Dr Swift's referal of Horsford's Acid Phosphate

Rough on Rats, circa 1885 ~ Trouble sleeping? Constipation? Worms? Vermin in the home?
E.S. Wells manufactured a strange combination of products: medicines for the general public, as well as rat poison. Wells claimed that their Worm Syrup treated feverishness (in humans, not in rats), restlessness, and constipation, and would expel worms from the body. It was described on the trade card as "sweet and nice." (the card below not the advertisement above) Wells also manufactured a remedy for corns called "Rough on Corns." This trade card focuses on "Rough on Rats" poison, which was claimed to rid your house of rats, mice, roaches, flies, beetles, moths, ants, skunks, weasels, gophers, moles and muskrats.
If you can find this stuff in Walgreen's, let me know. . . .
The FDA: at least one government agency that's worth having around. Carol goes to a new doctor tomorrow. . . (new to her) and through the magic of Google, she found interesting stuff about him; he obtained his diploma in the Dominican Republic. I know the FDA and AMA wouldn't let him practice here unless he's well schooled....and competent....and certified... We'll keep y'all informed.

Tried and Trued Driving tips

Scenario #1. It’s 2 AM & you’re on a road trip. As you come over a hill your car's headlights shine on a barely visible herd of cattle ambling across the two-lane highway. What's your best option here?
1. Close your eyes, lay on the horn and pray like you’ve never prayed before.
2. Tap on your brakes, slowing enough to hopefully swerve miraculously through the cattle.
3. Wake everyone else up so they don’t miss seeing hamburger being made.

4. Scream like a girl!
Scenario #2. It's pitch black and dark on the highway. You’re passing another car while going over a hill and get a glimpse of a state trooper in the median. You notice you’re going 85 mph in 75 mph zone; you know you've been clocked already. What’s your best option?
1. Immediately hit your brakes and hope for the best.
2. Start the tears coming in hopes of sympathy when you get stopped.
3. Release the cruise control but don’t hit the brake pedal.

4. Tell your passenger to relax, you'll handle this.
I’ve actually experience both of these. Although I wasn’t driving in Scenario #1, I was awake and saw it all unfold. (It's incredible that your mind can think of so much in only seconds. Numerous bad scenes flashed through my mind. I thought of Carol & family and wondered how my funeral would be.) It was a Friday night and I was on my way back to Vegas with two friends after working during the week in So Lake Tahoe in 1973. Then, the road signs said; “Resume Safe Speed.” No speed limit on the open roads then. My friend, Bob Kohler, was driving, Max was asleep in the back seat, I was riding shotgun. Bobby said he was going about 100 mph, but at 22 yrs old, he may have exaggerated, who knows; but we always made "good time." (yes we had seat belts on) We used option 2, making it through the cows in Bobbie’s ugly green Dodge Dart unscathed. (replica - below) We stopped in Tonopah for bathroom break, more beer and kept on going.

Scenario #2 was just last year, a Friday night. About 3 miles south of Mesquite, is a favorite spot used by local cops and NHP who run radar both directions. I was passing a car to my right who obviously hit his brakes when he also saw the trooper. NHP came chasing and had tunnel vision on the brake lights, assuming he was the speeder, stopping him. I used option 3, above.

Although I don't recommend going through scenario #1, I can recommend #2 (in the event your cruise control had crept up on its own.) Happy Motoring, your friendly trained driver, signing off.

Rules of the road

As most of you know, I'm a trained driver. (quit laughing) That said, a crazy idea came to me to help those of you less fortunate who hadn't had the opportunities afforded me of several years of class room instruction and enjoyable, hands-on driver-training that included backing, turning, parking and high speed driving, to say nothing of having to enforce said laws being critical of others when I saw the necessity to call attention to them, the errors of their ways. "What, no one told me I have to stay in this lane all the way through my turn, officer!"

Hint # 1.

If a highway has been designed to provide a single center lane to be used only for turning by traffic moving in both directions, the following rules apply:
(a) A vehicle may be driven in the center turn lane only for the purpose of making a left-hand turn onto or from the highway.
(b) A vehicle must not travel more than 200 feet in a center turn lane before making a left-hand turn from the highway.
(c) A vehicle must not travel more than 50 feet in a center turn lane after making a left-hand turn onto the highway before merging with traffic.
I wonder what the legislatures where thinking when they wrote these rules....we don't carry tape measures to determine our accuracy of distances traveled, nor would there be a time we could actually pre-measure any distances. Rule of thumb: (approximations have to work) a normal front yard in a residential area is about 60 feet across. Hopefully this will save you aggravation in the event an on coming car wants to occupy this same turn lane you're in! Henry Ford predicted it would come to this and that's why cars have horns. (you guys probably already knew these facts though)

This is your friendly trained driver, signing off. Happy Motoring.

Grumbling in perspective

In reflecting on Carol's blog "we all have our own crap" I walked into the office Tuesday morning to an overflowing in-basket. My computer was slow and needed to reboot it. (would liked to have used a hammer) I listened to and noted several voice messages on my phone, sorted through new cases I'd opened vs closed cases information. I had to walk away from my desk after only 15 minutes.
As I was grumbling about my lousy start of the day, I talked to a co-worker who's crap made mine pale in comparison. Her elderly mother in law, who had just recently began living with them, had died in bed this weekend while they were out of the house; came home to discover it. While dealing with that, a grandson had left bathtub water running, causing a major flooding upstairs. Water has a sneaky way of finding its way through walls, outlets and even air conditioning vents and make its way downstairs. A terrible mess of damaged hard wood floors, (recently installed) sheet rock walls and ceilings, light fixtures, a computer and some carpet.
I made it through my in basket, returned phone calls & closed some of those pesky, newly opened cases. . . this is Wednesday . . . her problems are still there. Is my family's health improving? Will the Goons get their car back? Has work increased for RM? Are the Monkey Boys staying safe? Can Carol make it one more day on I-15? When can she retire? Will we see Dr. Emma visit anywhere else? When will I really be able to "retire?" Why are sliders square and hamburgers round? Life goes on. Hopefully :)

Home cooking 101.1 perfect fried eggs

Shayla's blog about Rotel & Cheese got me thinking. . .we could share cooking ideas that don't necessarily go on the cooking blog. (or not) I learned a little trick from my mother-in-law, Erma, on how to make perfect fried eggs. I have used it extensively since then without fail. The eggs come out perfect.
The basics:
Step 1. After spraying the pan and breaking the desired number of eggs in the pan, put approx one Tbs of water in a lid that will be able to completely cover the eggs.

Step 2. Pour water on eggs and place lid in place in one, quick, fluid motion. notice this lid is a tad smaller than the pan and fits snuggly in place; allows for steam to release without making a mess.

Step 3. Wait about one minute before lifting the lid to check on desired done-ness. (time may vary depending on IQ of cook, barometric pressure, gas prices, and heat source - gas or electric and child or spousal distractions.

Step 4. Eat. (These eggs happens to be on one of Grandma Tobler's raisin - cinnamon rolls, too lazy to make the usual waffle, one of life's little pleasures on weekends.)

Home cooking 101

(photo by Carol) Sometimes I enjoy cooking, as tonight when we had Linda & Mark over. Menu: grilled chicken breasts, tri-tip steak, zucchini and squash, sauteed red potatoes, cherry tomatoes & cucumber salad and water melon. Chicken: bbq rub and & Citrus Grill Grilling Sensations with a tad bit of olive oil to keep from sticking to grill. Steak: marinate in Yashida's Gourmet (teriyaki), ditto with olive oil ~ both then drizzled with bbq sauce when almost done. Zucchini & squash: wash & pat dry, cut lengthwise in 1/4's, let sit in olive oil, season to taste with Lawry's Seasoning Salt. Spuds: pre boiled, slightly cooled, cut into bite-sized pieces; saute in olive oil and a pat of real butter with garlic seasoning salt and chives, & pepper to taste. Tomato & cucumber: peel cucumbers, cut lengthwise, de-seed & cut into 1/4" pieces, halve cherry tomatoes, ad chopped fresh sweet basil & olive oil with a splash of "good-grade" Balsamic Vinaigrette, fresh pepper to taste. Watermelon. (notice mason jar of honey - great on fried potatoes)
Strange how food can bring back memories; I learned to cook as a young boy; spaghetti was my first real dinner I cooked from scratch. Everyone had to endure my experimental ingredients. Several years ago while on a Varsity scout high adventure week, a few boys said I cooked better than their mom. (I think they just didn't want to cook.) Some had never had fresh trout - they said it was still pink after I'd cooked it (me and Brett Mecham were the only two who caught any at Panquitch Lake; Justin Page threw his entire pool in the lake while casting; we used Tebbs' cabin one night) and I remember they liked my French Toast because I put Cinnamon in it. I come from a family of men-who-cook-at-home and I'm thankful Lindsay has shown great cooking skills, enjoyment and bbq knowledge... I wanna teach the Monkey Boys the fun of cooking some day :)
Bon Appetite everyone.

Some days are like that

Even though my heart wasn't in it this morning at 6:15 when I left this morning, I had a relatively good day at a reverse sting operation I worked today. (those who really know me, know I'm not overly fond of my job) A property management company let us use an empty house for the sole purpose of having unlicensed "contractors" arrive and give us bids for work they're not licensed to do. My team of three investigators call and pre-schedule them, trying not to overlap their visits. But, it's unavoidable and sometimes have two bids being worked up simultaneously. Greed and our role-playing as potential money targets allows them to continue. Only one today even had a basic business license. One legitimately licensed guy even arrived and boasted/recommended that we not obtain the necessary permits. He said it would save him time and me money. I'm looking forward to our conversation next week as he violated two state laws, not heinous ones, but he is cheating the system. Not until my last unlicensed painting contractor, (found on craiglist), did I self-evaluate what I was doing. He had arrived in a new truck and boasted how good he is. He carried no official forms. For a color chart for me to select my paint choice, he looked down and pointed to a few splotches of paint on his cargo shorts from the week's jobs. I had to laugh at that one. As I was writing the criminal citation he asked me how I could enjoy my job, "Why are you *%$#$*@ with guys just trying to make a living." "Why not go after Pedro and Jose?" I stopped writing, put down my pen, smiled and said, "I do enjoy it today." I reminded him he doesn't even have a business license, he's not special and above everyone else, I do enjoy my job when I recover money for homeowners who'd been victims of fraud and poor workmanship by guys like him and he's in no position to judge what I do. I didn't care what he thought of me or my job. I didn't loose my temper or take it personal like I would have when I was younger. (RM: no pool-guys, the neighborhood was not pool conducive.) So, I suppose the picture above would fit my mood; some days anyway. Just picture it an older man in lieu of the woman. . . .

pedaling in peril

vvvvvvvrrrrrrrrroooooooooooommmmmmmm, sssssssssswwwwwwwwiiiiiiiiisssssshhhhh. (the sound of approaching and passing cars and trucks along side of me as I pedal my bike) Dang Public Works. They design and make all these wide Vegas streets and forgot/overlooked/didn't consider marked bike lanes on most of them. Some bike lanes are strangely placed 12 feet from the curb, to allow cars to pass on both sides of you as you pedal. This makes no sense to me, especially, since the cars in the curb lane aren't allowed by law to occupy that lane for more than 300' prior to a right turn anyway. (actually, the NRS is not clear on how far one can drive in the turn lane, only that one has to signal their intention to turn, a minimum of 300' on a non-residential street) A few years back, my questions to the various public works in the valley about re-marking bike lanes with a different color were answered with typical "ostrich" attitudes: "That's not the way the National Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices (MUTCD) says to mark them." I think it's past time for a change in this manual, but who am I to question a government published text?
That said, I participated in the Vegas's version of he National Ride of Silence tonight that recognizes those cyclists killed this past year in our county. Pitiful turn out, about 25 riders here compared to estimated 2,000 in Dallas TX where this started. Several names, with their ages, were read. It was sobering to hear the names of those my age or younger who lost their lives doing something they enjoyed. Granted, I don't know any details of them, some may have been self-caused, some may have been driver inattention. I've seen some less-than-intelligent-cyclists riding around. Like tonight. I had a guy drafting me on a single-speed, no brakes, road bike. . . he was no more than 25 years old, immortal attitude.
The ride went well, albeit the advertised 10 miles turned into 15, which was fine. The organizer didn't calculate it correctly prior? Head wind and incline the first half, but then smooth pedaling, with the last three miles mostly costing down Sahara. I think I like more rural riding. . .

Shhhhh "let's ride"

Wednesday, May 20 is the National Ride of Silence - remembering those cyclists killed on the streets nation-wide. I can pick you and your bike up if wanna ride. Note: bike needs front & rear lights; you can get small clip-on and Velcro strap ones for $20 a set at most bike shops, Walmart, and or Target, etc and you need a helmet. Below link tells you all you need to know or who to contact if there's more you want to know that's not spelled out for you. :) FYI, ten miles is a piece of cake and you'll ride amongst some of the best and worst and mediocre cyclists in Vegas. You don't need fancy riding clothes but at least wear matching socks. E-mail me if you need a ride. (see email address at top of blog)

http://www.bikinglasvegas.com/cycling-blog/category/cycling-events/page/3/

Is burping appropriate?

Ok, if you're male or live around males you've experienced the loud burp. (I guess that would include everyone reading this?) When I was a little boy, I thought nothing of it. Later in life, as a boy scout leader, I noted that it was a common occurrence with the young'ns that invariably brought laughter, kudos for a "good one" or both. But, ONLY in outdoor settings, never inside. Boys find humor in these naturally occurring, bodily functions and other oddities. A few years ago while at Girls Camp, I was surprised that some young women I was with didn't know how to make themselves burp out loud. One night we happened to be in SLC for dinner. And me being me, things just happened. As we sat outside The Pie Pizzeria, I may have inadvertently taught them how it's done. I may have told them that taking big gulps of their 7/Up and root beer (maybe it was Pepsi and Coke) will cause this phenomenon. They were quick to try this, all on their own. The smiles and laughter are still vivid in my mind. I don't know who was prouder, me or those three young women. They were so cute. So, if your daughter is off to Girl's Camp, teach them ahead of time, they'll have an edge up on the younger, inexperienced ones.... after all, babies, dogs, cats and horses burp. It can make you feel better and we've heard that burping loudly at the dinner table is a sign of appreciation for a good meal in some customs. I would say that burping aloud is allowed at picnics, family get-to-gethers and backyard pool parties. FYI, if you're in SLC see: http://www.thepie.com/

The chicken or the egg?

I know this is no chicken or an egg in the picture below. But, someone laid an egg!!! (So, I had a moment and had to share it.)

This age old question of what came first,the chicken or the egg, doesn't compare to which came first, (in this picture) the house or the power pole? It'd be simple to find dated documents on when what work was done to solve this problem. Not so with the chicken/egg question. (Priority Mortgage is handling the listing on the home.) What else came first? The zipper or the Brooklyn Bridge? Cotton Gin or birth of Abraham Lincoln? Sewing machine or the book Tale of Two Cities? Paper clip or birth of Amelia Earhart? The turtle or the egg? The fish or the roe? (answers: zipper, cotton gin, sewing machine, paperclip, turtle & fish) Congratulate yourself if you got three out of six correct, the national average was only two correct.

As to the egg/chicken question, per the scientists and scholars: there is no correct answer. Since the question is a paradox, there is no answer. If the chicken came first, it came from the egg. If the egg came first, then it came from a chicken. (sounds like our new democrats discussing their ideologies) But we know differently, God created the great whales, and every living creature that moveth, . . . and every winged fowl after his kind.(Genesis 1) So, the question itself is a absurd, illogical and a moot point. I'm having barbecued chicken for dinner tonight and fried eggs with a raisin-cinnamon roll for breakfast tomorrow... :)

The heart & pay it forward

Here I was this morning, after arriving at 7:15 AM for my heart-stress test. (with a terrific sinus headache) All went well, except the pounding of my head with each plop, plop, plop of my feet on the tread mill as the angle and speed was increased each three minutes. I was grateful it only took 14 mins to get up to my target heart rate. I'd started with it low, between 55-58 beats per minute. "Oh, you must work out" the tech tells me. (Duh. . . I felt like I'd betrayed myself, as I hate these stress tests and my exercise had only manifested into more time on the treadmill to reach that target heart rate.) What IRONY. By 9 AM, I was free to eat and get something for my headache. I had Sinutab in my truck and The Cracked Egg restaurant was nearby. Bacon, eggs, hash browns and dry, wheat toast sounded very good right then. What? (I'd originally thought of oatmeal from Starbucks, but........... naw, I needed comfort food. I had a headache. I drew the line at biscuits and gravy though; it is goooood there!

As I was eating, I overheard a waitress tell an older woman nearby that someone had paid for her breakfast. She was confused but grateful. A light went on in my head. Just then, another older woman took the booth next to me. It was the sign I was waiting for. With her back to me, she ordered. I couldn't hear and was hoping it wasn't the $23 omelet as I pulled the waiter aside. I told him I want to pay for her breakfast, anonymously, of course. He brought me her bill; it was only $.03 more than mine. I can't explain the warm feeling that came over me as soon as I'd paid for her meal. Without expecting it, my eyes were watery. I didn't expect this feeling. She was still there when I left, so I didn't get to see her reaction. That warmth stayed with me as I returned to complete my heart tests. When done with these, my curiosity got the best of me and I returned to the scene of the deed and talked to the waiter. I asked him how she accepted the news of a free breakfast. He said she was very touched and appreciated it very much. Good, I didn't want her to feel embarrassed.

I debated how to write this, or if I should. I only write it to share my experience, certainly not to brag, after all, I was only paying back what'd happened to me. Anyone who knows me well, knows I'm cheap. (I will not repeat this for anyone wearing glasses with large nose and mustache attached.) (If you're looking for the old neighborhood photo results, scroll down below.)

Old neighborhood visit Winner

Ticia (York) Hegji wins (nothing - it was IF this were a Contest) with her correctly identifying 8 out of the 11 homes shown. Crystal identified 7, Lindsay & Shayla tied with 6. Honorable mentions with five-out-of-eleven, are Tracey and Carol, Barkermeister, three. tsk tsk (Nice try, Kim G, I liked your reasoning and logic).

They are in order: Rider's, Lindsay's, Williams's, Swift's ('79-'94), Haycock's, Barker's, Swift's ('76-'79), Steed's, Rowle's, Child's and Mecham's. (It was awesome to drive around the old neighborhood.)

To everyone who chose to supply answers, Ron M must have been on his Blackberry :) thanks for playing. Maybe, next time it'll be a real contest with a real prize.

IF this were a Contest - guess the homes

OK, forget my last blog post. Whilst driving through the old 'hood the other day I tried to recognize homes from the our 16th Ward days (I got some strange looks while I took the pictures and women grabbed their kids and ran inside slamming doors. My car doors were unlocked the entire time. No habla Espanol). Time can play tricks on the mind, even though every one of these homes I'd been in with good times; parties, progressive dinners, card games, home teaching, picking up kids for Seminary car-pooling, etc, I had to come back to the office and research some. It was a period of our family's life of growing up, learning who our true friends where, making life long friends, outdoor ward dinners that sometimes turned into huge water fights, being more involved in activities and organizations than we ever thought we would, and just making ends meet. Not much has changed in a few of these categories, it's the American Way; we weren't too far from Norman Rockwell's ideology back then.
Anyway, IF you can correctly identify the past or current owner(s) of said homes in photos below, #'s one through eleven respectively, you MAY be the winner of one of my contests. (Sorry, Kim G, and very few others, you won't know these; out of town family may recognize one or two....)

Food for thought...... there were no boats or SUV's in the driveways back then. Have fun on memory lane. This possible contest closure date is May something or the other.

vini, vidi, vici

We've all seen these words. They mean: "I came, I saw, I conquered." But, what's the Latin phrase for: "I stopped, I read and left without a comment"? Reasons for visiting a blog and not leaving a comment intrigue me. Various answers bounce around in my mind. Is it like a guest book at a wedding reception or funeral viewing? I guess I should be thankful that it doesn't keep me awake at night or have any effect on maintaining a, er, ah, hmmm, chain of thought. I'm thinking of calling a shrink. This question will slap me at the oddest times. Is there Blog Visit etiquette? I wonder if David Letterman had this thought, what he'd come up with as his top ten reasons for visiting without leaving a comment.

1. too busy, in a hurry

2. subject matter too boring

3. not interested ~ don't bug me ~ don't make me get out of this chair!

4. too shy/too quiet to leave my thoughts in print

5. if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all

7. not in the mood/my karma moon phase is out of sync

8. I don't care what anyone thinks, I think, about that particular blog thought

9. I'm a better listener

10. not to be rude, but it's none of your business

I'm not being critical or want to sound like a whiner. I'm just curious. So given the fact that I wonder, I know others must wonder too. I know KM did. CS did. Did they get answers? My life's motto has been, "To each his own, just leave me alone." I know we're all different. I know women talk more than men, but does that mean they write more too? Thanks for visiting.

(PS a BIG thanks to Carol, my header has been updated with a new & improved look.)

True Lies

"Come on buddy, the truth shall set you free."

As some of you may know I'm a criminal investigator. Just the facts, ma'am. I investigate the act of "contracting without a license" which on it's face seems like no big deal. (don't ask KM about this) Standing alone & with no prior convictions for the same offense, it's a simple misdemeanor. However, after almost five years of doing this I've found that more often than not, other, more serious crimes occur while the desperado is in the process of committing this heinous act. (not to mention substandard workmanship) Obtaining money under false pretenses, a felony if the amount obtained is over $250, is usually included in the act. The bad guy is a con-artist. What I've also found is the willingness and ease for me to be lied to. My personal drive is to then find the truth, and be able to prove it.

I have a sick sense of humor and accomplishment when I catch them in these lies. I sometimes use an "in your face, nya nyaa nyaaa, nyaaa - caught you" confrontation. Sometimes when this occurs, I get a verbal statement (re justae - Latin term for blurting out a response) of admittance from them. It's something like a lie-detector, but without the fancy equipment. I don't need no stinking equipment! Backed into a corner, guilt and their attempt at justification prods them to talk, but will not work on everyone, unfortunately. I've had some who are wise to the courts, hardened and too evil to admit anything, even when the facts are placed in front of them. Amazing. My satisfaction then, is filing the case with the D/A ensuring my affidavit is complete, and accurate with all the facts.

On a normal work day, I can interview both licensed and unlicensed contractors. Unlicensed contractors don't hold the record for most lies. Just recently, I've had licensed contractors give me a forged insurance certificate, phony employee records, an altered invoice and even a bid from a subcontractor who didn't do the work.

Another interesting player in my job is the homeowner. They lie to me too, just less frequently. They don't always do it intentionally, but because of greed, they are thinking they are not paying a higher priced licensed contractor, they often omit facts, state the guy is a friend or claim a lack of documents, job proposals, invoices, checks, etc. I had a similar homeowner this week, on Wednesday anyway. By today (Friday) his attitude changed and is more than willing to help. I pointed out the obvious to him: an unlicensed vinyl fence material supplier (not even a business license) had accepted a $17,000 check for a $25,000 block wall installation; a job with five separate trades involved. Two unskilled day-laborers on site. No permit for the job.

I got involved when the cement supply company asked for help when they didn't get their payment for cement delivery. (The "contractor" was suppose to have paid.) Also, the homeowner didn't want a lien placed on his home by the cement company. I called the unlicensed guy and confronted him with the facts that included his proposal via emails to the homeowner touting his quality and all he could do for the price. I was good-cop-bad-cop all in one with him on the phone. Initially, I only had his first name only. Before I hung up the phone, I had his full name, birth date, home address and a scared promise to meet with me for follow-up criminal charges to be determined next week. He wants all this to "go away." It will. :)

"Press hard, five copies." (he gets the pink copy with his court appearance information)

There's no real point to this, other than DOES EVERYONE LIE? Maybe it shoulda been an essay?

Combined birthday party

Since Tracey and Carol have birthdays so close together we combined the two parties into one this year. Lindsay made the cake. As you can see in the photo below, it is quite large to hold all the candles and feed the crowd we had. (A few neighbors came by to help light the candles that's why you won't recognize any of them).

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAROL AND TRACEY!!

Splish, splash, I drove around it!

If you're eating right now or fixin' to eat, don't read any further. I had a flash from Carol's "burnt eyes" blog today. I'm in traffic behind a large white, Chrysler. Occupied two times, white female adult driver & white male adult passenger. She appeared to be in her mid 40's with a messy, wild hair-do. The signal changed but we didn't move. The the driver pushed open her door, leaned out, and hurled on the street! Twice! I mean it gushed out with velocity that could crack a rib. Then just as quick, she sat up closing the door and drove off as she glanced down at the street. (I was thankful I'd originally stopped a car length behind her, as I do normally anyway; a carry over from police driver training.) I drove around the big glob of yuck in the street, suddenly feeling nauseous myself. Interestingly, as a cop I saw a lot of drunks throw up, none really bothered me. This one did. I watched as she suddenly changed lanes to the right and shot over to the the curb and repeat the vomit routine. In my rear view mirrors I watched a minor back-up in the traffic, obviously, others giving her wide birth. Why did I look, wasn't seeing this once enough?! It's true, we are our own worst enemy. Why do we look at the unusual & odd folks? (you know, like folks digging for gold using fingers, thumbs, etc or weird old ladies.) A truck pulled in behind her, and again, she was quickly on her way, the truck pulling back into traffic too. Maybe that was one of the few good Samaritans still out there, not one who drove past KM when he'd had problems a while back (vehicle ones).
As I drove away the nauseous subsided but it bothered me that it bothered me... I thought my years on the streets had hardened me to this. FYI, this was before lunch and I did just fine eating my Rubio's fish and steak tacos. (* police driver training tip #45. While waiting in traffic, remain back far enough from the car in front of you to see its tires on the pavement. If he stalls, or the driver pukes and doesn't drive off, you have room to steer around it. This is more efficient if you're not in a center, blocked in lane.) HAPPY MOTORING.

Happy Cinco de mayo

Hola Senoras, Senoritas and Senors. In the event you celebrate this holiday I thought you should know what it is. (I couldn't find a purple dinosaur so Shayla can have more fun!) It marks the victory of the Mexican Army over the French at the Battle of Puebla on some famous day in 1862. Not to be confused with Mexican Independence Day which is the 16th of September when the Mexicans celebrate their independence from Spanish rule. Sort of like USA's Independence day. To continue reading in English, push #1. I plan on dining at one of the Michocan Mexican restaurants in town with a few guys from the office. Arrreeba Arrreeba! ARREBATADOS-PISA NO INIMIGO.
But this got me thinking and in response to Alli's comment about "cop stories" . . . .

In my past cop-life as a young uniform cop on overtime, you may have found me at Freedom Park for this event -trying to keep the peace - or later as Sgt in Special Events supervising the cops doing this same thing. I'd recalled the problems I faced as a young cop and in Special Events I paired up Spanish Speaking officers with a gringo officers to alleviate the communication barrier.) When I was a young officer, some drunks found themselves in the paddy wagon out of frustration (mine) with no means to solve a problem other than arrest. I recall a few times being way out-numbered, but managed to get handcuffs on without much crowd interference. Once, however, several males stood between my partner and I while walking a prisoner out of the park to put in the awaiting prisoner transport, as if telling us we couldn't to this. I remember the fear - but didn't dare show it - and holding my baton out with my hand with the meanest look I could make, and pushing forward, while holding my half of the prisoner with my other hand. I'm sure the eight or so other cops there may have had some threatening factor that aided our presence. Maybe the fact that I didn't understand what everyone was yelling was a good thing? In either situation I found good food, albeit, I was selective of what vendor I bought from . . . . and BEFORE I'd made any arrests! This was also before I'd learned important phrases in Spanish: put your hands in the air, let me see your driver's license, what is your name? I do like Mexican food!

My request was honored-What An Honor

I listened to this two times. Jokingly, a few weeks ago, I'd asked if the Mecham's take requests for their Sunday night music blog. At KM's prompting I offered three suggestions. One I knew was out in left field (that's the way I am sometimes) with Spirit In The Sky by Norman Greenbaum. The other side of me offered two of my favorite hymns. See for yourself. I'm sure he won't mind. (as a side note, we've known his family since 1976. This isn't plagiarism or being a copy-cat is it?) Thanks Mechams.

See: http://mechamreview.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-weeks-music-with-mechams-is.html?showComment=1241412900001#c3293429433336603971

It snot you're mom's journal

I found this in Friday's Deseret News, one of my favorite comic strips; it shows the humor in what "older folks" do and say. Something I have to look forward to years from now. This one is appropriate for us 'bloggers.' (reproduced here with permission of original author) I thought it fit.

Who says?

Who says little boys can't eat fruit snacks, Ritz Mini Cheese crackers, chocolate chip cookies washed down with apple juice for dinner when just an hour earlier, the Monkey Boys weren't hungry enough to eat a Bajio's soft shelled chicken taco with sweet rice, pinto beans and mango salsa? Grandma and I don't say you can't. What happens in Utah stays in Utah. . . well, sort of. It all makes perfect sense if you think about it. We've done that "eat your dinner or else" stuff years ago when we were young(er). We've worked all week and this is our sanctuary. We deserve as much quiet as we can fit into the weekend. (how many weekends do we have left in this mortal life, anyway?) Not wanting to disrupt the tranquility equation that exists here, we over-look the small stuff. We did say "No!" earlier when they wanted to jump off the roof using an umbrella for a parachute, so we're not total inept, dementia controlled grandparents. Nothing personal to my own, perfect, off-spring, but it's much different when dealing with my grandsons.