There was Blood

I am not the biggest risk taker, but have crazy stunts on my resume. Mostly unintentional. First time I got called Evil Knievel I was 3 or 4. We lived in Upton, WY, a small town a long way from no where. I had gotten my first trike, and it was a little too big for me, I couldn't reach the pedals. But I could sit on it and get around, coast or push with my feet. I learned that I couldn't go very far in the grass, so I was staying on the sidewalk, which slowly started to slope down hill. I accelerated, feet held up, tightly gripping the handlebar, right down the cement stairs, across the sidewalk and into the ditch! My parents came running, drawn by my bawling, I suppose, to find me crawling up those same stairs, pools of blood collecting on each step. I think the trike survived, and I lived to ride another day.

Not the first time I bled from my head in Upton. The Trombone incident... the vicious coffee table...

But the best scar I have from my years in Upton is on my foot. Riding in the baby seat on the back of my mom's bike... this is back in the day before they were made of a single molded piece of plastic... with padded cardboard leg panels... one of which had been stolen from the bike rack at the high school where my dad taught. Anyway, we headed down the long hill towards downtown, and despite being told to be careful, I clamp my legs together to hold on, unfortunately the action put the back of my foot into the razor sharp spokes which pealed off the back of my shoe and cleaved my left heal off! Ouch!! Another 90 minute race to the hospital. (I wonder how we paid for all my trips there?) Ask to see the scar, it is probably what kept me from being a professional athlete or ...

I dont need pants

http://theoatmeal.com/blog/utilikilt

So, I like my kilt. It is fun to get fresh air on boys. It isnt nearly as pleasant as skinny dipping in tropical waters, ohhh, that feels awesome! But there is a downside, chaffing. Walk around for 8 hours at a warm tailgate and the testicle/thigh interface can get a little worked. A touch of baby powder helps, but then I have to worry about an unsightly white sweat streak running down my leg. Yeah, I have experience with that, 100 degree birthday party and a sarong... how embarrassing! My fancy Exofficio would work wonders, but that would be wrong. According to a survey of kilted Scotsmen, 69% go commando... my favorite number!! So I am in good company, but there is room for negotiation, I guess, if it gets too bad.

Then there is the cold. Shrinkage helps with the chaffing, as does dryness. I was asked how I stay warm, to which I answer, "I put on socks." That got me a look and the comment, "how does that stay on?" I meant on my feet, and pulling the kilt hose up my legs, to stay warm! ( I guess the flip-flops were confusing)

So if you see a guy in a kilt, turn the frown upside-down and enjoy the moment with the wearer, he is!

Ginga

I like ginger! I like red-heads, too, but this isn't about them. Ginger root. One of my favorite parts to a good sushi dinner is the pickled ginger. I try to steal the uneaten ginger off others plates. I like it at the beginning of the meal, in between pieces as a little palate cleanser, and of course, for desert. I love a spicy garlic ginger sauce, i had it once fairly recently, and was caught off guard by how much ginger there was. and the left overs had half the building coming over to see what crazy thing i was eating today. Oh, yeah, Thai House. (Pad Ped Beef : Tender beef stir-fried with a grounded red curry paste, Thai ginger, bamboo slices, peppers, onion and basil leaves) yum!

But lately is has been a beverage kick. It started with a trip to the islands (Key West) when I (re)discovered the Dark 'n Stormy. A lovely concoction of Gosling's Black Seal Rum, Ginger Beer and a lime wedge. This bar had a 1/2 price special when ever it was raining. Anyway, Gosling's also makes a Ginger Beer, and by beer, I don't mean alcoholic, just a bit more (flavor, bite, sugar...) than your typical Ginger Ale. It was pretty good, but left me wanting more. So I have been chasing down the more-better ginger beverage ever since.

Beer, as you may know, I am a homebrewer, so I tried to make my own ginger Beer. First attempt, not nearly enough ginger added late into the boil of a Hefeweizen. Nice beer with hints of ginger, but not what I was going for. Next attempt, I pulled out all the stops and added GINGER. Fresh sliced ginger root added 2 ounces every 15 minutes throughout the boil of a pretty Red Ale (a ginger-ginger beer). This is when I learned that the longer you boil ginger the less spicy it is... so another let down. Not to be deterred, I sliced up half a pealed ginger root and added it straight into the keg, ha, I say, take that! And several days later this beer elicited a smile from this curmudgeon. It continued to gingify for about a month, then stabilized as a tasty Ginger Beer. Not good enough for a Dark 'n Stormy, but pretty good.

A keg of homemade ginger ale was brought to Pints for Pets, and it was good! I think he said that 5 pounds of ginger was diced up and stewed in sugar water to extract the ginger. the leftover ginger was dried and became ginger candy. But, alas, that keg went home, and all I got was a 2-liter bottle to keep. And I covet the stuff... I will have some more again tonight...

But I struggle to find a commercial beverage to meet my desires. I researched "best ginger beer" on the internet, learning which had sugar, corn syrup, honey and other ingredients, the went looking for them. I tried all I could find, including the different versions of Reed's the Merc had, tried an off brand from Target, even picked up a promising six-pack from TJ Maxx, any ginger that I saw. A bar that didn't have ginger ale tried to make some with bitters and cola and soda, or something, not really even close. Then the day my life changed, I saw a brightly colored 2-liter bottle of Goya brand ginger beer, and it was good! But where to find it?! The Mexican grocer in OP did not have it (but did have Malto Goya, another quest). I thought I was going to have to order some online, but the season was fading. Dark 'n Stormy's are best when it is warm, nice refreshing cold drink, but not hot, a bit too sweet, so as the summer turns to fall, my beverage palate is turning. But then I walk into Checkers and look at the latin section, really for the Malto, but find a case of Goya Jamaican Style Ginger Beer in 12 oz bottles! Unsure if this was really what I thought it was, I just bought 2 bottles and hurried home to sample. So I have to come up with a new name for what I drank, Dark 'n Stormy is registered by Gosling's and since I was out of that brand I have been substituting Kraken, as similar colored spiced rum that is quite a nice little rum. I like the theme of the giant sea monster and tropical storms, but I will save that effort for another day. Any ideas? So, I pour my measured jigger of rum over ice the popped the top of the Goya. I like to take a sip before mixing, just to see what I have, a little drink followed by half a minute coughing fit! WOW! My smile was getting in the way of my cough, so I poured my drink and ambled into the living room. My throat was tingling from the ginger so I took a careful sip of my drink and bliss. yes, that is perfect, followed by more coughs. As I drank my second one, there was a little sizzle on my lips, maybe from the smile, maybe from the ginger.

Last night I picked up a bottle of Gosling's, and made another drink with my second precious bottle, just to make sure. This time no coughing, just a wonderful drink! One I can highly recommend to any ginger lover's out there. Now I have to hurry over to Checkers and get more, before they take it away from me!

Hurray for Ginger!!

No might be the most destructive word in human language. Every time I hear that word, a little piece of me dies. Death and decay from the inside, maybe that is one of the problems in this world. The destructive power of the word keeps us down, prevents us from fulfilling our potential and propagates fear.

Whether said out of anger, malice or love, the thought that you can't, hurts. And when you believe it, the most dangerous thing starts to happen and you can start to tell it to yourself. Not good enough. Sad. Worse than that may be the words/thoughts/actions, the violation, that require a powerful response. Then the damage is before the word, but the destruction is tied to it.

I had more on the topic organized in my head, but i cant think of it...

Human spirit is based on yes, the thought that you can, do, achieve, better, more, happy.

OK, now i can get back to happy thought!

Testes

Testes, Testes...
One, two, THREE?!?!?!?!

Stolen Summer Prose

I enjoyed this so much I had to share. Flip flops, sundresses and tan lines also make me smile... poor innocent mojito.

Sundresses, Sandals, Tan Lines: A Guy's View of Summer

Writer Scott Frampton explains how your tan lines (and summer dresses) drive guys completely and totally crazy.

August is the hottest month, and I'm not talking about average ambient temperature. I'm talking about you and what you do to men in the feverish weeks leading up to Labor Day. Our resolve weakened by months of heat, otherwise productive members of society are reduced to paroxysms of want by a backless dress, or bare legs dotted by drops of condensation from a tall, cold beer.

You may be aware of this effect, but I doubt you appreciate the extent: It deserves its own seasonal affective disorder. And the worst cases can be traced to the sundress. Wear one now, and it says something about you: In a month when sartorial ambition is reduced to a set of subtropical survival skills — tube tops, with their pendulous plunges, short shorts that ride up like a junior-high wedgie — you put on a dress and shoes more complicated than a rubber thong wedged between your toes. This outfit reveals not only your body, but also how comfortable you are with it, and from there, it's a perilously short trip to envisioning what you'd do with it.

Especially if tan lines are involved; I've been known to lose my grip at the early-evening sight of them, innocent mojitos plunging to their patio deaths. That contrasting stripe, climbing over your shoulder from parts unknown — unknown to me, certainly — is a tease in the best sense, giving the slightest suggestion of how you'd be in your altogether. In these stifling days of late summer, how you make the most of things is a clue to who you are and what you'd be like lingering over a glass of chilled rosé — if I didn't have to get home to my family for dinner.

http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/relationship-issues/articles/guys-view-of-summer

The Look

You know when you look at someone and feel something like electricity flow between you? And you look away, feeling caught in some sort of time warp...

In junior high I always had a crush on the smart athletic girls. I practiced with these girls on the volleyball team and they were in my algebra and biology classes, and gym. I was (and continue to be) a dork when it comes to how to appropriately act around attractive women. There was one, Beth, that had a dirty, sexy, smart, athletic alure that could only mean trouble. Sure there was Susan and Stephanie, but Beth had something extra. Once in Biology class, she caught me looking out the window over her shoulder (staring at her) and she did the classy thing and winked at me. Emboldened by this I winked back... with both eyes! I dont think she laughed out loud, but the embarrassment felt like the whole room was laughing at me.

Well, in gym class we had a section of physical fitness where we could walk/run around the school, run stairs in the auditorium, bicycle out 15th street or other less taxing challenges. I took to riding bikes with the girls. Yes, the same group of athletes I shared other time with, so they had no fear of me. We would head out east of CJHS on 15th for 15-20 minutes, then turn around and sprint back to school to have time to shower and get to our next classes. One day we got caught in a rain storm and got back to the gym soaked to the bone. I lived in the country and rode the bus to school (and my dad was a fellow teacher), so I got to store my bike in the "lock-up" in the girls locker room. Normally it worked that I went in with the first group of girls that unlocked the door, put my bike away and walked out. No problem. Well, dripping wet, someone took pity on me and offered to get me a towel, which I accepted, not wanting to drip water all the way down the hall between the girls and boys locker rooms. When I turned to grab the towel, there was Beth, who had let me in the locker room calling "boy coming in", at the other end in her bra and panties, and we shared that brief look again. This time she flinched, gave out a squeal, tried to cover herself with her arms, and hopped out of my line of sight all in the time it took me to register what was going on. I turned on my heels and walked out and quickly an quietly as I could.

Now it was years before I got to see another girl in her underwear, but I did spend hours practicing winking, not wanting to get caught off guard again.