Suburban Rogue

The First Day Back

2012-01-03T15:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, it really wasn’t the first day back at work for Mrs. R and me. Mrs. R had to have a minor procedure (which went just fine) today, and needed someone to drive her to and from the surgical center, and keep an eye on her afterwards. We observed some odd behavior during the course of the day, and it made us think that maybe this was the first day back for a lot of people.

There was Mr. Big Time, who was loudly closing deals and planning weddings on his cell phone, while trying his damnedest to impress all of us lower life forms in the waiting room. He also spilled his cup of coffee all over a chair in the waiting room. A big time play for Mr. Big Time, on his first day back…

Next came Mr. Jim Smith (the names have been changed to protect the guilty). Ol’ Jim walked into the reception area and asked if he was in the right place. The receptionist, who was somewhat taken aback, asked him his name. She then said “I’m sorry Mr. Smith, but you’re not on the schedule. What is your doctor’s name?”

“I don’t know” came the reply.

“What procedure are having done” the receptionist asked politely.

“I think I’m supposed to get an injection in my hip or something. They just told me to come here.”

It seemed to us that if you are going to have a medical procedure or surgery performed there are two critical pieces of information that you should remember. Ol’ Jim came up a little short on his first day back.

Mrs. R’s post-procedure instructions included breakfast, so we headed off to a local restaurant. We were seated next to a young family who was apparently experiencing gastro-intestinal distress on their first day back. Some noises are difficult to overlook in restaurant...

A while later a clan of alpha males came into the restaurant. They were all dressed in a similar manner, solid color shirts and tasteful ties, pressed slacks, close-cropped hair. They walked in a straight line from tallest to shortest and seemed perplexed by simple questions such as “table or booth?” They ultimately decided on the corner booth so they could command the scene. So, on their first day back, at least they had that goin’ for them.

Which is nice...

The Year in Review

2011-12-28T12:27:00.001-07:00

It’s that time of year when all of those annoying lists come out – Best Dressed (didn’t make that one), Worst Dressed (made a couple of those), Sexiest Men (DEFINITELY did not make that one…), etc.

Twenty-eleven was a good year at Casa del Rogue, so, without further delay, here is the Suburban Rogue Year in Review:

January began with Mrs. Rogue on crutches for the second year in a row, after having about $30k of hardware removed from her foot.

The longest of those 3 plates is about 1-inch...

Daughter R, who missed being a Leap Baby by about 21 hours, celebrated her birthday in February. It was a prime number birthday for you math dorks out there.

Son Rogue traveled to

Egypt

in March, shortly after their government was overthrown. He reports that it was a tremendous experience, to be there as a nation was being reborn.

Also in March, Mrs. R and I joined some friends in Puerto Vallarta and spent a week living the life of beach bums. Don’t be fooled, there is a lot of pressure that comes with that lifestyle - making sure you have enough sunscreen, stocking the cooler, figuring out who is going to make the lunch run, etc. It’s really quite demanding…

In April Mrs. R celebrated a milestone birthday and I was arrested for being married to a teenager…

May was a very big month. Mrs. R and I celebrated our 30th Wedding Anniversary with a romantic getaway weekend in Breckenridge.

Gosh, what a cute couple!

May also marked 35 years since I graduated high school, and 30 years since I graduated college. In case you haven’t figured it out, I crammed four years of college into five…

In June, Daughter Rogue embarked on a solo, cross country excursion leaving Denver for points east, including Chicago, Boston, New York, Washington D.C., and Nashville; then points west including San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego; before returning home. Her trips were mishap free, except for the part where she accidentally dropped her camera off of a pier and into the Atlantic Ocean…

My high school reunion was scheduled for the first Saturday in July. I had organized a service project and a group of classmates and I spent part of that day sprucing up the ol’ alma mater. We believe it was the first time that alumni from our school had made a service project part of the reunion weekend. Here is a photo of that that hardworking group:

Later that evening at the reunion dinner, I was asked to give a brief presentation about the service project. So I got up in front of the group, and gave my talk. My knees were wobbling, my voice was cracking, and I pitted out my both shirt and sportcoat. I made it through, but it sure felt like I was back in high school…

In late August a magnitude 5.8 earthquake struck near Mineral, Virginia, about 80 miles southwest of Washington D.C. Some of the monuments on the National Mall were damaged and I, along with another engineer from my office, joined a team of seismic experts from San Francisco to assess the damage. Few professions thrive on disaster more than structural engineers…

In September, we held a small party at Casa del Rogue for the CU vs. CSU game. We had a great time, the Buffs won, and I eventually got a free lunch from a colleague who happens to be a CSU alum…

In October we met some friends for a long weekend in Steamboat Springs. Steamboat is a very cool place. We had a wonderful time, laughing and joking for three solid days. This was the view from our incredible condo:

Mrs. R, Son R and I traveled to southern California in November to watch the Buffs play UCLA at the Rose Bowl stadium. You may have read about it here: It's an LA Thing

After all of us had visited doctors in December for various check-ups, procedures, etc., we put the brakes on to rest up for twenty-twelve.

Happy New Year Rogue Readers!

It's an LA Thing

2011-11-26T18:12:00.000-07:00

As a youngster, I would watch the Rose Bowl game on New Years Day, every year. I loved the atmosphere surrounding the game, the pageantry, the scenery, and the tradition. I promised myself that someday I would, at the very least, attend a game in the Rose Bowl stadium.

Thanks to the Gods of College Football, my beloved Buffs were scheduled to play UCLA this season, at the Rose Bowl. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for. The Rogue clan started planning our trip late last year, and after a long wait, the time had finally arrived.

We (Mrs. Rogue, Son Rogue and I) left Thursday morning for the City of Angels. As we boarded the plane we were greeted by the “E-team” of flight attendants; Whitney, Candy, and Daphne. One of these ladies detected a certain something in me, and asked me to keep an eye on her bag, which contained her brand new iPad, for the duration of the flight. I think she knew, as did a lot of people, that in the neighborhood of seats 10D and 10E, I was a pretty big deal…

A brief aside here – I was able to successfully complete my mission, and even delivered the bag to the flight attendant before I left the plane. I was rewarded with a big smile and a hug. But wait, it gets better. I learned that because the flight attendant community is small, word travels quickly. I say this because on the return flight home I was again rewarded, this time with a full can of diet soda. On United…

One of the few things I enjoy about air travel is the Skymall catalog, I’m entertained by all of the silly gadgets. So, without further delay, here is this trip’s Skymall Showcase:

The Original Crispy Bowl helps keep your cereal crunchy. I guess just pouring less milk in the bowl is no longer an option. Notice the stylish, yet functional, under-bowl grip!

Not to be outdone by sheer necessity, The Flair Hair Visor says, “Hey, chics dig me.” Yikes….

Now, back to our story.

Our plane was filled with an odd collection of characters, including a group of skater/snowboarder/surfer Jeff Spicoli wannabes, who used the word “dude” liberally in their conversations. Apparently one obtains entry into their clan by including “dude” at least once in every sentence. Let me tell you, those dudes were something else…

Sitting across from me was a character I’ll call Johnny Cool. His jet black hair was coiffed just so, and he was wearing a black leather jacket over a skin tight black tank top. I heard him tell someone that he was “heading to LA to check out the clubs.” About midway through the flight, Johnny removed his jacket, fired up the ol’ iPod, and began to lay down some air guitar riffs. All while safely belted into his seat. He was pretty good too, because at the end of the flight, which coincided with the end of his performance, everyone stood up…

After arriving at LAX, we collected our luggage and a rental car, then headed south on The 405 toward Long Beach. Our destination was the Aquarium of the Pacific. Son R had made arrangements for a behind the scenes tour with a college friend of his who works at the aquarium. We got to feed some fish, see shark eggs, as well as an arctic fox and penguins who were not yet on exhibit. The penguins were found off the coast of Brazil, having been carried out to sea by a storm. The good people at the aquarium have nursed the birds back to health, and they are thriving. Later in the afternoon, Mrs. R and Son R even petted some sharks, rays, and other marine creatures.

We left the aquarium and got on The 710 heading toward Pasadena and Arcadia, where our hotel was located. We arrived safely, checked in, and headed out for dinner. We ended up at Matt Denny’s, a neighborhood pub/hangout in Arcadia. It was a good place to unwind after our first day.

Friday was cool and overcast, and we decided to head to Hollywood. Our plan was to take The 210 west to The 134 to The 101 and then head south on the world’s largest parking lot, The 405. We exited The 405 at Mulholland Drive, hoping to take a scenic drive through the Hollywood hills. We drove past several spectacular homes; maybe they were hotels, I’m not really sure. We never really got a good view of the LA basin because of the cloud cover. Laurel Canyon Boulevard took us out of the hills and into Hollywood. By the way, if you’re interested in a vacation home, Jim Morrison’s former residence in Laurel Canyon is listed for just $1.2 million…

Hollywood Boulevard is, well, kinda sleazy. It’s an odd combination of movie history, family attractions, and drug dealers. We didn’t spend a lot of time there, but we did run into one of Mrs. R’s favorite movie stars…

We walked over to In-N-Out on the corner of Sunset and Orange, across from Hollywood High School. As always, the food was delicious. It turns out that In-N-Out has a secret menu.

After leaving In-N-Out, we headed down Santa Monica Boulevard toward Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive. As soon as we turned onto Rodeo, we realized that our kind wasn’t welcome there, but it didn’t stop us from doing a little rubber necking. We headed a little further south, ended up on Beverly Drive where Mrs. R checked out a high-end wool/knitting shop. Afterward, we found a Starbucks, sat outside and did some people watching. Lots of well dressed and coiffed people walking along Beverly Drive…

Later that evening, Son R treated us to dinner at The Derby,which was located right next to our hotel. We enjoyed a delicious meal and then headed back to the hotel to rest up for the big game.

We awoke to a cool and windy Saturday. It was partly cloudy all day, and by game time the temperature had dipped into the low 50’s with a chilly wind out of the northwest. We spent the first part of the day in Old Pasadena, which is a collection of funky shops and restaurants along Colorado Boulevard. It reminded us of the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder, including the use of a strange language that sounds similar to English. As we were walking along the sidewalk around lunch time, there was a young couple behind us. They were apparently hungry, and I overheard the woman say to her companion “Pizza kinda sounds really good.” Kinda really? Is that even possible?

After doing some shopping we headed to the Rose Bowl. The stadium is in a beautiful setting surrounded by mountains on three sides. Unfortunately on this day those mountains were obscured by the clouds. We were assured by a long time UCLA fan that he had been coming to games for 29 years and that it had only rained once in all that time. We chatted for awhile, and then he, as did many UCLA fans, told us to “enjoy the game.” Even though we were wearing enemy colors, the UCLA faithful were friendly and welcoming. I guess you can be that way when you know your team is about to kick the pre-Thanksgiving stuffing out of the other guys…

We hung out with Son R’s friends at their tailgate for awhile, made our way through a maze of vendor’s tents, and headed to north side of the stadium to join the Forever Buffs pregame party.

And what a party it was – live music, catered food, Chip the mascot, the marching band, cheerleaders, speeches by the President, Chancellor, and Athletic Director.

We followed the band into the stadium, and wandered around before finding our seats.

The Rose Bowl is undergoing a renovation, and some portions of the work were visible. Much to the chagrin of Mrs. and Son R, I spent some time observing the reinforcing steel and seismic bracing. For all of you smart asses out there, no, there was not a Forever Dorks pregame party…

We found our seats, Classes of ’06 and ’81 representing…

The stadium is huge, with a capacity of over 90,000. There were 57,000 spectators at the game, and the place seemed empty. It was incredible being inside that stadium, realizing a lifelong dream!

The game started, and was over quickly. CU received the opening kickoff, ran four plays, and punted. UCLA then scored on their second play. On the Buffs second play of the next drive, the pass was intercepted. UCLA then scored on their next play. UCLA had run three plays from scrimmage, and led 14-0. Three minutes and 34 seconds had elapsed in the first quarter… Ouch!

UCLA squeaked by with a 45-6 win, it was a terrible night for the Buffs. We left midway through the 4^th quarter and headed back to the hotel to warm up.

On Sunday, we had planned to head to Venice Beach, taking The 210 west to The 134 to The 5 south to The 10 west. LA’s top-notch weather people assured us that the rain would hold off until 2:00 pm. We arrived in Venice Beach about 11:30 and were greeted by a torrential downpour. Apparently the weatherpersons forgot to look outside before making their forecast. We drove along the Pacific Coast Highway toward Malibu, hoping for a break in the weather. We finally gave up and headed to the airport. Our plane was delayed by about an hour, but we made it home safely.

All that's left to do now is plan next year's trip - Berkeley? Eugene? Any thoughts?

Thirty-Something

2011-05-06T14:46:00.000-06:00

There is one of those fads going around Facebook right now in which you are asked to list 25 random things about yourself. Since this month marks a couple of big 30’s (wedding anniversary, college graduation) in my life, I thought I’d give it a go.

So here it is, 30 things about me you’ll wish you didn’t know:

1. Bill and Ted had it right – “Be excellent to each other.”

2. There is no better place to spend an autumn Saturday afternoon than Folsom Field.

3. John Wooden was the man.

4. Pizza is the greatest food ever conceived. Barbecue and chili rellenos are close seconds. Honorable mention goes to French fries and key lime pie.

5. The 1970’s would have been remembered as a much better decade if disco music hadn’t shown up.

6. Always use sunscreen.

7. A good sense of humor is the best defense mechanism against real life.

8. It is never too late to make new friends or reconnect with old ones.

9. I thought I would be better at engineering after practicing for 30 years.

10. Regular wrestling matches with a rambunctious Golden Retriever are a good way to keep your blood pressure low.

11. I love my wife. I love my children. I do not love my job. That seems about right.

12. Learning to play a musical instrument in your sixth decade of life can be simultaneously exhilarating and frustrating. I highly recommend it.

13. I have earned every one of those gray hairs on my head and lines in my face.

14. Being 50+ is much better than I ever thought it would be.

15. “Success is the intelligent use of mistakes.” Anonymous…

16. Aaaah, the beach!

17. Whenever I feel like doing something productive, I lie down until the feeling goes away.

18. For me, the most anxious time of the day occurs in the moments right before I open my email at the office.

19. Red Rocks…

20. I’m still trying to figure out my own personal spirituality and faith.

21. I’m not a big fan of “Bucket” lists. I am, however, a proponent of extremely long “I’m Gonna Do This” lists.

22. It turns out that those tired old clichés about teamwork, carrying your share of the load, working together, understanding your role, etc., are all true.

23. So is that one about how adversity reveals character…

24. If you’re gonna show ‘em off, I’m gonna look…

25. Math is our friend.

26. The sounds of squeaking sneakers and a thumping basketball on a gym floor are timeless.

27. My “best thing” is not really having a best thing…

28. Hawaii Five-Oh is the best TV show theme song ever.

29. I am not a morning person.

30. Certain words are overused. For me, “stakeholder” means “the person standing in front of the grill with the tongs in their hands.”

Spine Tingling

2010-12-05T14:45:00.001-07:00

Welcome to the Gala Holiday Edition of the least read blog on the web! Let’s get right to the business at hand.

The month’s coveted DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Award goes to Cheezit for their “Talking Cheese Wheels” commercial. No more two-martini lunches for the ad execs on the Cheezit account…

Okay, that was quick. Anyway, imagine a well-written transition paragraph right here…

In honor of Mrs. R’s four recent knee surgeries (2 scopes, 2 partial knee replacements, one of each per knee) and my lingering back troubles, Casa Del Rogue has been renamed the Littleton Knee and Spine Center. Mrs. R is almost three weeks past knee replacement #2 and is recovering quite nicely. The Orthopedic Clinic, Surgery Center and Hospital are also enjoying a recovery of sorts, thanks to Mrs. R’s determination to “single-handedly revive the health care sector of the economy…”

Mrs. R is one tough cookie and has worked very hard on her physical therapy. Soon she will have two fully functional bionic knees which means I am in serious trouble...

While Mrs. R was going through this knee replacement business, I developed some lower back problems which have been variously diagnosed as a bulging disc, muscle-skeletal imbalance, or old age. After several weeks of whining and complaining I finally broke down and went to the doctor. The prescribed treatment consists of steroids and physical therapy. I’ve finished the steroids and they really helped - I didn’t even develop overly large muscles. Like that was ever really a concern…

Physical therapy basically consists of a very muscular therapist contorting my body into positions for which it was not designed. He is annoyingly good-natured and encouraging, and also very good at his job. My back is feeling better, but there is still a ways to go. Before long I’ll have to find something else to complain about...

The end of November always means it’s time for a trip to the dermatologist. Ever since a little problem showed up a few years ago, I’ve had to go in for annual check-up. Usually this is a breeze, and I’m in and out in a few minutes. Usually…

I had a little bump on my arm and some red spots on my face that I wanted the doctor to look at. So they shot my arm full of Novocain and then took a tissue sample to send off to the lab, leaving me with a crater in my right arm. I was a big boy and did not cry, or even tear up, during this procedure. I thought that would at least earn me a Snoopy band aid or a lollipop, but no such luck…

Anyway, I pulled myself together after that setback and got ready for the cryotherapy treatment of the red spots on my face. Cryotherapy consists of the doctor spraying liquid nitrogen on the affected area. For those of you keeping score at home, nitrogen becomes a liquid at negative 321 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s right, negative 321.

I’ve had this treatment before, on some small spots on my nose, and it was a quick little spray, a brief sting and that was it. No big deal.

In the interim, I had developed a couple of large reddish-brown spots on my face that a year ago were “nothing to worry about.” One year later they had become more of a concern, so the doctor decided that he should treat them with the liquid nitrogen.

I naively thought there were just a couple of small areas within the larger spots that he was worried about. Not surprisingly, I was wrong…

The doc mistook my face for the front fender of ’57 Chevy in need of a paint job and hosed me down real good with the liquid nitrogen. It hurt like a “word you can’t use in a family blog…” This time I did tear up, effectively ruining any shot at the Snoopy band aid…

I left his office looking like I had been in a bar fight, with two large swollen red welts on my face. I noticed people averting their eyes when they saw me, and normally docile dogs growling and baring their fangs as I walked by.

Mrs. R. said she thought the welts actually improved my appearance, since “they kinda balance out all of the other knots in your head.”

So you know, at least I got that goin’ for me.

Which is nice…

Happy Holidaze everybody!

Road Trip!

2010-07-04T12:08:00.003-06:00

Okay, it was time…

Time for Mrs. Rogue and me to head west on an epic road trip.

Our planned itinerary had us going from Denver to the north shore of Lake Tahoe to Las Vegas to Moab and then home. Our actual itinerary took us from Denver to the north shore of Lake Tahoe to Las Vegas to Moab and then home. Let's face it, we engineers really don’t like it when the plans get changed…

Anyway, we left home on a bright sunny Wednesday morning, heading north to catch I-80 for the long trek west. I-80 is an easy drive, plus there is a whole lot of nothing to see in southern Wyoming. We were fortunate enough to see almost all of that nothingness. When we couldn’t stand it any longer we pulled off the highway in Rock Springs to grab some lunch. With all due respect to Rock Springers (Springites?), Rock Springs is quite possibly the least scenic town on the planet. It is surrounded by desolate, barren hills which open to the endless sagebrush of southwestern Wyoming.

The dining options were somewhat limited so we had the pleasure of dining in one of Rock Springs’ most elegant fast food establishments, where we witnessed the finest this fair city has to offer. There was the single mother of two trolling for husbands, and what a fine assortment she had to choose from - the two old-timers who must come out of the hills once a month for a bath and a burger, the sullen delivery truck drivers, or the brainiac working the register. It left the impression that education is an afterthought in Rock Springs…

Mrs. R hopped behind the wheel and quickly put Rock Springs behind us. She also thanked me for taking her to Rock Springs…

We stopped the first night in fabulous West Wendover, Nevada. This is a crazy place. Hotels and casinos just spring up, the instant you cross the state line. I did my part and contributed to the local economy by losing $10 in a slot machine that evening.

On Thursday we began the drive across Nevada. An aside here - by the end of our trip we had seen most of Nevada and I was surprised at the number of ranches that exist in the Silver State. Before we left Nevada, we had passed billboards for the Mustang Ranch, the Kit Kat Ranch, the Moonlite Bunny Ranch, Angel’s Ladies Ranch, and the Shady Lady Ranch. Although these are unusual names for ranches, the preponderance of these establishments reminded me that ranching is one of those iconic industries that made the American West what it is today…

Anyway, we arrived on the north shore of Lake Tahoe on Thursday afternoon. We were greeted by my cousin, Barb, who was standing in her driveway doing some kind of traditional Sierra Nevadan folk dance to welcome weary (wary?) travelers. Mrs. R and I knew right then that we were in for a fun weekend. Fortunately neither Barb, nor her husband Bob, ever asked us to dance; otherwise the weekend would’ve taken a turn for the worse.

We had a wonderful time in Lake Tahoe, spent some on the beach, made a brief stop at breathtaking Emerald Bay State Park ,

visited my 89 year-old aunt who apologized because “this is the first year I haven’t been able to mow my own lawn.” We spent the warm sunny afternoons sitting on Barb and Bob’s deck, visiting, swapping lies, spinning yarns, and just relaxing.

Bob has a collection of air rifles, including an air machine gun. One afternoon Bob was nice enough to let me give it a try. I aimed for a tree, and I did hit a tree. I was kinda hoping for the same tree…

Another afternoon I found myself engaged in the curious activity of chipmunk fishing. Barb and Bob feed several chipmunks and ground squirrels off the back of their deck. They have developed this contraption, which consists of a line of rope that extends from the deck to a tree. Attached to the rope is a wire “cage” which holds an ear of corn. The object of the game is to slacken the rope and let the caged corn lie on the ground, and wait for a chipmunk/squirrel. Once the critter has gotten ‘hold of the cage you slowly take the slack out of the line and lift the critter off the ground. I had several interested parties, including one lil’ fella that used the rope as part of his high wire act…

In the evenings, Barb and I would take a walk around the neighborhood. They have some beautiful sunsets out there…

Barb and Bob were gracious hosts, and treated us like royalty. Thanks guys!

On Sunday we made the drive from Lake Tahoe to Las Vegas, stopping in Hawthorne for a picnic lunch that my cousin had thoughtfully prepared for us. Hawthorne, Nevada is home to the U.S. Army Ammunitions Depot and, interestingly enough, a detachment of the Naval Undersea Warfare Center. Did I mention that Hawthorne is in the middle of the desert? There is a nearby lake, Walker Lake, which has a maximum depth of 78 feet. I guess as long the undersea battle takes place in a shallow ocean, this whole thing makes sense…

We rolled into Las Vegas and immediately headed for the fabulous Red Rock Resort . It’s located on the west side of town, several miles from the strip. Our room was on the 18th floor and we had a view of the strip, which is pretty spectacular at night. The Red Rock has a large casino, several great restaurants, a pool, movie theaters, a bowling alley and an area for outdoor concerts. Oh yeah, they have a spa, too. Mrs. R pampered herself one morning with a luxurious manicure. I spent that time losing about $80 in the casino. We almost opted for the spa’s “Couple’s Reconnection Package” but we were a little short of the $2000 price tag. At those prices, losing $80 seemed like a bargain.

Tuesday afternoon we made the obligatory visit to the strip, and had the obligatory lunch at Margaritaville .

In addition to that, I also did the obligatory gazing at the relative skills of Las Vegas’ finest plastic surgeons. Even though Nevada has been hard-hit by the recession, the implant business seems to be, ahem, in full bloom…

Later that night, we found ourselves downtown, on Freemont Street . Just us, and about 10,000 other people, a decent Eagles cover band, Desperado , an Elvis impersonator, and a couple of showgirls. Oh, and just so you don’t think I’m making that last part up, here’s the proof…

By Wednesday morning it was time to leave, but not before I took care of a little “bidness.” When I finished playing the day before, I walked away with a pay slip worth $0.95. That’s right folks, ninety-five big ones… I thought about cashing it in right then, but, because I’m a Big Time–Big Spender–Vegas kind of a guy, I thought I’d let the casino remain open one more night before they paid up and would have to shut down. Anyway, when the moment had finally arrived, I asked the Casino Manager for a security escort to the cashier. Instead, I was comped two bottles of water… Got my ninety-five cents though, every last penny of it…

We left Las Vegas heading northeast toward Moab. A few miles outside of St. George we got stuck in the worst traffic jam in the history of modern mankind… It took us 90 minutes to travel 4 miles, which equates to less than 3 miles an hour. This is somewhat slower than the posted 75 mph speed limit. It turns out that the contractor couldn’t figure out how to shut down one lane of traffic, causing chaos, including several overheated vehicles, a few near misses, and scores of angry motorists. Nice work Mr. Contractor. Are you from Rock Springs by any chance?

We spent Wednesday in Moab, well actually, Arches National Park . This is a spectacularly beautiful place, and we are already making plans to return.

We finally made it to Casa del Rogue about 10:00 pm Thursday evening, tired, but the good kind of tired.

Road Trip tired…

Carry On

2010-06-06T14:33:00.004-06:00

Forty–one years ago this summer, a trio of young musicians performed at a music festival in rural New York. Although each of the three had enjoyed success as members of The Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, and The Hollies, David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Graham Nash had never performed together. Four decades later, after creating some enduring music, CSN recently performed at one of their favorite venues, Red Rocks.

Seeing a CSN concert at Red Rocks was something Mrs. Rogue and I had wanted to do since, well, we became us. It just never seemed to work out, until this past week. Earlier this spring, while I was away on business, Mrs. R had scored a pair of 19th row seats to the show. We marked the date on our calendar as the kickoff to summer.

Things have changed at Red Rocks since I was a kid. It used to be that all of the seats were General Admission and if you were a slug, and I was/am, you could get to the amphitheater early, bring a cooler, and enjoy 8 hours in the hot sun before the concert. Now the gates don’t open until 6:00 pm, and the only GA seats are at the top. This is actually a good thing if you are gainfully employed and your boss is not a music fan.

With this in mind, we decided to arrive promptly at six, tailgate in the parking lot, and then head on in for the show. Mrs. R made some delicious wraps that were reminiscent of the sandwiches she made for our first date, at this very same place, 31 years ago. We sat in the parking lot, drinking our diet sodas and eating wraps and organic grapes (hey, when a person gets to be my age, you have to make some concessions) and began one of our favorite pastimes – people watching.

Some of the highlights from the evening included the chain-smoking anorexic 50 year-old sorority mom wearing her daughter’s sickeningly cute pink sorority sweatshirt, several people who may not know that the 60’s are over, and the couple with the perfectly feathered 70’s style hair who may not know that the 70’s are over…

Oh, and one other thing. To the guy sitting behind us – I did not come to the concert to hear you sing. I realize that you’re the best fan ever because you know all of the words to all of the songs, but the other 7999 of us came to hear the guys who actually wrote those songs sing them. Save it for the shower dude…

Okay, the snarcasm switch is now off…

One of the recent, unfortunate trends is for rock ‘n roll (and country) bands is to develop elaborate productions for their live shows, including giant stages, pyrotechnics and a host of other gimmicks. CSN went old school, with three mics at center stage, two keyboard players, a bassist, and a drummer. To begin the show, they simply walked onto the stage, sans introduction. It was very cool.

The crowd arose in unison, and CSN dove into a revved-up version of “Woodstock” with Stills laying down some scorching guitar licks, the first of many to come.

It was an electrifying opening to the show, and things only got better. Right from the outset, it was clear that CSN had their harmonies dialed in, and the acoustics of Red Rocks made it that much better.

The first set included amplified versions of “Long Time Gone,” and “Southern Cross;” then closed with “Wooden Ships.” Mrs. R and I looked at each other, we couldn’t find the words to describe what we had just seen, and heard.

The second set opened with just CSN, the rest of the band was off-stage, and the trio worked through several acoustic songs, including some well-done covers of “Norwegian Wood,” “Midnight Rider” and “Ruby Tuesday.” That last one proved a little confusing for a woman sitting nearby – she just “didn’t remember The Beatles ever doing that song.”

One thing that struck me was the respect Crosby, Stills, and Nash have for each other when on stage. At various times throughout the show each of the different performers was featured, be it singing, or playing guitar or keyboard. The other two would simply step back and let the third have his moment. Wow…

The highlight of the evening for me was when Crosby and Nash performed “Guinnevere.” Guinnevere is not one of my favorite songs, but I have never witnessed a more beautiful, heartfelt performance. Except for the music, the amphitheater was dead quiet during this song. At the end of the song, there was no sound; it was as if the audience couldn’t believe what we had just heard. Suddenly the crowd broke into loud and sustained applause. David Crosby patted his heart, thanked the audience and said “This is so much fun!” There weren’t very many dry eyes in the crowd at that point.

CSN closed out the second set with their classic “Almost Cut My Hair,” putting the rock in Red Rocks…The encores included “Love the One You’re With” and “Teach Your Children” and CSN encouraged the audience to sing along to both. I figured I was safe as one voice among 8000, so I threw caution to the wind and joined in.

The show finally ended and we headed for the car. As we were walking down the long ramp, Mrs. R said “it's not just that you see and hear them perform, it's that you feel their music someplace deep inside.”

It was The Best Night Ever at Red Rocks…

Zero Gravity and Other Weighty Matters

2010-05-23T09:42:00.000-06:00

Ok I’ll admit it; I’m a long time practitioner of the “Eat Whatever You Want, Don’t Exercise, and Still Lose Weight” diet. For some reason, this diet hasn’t worked for me, so I decided that it was time to change things up…

On Friday, I spent an hour or so getting the ol’ bicycle in working order (let me just say that I was exhausted after blowing the tires up, they’re much more difficult than balloons), checked out my helmet and gloves, and was all set for a nice ride on Saturday. Mother Nature, it turns out, was all set to provide some nice gale force winds on Saturday.

If you’ve been reading along closely, you’ll remember the part about the diet not working, which means I present a large surface area to the wind. I decided to head out anyway, because, well, I’m not really sure…

The first part of the ride, along the Highline Canal was a nice easy ride with the wind at my back pushing me along. On the trail I saw some deer, (both the 4-legged and, ahem, 2-legged varieties…) some cows (only the 4-legged variety), and watched a hawk soaring in (on?) the wind. After covering about 4-1/2 miles, I decided I should turn back and head for home.

I knew the ride back would be a bit of a challenge (“bit of a challenge” is code for “damn near impossible”) for an out-of shape 50-something riding uphill against the wind. As an extra added bonus, there was an unavoidable steep climb waiting about a mile from the end.

It was an interesting return trip; I discovered that it is actually possible to be pushed backwards by the wind while riding a bicycle. Oh, and I had to have a fourth-grader help me push my bike up the steep climb. Thanks Tommy!

I finally made it home, having covered the final two miles in a blazing 45 minutes, and then collapsed in a wheezing heap on the floor. After consuming about 40 liters of supplemental oxygen, I was able to crawl into the shower and revive myself.

Mrs. R, who had observed this entire unfortunate episode, decided it would be a good idea if we got a couple of those zero-gravity chairs for the patio. She had astutely determined that gravity was a big problem for me, and thought that any kind of zero-gravity device would be helpful.

Let me just say this about that, those zero-gravity patio chairs are perhaps the greatest invention since, well, non-zero-gravity patio chairs…

We set the chairs up in a shady spot, and spent the most of the afternoon just chillin’ in them. I also slept in mine. In fact, I haven’t left the chair for 19 hours.

This weightlessness thing is most excellent…

All Shook Up

2010-03-20T10:15:00.005-06:00

This is the latest in a continuing series of moderately interesting travelogue blogs…

I am convinced that the sun, the beach, and especially the ocean, have some very mysterious healing powers. I recently traveled to Coronado Island in California to attend a seminar on seismic engineering, and arrived with a bruised psyche. So I ditched the first afternoon of the seminar and hung out the beach. It was very therapeutic. Thank-you, Mother Ocean...

And thanks also to my friends Debra and Mark and Sarah and Hannah and Katie for taking the time to hang with me after school, and for generally treating me like a “rock-star” while I was in town. Although, after attending the musical in which Sarah performed and Katie had choreographed, and learning about Hannah’s role in her show choir, I know who the real rock-stars are!

Okay, imagine a well-written transition paragraph right here…

Coronado Island, which, loosely translated, means “Place Where Dorky Engineers go at the End of Winter to Cause Widespread Boredom in the Indigenous Peoples” is a wonderful place. Everyone, it seemed, was tanned, friendly, and laid back. Of course, the warm sunny climate is conducive to that sort of thing.

There might be one group of folks on the island that aren’t laid back – the Navy SEALS - who have a base there. It was suggested by my smart-aleck cousin/brother/friend that we engineers challenge the SEALS to a competition of some sort. So, during a break on the first morning of the seminar, I commandeered the podium and microphone and gave one of my best speeches ever (which was actually pretty easy, since I have only given one other speech in my entire life) and got the group fired up. We excitedly broke out our calculators and laptops, crunched some numbers, and quickly determined that we didn’t stand an ice cube’s chance in hell of beating the SEALS at anything except, well, number crunching. It was at this point that we dutifully returned to our assigned seats and waited for the next session to begin…

The seminar was really good, very informative. There are some significant changes coming in the world of seismic design, but, since this is not an engineering blog, I won’t bore you with the details. Interestingly, there was a magnitude 4.4 shaker east of downtown Los Angeles a couple of days after the seminar ended.

I stayed at the Coronado Island Marriott Resort and Spa and had a terrific view of the San Diego Skyline from the walkway just outside of my room.

Pretty cool, huh?

The Marriot really does have a resort feel, beautiful grounds, friendly staff, great location. Jeez, I should get a commission from the Coronado Island Visitors and Convention Bureau…

My friends came to Coronado on Friday night and took me to dinner at Coasta Azul. This place has a relaxed atmosphere and some killer guacamole. It was a little chilly to dine al fresco, so we sat inside and had a great time.

Coasta Azul is a short walk form the iconic Hotel del Coronado.

This is the place to stay in Coronado!

On Sunday, my friend Debra came back to Coronado and we enjoyed lunch at Peohe's with a great view of the sailboats on the bay and the San Diego skyline. I tried fish tacos for the first time (when in Rome…) and they were delicious. Debra had some kind of salad thingy that looked very healthy.

I came back home Sunday evening and had the pleasure of driving the 50 miles from the airport to my house in a wet, sloppy snowstorm. Coronado Island seemed far away, but not too far. Mrs. R and I are planning to head back in October.

Please don’t tell her about all of the high-end shopping at the Hotel del Coronado…

The Mettle to Medal

2010-02-20T23:28:00.000-07:00

First things first. Eric Heiden , Bonnie Blair , and Dan Jansen are among the greatest of all Winter Olympians.

Nextly, I’m not ashamed to admit it – I like curling. I have no idea what’s going on, what the strategy is, or how points are scored, but I find the sport(?) intriguing. I guess if I watched it more often than once every four years I might learn what it’s all about…

In keeping with the spirit of the games, it’s time to award some medals. Today’s categories are DUMBASS (Designating Under Achievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) and a new one, DIMS (Denoting Inane Mutterings about Sports).

Since Gold, Silver, and Bronze are already taken, we’ll use Tin and Aluminum.

So…

Receiving the Aluminum medal for DUMBASS is McDonald’s for their insipid commercial depicting two parents racing home, trying to be the first to deliver a Happy Meal to junior. Here’s an idea mom and dad, why don’t you race home from work and just cook a nice meal for the kid?

Winner of the coveted Tin DUMBASS is AstraZeneca LP for their inspired Symbicort ad which shows the silhouette of a woman with large pink or blue ellipses on her chest. The commercial wants you to believe these ellipses are her lungs. Well, I saw something like this in Vegas once; ok, twice, and the ellipses were most definitely not lungs…

The Aluminum DIMS winner is the announcer at the snowboard half-pipe competition who kept referring to a place called “CHREE-no.” Hmmm… The last Winter Games were held in a place called “to-REE-no.” You don’t suppose they were the same, oh, wait, never mind…

Although this next announcer is the winner of the Tin DIMS, he may also qualify for a lifetime achievement award. After the time for the first skier down the mountain in a women’s competition was posted, our medal winner breathlessly announced that the skier was “in first place.”

Yikes…

Dazed and Confused

2009-12-06T22:53:00.004-07:00

We’ve got some catching up to do, so this one is kinda long.

Well, the Holidaze are upon us once again, and this year I am confused by…

… the football announcer who said that a team “narrowly averted tragedy” when they recovered their own fumble. Really? A tragedy? Come on dude, it’s just football. A real tragedy is running out of chips before halftime…

…the other football announcer who observed that if a team “runs successful plays they will have success on offense.” Thank-you, Captain Obvious. I’m surprised you’re in the broadcast booth instead of on the sidelines with that keen insight…

… the young woman I saw wearing a down vest with a fur-lined hood. It just seems to me that if it’s cold enough to need a fur-lined hood, it is cold enough to wear a jacket with sleeves…

… television, apparently. My Dad enjoyed watching Bonanza reruns and we spent a couple of afternoons earlier this year doing just that. Recently, while home alone I came across another episode and decided to watch. It seems the bad guy was planning to frame Hoss for a murder by knocking out Hoss, shooting the victim, planting the gun next to Hoss, and then leaving the scene. As I was watching this unfold I was thinking “well that will never work. Once Grissom and Katherine and the other CSI folks get there they’ll dust the gun for finger prints and check ol’ Hoss for gun-shot residue and he’ll be exonerated…” Yikes…

This month’s DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Award goes to the Ford Motor Company for their commercial in which a young man is extolling the virtues of the keyless entry system on his new Ford. He especially likes it when he’s wearing tight jeans because there is no bulge from his keys. Apparently Ford is targeting the lucrative “Does This Car Make Me Look Fat?” demographic…

Imagine a well written transition paragraph right here…

Mrs. R decided recently that it was time to replace our worn out Xmas tree. It seemed like a good idea, the old one barely made it through last year. (This is the part of the story where it’s important to note that Mrs. R likes to think big during the Holidaze, I mean really big…)

We had been looking for a couple weeks and began to realize that the inventory of artificial trees was beginning to shrink in our corner of the ‘burbs. We checked a couple more places but weren’t satisfied and we finally ended up at one of the big-box home improvement stores (the blue one, for those of you keeping score at home…) And there it was – the largest pre-lit artificial tree in the western United States – checking in at 12-feet tall and 3-million pounds.

Mrs. R’s eyes lit up instantly when she saw it, and I think I may have heard the Hallelujah Chorus being sung softly in the background. I knew then that we were gonna take that bad boy home, in spite of my objections about:

Can we get it in the car?

Can we get it in the house?

Can we assemble it?

Will there be any money left for gifts?

It turns out that the only 12-foot tall, 3-million pound tree left in the store was the floor display model. This is where Mrs. R began her “no !#$%%**! way am I going to pay full **@#$!! price for the !@#**^* floor display” negotiating technique. It’s subtle, but effective…

Anyway, the big-box gave us a discount, disassembled the tree, helped us load it into our car, and merrily sent us on our way. One of the more interesting things about floor display models is that they don’t come with directions. And while that may be okay if you bring home a new recliner; it’s not so good if you bring home a giant tree with 14 unmarked parts and a bewildering array of wires, plugs, and other unidentifiable electrical things.

Realizing we may be in for a challenging time, I quickly designed a complex series of hoists and pulleys, rented some scaffolding, and applied for a building permit. I am a trained professional after all.

Mrs. R thought it would be fun if we tackled the tree assembly by using a Mission Impossible style approach. We’ve had success in the past using a similar tactic:

Suburban Rogue - Health Food

Since Mrs. R is somewhat afraid of heights, I agreed to be suspended from the pulley and assemble the tree while hanging upside-down, ala Tom Cruise, while Mrs. R was “on belay.” So, I got hooked up, strapped in and was ready to descend into tree assembly when, as I was stepping off of the upper stair landing, I remembered that I weigh twice as much as Mrs. R. I distinctly remember waving to her as we passed while she sped toward the ceiling and I was plummeting toward the living room floor.

We managed to get untangled, get the tree assembled, and even get the lights to work. I would, however, like to apologize for the power brown-out some of you may have experienced on Saturday…

Merry Christmas!

A Good Man

2009-10-17T19:33:00.003-06:00

This is a simple story about a good man…

My Dad was born in 1933 in a small town in Missouri; he was the youngest of seven children. In 1938 his family moved to Windsor, Colorado and Dad grew up there.

He left school early and moved to California to work in construction alongside his brother-n-law. Soon the Selective Service came calling and Dad was drafted into the Army as the Korean War was winding down. His active duty time was spent on a base in Fairbanks, Alaska.

One of Dad’s favorite stories from his Army days was how, during winter exercises, each soldier was assigned a buddy – if your buddy got frostbite you got court-martialed. Each soldier was issued a winter parka with a fur-lined hood and a row of snaps around the outside. If you saw your buddy’s face turning red, you were to snap your hood to his and let each other’s exhaled breath warm the skin.

Those of you that knew my Dad may remember that he had a large, and somewhat red, nose. Dad said he couldn’t remember how many times his “buddy” would yell “Reynolds, get over here! Your nose is turning red, you’re getting frostbite!” and would then snap his hood to Dad’s. Then with a devilish grin, Dad would say “I really started to worry about that guy after a while…”

Mom and Dad were married in 1956 and lived in San Diego for a brief time. Dad got a job as a lineman with the telephone company and he said it was the best job he ever had. Apparently, the poles where the new guys learned to climb were located along one of San Diego’s most popular beaches. Once they mastered climbing the poles, the newbies were told to “just stay up there and have a look around…”

Mom and Dad returned to Colorado in 1958, a few months before I was born, and they were living in Lakewood when my brother, Scott, was born in 1962.

With the exception of a couple of years, Dad spent his professional life in the dairy business working a variety of jobs from milking cows to delivery to making cottage cheese and ice cream to loading to sales. While he was in sales, many of his clients were restaurants in the Denver area and Dad got to see what went on in the kitchens. Let’s just say that there are some places in town where I still refuse to eat…

Once retired, Dad enjoyed woodworking and traveling; searching New Mexico for the best burrito. He also worked very hard to have the greenest lawn on the block, not that he was competitive or anything...

Dad could fix just about anything and he tried to pass that skill on to Scott and me. I have to admit that my brother paid much closer attention during those fixing lessons than I did…

Dad, along with Mom, created a home, a safe place where my bother and I could begin to pursue our dreams. He taught us the values of hard work and honesty, and how to treat people fairly.

He possessed a great deal of physical strength, and if you ever shook hands with Dad, you knew about his bone-crushing grip.

Along with his physical strength, Dad was strong of character…

In 1982 we had the infamous Christmas Blizzard and my wife and I were stuck in our basement apartment. Dad spent all of Christmas day digging out and then coming over to rescue us. Not so we could celebrate with Mom and him, but so we could make it to my wife’s house to celebrate with her family. That might have been the best Christmas present ever.

A few years back the local elementary school was having a Dad’s day, and everyone’s Dad, including staff, was invited to spend the day at school. None of the front office staff at that time still had their fathers, so Dad stepped in and made four young women very happy that day.

Nothing filled Dad with pride more than his four grandchildren. I often watched him steer a conversation so he could talk about his grandkids. Corey, Kaitlin, Mary and Jake - I know this is painful, as this is the first time any of you have experienced this in your young lives. Please remember that your Grandpa loved you all very, very, much.

Dad was a good man and he led a quiet, simple life. There is much to be said for that.

Just Us Kids

2009-07-27T21:08:00.003-06:00

Every so often, reality a big dose of reality shows up and gets your attention.

I attended a large suburban high school in the mid 1970’s, and I’ve written about some of my misadventures before…

Speechification

Homecoming

My graduating class was very large, over 600 students, and it was impossible to know everyone. I was fortunate to be part of a medium-sized circle of friends. We were close-knit and hung out together for most of three years. Then we graduated and grew up; went our separate ways and built our lives. Some did a better job of staying in touch through the years than others.

These days we get together every 5 years at our class reunions to catch up, swap lies, and to reminisce about how innocent and free we once were. Unfortunately there are always a couple of more names on the list of deceased classmates. They have all been people I didn’t know very well during my high school years.

Until now…

Every high school class has that special person, the sweetheart of the class, the homecoming queen who is everyone’s friend. The girl with the radiant personality who is a beautiful person inside and out. We were fortunate that our class sweetheart was in our, as well as everyone else’s, circle of friends.

She was also the first one from our circle to leave us.

A few days ago, after our friend’s memorial service in a small Colorado mountain town, a few of us got together to catch up, swap some lies, and most importantly, share some laughs. Before we all left, we promised each other we would do a better job of keeping in touch.

As I drove home I was reminded of James McMurty’s song “Just Us Kids.”

"Just us kids hangin' out today

Watchin' our long hair turnin' gray

Not so skinny maybe not so free

Not so many as we used to be"

Goodbye Dandy, may you go in peace…

Summertime

2009-06-26T16:29:00.006-06:00

Since summer has officially started, I thought it might be a good time to officially restart my blog. My muse, which had gone missing, is beginning to reappear. That is good news for me, bad news for you…

So let’s get started…

Very few people are known by only one name, Elvis, Ali, Einstein, Ralphie (Ok, I know she’s a buffalo, but still…) to list a few. If you’re male in your late 40’s or early 50’s, chances are that you owned/still own/still display this poster:

During my college years, Farrah was always stuck to the wall next to my desk. On more than one occasion, late at night when I was struggling with some homework problem, I would look up and start a conversation with Farrah to try and take my mind off of the blank sheet of paper on my desk. I probably would’ve gotten a better GPA if I had spent less time talking to a piece of shiny paper on the wall - not that there’s, you know, anything wrong with that…

Speaking of Boulder…

Mrs. R and I recently spent the day in Boulder. The Pearl Street Mall has some of the best summertime people watching anywhere on the planet and I highly recommend it.

Anyway, on the way to Boulder we had to stop for gas. There was a very large Ford Expedition with its driver side door open parked at the pump island next to ours. This particular SUV was all tricked out with a lift kit, chrome grill guards, and chrome steps. The damn thing was at least 2 feet off the ground.

All of sudden, the driver of this vehicle, all 5’-4” of him, including boots and hat, came running out of the store toward his monster rig, planted his feet, jumped with all of his might onto the chrome step, wobbled momentarily, and then deftly pulled himself inside the truck. It was an impressive display of athleticism. It was also pretty damn funny and it got me to thinking about an unverified theory of mine...

I postulate that the size of a man’s truck is inversely proportional to the size of a certain portion of his anatomy. (Full disclosure here – I drive a medium-sized pick-up truck...) I am unaware of any rigorous scientific studies to prove, or disprove, this theory, although some of you may have conducted your own research…

Speaking of scientific research, a colleague informs me that a plumbing supply manufacturer has developed an automatic dual flush valve.

Dual Flush Valve

There is an electronic sensor in this valve, and if it senses the user of the toilet is present for less than 60 seconds, it releases a modest amount of water to flush. If the user is present for longer than one minute, then a larger volume of water is released.

This is a great idea and has the potential to save thousands of gallons of water in public facilities. There are, however, a couple of areas of concern.

How was the research conducted and who was the poor slob that got assigned to that job? How much do you have to screw up in your previous life to end up being the person who measures how long it takes people to pee and poop? That is some seriously bad karma, dude...

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, who decided 60 seconds was the magic number? Because I’ve noticed that certain activities that used to take less than 60 seconds often take much longer to finish these days…

Seeing Eye to I

2009-04-10T16:07:00.004-06:00

Recently, a news anchor here was reporting on the flooding of the Red River between Minnesota and North Carolina…

My office (and this is no joke) recently designated April 1 as “Employee Appreciation Day.” Kind of gives you a good sense of where you stand, I think.

Speaking of not seeing things clearly, I recently had the opportunity to visit the Eye Doctor. I hadn’t been for awhile and I noticed that some things were a little blurry.

So I went through the regular exam. It started like this:

“Put your chin right here, place your forehead against the strap, look though the lens and tell me what you see.”

“I can see the wall” I said earnestly.

“Do you see anything on the wall?” the Dr. asked.

“Some very faint blue lines…”

“Can you read any of them?”

“Does accuracy count?” I asked…

Then we started the counting game, you know…

“Is one better, or two? Two, or three? Is three better than one? If I have 6 oranges and you bring me 9 apples, can you read line 4?”

I think I would have done a lot better if I had brought my calculator along…

Next came the eye drops and dilation. I did not cry this time when the Doctor put the drops in, but I did discover that it's possible to curl up into the fetal position while sititng in the exam chair…

After my irises had become the size of half-dollars, I was taken to another room for the next round of testing. This was starting to become more grueling than finals week in engineering school…

The first test was the peripheral vision test, which I aced. I haven’t aced any test since the 3rd grade so I was feeling mighty proud of myself. That would turn out to be short lived…

The next station in the torture room was the ol’ “Were gonna have you look into this lens with your dilated eye ‘n then were gonna snap a photo of the back of your brain using the brightest flash of light known to exist and you might lose consciousness and then when you get out of ICU we’ll do the other eye” test.

I managed to survive the first one, but I saw the most remarkable pink circle in front of my eye which gradually changed to blue and then to green before fading.

Immediately after the second photo of the back of my brain, I was taken into a brightly lit room with hundreds of pairs of glasses on the wall.

At this point I was staggering around like a punch-drunk fighter. Fortunately I only knocked over 3 of the 17 wall-mounted display cases. Oh, and a couple of chairs in the waiting area. And possibly a plant or two…

I was then asked to pick out some frames. I’m very good at this and picked the, ahem, low-cost “Call the travel agent honey, we’re taking the kids and your mother to Europe this summer!” frames…

I figured out that buying glasses is a lot like buying cars, there is a bewildering array of options, all of which seem essential. By the time I was done, I had chosen the sun roof, the 12 speaker audio system, and the off-road package. I think somebody’s kid gets to go to Stanford because of me…

After negotiating a second mortgage with my banker I paid my bill and got ready to leave. Of course you can’t leave the eye doctor without “sunglasses” to protect your dilated eyes, which were now the size of bagels.

I was given a pair of spiffy “Solar-Rolz” Post-Mydriatic Sunglasses that you can “conveniently slip inside your normal glasses” to protect your eyes from harmful UV radiation.

It’s nice to know that after spending enough money to buy an island in the south pacific I was given such a high-quality parting gift…

Anyway, the damn Solar-Rolz were wound so tightly, that after conveniently slipping them inside of my normal glasses, they decided to try and return to their original position. Unfortunately, my face and eyes were in the way.

I then waged a desperate battle to try and save what was left of my eyes before there were sliced up by the Solar-Rolz. The battle raged for several minutes before I was rescued by a kind stranger who “thought it was odd that you were walking around slapping yourself in the head.”

I’m glad to report that 12 stitches, two jammed fingers, and one scratched cornea later I’m doing just fine…

Huh? #2

2009-03-28T16:53:00.004-06:00

Spanning the globe, bringing hard-hitting news directly to your screen. Here are the stories you could probably do without….

OK, while this is interesting, most people I know don’t need a fancy phone to make the trick work…

Go Ahead, Pull My Finger

Keeping with the finger and gas theme…

Finger in the Tank

Are you kidding me? This is a dream come true!

Pizza Machine

This is a great idea for water conservation. I just have one question: Who did all the research to figure out 65 seconds was the magic number?

Dual Flush Valve

And finally, it’s time for another Coveted DUMBASS (Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff) Award. This weeks’ award goes to Maytag, for their inspired commercial advertising the toughness of their new washers and dryers.

Maytag and Trucks

This is a feature that consumers are clamoring for. You just never know when a monster truck might show up in your laundry room…

Spring has definitely sprung…

Speechification…

2009-03-19T20:25:00.002-06:00

This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I used to play a little basketball. Those of you that actually remember watching me play would probably say…, oh wait, nobody keeps those kind memories for 30-plus years…. .

This past season, I decided to start following my old high school team. I went to several games and struck up a relationship with the coach. I got to meet some of the players, and I really enjoyed watching the boys play.

They made it to the first round of the state playoffs - the team had a very good season.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, the coach asked me to be the guest speaker at the end of season Basketball Banquet.

I gladly accepted the invitation even though:

a) I’ve never actually been a speaker before.
b) I’ve never actually written a speech before.
c) English is not my best subject.
d) All of the above.

I thought the best thing to do would be to begin my talk with a true story from my playing days…

In the 73-74 season, I played on the sophomore team, got to suit JV, and even got some JV minutes. I also set what was then a season scoring record for the sophomore team. The reason I set the record was because our sophomore team played more games than the previous record holders’ team did…

Anyway, I thought I was hot stuff; the JV Coach, Coach R, and the varsity Coach, Coach B didn’t see it that way. During my sophomore year we were playing a home game against a team from the northern part of the state and my buddy Mark and I got to suit JV for that game.

A couple of things to put this into context, back then there was no three point line, so if you got too far behind it was difficult to catch up. Secondly, Coach B always sat on the bench during the JV games, and with two minutes left in the game he would get up and go to the locker room to talk to the varsity before their game.

So Mark and I were sitting at in our customary spots at the end of the bench and with about 3 minutes to play, we’re up by about 30 points over our opponent. Coach R looks down the bench and yells “all right, the two of you get up here!”

Now Mark and I have these silly grins on our face, because we know we’re going to get some playing time. We’re very excited. We sit down next to Coach R and are intently watching the game. With two minutes to go, we’re up by 35 and Coach B gets up to leave the bench. As he does so, he points to Mark and me and says to Coach R “Joe, put these two in when you feel safe…”

To add insult to injury, Coach R waited another 30 seconds before he put Mark and me into the game…

Anyway…

The banquet was last night and Mrs. R came along to share the moment with me.

The banquet was great, and I gave my speech without incident. Well that’s not exactly true, most of the audience dozed off about two minutes in, but that was actually good.

I’m a much better speaker when no one is listening…

The Meadows

2009-02-08T20:18:00.004-07:00

The day before leaving for Las Vegas to attend the “World of Concrete” Trade Show and Testosterone Festival, my lovely assistant and I found ourselves in the bookstore at the local suburban mall. As we walked in, we, along with everyone else in the store, were treated to a young woman’s cell phone conversation that went something like this:

“So I’m like you were cheating on her when we were sleeping together, and I was just like, whatever M****f****r!”

What a lovely young lady, so refined, so cultured. I’m sure she was Delbert and Nadine’s daughter…

On Super Bowl Sunday my assistant and I traveled to Sin City. On the plane I had the pleasure of sitting next to a gentleman who was in the aisle seat and seemed put out that the airline “put the big guy in the middle seat.” Hmm, imagine how that big guy felt….

We arrived in Las Vegas about 90 minutes before kickoff. Las Vegas, which loosely translated means “The Vegas,” was nuts. My assistant and I checked into our hotel and then searched for a place to watch the game. We finally ended-up in my XXIVth floor room to watch Super Bowl XLIII.

It was a great game, I was rooting for the Cardinals and they almost got ‘er done. Halftime was incredible! Let’s just say The Boss is still The Boss.

After the game, we decided to do the buffet thing and ended up at the Garden Buffet at the Flamingo. Like most things here, it was overpriced, but the food wasn’t real good. By the time we finished dinner and headed back to our hotel, the city had gone completely bonkers; it seemed there were drunken Steelers fans everywhere. I gave them the benefit of the doubt, as I have been to Pittsburgh a couple of times...

Monday was a day full of seminars; I was thinking that by the end of the week I would know more about cracks than most proctologists…

Much to my surprise, my lovely assistant had obtained tickets to see “Jubilee” at Bally’s on Monday night. Oh my, what a show! When the curtain came there were 40 pairs of the most beautiful bre… oops, I mean legs, you ever saw. Yeah that’s it, legs.

Jubilee!

Ahem, anyway, the show was great – dozens of beautiful women, incredible costumes, singing, dancing. My assistant said she liked the “hunky young men with the nice glutes.” We must’ve been at different shows, because I don’t remember any male performers…

After the show we followed an older couple with decidedly east-coast accents out of the theater and overheard this conversation:

“Artie, that was bee-yoot-eee-full. Just bee-yoot-eee-full.”

“Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me Irene? Theh wadn’t anythin’ bigger’n a B-cup out theh!”

That’s the thing about Las Vegas, all cultures, as well as all languages, are welcome.

Speaking of languages, apparently English is not real common in the desert.

One of the instructors at a seminar I attended used the words “acourse” for “of course” and “tords” for “toward.”

One of the 5 gazillion hucksters along the strip asked me “Are you going to be in town today?” as I walked past. Apparently that whole time-space continuum can be very confusing for some people…

I overheard someone talking about some humorous thing that had created “comical” relief.

Someone else said they “needed an electricianist.”

Another said that was about “alls they could do.”

Pronunciation? Grammar? Who needs it? This is Vegas, baby!

Tuesday’s highlight was getting a really good deal on some Super Bowl merchandise the Officially Licensed NFL vendor didn’t want to “take back with her.” Although I never found out where “back” was, I was able to negotiate a price of $25 for a spiffy $64 fleece pullover. While some would attribute that to good negotiating skills, I’d like to believe it was due to my charm and good looks…

Late Tuesday afternoon, after the seminars had ended, I entered some promotional thing at O’Shea’s on the strip, and won $50. Well not exactly, I won a voucher for $50 that I could use on one of their promotional slot machines. The catch was that you had to build up 4000 credits to win one-hundred actual dollars. I did make it to 102 credits for awhile. Anyway I was able to play the slots for about half an hour for free.

On Wednesday, my travelling assistant joined me for dinner at Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville, which is located in the Flamingo hotel. We had about a 30-minute wait for a table, so we stood outside of the restaurant and did some people watching on the strip. We were also entertained by a group of 50-something cougars who were displaying their, ahem, assets to any male that was breathing…

There was a live band performing at Margaritaville, so we got to enjoy some great music while eating dinner. My assistant had coconut shrimp and I had the blackened mahi-mahi with mango salsa. Yummmm.

The Las Vegas Margaritaville, along with the one JB sings about, is a crazy place. There was the music, two guys walking around on stilts, and a scantily clad young woman who had to go for a swim in a giant blender whenever JB’s Margaritaville was played. That was a very popular song for some reason…

Margaritaville

I really enjoyed the band; they played several of the songs we’ve been working on at guitar lessons. The only difference between them and me was, and this crucial, they were able to play the correct notes and chords at the correct time and tempo…

Thursday night we went and saw Rita Rudner at Harrah’s. We sat at a table with an older couple from Golden who spend half of the year in the desert and the other half in Colorado. They were a very young 70-ish and had been doing the two homes thing for about 20 years. They were enjoying the good life.

Rita Rudner’s shtick is the daffy, slightly confused wife/mother/homemaker. She’s pretty funny and if you ever have a chance you should take in her show.

On Friday, the gambling bug finally hit me. And, as a lot of you know, I’m a big-time player Las Vegas kind of a guy. So I put $20 in a slot machine at the Bellagio and won enough to pay for lunch. I then went over to the Flamingo and took a lesson on how to play craps. It seemed so simple when they explained it, but afterwards, when I walked up to a table, it all seemed very confusing and intimidating, even for a big-time player Las Vegas kind of a guy like me. I watched for a while and tried to understand the rhythm of the game. I figured out two things, you can lose a lot of money in a short amount of time playing craps, and the $10 minimum bet seemed exorbitantly high.

We left the Flamingo and went to the Imperial Palace and walked through their car collection. They had about 200 or so exotic vehicles in their collection, and since we had passes for free admission (big-time player Las Vegas kinds of a guys like me get “comped” a lot…) the price was right. There were some pretty amazing cars there and it’s worth an hour of your time to check it out.

IP Auto Collection

My assistant and I then went to Harrah’s and tried their buffet, and it was very good. Lots to choose from, and because we had coupons, it was affordable…

Harrah's Buffet

Afterwards, we went back to the Bellagio and I found the same machine and played for a little longer. I finished down $10 for the trip.

I dutifully attended all of my scheduled seminars, learned some things, saw a couple of great shows, had some good food, and only lost $10.

Not bad for a week in the Cleavage Capital of the western world…

Jonesin’ For A Lefty

2009-01-25T16:19:00.005-07:00

Recently, Son Rogue sent me an e-mail with a link to a story extolling the virtues of left-handedness. It seems that we are amongst the 10 percent of the world's population that actually uses the correct (not right) hand…

It turns out that being left-handed can also increase your chances of developing mental illness. Something about “asymmetry of the brain.” This asymmetry will likely come as no surprise to those of you that know me…

Check out this article:

Left-Handed Genes and Mental Illness

My personal opinion is that we lefties possess a nimble, creative brain that was developed as we learned to negotiate a right-handed world. Not that I'm bitter or anything, (well ok, maybe just a little...).

The rolls of accomplished artists, musicians, athletes, politicians, scientists; and yes even structural engineers and management consultants; are filled with the names of lefties. People such as Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Beethoven, Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, Babe Ruth, Bill Russell, Bill Bradley, Harry Truman, Gerald Ford, Bill Clinton, Norman Schwarzkopf, Benjamin Franklin, Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein.

Here is a link to some more names…

Famous Lefties

It seems that the guy we just elected president is also left-handed…

He is also a member of what is known as the “Jones Generation.” Although originally considered “late boomers,” the Jones Generation is the term used to describe those of us born between 1954 and 1965. It’s difficult for us to identify with some of the seminal events of the baby boom generation; the Vietnam War, the Beatles, the Summer of Love, etc. since most of us were too young to have participated…

We are also known as the generation between the Baby Boomers and Generation X .

Here’s what Wikipedia has to say:

Generation Jones

The term “Jonesin’” (meaning yearning) was popular slang in the 70’s, as in “I’m Jonesin’ for a pizza” or “I’ve got the pizza Jones.” As you can see, with the exception of disco music, the 70’s were pretty cool.

Some people believe that the Jones Generation currently has the largest adult population in the United States, in which 1 in 4 adults are “Jonesers.” With one of our own sitting in the White House, and 25% of grown-ups being Jonesers, it kinda looks like we’re in charge.

Whodda thunk it?

Next week I’m heading off to Las Vegas to attend the “World of Concrete” which is a concrete industry trade show that also includes dozens of technical seminars. I’ve chosen to attend a series of seminars on repair of concrete structures. There’s an old joke in structural engineering (at least on the forensic side) that “you get paid to look at other people’s cracks.” Well I’m going to Sin City to learn how to diagnose, and then repair, other people’s cracks.

Las Vegas seems like the perfect venue for that sort of thing…

Predictions for a New Year…

2009-01-01T19:32:00.003-07:00

In keeping with the spirit of the season, here are the first (and possibly last) annual Suburban Rogue predictions for the New Year:

1. Dodge Trucks and Burger King will continue to outdo themselves with their inane television advertising campaigns, forcing the FCC to permanently ban these two companies from the airwaves.

2. Even though they will have a new coach, The Denver Broncos will be renamed the "Enver Broncos" as they will continue to have no D.

3. My boss will do something to annoy me. In a mature act of retaliation, I will do something to annoy him even more. I will then be called into the “woodshed” for a record-breaking 23rd time.

4. My beloved Colorado Buffaloes will win 8 games this year, as long as the guaranteed victory in the spring game is included in the total.

5. The vast readership of Suburban Rogue will continue to expand, reaching the big four-three by the end of the year. Sadly, the advertising revenue, currently at $2.34, will not.

6. Vocalist/bassist Peter Cetera and drummer Danny Seraphine will rejoin Chicago and the band will launch a long-awaited reunion tour. The overwhelming response to the tour will force Mick, Keith, and the boys to consider retirement.

7. I will finally master switching from a G-chord to C-chord and back again. My guitar instructor will be hailed as the greatest music teacher ever.

8. Americans will continue to struggle with simple mathematical concepts, similar to the person I overheard at the movie theater talking about the 360-degree plot twist in the film he had just seen. In a related incident, another person said they had “paid $47 for 5 people, so it came to 9 bucks a person.”

9. I will finally figure out what a dangling participle is, and choose not to have mine removed.

Happy New Year!

Multimedia III

2008-12-23T20:13:00.003-07:00

This is the maiden blog from my new computer that Santa, (aka Mrs. R) left under the tree. Thanks Mrs R. - I love it!

Anyway, from the “Buyer Beware” category comes this cautionary tale:

The Doghouse

After watching that video, I decided to return the combination chafing-dish/toaster-oven/car-vac for something more appropriate…

Here are some entertaining Christmas songs form a guy named Larry:

Larry the Cable Guy

Git ‘er done big fella!

This next one is from a band out of Georgia and it’s guaranteed to get your toes-a-tappin’ and put a big smile on your face (wait for the !#@$$&*!! commercial to play):

Zac Brown - Chicken Fried

Merry Christmas!

The Family That Blogs Together…

2008-11-30T11:28:00.004-07:00

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving Mrs. R was busily vacuuming when the vacuum cleaner began to make a horrible noise. Since I was (cough, cough) home from work that day, I undertook a CSI-level investigation and quickly determined that the drive belt had broken. As anyone with a vacuum cleaner knows this is a common occurrence and can be easily diagnosed by a 4th-grader. Nonetheless, I heroically patted myself on the back for making such an insightful discovery.

Unfortunately we didn’t have a replacement belt in stock. And since we were expecting a few people over for the holiday, this was becoming a minor emergency. I called the store where we purchased the vacuum cleaner, explained that the machine was 3 or 4 years old, and asked if they carried the replacement belt for our model. I was switched around the store before I spoke with a polite young woman, Sally, who worked in the vacuum department. Boy, that job must suck. (Sorry, I couldn’t help myself there…)

I explained my situation to her and she said that they no longer carried those belts.

“Hmmm” I thoughtfully replied.

“Have you tried the manufacturer?” she asked.

“No” I said. “We were hoping to get this taken care of this afternoon.”

“I see” she replied. “If you’ll bring your vacuum in, along with all of the attachments, we’ll replace it at no cost.”

“But we no longer have the receipt” I said.

“It’s okay, we’ll do that, just for you” Sally replied.

So we did, and they did. Pretty amazing huh?

There was one catch though. It turns out that I have to take Sally’s cousin to dinner in a couple of weeks. Sally tells me she’s a sweet girl with a great personality…

Anyway...

I’ve noticed recently that simple math is a difficult concept for some folks. The other day, while at work, I was reading a report prepared by an engineering firm that described a new, innovative product. The report stated that this product was “exclusively one-of-a-kind.” Yikes…

While watching a college football game this weekend, the announcers were breathlessly singing the praises of the offensive coordinator for one of the teams, pointing out that since he had come to the school their offense had been scoring considerably more points than in the past. Right on cue a graphic popped up showing that since this person had become the offensive coordinator, the team had had scored 30 or more points 19 times. The graphic also said that their record in those games was 16-2. Hmmm…

It’s time to present some more Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff awards.

This month’s DUMBASS award goes to Verizon Wireless for their inane ad which features two women who both want the last phone at the Verizon store. The commercial begins with one asking the other, “One phone left in the Verizon store, who gets it?” When the other gal replies “I do” she is either shot in the neck with a tranquillizer dart or handcuffed to the chair.

Nice work Verizon. Who is your ad agency, Mrs. Jones 8th grade class?

The coveted DUMBASS Lifetime Award goes to Dodge Trucks. You may remember that we’ve been critical of Dodge Trucks in the past when they used Rockem-Sockem robots to demonstrate the toughness of their trucks.

Suburban Rogue February 17, 2007

The new Dodge Trucks ad features the trucks being driven through walls of fire, between swinging rusting truck bodies, that sort of thing. I know commuting is rough these days, but sheesh…

Imagine a well-written transition paragraph right here….

Daughter Rogue is a less than tidy housekeeper. Recently she decided to clean-up her apartment and in the process found the cables for her computer printer. She was very excited because these cables had been lost for about 15 months. DR hooked up her printer, sent a file to print, and was very disappointed when a blank paper came out. She repeated the process and achieved the same result. DR then opened the printer cover and discovered that there were no ink cartridges in the printer…

It is this same young lady that recently took a big step, traveling to Dallas for the 45th anniversary of the assassination of JFK. DR is a history major and is intrigued by the story of the Kennedy family. She did all of this on her own, and I think it’s pretty cool. You can read her blog at:

Daughter Rogue's Blog

Keep 'em in Stitches

2008-11-16T19:29:00.004-07:00

You may have noticed the frequency of these blogs decreasing recently. All I have to say about that is, you’re welcome…

So, some weeks are worse than others, but this past week will definitely make my all-time top five. Among a number of annoyances, I found out I get to be on cholesterol-lowering medicine for the foreseeable future; had a pre-screening for and scheduled a “you’re gonna put the camera where?” medical procedure; and then watched as some f**kwad backed into Big Mo in a parking lot, left a big dent, and then drove off.

I did finally make it to the weekend, and had some seemingly harmless activities planned. On Saturday I went to my parent’s house to help them rake up some leaves, clean gutters, that sort of thing. Raking leaves at their house is not just a simple two-hour chore, their backyard is about ¼ acre and they have several large trees. The usual take is about 20-25 garden bags full of leaves.

Things were progressing nicely, and we were in the final stages of putting stuff away. My Dad has a tool shed with a very low roof. But he’s only had it for about 35 years, so I’ve gotten used to it. Or so I thought.

Anyway I was in the shed trying to move the snow-blower and as I stood up to pull it back I banged my head on one of the roof rafters. That is a fairly common occurrence in that shed. I reflexively snapped my head forward and smacked my chin on the top bar of a pipe-metal two-wheeled dolly. In the milliseconds after my chin came into contact with the two-wheeler I managed to bite deeply into my lower lip. I also managed to spout a few words that I didn’t know I knew...

After about 20 minutes of self-inflicted first aid I had managed to slow the bleeding down and decided it was now time for the professionals to take over. Mrs. R met me at the Walk-in clinic. If you are ever at one of these clinics and need to move things along, just start bleeding. Apparently bleeding gets you moved to the front of the line…

After I got back to examining room, I nominated myself for the “Idiot of the Day Award” but the doctor said I didn’t stand a chance. Earlier that day she had helped a father-son duo in which dad had accidentally shot a nail through junior’s finger using a nail gun. To be honest, I just can’t compete with that.

Anyway…

Dr. Susan and Nurse Kelly took very good care of me. There was a brief moment of panic for Nurse Kelly when Dr. Susan threatened to suture Kelly’s fingers to my lips. Other than the Novocain injection into my very sore lip, which was somewhat uncomfortable in that if there weren’t 12 people holding me down I would’ve hurt somebody way that things can be uncomfortable, the stitches went in without any problem.

I have three stitches in my lower lip, it’s a little swollen but not bad, and the skin below my lip is turning black and blue. I get to eat a soft food diet for a week or so, and since Dr. Susan is worried about infections, I get to take a fairly strong antibiotic which is in the process of eliminating all of the bacteria that live in my body, including those in my digestive tract…

Dr. Susan told me that I will likely have a scar on my lip when everything heals, and at first I was devastated by this news, since it likely means my chances of becoming a male super-model have evaporated. On the other hand, the scar will definitely enhance my roguish appearance.

So, you know, at least I got that goin’ for me…

Multimedia II

2008-10-30T20:59:00.002-06:00

After attending a seminar yesterday with 80 other socially inept structural engineers, I thought the next multimedia edition of Suburban Rogue might be in order. If you think that spending a beautiful fall day trapped in a windowless meeting room with a bunch of structural engineers is a violation of the 8th Amendment you would be correct.

If you think spending any time, regardless of weather or location, with any structural engineer(s) is cruel and unusual punishment you would also be correct…

Speaking of the Constitution, one of the benefits of being an old fart who is a card-carrying member of AARP is that they make personalized videos for you, whether you request one or not. I recently received this unsolicited e-mail:

A Strange Video

In an interesting coincidence, I have a physical scheduled for next Tuesday. For me, being asked to turn my head and cough on Election Day seems rather symbolic of the current state of affairs…

The holiday catalogs have started to show up and I received an LL Bean catalog in the mail today. One of the items listed in the catalog is a “Snowball Maker Set.” Lest you think I’m making this up:

Snowball Maker

Yikes… We sure don’t want junior to get his hands cold, or wet, or to have any fun or to grow up with hair on his chest now do we?

A few days ago I was watching an interview with a country music singer/songwriter whose name escapes me at the moment. Anyway she was plugging her new album and told the interviewer that she “co-wrote that song by myself.” This must be the new definition for ghost-writer…

Alright, enough of this nonsense. Here’s some good music to help us all relax…

The Wilson sisters cover Elton John:

Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters

Kenny gets back to his roots:

In A Small Town

JT re-works a Drifters classic:

Up On the Roof

Very Interesting

2008-10-13T15:18:00.003-06:00

So I’ve been away from blogging for awhile, I’ve had some other stuff going on. Plus my cousin, who is a very brave person, is putting together a family history and asked me to write my autobiography, and I spent a lot of time working on that. I might’ve finished sooner, but I kept nodding off while I was working on it…

Anyway, now that my autobiography is finished, it’s back to blogging. Here’s the latest snooze…

I recently helped Son Rogue and his buddy move some furniture. They lured me into helping by offering me free food. (Note to reader: I can easily be tricked into lifting heavy things and other unpleasant tasks by being offered free food). Anyway, after the heavy work was done, the guys took me to a barbecue joint in the northwestern suburbs. We ordered our food, and soon some piping hot plates of delicious barbecue were brought to our table.

Within about 10 seconds of receiving our food an elderly couple was being seated in the booth next to ours. The gentleman stopped at our table, looked at our food, and began rubbing his sizable tummy (and I know from sizable tummies). He then muttered something along the lines of “Fellers, ‘at looks like some kinda eatin’ rye-chare.”

I consulted the same linguistics experts I have used in the past (re: Suburban Rogue September 30 2007 ) for a translation. As best as can be determined, what our hungry friend was saying was: “Gentlemen, you have been served a delicious variety of barbecue dishes. Bon Appétit’!”

Staying with the food theme for a moment, Mrs. R and I were recently enjoying lunch al fresco at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants. The couple seated next to us was served their food and began to eat. A few moments later, the Mrs. asked the Mr. “Would you like to try one of these tortillas? They’re very interesting.”

I started to laugh and almost spit my drink out of my nose. Fortunately Mrs. R, who was also laughing, kicked me in the shins a couple five or six times until I regained my composure…

Speaking of Mrs. R, she has decided to make some Christmas gifts for a few people and needed some yarn from the local “Yarnery.” I brazenly threw caution to the wind and decided to enter the “No Unaccompanied Males Zone” with her.

We browsed through about 8 million different skeins of yarn. Surprisingly, I became a little impatient. Anyway, as she was deciding what kind/how much yarn to purchase, she wasn’t exactly sure on the how much part. She said “Wait a second; I need to check the pattern.”

I naively thought she would pull a paper out of her purse. Instead she pulled a book out of her purse. And this wasn’t your normal paperback sized book; this was a giant, hard-bound, limited edition, coffee-table size, 18.5 pound book of knitting patterns. I again started to laugh, and was again kicked in the shins…

Imagine a well-written transition paragraph right here…

A few days ago I drove past a lovely suburban home where the owners were proudly displaying an American flag, right next to their Denver Broncos flag. That’s when it hit me – nothing says America like showing your allegiance to your favorite sports team…

And finally, I thought you might be interested in this story. One of the six bureaucracies in charge of the bureaucracy I work for decided we needed new “smart-card” ID badges, you know, “for improved security.”

These new, high-tech, badges have a computer chip in them. Embedded in this chip is some personal information, including my SSN and fingerprints. I have to keep the new badge in a spiffy plastic case with some kind of special shielding “to keep people with wireless devices from stealing your personal information.”

I think it’s important to point out that the badge I surrendered for “improved security” had only my photograph and name on it. It did not have my SSN or my fingerprints or a computer chip. It was a “dumb-card,” and it would’ve been impossible to steal my identity from it. But now, I have a smart card and “improved security.”

And to think I was feeling insecure…