 11, and 12, for a perfect 300 game. And on top of that, the two teams tied in total score. Truly an incredible display, even if you're not a bowling fan.

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Although I'm pretty inept at it, I always thought bowling was an interesting sport. It's the only sport that I can note where a rank amateur can actually attain perfection (try golfing an 18 someday), and in any given game can compete with the greatest hall of famer. Plus, you have beer, cards, chicken wings, and man-gossip. What better way to spend an evening!

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"Gutter Ball" Lumpy out

They Say You Can Never Go Home...You Just Need a Chevy BMF!

We land after a long redeye back in Sarasota, and rent our car (Kathy's had died earlier in the trip so we junked it...earlier post).

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We drove to the condo, loaded up our gear, and hit the road. The drive was to turn out to be a horrendous one. First, a semi drops an entire load of roofing trusses not more than 5 cars in front of us on the freeway. Cars veer every which way, and we miss the wood by just a couple of feet. The weather keeps getting worse and worse, and now they are noting tornadoes near Jacksonville, 10 miles away. The GPS (now named Nancy, given her ability to yell at me for hours on end with no decrease in volume) routes us off the freeway for a major short-cut; it turns out to be a bad one, as the rain and wind increases to hurricane intensity, trees are down all over the roads, several feet deep puddles appear from nowhere, and cars are strewn like matchsticks. The truck above jacknifed just 1/4 mile ahead of us, and would have gone directly into a house had it not hit that tree first head-on.

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We made Charlotte the first evening and bedded down. When we awoke and got on the road, a snowstorm started in earnest. I went to use the wipers, and, low and behold, the washer reservoir was frozen solid. Seems that in Florida they just fill the reservoir with water, not anti-freeze wiper fluid. A quick desperate call showed that the nearest car trade-in spot was 80 miles away. So we drove, 30mph on the freeway, in a snowstorm, through West Virginia's mountains, for nearly 3 hours to trade the car in. Not a fun afternoon.

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We trade the car, and the only 4x4 the have available is a chevy BMF (you figure it out). The beast was HUGE; how huge we did not appreciate until we filled the tank for the first time 70 miles and $70 later. 3 rounds of that and we were finally home. What a pig...who can afford to drive these things?

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Anyhow, we finally made it home safely, and got mom's wake taken care of (earlier post). We're going to spend some time here at home to regroup, plan our our next round of trips, and get the body and spirit back in shape.

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"Hangin' around Home" Lumpy out