The Eighties Kinda Sucked For Me. Not horribly but slightly. Now I will digress and tell you why.
During the Eighties, I came home from Egypt and SFM. I had spent the last three years of the Seventies in the Sinai Desert and these were glorious years for me.
During the (very early) Eighties, actually very late Seventies, I got married.
At the beginning of the Eighties, Ronald Reagan was president and I was twenty-two years old: could not deny me or tell me anything! I had ‘seen’ the World!
During the Early Eighties, the Prime Lending Rate went from nine percent to twenty percent, thus making it real difficult for me to sustain a Small Business loan for my Tropical Fish Store.
I overcame all of this. By sheer guts and asshole-ness. (and by writing a seriously hot check, for three thousand dollars! I gave a shit not.)
But, I embraced it:
And somewhat thrived. Trickle Down, as they say, but not to mention, my bride and I slept on Army Cots for two years…We slept with the fishes.
And ate baked potatoes, cooked in a microwave which we had stolen borrowed. With pressed ham.
And the occasional onion… on Saturdays. And bacon on Sundays. And sometimes sour cream on Mondays.
We eventually left that place (after four years) Yep, we escaped Nacogdoches, Texas, which for us had been what we could imagine living in The Movie ‘Deliverance’ would have been like.
We escaped to Plano, Texas, which for many (but not us), was like living in the TV Show ‘Dallas’.
We discovered that we were more poor there than anywhere. In Nacogdoches we were ‘business owners’. In Plano we were just scum: no furniture, no fixtures, no nada: SCUM. We got thrown out of our first apartment because “Y’all don’t have no furniture and y’all are sleeping on the floor. This violates y’all’s lease agreement. Goodbye.”
We soldiered on…
We did sell, at a garage sale, damn near everything we owned, to include my prized Celestron Telescope and my wife’s Mikasa China from her first marriage.
Just to eat.
(Food was a prerequisite back then)
Finally….
We made a stance.
My Long-time Bride and my Soul-Mate, and a veteran of the “hard days” tole me one day,
She said, “Lance’, this is no way to live! Do something! Any thing!”
So, I did. I told her I was gonna join the U.S. Navy. And send her all her allotment and everything else. And meant it.
She initially balked at this (and she was former U.S. Army Reserve) at that time.
She said to me, and I quote:
“Lance, you are gonna do this thing, right? Then, I ask of you one thing: I wanna be a house-wife for just one year… can you give me that?”
“If I Don’t Die by Thursday I’ll Be Roarin’ Friday Night.”
Since I am in “Peanut Mode” tonight, I thought I would post this excerpt from a very ‘early-in-my-blogging days’ post regarding same, in the vain hope some would read the bits in their entirety:Sharking, Campin’, Bow-Fishin’.
Seems to me we sometimes realize far too late the true value of friends had and lost.
There is a scene in “Tombstone” where Wyatt Earp hands a smallish book over to a bed-ridden Doc Holiday, entitled:
“My Friend: Doc Holiday.”
“Hell I Got lots of Friends”
“I Don’t”
Here is to wishing Peanut could receive same from me.
Alas, he cannot.
**************
Jimmy ‘Peanut’ Piland was a character like none other: Possessing a smallish frame, medium blond hair always askew and asunder, Paul Newman blue eyes, a perpetual boyish ‘possum’ grin, and a wiry build replete with a hard-wired energy. Yet looks can be somewhat deceiving: he was tough as nails and feared nothing, or no one.
There was no Brahma bull he wouldn’t attempt to ride, no man he wouldn’t attempt to fight (if provoked—him usually doing the ‘provokin’—“That sonuvabitch done pissed me off…”), no tractor, truck, nor heavy machinery he wouldn’t attempt to operate, instructed or not. Good that he never had access to an airplane, for he would have, no doubt, tried to fly it.
My Best Guess. Don’t Y’all Just HATE When This Happens? I Certainly Do! Very Irritating.
I Love The Irish!
Go Figger Ni*ger
Just Jokin’!
“What do we do with a Drunken Sailor?”
Put Him In A Long-Boat ‘Till He’s Sober,
Or Just Shoot Him.
Shoot Him
In the Head
Thrice
Deadliest Catch Season 1 Trailer
Drunken Sailor. What To Do?
What am I talking about?
What sig-nif is That,
Lance Romance?
Lost me mind
iface
Tom MacDonald –
“Brainwashed“
Foggy Glasses!
Always happens to me right when
I am in-the-middle of trying to build a post.
I have Swerved Into A Solution Though
**No! Not This**
Although I could use a Pair of These–
In My Spectacles’ Prescription Of Course
You see, it’s all just a simple matter of Condensation/Consternation
But what causes condensation?
Condensation happens when your home face is too humid & warm and your warm, humid face contacts the cold surfaces Eye-Glasses. This leads to the air cooling quickly and forming droplets Fog on nearby surfaces such as walls/windows Your Eye-Glasses.
If you’ve noticed droplets of water or damp walls Foggy Glasses and are wondering how to stop condensation happening, we’re I am here to help & reassure you not to panic.
It’s really just a common part of living.
But How Do I Prevent Condensation?
Here is what ya do Kids:
You take a wash cloth,
Run it under the hot water tapuntil it’s saturated.
Wring it out a little.
Press it against your eye-balls.
Hold it there until the count of twelve.
Your mileage may vary–Experiment a bit.
Dry Off Your Eyes & Face THOROUGHLY–This Is Key.
Take your glasses and run them under the same hot water.
Dry THEM Thoughtfully & THOROUGHLY.
et voilà!
Good To Go!
Rinse and Repeat as Becomes Necessary
It really is just about keeping the two ‘surfaces’–Your Eye-Balls and Your Glasses, The Same Temperature.
It Ain’t ‘Rocket-Science’
***
Disclaimer:
If You Have A Tendency To Sweat From Your Eye-Brows
I Cannot Help You
I Suppose You Could Try Using One of
These Handy-Dandy Tiny Little Portable Fans
(Batteries Never Included)
Aim It At Your Eye-Brows And Crank It Up
Good Luck With That
****
Fun Trivia Fact:
I Never Needed Glasses Until This Very Precise Moment In Time:
But If You Do Choose To Lie To A Texas Woman, Do So At Your Own Peril. I Don’t, ’cause I Know Better. I Learned This The Hard Way. But It’s Yer Ass, Not Mine. You Do You. And Good Luck Schmuck.
***
Ed. Note: Most Ev’thang I Write is “Tongue-in-Greek”–If Yu Don’t Realize This, You Probably Should’ve Taken That ‘Other’ Turn At Albaquirky
“That’s right; you’re not from Texas.”
You have my sympathy.
Lyle Lovett and His Large Band
“Oh the road she looked so lovely As she stood there on the side And she grew smaller in my mirror As I watched her wave goodbye”