Sent at 10:41 AM on Friday
me: “May – We get there” is the slogan for our safety awareness month
Ted: haha
hahaha
me: They assigned us all two centers each
Ted: May – With less death!
me: f4jkl;
me: hahaha
ok… so as a nod to the ill-conceived breast cancer tshirt of last year
I redesigned the logo
from
“May – We get there. No one gets hurt.”
to
“May – Pain Suffering Swelling – Love – Dismemberment SUCKS”
Ted: ROFLOL

I don’t know if Saturday was extraordinary, but it was notable. I left home around 9am to go grab a couple of shrubs and some mulch. I’d be home in an hour or so.

But first, I would drop by Mocha Joe’s for a cup of coffee and a couple of bags of beans. As I walked through the door, John, the owner of Blazin’ Burrito who I befriended last winter right there at Mocha Joe’s, says my name. I step toward the counter and the owner, Kyle greets me. So does Emily, who goes to my church. I look to the side and two other men I only know from Saturdays at Joe’s are there. We speak briefly.

Taking a seat, I visited with John and Andy, both business owners strategizing a plan to raise funds to offset the Southside Band’s loss of $250,000.00 to an apparently crooked travel agent from Hawaii.

An hour and a half later I left with my beans.

I love walking around at Sharum’s when I need a tree or shrub, but I made decent time choosing my two multi-colored Boxwoods. Next, I’d drop by Wal-Mart for my mulch. I was behind schedule now, so it would be a brief stop.

I got a great parking spot, near the mulch outside, I walked over and was looking down at the bags of peat moss when a voice asks what I’m looking for.
“Oh, ground cover, cedar chips probably.”
“Ah, well that’s peat, the chips are down there.”
“Yeah, just wondering how I would ever use this moss.” And I look up and it’s not an employee, it’s Bobby Altes.

An hour later, after talking local and state politics, we part from that spot, I choose my red mulch and depart. I now had a sunburn and I hadn’t even begun my day of yard work.

As I was pulling away, I dialed ahead for burgers from Reed’s drive in, which is about ONE minute from Wal-Mart. Their old fashioned mustard-pickle-onion hamburgers are the best in Fort Smith, with White Spot giving them a good run for their money.

I returned home at 1pm. I pulled 5 dead shrubs, planted my Boxwoods, then decided I needed weed guard and ran down to Yeagers. I returned home and began laying the rubber sheets, only to realize I needed the little pins to hold it down. I went back to Yeagers and got the pins, layed it, pinned it, then dumped 9/12 bags of red mulch.

Whew.

Throughout the day Tasha and her mother were working hard in her yard planting, trimming and painting. At some point between 1pm and 7pm, each and every neighbor that I know on my street walked over to say hello.

Then I picked a stem of my mint for later, cleaned up, then made fresh mint tea. It was awesome.

Then I shaved half of my beard, WHICH LOOKED FREAKY, sent my little brother a picture, then shaved it all, WHICH LOOKS FREAKY. Floyd showed concern for my loss of furr.

It was a day that felt best near it’s end.

Thanks to Yvette’s daughter for a delicious cupcake this morning. Now my mouth is blue.

My brilliant idea from the weekend was to start an Ice Cream company. All the employees will dress up like law enforcement. Our slogan will be “To Protect and Soft-serve”.

Our signs will say “Our flavors are ARRESTING!”

TV spots will say, “Let us put you behind one of OUR bars!” as chocolate ice cream bars encase the screen.

Flavors will include Handcuff Truffle, Glock Grape, Sig Fig, Three-Nut Spreadem’, Hands Up Buttercup, Don’t Shoot Mixed Fruit, Miranda Banana, Concealed Carry Cherry, Pat Down Dark Brown, Dumb Rookie Cookie, Candy Pink Precinct , Swat Team Sour, Perp Purp, Push em’ from the Railing Praline, Watermelon Felon, Incarceration Sensation, Riggs and Murtaugh’s Marshmellow Madness, and Donut.

Other menu items will include
Cream-filled alternative snack: Cagney and Lacey’s “Hot Cop” Pastry
House Soup will be: Beretta Black Chedda
Sandwiches: The Hot Ham-mer Slammer and The Rodney King Jalapeno Club (‘Your bowels will take a beating’)

GI socks are awesome for dress-ware. They are comfy and partly wool, so they keep you warm. (Buy large, they shrink).

When you are seated, even at work, there’s no harm in pulling pants above navel.

This is my last year that I could be accepted by a military branch for general service (There’s still entry by direct commission).

Prostate Exam.

The end of the American Era actually MAY come within my lifetime. 7 years ago I argued in a foreign policy class that it would not (I was in the minority).

Welch’s Grape Juice still is just as good to me as it was 30 years ago.

I can still quote Monty Python, though I rarely do.

A hundred years from now, it won’t matter anyway.

Friday
It’s not every day that a strange yet attractive blonde woman shaves your nipples, but yesterday was one of those days.

I’d felt some strange abnormalities in the chest going on for some months, and so doc decided to hook me up with a 48 hour heart monitor. I have a feeling it is related to my intake of copious amounts of coffee, which I have only consequently begun to curve. We’ll see.

“Sit right here on the table and take off both your shirts.” She moved to stand before me with an electric razor.
“You aren’t gonna need that,” I said looking at the razor.
“Well you just make my job easy,” she said. Then, I think to be polite, she went ahead and used the razor in a couple of spots.
They gave me a journal to record times and events. They will review it as they review the digital recording of my heartbeat.

Now that I’m wired, there were, of course, no significant heart thumping events to speak of that day. Nor yet today. Of course, the car never makes that noise when the mechanic is listening.

Saturday
Went to the Wanamaker gun show in Tulsa today. Simply incredible. It is the largest gun show in the world. Fort Smith gun shows are rockin when they hit 500 tables. This show boasts from 4-5,000 tables.

Sat Evening
After over 48 hours I removed my chest sensors on the ride home. We got back around 5pm, and so of course at 6pm I finally had a good heart thumping.

Some Heart Journal Entries from my 48 hours:
TH 2:26pm Slight Thumping – Attractive women at doctor’s office.
510pm Cuddled with Cat, FYI
736pm Corpse defiled by friend John in Battlefield, slight palpitation.
FR 8:25am Ignored Rule, took illegal shower. Very awkward for me and cat.
1220PM Quick lunch nap.
5:12pm Cuddled with Cat. Can you hear that?
Sat 5:40am Another illegal shower. Had to; road trip.
8:05am Tulsa Gun Show! Increased rate.
8:07am .50 BMG! Increased rate.
8:15am Tactical booth 1 / 50. Increased rate.
8:21am Considered just unplugging this. Will note exit from show.
12:18pm Leaving Show, mark normal pulse here.
Sat 1:48pm PF Chang. Eating things I can’t pronounce. STUFFED.
2:01 STILL STUFFED.
3:45 Removing unit BEFORE we enter Roland, in case we are pulled over. Never give Sequoyah County law enforcement an excuse to ticket, taze or take you down. Probes on nipples may qualify.

“Oh, hi, good morning, Justin.”

“Good morning, Rena, how are you?”

“Good, I meant to tell you, my husband and I went to that Mideaval Times in Dallas over the weekend. I thought of you, you would have enjoyed it. Though I mean, with your sword fighting expertise you probably would have been like, WHAT? What are they doing?”

“Ah, yeah, I bet that– wait, what?”

I got a used military ACU top today. I’m not sure when I’ll ever wear it outside of the BATHROOM, but I hope now to look extra cool as I point my rifle at myself in the mirror. This top replaces my trusty BDU in woodland camo, which has served me well for over a decade of holding myself at gunpoint.

I have always believed the key to non-veterans wearing military camo is to wear only a piece at a time. Either that or to sew a Spongebob patch on each arm. Something to thwart the notion in others that you are a huge wannabe instead of just an average civilian wannabe. And lets face it, I wanna be.

So no, I don’t feel silly wearing a piece or two of used military gear. Most of it is great quality stuff, and since soldiers have to buy their uniforms, they often sell the old ones. Further, our tax dollars supply billions in equipment to the military each year. To recover a fragment of this expense, they liquidate used, obsolete and excess stock to surplus outlets. A great many hunters and outdoor enthusiasts find gear at these stores. We have one small one in Fort Smith, where I purchased my ACU top.

I see soldiers and I’m proud, and in many ways I wish I would have been one. When I chat with them I look for tasteful opportunities to brag on my own family’s soldier, LTC Tony. LTC – That’s a rank acronym for Licensed To Catch bass apparently. Sometimes I like to add that I also have a buddy, Chris – an Army medic – who just RETIRED AT AGE 40. (From the Guard, anyway.) I like saying that.

I love to see my friend Will return from Guard drill and come right to church in his uniform. Of course more than anything I like to see old veterans stand up in a crowd when asked, for recognition. I care little for movie stars, wouldn’t cross the road for more than five or ten musician autographs, and there’s pretty well no political figures left to admire. But an old soldier has an instant chance of being placed on my admiration list. I’ve been friends with many. Actually, I used to KEEP an autograph book just for WWII / Korea vets in my truck at all times.

Don’t misapprehend me. Some of the biggest jack-tards I’ve had the misfortune to share air with have been veterans, also. Like the two bit who wanted to date the girl I was dating, so at a small cookout party he decided he needed to ‘pee’ in my direction. Keep in mind, we are adults here, in our 30′s.

“That’s quite a cat,” I responded to a girl’s story about her cat. “My little brother taught his cat to hop in the pickup truck and go for a ride when he yells, “Load up!”. People laughed.

From the side of the room, a voice heretofore not a part of the group conversation uttered, in a mono tonal pitch best described as retardation, a response:

“MY DOG EAT THAT CAT.”

Confused and unwilling to believe what I’d heard… what we’d heard… everyone paused, then continued on with our little party.

What’s fun is that for the years since that happened, I randomly remind myself aloud while driving, while over-burdened with work, or perhaps while brushing my teeth vigorously. My dog… eat that cat, Justin.

Once I was at home in the middle of a heavy workout on the drums. I was ‘droppin’ it like it was hot’ when Floyd went running wildly through the room, back and forth. On his fourth pass, I was at an even break in my solo as he bounced off a wall, deflected from a bookshelf and landed on my keyboard right out in front of my drums. As he froze momentarily in a crouched position, about to continue his drum-inspired berzerking, I drew the solo to a dramatic pause, and just like an 80′s hairband drummer in makeup, spinning his stick, I bolted up from my drum throne, pointed a stick at Floyd and screamed
MY
DOG
EAT
THAT
CAT
!!!

Then dropped down and continued my solo.

So versatile an admonition, no matter my state, I am again happy.

So you see? Even the lesser gifted ex-soldiers can be of value. But truthfully I just don’t meet a lot like that. Most of them are pretty cool guys. Two of my best buddies from youth became soldiers before continuing on to other careers. Granted, one dropped off the face of the earth, sucked into the abyss, I’m told, of New York or Jersey or Brunswick or Haven or Mexico (One of these things is not like the others, one of these things does not belong…). Man, I miss James.

Then there’s Moon. Moon is like, a legend. One of those personalities that’s huge and notable in my recollection of days gone by. Moon chose to be an Army medic. That’s just cool, in my book. My first WWII soldier interview was an Army Medic. Chad’s B’s grandpa. For over 50 years he had never spoken of the horrors he witnessed, not to his wife or children, not to anyone. The man couldn’t be in a room with a black and white John Wayne war movie.

I turned on a tape recorder, asked him his name, his last rank and serial number and then shut my mouth until both sides of two cassette tapes were full of things that make me know I’m thankful to God for American soldiers, and thankful for what I have never seen.

Nom Nom, Kitties.