Paper Towels and Patience

Having a dog seems to require an ample supply of both. At least if he spends much time indoors. The former I can just get at the store but the latter item I have to dig into myself to find. Patience is a virtue, but it sure as hell ain't one of mine.

So I roar and rage when finding something he's left on the carpet, but my lost patience is usually soaked up in the paper towels along with the other substance being absorbed. And then we move on. Until next time anyway.

Having grown up with cats pretty much exclusively, this is my maiden voyage as far as dog ownership. I must say, dogs are much more high-maintenance. Besides the issue of "deposits" on the floor, there is the barking factor. And I guess I'm doubly lucky there, as my dog is a vocal 'barker' as well as a prolific 'depositor'..

In his puppy days, when he was too destructive to leave indoors, I'd have him in the backyard, where he'd bark at pretty much everything that moved--or sat still. This didn't augur too well with one particular neighbor who was home all day. My neighbor even went so far as to bring female dogs into my yard to mate with mine, as a means of calming him down--and thus of course barking less.

"I can't figure out why he's still so hyper, Rog", he told me, puzzled. "He got him some pussy twice"..

Now I didn't actually witness this, so it's strictly second-hand, but quite amusing and entertaining nonetheless. My neighbor has no idea how funny that really is..

Over the years, both my dog and neighbor have mellowed to a large extent. Having him neutered--talking about my dog here--helped to some extent, as does just getting some more years on him. But he is still, as the song goes, an 'excitable boy'. Still barks at pretty much everything that moves or sits still, but mostly from inside the house.

So the barking just drives me nuts as opposed to anyone else. But I work on my patience. And it's just a 5 minute drive to get more paper towels...

Sunday Night Blues

After a week and a day away from the office--10 days all told, counting the weekend(s)--I'm going back in the morning. Always a creeped-out feeling anyway having to go back to work and resume the daily/weekly grind, but perhaps especially so this time, having had a long respite.

Monday morning, at least where I work, is always a somewhat chilling experience. It's not the other people I work with. By and large, they're fine, and are usually pleasant to deal with, even first thing in the morning. And our bosses are reasonable folk. No,it's the actual work that's harrowing: phones ringing, people bitching on the other end, people bitching in our lobby. People bitching first thing in the morning, by whatever medium available.

Sorta like a Minneapolis Winter. If you survive Monday morning, you've usually taken the worst the week has to offer. Though any day can take on all the horror of the busiest Monday morning, depending on what comes through the door or through the phone lines.

Like all too many people in this world, I work a job that has nothing to do with what I went to school for or thought I'd be doing for a living. So I have my "job", and then I have my "life" which includes what I 'really' do: play & write music---and, yes, write the occasional blog. And thus, though I try and make the best of the "job", I'm kinda waiting for it to be over so I can get on with my "life".

Waiting for 5 o'clock, waiting for the weekend, waiting for retirement. Like most everybody I work with. And like most everybody else, to properly digest the work-week, I break it down into smaller, more chewable pieces: Monday&Tuesday/get-it-done days; Wednesday/humpday; Thursday/almostfriday; Friday/tgif.

During this time off, I got to thinking about the whole work/play dichotomy and how to make the most of my energies. More focus, more discipline basically. Practice for at least an hour every night(again, like the workweek, small bites), and work on writing projects as well. If performed faithfully, this kinda thing tends to energize you, and thus the work-week takes a lot less out of your ass. Just a question of getting started, getting that momentum..

Sounds great on a Sunday night. Let's just see how it plays after a day back at work...

Where the Action Is(n't)

I have a friend who once commented, in reference to physical exercise, " I dislike movement of any kind". It was said semi-jokingly, with light seriousness, but still in deep stentorian tones as if it were a pronouncement from Zeus or something.

With this I replied that he probably would just as soon not appear in corporeal form, possibly to be more content as perhaps some sort of temperature or gas. Something more atmospheric. Boy, talk about your built-in ambience..

While I'm not discounting the possible existence of beings in the form of temperatures or gases- in fact they may account for some of my readership here-I'm assuming that at last most of the folks who read this blog are in bodily form, with all its requisite functions. Folks who, if this were in print, would probably be reading it while performing one of said bodily functions.


Personally I like movement, and even like exercise(but only once it's underway-the initial push can take some doing). But rather than spend all day on the couch, or all day running amok Doing Stuff, I take the Great Middle Way and putter. That is, divide my time and energy among several activities: on the computer playing Poker(and occasionally writing this drivel), on the guitar, maybe even cleaning house or mowing grass, and yes some couch time.


So I'm probably not a true slug. I do joke about my sluglike proclivities, referring to my TV room on the main floor as The Sloth Center, where a fair amount of weekend time is logged recuperating from the workweek, but I'm still really too active to qualify for True Slughood. No, after a couple hours in the Sloth Center, I can start to feel my whole body turning invertebrate--going from figurative to literal slug, soon to slither off the couch and toward the kitchen--and then know it's time to get up and about.

I also have a TV upstairs in my bedroom, also referred to as Sloth Center North, but the main Sloth Center on the ground floor is really where the action is. Or should I say, where the action isn't.

Well, we're all different. At one end of the spectrum sits my sedentary friend who 'dislikes movement of any kind' and at the other a much more rabbity individual than myself. One of the few areas in life where I find myself in the middle of the road..

More on Stoopid Names

Awhile back I wrote a piece called What's in a Name, which I posted here. It focused mainly on ghetto and/or preppy names and the motivations thereof. I maintained that one's name is simply a point of departure.

Still, like bumper stickers, names tell us a lot about the person. That is, how people choose to display their names. Their characters, their beliefs, their prejudices.

Even though I know and like several women who've chosen to give their last name a 'wedgie', I don't generally dig the whole hyphenated last name thing. I understand the motivation behind it, but - well I guess it's more about the particular women I've met who've hyphenated than the act itself. The ones I didn't like. The ones with a board up their ass. And/or with an "I'm-gonna-get-what's-mine" sort of attitude..

Which is a lot of 'em. Unfortunately.

A hyphenated name takes longer to say and longer to write. Those extra bytes are like taking an extra seat on the bus. Thus it becomes cumbersome(and sometimes comical)to read in an article: 'but Schnarf-Leehak was in opposition to Feffern-Minoxodyl's stance on gun control. Furthermore, Schnarf-Leehak...'

Maybe instead of tacking on a second surname, how about combining the two? So, instead of Schnarf-Leehak, you'd have Schleehak. And hey-- instead of the lengthy Feffern-Minoxodyl, a more succinct Feffinoxodyl.

This name thing can get real silly. (Right, like this article has been all high seriousness up to now..) Consider, however, if you will, the marriage of one Faun-Dawn Skibab(pronounced skee-bob, and yes of hillbilly parentage), to Willis D'Boemchek(pronounced daboomchick). If she follows through with the Politically Correct last name, she'd be Faun-Dawn Skibab-D'Boemchek.

Yes. Faun-Dawn Skibab-D'Boemchek. "Hello, I'm Faun-Dawn Skibab-D'Boemchek. And you?" The other person is dancing by the time you finish saying your name.

Or laughing. Okay, let's say Willis D'Boemchek and Faun-Dawn Skibab-D'Boemchek have a couple of kids: oh, let's see, Demian and Agatha, both D'Boemchek's. They split up and Faun-Dawn meets and marries Bill Pflaar(pronounced fflahr). Which would make her....

Faun-Dawn Skibab-D'Boemchek-Pflaar.

If pronounced right, it's almost like a Square Dance hand. Allemande left, D'Boemchek-Pflaar...Hopefully in her second marriage she won't be bringing as much baggage as her last name(s)

Karmic Repair Kit, Item 4

There's a poem( or bit o' verse, if you will) I've always liked, which goes back to my college days. It's called Karmic Repair Kit, Items 1-4 , and went something like this:
1. Get enough food to eat, and eat it.
2. Find a quiet place to sleep and sleep there.
3. Reduce emotional and intellectual noise until you arrive at the silence of yourself, and listen to it.
4.

I am currently on vacation, 10 days in a row free from the rigors of daygigdom, and in embarking on my time-off, this poem came to mind. Normally, with 2 days off every week, 2 for every 5 you work, you don't quite work through all 4 steps in your weekend. At least I don't.

No, I usually get enough food and enough sleep. And usually reduce whatever stress the week brought me to a point of relaxation. But all too often, by the time I've gotten to #4, it's already time to go back to work. Whatever progress I've made just gets caught up in the hustle and bustle of Monday morning, and dissipates with the first wave of irate phone calls.

The thing is, most of us have two different orbits: the one we have to travel in all week for our jobs, and the one for whatever-it-is-we'd-just-as-soon-be-doing. On the weekend, with just 48 hrs to work with, all too often you just get into your own orbit before you have to land and re-group. Re-orbit, as it were.

So with 10 days off, plenty of time to get There and Beyond, we'll see what gives. Still working on #3 at the moment though...

The Tao of Sloth

A beer-drinkin', Cheeto-eatin', non-productive sorta day. Then again, who's to say what productive is. It all depends on your goals. If they're to Get Things Done, such as fixing the dishwasher or mowing the lawn, then a day solely devoted to the consumption of beer and Cheetos would fall sorely short of the mark.

But if you'd gotten up in the morning and said, "I'm gonna drink a few beers and eat Cheetos until I'm shittin' orange", then this would've been a truly productive day. A day in which goals have been met. A day in which you've Gotten Things Done.

Strangely enough.

Actually, on a day that's all mine like Saturday, I just ask myself what I feel like doing and kinda go from there. For me today, cleaning and then Cheeto & beer consumption have seemed to be 'what wants to happen' ..

Not much of a carpe diem type I guess. I'd rather let ' diem' come to me.

So- what have you and your tits been doing lately?

I dunno. Sounded like an interesting question. One of those thoughts that just kinda pops in your head, unbidden but far from unwelcome: a weird little visitor, stops in and gives its own little glow, then moves on..


For that matter, I suppose you could really pick any body part: me and my ankles, me and my butt-cheeks. What have you and your butt-cheeks been doing lately? "Well Roger, we've had quite a time! We've had a pretty good one stuffed up there, and .." Anyway, it's Friday night. Embarking on another weekend. A very nice feeling. Another 5 workdays in the books. Well, I had a 'sick day' on Monday, but other than that was there toiling away.


From the looks of this so far, you'll probably think I'm having a "sick day" right now...But, yeah, it's Friday night and I'm enjoying that fact of life. The whole weekend lies ahead.


I've been imbibing a few beers(no!!), which have been the first in a week--last beer was last Saturday night, just one. Somehow never got around to going out and getting any more, and just kinda kept going.


Well right now, I'm going to the refrigerator to get myself another one.



Okay. I'm back. Actually, my beer consumption dwindles to zero anyway come the weekend, so I don't anticipate any major guzzling over the next couple days here. A beer tastes pretty good on this Friday evening. Especially not having had one for a week. Well, moderation in all things. Including moderation.


By the way, what HAVE you and your tits been doing lately?