abdominous

abdominous adjective [ab-dom-uh-nuh s]

1. having a large belly; potbellied

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While I could stand to lose a few pounds, I'm glad I don't have a potbelly...or a beer belly.

milquetoast

milquetoast noun [milk-tohst]

1. (sometimes initial capital letter) a very timid, unassertive, spineless person, especially one who is easily dominated or intimidated: a milquetoast who's afraid to ask for a raise.

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Caspar Milquetoast

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I've really never fit the definition, but there WAS a time in my life where I often failed to assert myself. For example, I'd go ahead and eat a steak even if it wasn't cooked how I had ordered.  I was once browbeaten by a waitress for objecting to being served stale donuts (that day and for quite a few previously) when I could see they had a new, fresh batch on the counter.  Not now; in situations such as that, the employee waiting on the customer needs to realize that while their boss might sign their checks, the customer pays their salary. I certainly wouldn't allow that old biddy waitress to talk to me that way.  The only comfort I have about the incident is she's probably been dead for 20 yrs., the old "witch".

No, I'm not Caspar (the friendly) Milquetoast these days.

(NOTE:  This was originally from several yrs. back, but I wanted to update it and add a little personal information.  It WAS today's Word of the Day, though)

The Meat of the Matter

The average American eats about 200 sandwiches every day.

When I first saw that bit of trivia, I thought "That can't be right!  I'm an old bachelor and probably eat more sandwiches than the average person, but I don't eat THAT many!" Doing the math, I figured that each American consumes nearly four sandwiches per week.  That figure still seemed higher than the amount I eat a week, though.  

After doing a little research, I found out that 50 percent of America eats a sandwich daily. It made me think about my own sandwich consumption and considering that - probably every other day - I eat a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit for breakfast, that probably counts as a sandwich, too. In fact, I had one for breakfast earlier today and two small turkey sandwiches for supper.

Oh well, I guess I really am above the mean on sandwich consumption.

giblets

giblets gib·lets [jib-lits] plural noun

the heart, liver, gizzard, and the like, of a fowl, often cooked separately.

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There IS one more definition, classified as slang, but I didn't see it at Dictionary.com.  It was a LONG time ago during a football practice and after a play, one of my teammates was still on the ground after the play was over.  The coach leaned over the prostrate boy asking him where it hurt.  I wasn't close enough to hear the muffled answer, but the coach got up with a smile on his face.

"He'll be all right." he informed the rest of us. "He just got hit in the giblets."

That was a scene that came to mind at every Thanksgiving dinner after that.

Since the Word of the Day was more-or-less related to Thanksgiving, I'll just combine two posts into one.  I was going to write one about how many calories were in the average Thanksgiving dinner: from 3-4,000 and the average American will consume more than 4,500 calories and 229 grams of fat on Thanksgiving Day alone, according to the Calorie Control Council. (there were other sources that cited different numbers, but I like the alliteration of that website's name) 

That would take a LOT of exercise to work off that many calories!  A nice brisk walk would be better than spending the day in a gym, so check out the Walking Calories Calculator to see how far/fast you need to walk to get rid of those excess calories, or you can use the Holiday Calorie Counter to figure both the calories in your holiday meal and the amount of exercise needed to work off the meal.

I have my Thanksgiving meal already prepared.

Pathetic, huh? One good thing is that it will be ready in a minute and a half after I pop it in the microwave; another good thing is that it's only 290 calories with 9 grams of fat. I'll work that off watching the football games on TV!

Us and Them - Pink Floyd

I love saxophone music, so when I saw today's Google doodle celebrating the birthday of Adolphe Sax, the inventor of the saxophone, it made me think about my favorite songs which use that instrument. Maybe it's my advancing age and failing memory, but I couldn't think of any. Thank goodness my senility hasn't prevented me from remembering how to use Google, so I did a quick search and was reminded of this Pink Floyd tune with some great sax solos.

20 Questions Squared

A 4-year-old child asks an average of 437 questions a day.

pics on Sodahead

I don't ask that many per day, but I do wonder about a good number of things each day and thanks to the Internet, I can find my own answers. The only thing I don't ask that children do is "Why?"...because as an adult (technically), I know there's often no answer at all to that particular question.

Which Ten Commandment?

Are you?

You Are "Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother"

You may or may not have the most honorable parents, but you try to respect and honor them whenever possible. In general, you think that people should focus on their families more. Charity begins at home. You also believe that younger generations should do a better job taking care of their elders. It saddens you to see how older people are treated in most cultures. You think it's truly a disgrace.

Which of the Ten Commandments Are You?

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While I will admit to not respecting or honoring both my parents as much as I should have when they were alive, I'd say that most of the rest of the results are accurate.

While my own faith has diminished over the last few yrs., I still think the Ten Commandments are - for the most part - good to live by. I could get people arguing with me, but for good or bad, they're the basis for much of the western world's laws. (and no, I do not want to debate it)

One of the better photos I think I've ever taken at the Cross of Our Lord near Groom, Texas, has been this one of the Ten Commandments monument.

Left or Right?

No, not talking about your political views, but telling one from the other.

Just last night I was lying down to watch some programs on my tablet;  I plugged in my earphone "buds" into it, then pulled one side close to my eye so I could see if the tiny letter said "L" or "R".  The first one said "R" and I stuck it in my ear...

My LEFT ear.  I realized my mistake when I put the "L" one into my right ear.  They're molded a little differently to better fit the slant of the ear canal and don't fit correctly if reversed.  Annoyed, I switched them and turned on the tablet. I caught up on some programs, then fell asleep with the buds in my ears.  At least I didn't roll over on my tablet like I've done in the past.

I get up this morning, make some coffee and rub the inside of my ear where the bud had irritated it because I slept on that side, sat down at the computer and tore off yesterday's entry on my trivia calendar and found this for today:

"One out of 4 adults can't tell their left from their right."

Hmmm....I usually don't have any trouble, but will admit to a few cases where I've had to think about it...last night's mix up wasn't typical, though.   A quick search on the Internet showed that bit of trivia to be true.

There's even a test: Right - Left Confusion?

This probably explains why *some* people have trouble learning to march in the military. Not this bunch, though.

What Flavor Kit Kat Are You?

You Are a Dark Chocolate Kit Kat

You are a passionate and quick-tempered person. You know what you love, and you know what you hate. You are very competitive and even a bit ruthless when you need to be. You have what it takes to get ahead. You are a daredevil that loves to take risks. You pride yourself on your courageousness, and you love to test your own limits. You have a real flair for adventure - and it starts with being impulsive. You do what you feel like, and you often feel like flying solo.

What Flavor Kit Kat Are You?

Not to wax philosophic about candy, but these results are spot-on...well, maybe I'm flattering myself a little bit...although I do like the regular milk chocolate ones, as well. Dark chocolate is supposed to be better for you, I've read.

They're just about my favorite candy bar. I don't think I ate them much until I saw Richard Simmons being interviewed and he was asked how to deal with chocolate cravings. He said he liked Kit Kats because he could open one up and eat just one segment and satisfy his craving. I was thinking "Yeah, right. Don't think I could stop at one little piece." and he added that he sometimes ate the whole thing. He went on to say that they were fairly low in fat compared to other candy bars.

These days I'm not so much worried about the fat than I am the grams of sugar, but it doesn't seem to affect my glucose levels as much as other sweets and doesn't even come close to what rice or pasta does to my blood sugar.

Flippin' Out

You Are Genuine

You are focused and inner-directed. You know who are, and you live a very authentic life. You are quite modest and never too in love with yourself. You aren't perfect, and you don't take yourself too seriously. You are more ambitious than you let on. You strive to be better without beating up on yourself. You are highly effective, and others have taken notice. People want to be like you when they see who you really are.

What Does Your Pancake Say About You?

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The title of this quiz post is an homage to an old friend; he was manic-depressive (or bi-polar, if you prefer) and his mood swings were severe, going from sleeping for days at a time to staying awake days at a time, frantically painting or writing. Most of the time his mood was even, though, but when he felt a bout coming on, he'd tell me "I'm goin' to see Aunt Jemima." (meaning, "flipping out", as in pancakes.

Personally, I'd have rather visited with Betty Crocker or even Little Debbie, but that's just me. (not a racist, I just prefer cakes and sweet snacks over pancakes)

Groin Injury

While surfing online, I often listen to sports talk radio;  earlier, the hosts were talking about injuries to the Dallas Cowboys and mentioned that one player had a mild groin injury. 

The term "groin injury" has always made me smile a little bit, even though I had one myself back in high school. (pulled a muscle...and THAT makes me giggle a little bit, considering the area of the body the injury occurred...and that I was about 14 yrs. old then)  Not sure why I think it's funny now, because it hurt like the dickens then.  As I recall, it lasted only a few days and I made sure to stretch my groin after that. (more giggles)

Anyway...whenever I hear the term "groin injury", this song from "Cheers" always pops into my head.

Right or Left?

85% of American shoppers go to their right when entering a store.

So says today's trivia calendar entry and I've thought all day long about the stores I frequent.  Both grocery stores I patronize funnel customers to the left.  The United store practically forces you to go to the left, otherwise you'll have to run the gauntlet of check out stands to get to a point where you can enter the aisles.  Going left has you pass by the deli, where the delicious smells of fried chicken and food being cooked stimulates your appetite, therefore making you purchase more groceries.  It's nearly the same way at the other, smaller store I sometimes shop at, but there's no deli. 

I also turn to the left when I go into the Dollar General store; there's a clear lane to the right, but the items I most frequently buy are to the left.  I DO go to the right when I go into the Family Dollar store, but the purpose is much the same as with the Dollar General.

Walmart has several entrances, so I don't know that this "fact" would hold true, but when I enter via the middle entry, I turn to the left to start my shopping.

So, this percentage is skewed by how the store is laid out, plus I must be one of the 15%!

The Summer of ' 69

A "bump" of this post from August of '08 because today is the anniversary of the first day of Woodstock.

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I remember that summer very well; I had made my first real money at my first real job (and the first thing I bought was The Ventures Golden Greats album) and I was due to start high school that fall.

It was in August of that year that most of the class took a trip to Lake Foss in Oklahoma. Several of us boys rode in the back of a long cattle trailer with most of the equipment, the camp stoves, skis, tents, etc. and we joked and laughed and smoked cigarettes all the way there.

Not being much of a skier, I would go off hiking or fishing while everyone else was out on the water. I came from a skiing family, but never cared for the water sport. (one of the reasons might have been the "water skiers enema" I suffered the first time I hit the lake surface and skidded along on my bottom for 20 yards.)

I've also never been able to sleep in a strange place, at least not the first night. It was nearly the middle of the night when everyone else but myself finally fell asleep. Earlier that evening, a couple of the parents who had come along as chaperones had told us "There's some buses full of hippies in a camp down the way...stay away from 'em!"

Not being able to sleep and like most other teenagers when told not to do something, I ventured near the brightly-painted buses like a moth drawn to a flame. As I drew closer, I could hear singing, some musical instruments being played. I quietly walked up to the swing-out door and knocked softly upon the frame. The music immediately stopped, as did the production of the sickly-sweet aromatic smoke that I had smelled.

"Who's there?" challenged a voice. "Uh...just heard ya playin' music...." I stammered. A figure in the darkness came close "It's just a kid." said a soft, sweet feminine voice. Before I knew it, hands were gently pulling me inside. Oh Lord, I thought...what had I got myself into?

"Sit down." came the softly-spoken command from the female who had brought me into the bus. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I could see a shapely young woman of around 20 yrs. old, long hair and a flowing dress that clung to her figure which was now deliciously crowded against me on the bus seat. A few questions were sent my way from the dark recesses of the bus, what was I doing there, where was I from, did we have any extra "munchies". After mumbling out my replies, the music started back up and so did the odd smelling smoke.

The musical instruments consisted of many I had never seen; an African "harp", some homemade woodwinds, various weird drums and other odd percussion instruments and the music was unlike any other I had ever heard. It was unstructured, with no obvious theme and seemed to end by some unspoken consensus on the part of the musicians...or when the glowing coal that seemed to float around the bus came to them.

My eyes finally adjusted to the point where I could make out a bit more about the occupants of the bus; most were young men, in their early 20's or late teens, but there were a few girls there, most importantly the one sitting beside me, nudging my body with hers as she swayed in time to the music.

As the smoke swirled around my head, so did the thoughts inside my head; by that time, I couldn't have told you my name or where I was from, but I knew that I was in love with this hippy goddess. She smelled like no other girl I had ever been close to, a combination of sweat and flowers, no perfume but something completely natural, a musky scent I later wish I could have bottled and sold for a million dollars an ounce.

I believe this was my first experience with pheromones and contact highs. I'll never forget it.

"Did you say you had some cookies?" breathed my seat mate's voice in my ear, the sensation being unlike any other I had ever experienced. "I'm hungry." Her words were as lovely as her face and body, words of some newly discovered rare substance that entered my brain like musical notes formed of Jell-O and wrapped in velvet. She laid her head on my shoulder, her hand upon my knee. My heart literally stopped because it was now up in my throat. Her breath was as hot as molten lava on my neck, her eyelashes fluttering on my cheek creating a sensation that I thought must be like being caressed by a thousand beautiful butterflies.

"Mmmm...be right back." I said and jumped up to go get the fair maiden her cookies. I didn't know if we had any in our camping supplies, but I was prepared to go rob a grocery store, kill a Keebler elf for her, strangle him with my bare hands if need be.

I ran as fast as I could go back to our campsite and rummaged through our supplies in the back of the horse trailer. "Whaddyadoin'?" came a sleepy murmur from the front of the trailer where a couple of the guys were sleeping. Ignoring them, I grabbed every sweet thing I could find, I was wanting to get back as quickly as I could, reclaim my king's perch along side my queen, bring her the plundered booty as homage.

With an armful of cookies and Twinkies and honeybuns, I made my light-headed way through the hot and humid Oklahoma night back to the darkened bus, every step filled with urgency. As I drew near the bus, the smell of that smoke was stronger than before. I climbed the steps with the goodies, searching through the darkness for my goddess. Grabbing, anxious hands relieved me of the sweets, but I paid no notice, still looking for the young woman, the only woman in the world, the one destined for me.

"Astrid split." came a voice from the corner of the bus. "She said to tell you she was over there." and I could make out the shape of a hand in the dim moonlight gesturing to a nearby VW van covered in peace signs and orange and red flowers. Not understanding what was meant, I sank to the nearest seat in abject disappointment, nearly sitting on someone who, in a crinkle of cellophane wrappers and grunts of annoyance, moved over so I could sit down. Even without looking, I could tell this certainly wasn't my hippy goddess as the smell was atrocious, greasy hair and unwashed body, a horrible odor that even the strange smelling smoke couldn't mask.

"If you ain't goin', then I am." said my new seat mate through a mouthful of Twinkies. He stood up, brushed by me as I pressed myself up against the seat, hoping that none of that miasma would migrate to me. Being a stranger, I was afraid to open my mouth in protest plus I was also breathing through it instead of my nose, trying to avoid the awful stench. I watched in horror as he strode off through the cloudy night towards my goddess's vehicle, opened the door without introduction knock or greeting and climbed in.

I hadn't the heart to stay after that, even though I found the hippies to be interesting subjects to watch, just like animals in the zoo. They might have well been extinct dodos or passenger pigeons because there certainly were no species like them where I came from!

As I was leaving, I asked one where they were headed. "We're meeting up with some friends from Kansas here and going on in a caravan to a big concert in New York state. " I was barely paying attention, instead watching my beloved's smaller bus starting to rock on its suspension. I didn't know about the facts of life, was ignorant just like most other teens of my age in that day and time, but I certainly knew that VW van was full of the birds 'n bees at that particular moment.

My heart, once in my throat, once stopped by the touch of her hand, was now on the ground, being eaten by the wild dogs of jealousy.

In my own personal history, I suppose this could've been a milestone: my first experience with hippies, my first experience with pot and my first experience with lust. I wasn't so impressed with the hippies; they stank, were greedy beggars and I didn't even realize I had even HAD an experience with illegal drugs until many years later. The lust, though... -sigh- That night, the hour or two that seemed like a microsecond at the time...or perhaps it was an eternity...that night I went from Lust to Jealousy and then came my first profound sense of Loss, at least a loss of a highly desired experience dreamed about by 99.99% of all straight 14 yr. old boys.

A few weeks later, when the television news was full of the gathering of tens of thousands of young people in a NY farmer's field, was when I realized that the hippies were headed to Woodstock. The TV footage showed countless young men, all with greasy-looking long hair, unwashed, twins of all those aboard that bus that night. There were also images of young women, also with dirty hair festooned with flowers, also unwashed, but none were my Astrid. (or it might have been "Agnes", sounds sounded differently to me that night)

With age sometimes comes wisdom, and some small measure of wisdom has even sunk into my own thick skull. I might have missed out on one of the defining moments of a young man's life, at least having the moment with my hippy goddess, but I probably also missed out on the joys of massive doses of penicillin.

(and having to explain to my mother just WHY I needed the antibiotics)

The Halftone Test

You Are Assertive

You are a direct and honest person. You have no problem asking for what you want in life. You are self-reliant and confident. You believe you have as much right to be here as anyone else, and you aren't about to be pushed around. The light side of you is highly independent and empowered. You enjoy life the best you can, on your terms. You are extremely courageous and willing to put it all out on the line. You trust your decisions. The dark side of you is blunt to the point of overwhelming others. You don't know how to be any way but honest. You have a strong sense of justice, and it's hard for you to let go of times you've been wronged. You tend to hold a grudge.

The Halftone Test

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"You tend to hold a grudge." I don't know about the rest of the results, but that one is spot-on.

1962 Pontiac Tempest

This model was the first legal-to-drive car I ever owned;  mine was maroon with black interior and wasn't in nearly as good shape when I bought it (or sold it).   The flyer on the back glass says it's for sale for $10,400, quite a bit more than the $50 I paid for mine.

As you can see at the first of the video, the gear shifter is on the dashboard and it doesn't have a "Park" option - you put it in neutral and set the parking brake.   Mine got pretty good gas mileage, but even with that, I still sometimes had to burn condensate (drip gas) in it during the winter of the year I drove it. (since I wasn't working)  When I bought my next car, my dad bought it from me for fifty bucks and I believe he turned around and sold it for a hundred.  That was OK;  he had overhauled the transmission for me and repaired some rusted out spots on the front fenders and I'm sure his profit didn't even begin to cover the time he spent fixing it up for me.

1967 Ford Fairlane XL

Nearly identical to the one I had, the second car I ever owned.  Mine had a 390 instead of a 289, but I wouldn't have minded having the smaller engine - while mine wasn't a "gas guzzler" with a 2 bbl. carb, it didn't get the best gas mileage.   Then again, at .28 cents/gallon, that wasn't such a big deal back then. Same yellow body and same black vinyl top, though. 

Forbes Haiku

I was looking for some financial-related information and saw a link to Forbes.com and thought I could probably trust the information I would find there since I've read a lot of other articles on the site and it's all been good advice.  They have a "splash page" before the link, the content of which I don't see because of my ad blocking add-on on my Firefox browser.  I have to wait on a countdown clock for a few seconds before I can proceed to the article, but it's no problem, much less annoying than an advertisement. 

Yesterday, though, I got this message on the splash page:

I'm fairly certain that doesn't fit the definition of a Haiku, but that's not my complaint; rather, it's trying to shame me in such a "cutesy" fashion.  Sorry Forbes, I hate to deprive you of ad revenue, but many sites go overboard with their adverts, slowing the page load times even with my fairly fast connection and often having multiple flash ads which sometimes hangs up my browser.  I also don't like places like Facebook following me all over the 'net...that's why I use an adblocker.

I wrote a reply, not in a Haiku, but a short verse.  I can't post it because I have a few words in it that rhyme with "Haiku".  It DOES have a little bit to do with "love", though.

middling

Note: I haven't been doing many "Word of the Day" posts lately because the module quit working.  I still get them via my reader, but to be honest, I haven't felt like doing them and they were much easier to do before Dictionary.com changed their website layout.  Be that as it may, here's one that made me want to start them up again, or at least at the same pace as I did before...which is to say, only when I am not familiar with the word or think of something funny to say about it.  It would be more of a "Word of the Every Now and Then" in the latter case.


middling adjective [mid-ling]

1. mediocre; ordinary; commonplace; pedestrian: The restaurant's entrées are no better than middling.

2. medium, moderate, or average in size, quantity, or quality: The returns on such a large investment may be only middling.

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Middling reminds of of when I first got online and found the chat rooms. I thought they were really cool, having the ability to talk with people from all over the world.   I popped in one day and was immediately greeted by several of the regulars.  Here's a part of one conversation:

Some person:  Hi, Mike!  How have ya been?
Me:  Oh, fair to middling.
Some person: LOL
Another person:  Actually, it's not "middling".
Me: Oh? What's it supposed to be? 
Same another person: It's MIDLAND, like the town in Texas.

The conversation went on for a good bit, me telling the other person that it was "middling", just like the definition - mediocre, ordinary.  The other person said it was an old saying by pilots trained in Texas during WWII;  they would ask on the radio how the weather was and the base would come back "Fair to Midland."

Sheesh.  Would they say that if there was a thunderstorm there?  Good grief.

Best Steakhouse in Texas

UPDATED: Link at bottom of post.

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I've been to the #1 steakhouse but I wouldn't say it's the best. It's an experience and a unique place, but best?


If you don't want to view the entire video, the winner was The Big Texan in Amarillo. The last time I was there, I took my British friend elle when she was here for one of her visits. We had the multi-meat appetizer and I talked her into trying the "calf fries" (which were about the worst I'd ever had, much worse than the ones I've eaten right off a branding iron stove w/ no salt except for what dripped off me on that long ago hot Texas afternoon) but she wouldn't touch the rattlesnake, which was pretty good.

I took an ex-g/f and her kiddos there once after an evening at Wonderland Amusement Park.  My g/f's little girl was happy with her burger; her mother and I had chicken fried steaks which were good, but not the best I'd ever had. (the best one of those I ever had was at a crossroads cafe near Balko, Oklahoma.)  Her 16 yr. old son sulked the entire time we were there because I wouldn't let him have a try at eating the 72 oz. steak. (he was already angry because we left the park after "only" four hours)  I was doubtful that he'd eat it, but I knew he wouldn't even touch the other things you have to eat, such as the baked potato, the shrimp cocktail and especially not the salad that has to be consumed along with the meat and bread in under an hour.   It certainly wasn't worth risking having to pay $72 if he DIDN'T finish it all in time.

(Her daughter was a sweet little girl, born on Feb. 29th, a Leap Year baby.  She made me regret not having a little girl of my own.  The boy, OTOH, made me glad I didn't have kids, at least having one like him. If he'd been MY child, I'd have sold him to the gypsies for less than $72.)

They have one of the steaks on ice in a display case as you enter and trust me, that's a huge chunk of meat.  Just the weight - 4.5 lbs. - doesn't put the massive size of it in perspective.   If you go to The Big Texan website, you can view a list of those who have successfully completed the challenge; I didn't see the information on the site (I'm sure it's there somewhere) but I once read a 70-ish grandmother scarfed one down and there has been at least one person who ate two!  The site also has webcams that show a real-time view of anyone taking the challenge.

(EDIT to add:  I found the Free 72 oz. Steak Facts page:  the grandmother was 69, the youngest to eat it all was an 11 yr. old boy, and the fastest time by a human was 8 minutes and 52 seconds. I say "human", because a 500-lb Bengal tiger consumed the meat in less than 90 seconds.  They didn't try to make him eat the potato or salad.)

4.5 lbs. of steak.  I haven't had four and a half pounds of steak total in four and a half years!

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UPDATE:

Eating champ Molly Schuyler devours 3 72-ounce steaks

But, I HATE to Paint!

You Should Be a Painter

You have the vision, patience, and skill to bring your unique visions to canvas. And you're even tempered enough not to cut your ear off in the process!

What Sort of Artist Should You Be?

Me, even tempered? 

Yeah, right.  I'm not only NOT even tempered, I don't have a lick of talent, at least in the artistic department.   I don't even like painting rooms in a house, but something like a fence is fine because I don't have to worry so much about paint splatters.

The best way to paint I've ever seen was when I was roughnecking and we painted our big fresh water tank;  someone would climb on top with a five gallon bucket of paint and walk backwards, pouring out the paint as he went.  As the paint ran down the sides, all the hands would take long handled scrub brushes and smear it all over.  The job was done in less than ten minutes and didn't even look all that bad...it was going to get scratched up in the next rig move anyway.