This is how I felt Monday - woke up with an excruciating headache, took a 2 hour bath (fell asleep 3 times), was nauseous, had chills, went back to bed, finally got dressed around 4:00p and puttered around the house.
Tuesday, I went to the eye doctor and had a tiny sliver of metal removed from my eye, and returned to the office. Possibly a welding/grinding mishap from a week ago or so.
The eye doctor was very pretty, but, alas (a fair bonny lass), married.
I know that I, El Donaldo, do not have your superior recipes for chorizo y chalupas y enchiladas con guacamolé. But could it be that otra vez, jou are angry at something else, like jou know, jou found another grey hair and jou're PMS-ing and yust getting all peesed off and are looking to take it out on me, El Donaldo, porque I am convenient?
Although my mother has been telling me for two or three years to check out the Sprouts grocery store, I had never done so. I mean, at my age, I'd hate to have to surrender my 'man card' for doing things my mother tells me to do.
Instead, I was helping a friend with some Mr. Fixit issues that his wife wanted done around their house (my own house probably feels neglected, since there is presently no Mrs. to lobby for fixits on its behalf, and I am more motivated to do projects: a) knowing someone will appreciate it, and b) with someone assisting - you armchair shrinks are free to psychoanalyze me on that). And in the course of the home repairs, we were tasked with summoning up some groceries (as well as Mr. Jim's Pizza for the kids), which led to my first visit to Sprouts, in North Dallas.
Lo and behold, I found I liked it (I have tried Central Market a few times and can't quite get past the 'foodie' pretense and those asinine radio commercials, although I do like the café - have enjoyed it for brunch, Chamber of Commerce events, and the evening patio with live folksingers). The store was mid-sized, lots of bulk bins, a good selection of produce, and plenty of esoteric items not found at the Kroger or Wal-Mart Neighborhood Grocery.
So this morning I decided to go to the Sprouts near my house, for some of my own shopping, in the process buying produce, bulk beans (7 bean soup blend), and some wild rice blend. But what struck my fancy was in the wine section.
On PBS the last season or so, there's been a 'reality show' where several budding œnophiles-cum-vintners (minds out of the gutter, please) compete to launch their own brands of wine. As I understand it, the TV contest, featuring wine industry experts, winnows about 16 wanna-be Paul/Paula Massons down to one who wins a production deal, or a golden corkscrew or somesuch. It encompasses knowing the growing regions (types of grapes and soils they grow in), understanding the 'nose' of different wines, production methods, distribution, and marketing. One of the dumber segments is the marketing part, where they have to come up with clever names and graphics for their products.
Which explains why one sees Mad Housewife, Elephant on a Tightrope, Fat Bastard, Frog Piss, and Puking Peccary on the labels of Chenin Blanc or Pinot Grigio (OK, I made up Puking Peccary, but the rest are real).
So, you can imagine my puzzlement at seeing a white bottled wine labeled Fünf in the wine display at Sprouts. Having lived in a German-speaking country for a time, I immedidately recognized it as German for "Five" (as well as the fact that the word was superimposed over the number). Hey, I gotta mind like a mousetrap.
Back home, I googled the website, where the screw-off-bottle brand's marketing proclaimed the delightfulness of their Riesling, "Because, after all, most fun starts at five o’clock, right?"
True enough, I suppose.
But I think it's because those in the know, know that Fünf is always followed by Sechs...
Often, focusing on the perceived vice blinds people to the greater virtue(s) that a person possesses.
This is true today, as it was true during the Civil War, when complaints reached President Abraham Lincoln about General Ulysses S. Grant's drinking habits in time of war.
"Grant's drunkenness had no impact on his ability to take the pivotal city of Vicksburg on July 4th. In fact, when Abraham Lincoln was confronted by more stories of Grant's drinking, he declared if he could find the brand of whiskey Grant drinks, he would promptly distribute it to the rest of his generals."¹
Unfortunately, leaders with Lincoln's intellect, character insight, and fortitude to fight for right, are rare.
As an aside, it's noted that while the above story is true, the degree of Grant's drinking, even at the time, was probably greatly exaggerated for different political purposes. Some accounts posit that, due to his size, Grant was rarely actually inebriated.
Yeah, I passed up the easy 'Scooby Doo', partly in deference to blogger RPM, who recently used that phrase.
As so often happens, I was researching (?) goofing off and googled the phrase "Ruh-roh" to confirm I had the correct, uh, etymology. You see, it is often attributed to the Scooby Doo series, but it actually originated with the Jetsons. Voice actor Don Messick provided the voice of both Astro and Scooby.
Anyway, googling "Ruh-roh" pulled up the following image, which gave me a chuckle:
"Boys, in my life I've only had sexual relations with one woman, my wife. Later this year, we'll be married 53 years."
Obviously, the speaker wasn't William Jefferson Clinton.
Instead, it was a man leading a morning group of men who study the Big Book of Myths and Fables, as an area blog commenter enjoys calling the Christian Bible. And, in case you're wondering, I attend this group.
He continued: "I was recently counseling a younger man in our Church who wanted to know how far he could go without crossing the line in his marriage. Unfortunately, he was calling me from the parking lot of a strip-club."
The context of this was the study of the reign of King David in the book of Samuel. David, of course, instead of being with his army, had been relaxing on his palace roof, and instead of looking toward the tabernacle and seeking God's will, he engaged some peeping-tomery on Bathsheba, and sent a messenger to find out who she was. He was told that she was the wife of Uriah.
Our speaker continued: "God gives you the first look for free. You can see a pretty woman walk by, and you can say or think "That's a pretty woman", but if you're married, or she is, that's the end of it. If you continue to pursue or make plans or fantasize or whatever, you've crossed the line, brother."
King David, we know, who already had several wives and concubines, dismissed the fact that Bathsheba was married, and had her brought to his palace, whereupon they got jiggy with it, and she became pregnant. To conceal his/their sin, he arranged for Uriah to be killed in battle, and some other men were killed also. The child died soon after birth, and David's reign began its decline.
"Guys, Proverbs 5:18 says "May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth". My wife's body, in the past few years, has been beaten by illnesses and scarred by a double mastectomy. But I rejoice in the wife of my youth."
You could've heard a pin drop. For me, part of the poignancy was that my own parents celebrated their 52nd anniversary a couple of weeks ago.
I've known the man for about three years. Long enough to know that his oration that morning was not boastful or self-aggrandizing - within the subject matter, it was a reminder of the responsibility that Christ followers have, and a testimony that, despite popular culture and the temptations we're faced with, we have options and are not to enslave ourselves to the sinful desires.
It's doubtful that the speaker and Todd the Blogger have ever met, but certainly they would agree that while we may not see the beauty or sometimes the reason behind what we're called to do, and the events that happen in our lives, God is weaving the 'Threads' of a beautiful tapestry.
Driving home from somewhere over the weekend, middle son noticed a billboard advertising The Virginity Hit, apparently a newly released or upcoming movie about the hilarity that ensues as a socially awkward teen tries to lose his. Due to the presentation on the billboard, one that frequently advertises different church series, it wasn't immediately clear that it was a movie. Except that I'd noticed it a day or two earlier and told him that's what it was.
I then remarked to him that I was a 'born again virgin', sort of a toss-away remark.
"A born-again virgin."
"What kind of virgin?"
"Born-Again." I'd had no idea this was a complex concept.
I've already well established on this blog that I own up to my curmudgeonliness, so it shouldn't surprise that I'm a bit nonplused by the premise of such a movie. I hope to instill the same sort of values for my sons as for my daughter, although I do enjoy the abstraction of a mildly ribald anecdote.
Anyway, the exchange ended up being a very roundabout way of saying "Dad isn't getting any, so don't feel like you're in a race to get some yourself."
OK, I don't currently have a "baby" - it's a line from an old Michael Murphey song.
I got an email notice today from Family Video, touting their latest releases. One of them caught my eyes (I don't like to use the 'eye' singular - makes me sound like Cyclops):
The description reads as follows: An Old West gunslinger is forced to choose between siding with a gang of violent outlaws and law-abiding citizens while pursuing the bandits that stole his money. Doc West (Terence Hill) has a talent for winning at poker, and a steady hand with a six shooter. When a gang of bandits make off with his winnings, Doc follows them to the next town and seeks vengeance at the poker table. But the game quickly goes awry, and Doc winds up cooling his heels in the local jail. Later, when the streets of the dusty frontier town erupt into gunfire, Doc realizes that his past has finally caught up with him, and realizes that if he's going to make it out alive, he'll have to choose sides.
OK, so the clichéd description is rather lame. But, there's one piece of relevant information contained therein, and it's that Terence Hill is in it.
Terence Hill, née Mario Girotti, you may recall, is the Italian actor who starred opposite Henry Fonda in possibly one of the finest movies ever made, My Name is Trinity, a Sergio Leone "spaghetti western". He was also in the non-western Mr. Billions, but it's the role in the Trinity series that's etched in my memory.
I gotta rent that this weekend. (Also new this week on video, That Evening Sun, starring Hal Holbrook.)
After a couple of posts in which I lampooned the Glee, I'm looking at wfaa.com and see an ad for an upcoming production at Casa Mañana of The Sound of Music.
With special sing-a-long performance at 7 p.m. September 19.
They mock me.
You see, the movie version with Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer premiered when I was four-and-a-half. My parents went to see it, and, Dad being an audiophile, I was treated to multiple playings of the RCA Hi-Fi reel-to-reel soundtrack recording. (Note to youngsters: This was before MP-3 - way before.) Precocious young minds assimilate repeated exposure to stimulus readily, and for some reason, so did mine.
So much so, that, when Mom took me to the theatre, some time later, in downtown Tulsa to see the movie, I was able to sing along, word for word.
Until I fell asleep. For which the other moviegoers were probably grateful.
But I still think the dude from Glee singing Burt Bacharach/Hal David's A House Is Not a Home, ostensibly to another guy, is creepy.