Big Bad Ms Escalate

She's not satisfied with his acquiescence to her demand

She's got to rub it in his face, make him understand

Gonna emasculate him, cut his balls right off

Gonna make sure he knows she's got the upper hand

And if that is not enough

If that does not entertain her

She's gonna have to escalate the situation

She's gonna have to let him know she's no amateur

She might decide right then and there

That this would be the best time to tell the world

That her man can't get it up

Irregardless of the fact

That all she has ever had to do is lay back

Big bad Ms Escalate

She flirts with those she actually hates

The blind, the easily deceived

The dumb mofos 

Who cannot see

A Quiet, Modest Life

What is this desire that seems to have taken root in my mind? I speak not of desire for love (or lust, for that matter), or for wealth, or even things.

What I desire is a less technology centered, less convenience driven, and far, far slower pace to life.

It's not that I'm a Neo-Luddite - I've stated this quite a few times in the past, but just to be clear, I love computers and the Internet and all that they have made possible. I love my smart phone, and I love my flat screen TV and the service provider that allows me to surf 500 channels.

The rejection of technology is not what I mean when I say less technology. What I mean with that statement is that I want to rely on technology less, for communication, for education, and especially for entertainment,

I want more face-to-face communication, more exploring, more adventuring, and much more interaction with other humans doing things like playing softball or fixing up an old barn.

And what I mean by less convenience is, I want to stop taking all the short cuts that the modern age affords me - I want to stop microwaving my meals, I want to stop using a remote control to change channels and open doors and turn off the lights, and I want to stop driving to a store that is only 6 blocks away.

As for the far slower pace of life, that is fairly self-explanatory.

Every time I drive along I-70 or I-80 through the Midwest and I speed past small town after small town, I wonder how great it must be to live in a place where traffic isn't backed up for hours every single morning and every single evening. I wonder what it must be like to be able to walk into a store and be greeted with a real welcome by a person who knows your name, and is actually grateful for your patronage.

Those thoughts fill my mind for hours as I drive through eastern Colorado, or Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, Wisconsin, and just about every other state that is located in what is commonly referred to as the heartland of America.

It may seem as if I've gone off the deep end to some of my family and friends, but there burns in me a desire to live in a small town, one where people are easygoing, casual, and friendly to everyone. I want live in a town where people not only know one another, they actually care about one another.

And yes, I'm aware that means I'd be living in a place where everybody knows my business, but in this day and age, where Facebook and Twitter are de rigueur, what difference does that make?

The Search For A Quiet Place

This is the story of a dream. The dream is one that features finding a place that is satisfying to the body, mind, and spirit - a place that offers fresh, unsullied air to the lungs, wide-open vistas featuring nature's beauty for the eyes, and rich, dark soil for the feet to trod upon.

But first a word from our sponsor.

The 14.5 Million Dollar Ribbon Of Light Welcome Sign At D.I.A.

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You read that right...14.5 million dollars for a ribbon of light Welcome To Denver / Welcome To D.I.A. sign (depending upon whether or not you're coming or going to the airport...)

To be clear, it's only 11.5 million for the actual ribbon of light sign structure - the other 3 million is for 12 years of operation and maintenance.

One thousand feet of lighted poles and a couple of signs for 14.5 million. What a bargain.

Especially when the complete and total lack of any form of impressive light show in the area where D.I.A. is located is taken into consideration...

Elfestation

Spent Saturday night in Littleton...which was experiencing a bit of an elfestation...

Elfvis Presentsly I presume

                                          Someone was making a few pennies selling Elf hats

                                        Definitely the most elves I've ever personally seen

                            Don't have a clue what this was, but it looked cool and belched fire

Rough-And-Tumble Daze Of Shopping

There were at least 150 to 200 people in the store when I entered, and this was in the afternoon, well after the crowds that formed outside the store at 5:00am had begun to dissipate.

The desire for a deal, especially a deal on an item that is not only worth having, but actually a pragmatic acquisition, is powerful, especially when all that is required to take advantage of the deal is a bit of patience.

Okay, maybe that should read a ton of patience. A metric tonne. Getting to the tool kit was easy enough, but the standing in line...for over 45 minutes...that was a trial.

But stand in line I did, and when it all was over I was happy with the results. It was as close as I was going to get to being a hunter-gatherer anytime soon, and satisfying in that primitive fashion that seems to be part of the shared human memory dealio.

  

Not The Best Decision I've Made The Day Before Thanksgiving...

Nope, not even close...though it will probably save me from the gluttony of the day.

Cucurbita Maximus

An Odd Little Sculpture Park In Denver

Tellis Capell, Who Some Knew As Telly But Who I Knew As Terry...And As A Great Friend

                                                Tellis "Terry" Capell, San Diego, Ca. 1986

More years ago than I care to admit a close friend of mine convinced me I needed to go to a High School dance with him. 

This friend, who was also a fellow wrestler on our High School wrestling team, thought it would be good for me to get out and have a good time in light of my recent break-up with a girlfriend, to the point where he even loaned me a pair of his Angel Flight pants, a pair of dress shoes, and a dress shirt - items I did not possess and could not afford to buy.

It was the first High School dance I ever attended, and while it may seem a bit odd to some that it was a man that insisted I go, if you knew that man as I and a few hundred other lucky people did, it wouldn't seem odd at all.

For that man was Terry Capell, a man with a heart and love for life as big as it gets.

I will confess right now that I have been avoiding writing this for awhile, just as I have avoided writing more about my Mothers passing.

For Terry, who later in life preferred to be called by his actual name of Tellis, or Telly for short, but who I always knew as Terry, was one of the ten or fifteen people I have known that had an impact on my life that goes beyond the pale.

Terry and I met at Morse High School in Southeast San Diego (back when the name Southeast San Diego was still being used in legal documents to refer to the area we grew up in), as members of the wrestling team. I was in the 191 weight class, Terry was in at 202, and naturally we practiced against each other...a lot.

In time we became training partners, running 40 laps around the Boone field every night, five nights a week during wrestling season, and running even more when we both joined the track & field team after wrestling had finished up.

Years after High School, and after I left the USAF, when both of us had entered the real world and found that it was all about workin' for a living, we worked together as doormen/bouncers (the go-to job for big dudes needing a job) at a small bar in P.B. called Billy Bones. We worked at that bar together for almost two years in the mid to late '80's, until circumstances took us in extremely different directions.

Terry headed out to Guam, and I headed for Alaska, both of us searching for something bigger and better than what we knew in San Diego.

We lost contact for a long while, more than a decade, until the internet made it possible for us to reconnect.

Terry had moved back to the states, as had I - he was in Minnesota for awhile, then South Dakota. I was in Colorado.

That was about 15, maybe 16 years ago. At first we just emailed each other updates on our lives - non-specific and specific info pertaining to marriages, divorces, children, etc.

But after awhile we started calling and texting each other, either to brag (Terry with his dart competitions, me with my trivia) or to complain.

A few years ago, around 2015 I think, Terry and I had our last really long, involved conversation. He had just returned to Sioux Falls from San Diego, where he had gone to visit his oldest son and one of his grandchildren. He was as happy as any man could be. 

For reasons beyond my understanding, our phone calls and texts started to taper off around the first few months of 2016 -  no doubt that had to do with the business of life and all the constraints that go with it, especially in Terry's case, as he had by then multiple grandchildren (which, for a man with 7 children, should be expected). 

Still, every few months or so we would send each other an email or text to let us both know we were still kickin' it live.

Until last Spring. 

Last Spring, when I was flying back to S.D. on a fairly regular basis, I sent Terry an email letting him know I was going to be in S.D., and if he was going to be in S.D. too we should get together. 

I got no response to that email, which wasn't all that unusual. But then, as my Mother's health worsened and I found myself in S.D. even more frequently, and still received no reply to further emails to Terry, I became concerned.

But I pushed aside my concern with the thought that Terry was just too busy to reply to me at the moment, or even weeks after the moment, but would eventually.

Then I received an email from a mutual friend with the title:

Tellis Reece Capell, July 20th 1964, April 26th 2017

And my heart dropped.

Terry was a great friend, and even though he had many demons to battle (as did I), was always a good person...and truly a great friend - a sentiment that bears repeating, as nearly everyone who knew Terry would attest.

He will never be forgotten.

                            Scott, Rob, Mike, Me & Terry at Billy Bones in P.B., back in 1987

Fireworks At Mile High

Unfortunately, they were real fireworks, not the Denver offense lighting up the Patriots defense. 

Quite the opposite happened in the game, actually.

Thank You For Your Respect

Veterans Day is fairly important to me, my family, and just about all of my friends and acquaintances.

So it is with a fair amount of joy that I see people paying a little respect to those who have served in the military. Life in the military can be the worst and best experience a human being can endure and in my humble opinion, those who have undertaken that challenge deserve all the respect in the world.

Veterans Day in the U.S. honors all that have served in the armed forces, and while my time in the USAF was neither grand nor glorious, I proudly salute the contributions of those men and women who serve presently, who served with me, and who served before me.

Respect.

A Happy Birthday Wish

The 10th of November 2017 would have been my Mother's 86th birthday. It marked the first birthday of hers that I would not be saying Happy Birthday to her, or sending her a card, or a bouquet, or. well, anything.

It has been months since my Mother passed away, peacefully, in her sleep, as peacefully as one can pass away, I suppose.

Since then I have reflected quite a bit on how many good characteristics my Mother instilled in me, either through deliberate effort or just by example, and it has made me again realize how lucky I was to have someone with such incredible perseverance, such amazing faith and determination, raise me, and it has cemented in me the idea that I am one lucky man.

Thanks Mom, and Happy Birthday.

One More Dose Of Wonder

Chainsaw Alarm Clock

Woke up to the sounds of a chainsaw and falling tree limbs on Saturday morning. Looked out the back window and saw tree trimmers working to clear branches away from the power lines that run along the flood control canal behind the house.

Wasn't even 7:00am. Damn, those guys like to get to work early.

The Last Of The Delusions

A few days earlier, he had allowed himself the mercy of finally accepting the lumpiness of his body...but then came the judgement of his peers... men who had spent years, possibly decades, pondering their place in the union of men who let their physical conditioning slide...and it hit him like a bag of flying mallets.

He had crossed over. He had left the realm of the chubby and was now...fat.

"So, now what?" was all he could think as he stared into the mirror. "So what do I have to do now to lose all this extra weight?"

It wasn't so much a question he was asking himself as it was a backhanded confession of sorts. It was a see-what-your-recent-behavior-has-led-to accusation, actually.

Because he knew the answer was simply, "Stop doing what you're doing".

An answer that he didn't want to hear, and certainly did not want to have to recognize as...true.

Careful With That Broom, Kimberly