tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863068258984978512024-03-12T17:53:35.644-07:00Rupe's Value Added Services ... ReduxBe thorough. Read the small printRuprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.comBlogger556125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-1126625757971171802024-01-25T08:21:00.000-08:002024-01-25T08:21:25.693-08:00Goodbye Yellow Brick Road<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkD1k68IQJL2WdaRzCHP7n5MG9hZvWhs7sOQdcAOxlzIrsPjPaqXR_EkYgEbDzIDp2Bm9E2oqbD4BZx17zZiEEEzOWHKKDosjY9Ak9cEeAX3KIEejtBbOTmpfETxIoBDlQXgEtavUZE1EV4-zBH8h1w_GegcO7K2Z5wV0ziXGio-VxtWj2UATCnqQgoGD/s681/Tin%20Man%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="383" height="622" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkD1k68IQJL2WdaRzCHP7n5MG9hZvWhs7sOQdcAOxlzIrsPjPaqXR_EkYgEbDzIDp2Bm9E2oqbD4BZx17zZiEEEzOWHKKDosjY9Ak9cEeAX3KIEejtBbOTmpfETxIoBDlQXgEtavUZE1EV4-zBH8h1w_GegcO7K2Z5wV0ziXGio-VxtWj2UATCnqQgoGD/w350-h622/Tin%20Man%201.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now ... I can't state we have the largest, most extensive, keenest and most envious collection of <i><b><span style="color: #04ff00;">The Wizard Of Oz</span></b></i> collectible in the continental United States ...<br /><br />However, I can state we have a few items in the collection which are pretty cool.<br /><br />But this isn't about how cool this household's <i><b><span style="color: #04ff00;">Oz</span></b></i> acquisitions may or may not be. <br /><br />It <i><u>IS</u></i> about the loss of one piece of memorabilia in particular, however.<br /><br />The beloved <span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><b>Tin Man</b></span> doll. <br /><br />I'm currently in the midst of cleaning and rearranging our media room. Leaning against the base of a Wicked Witch Of The West nutcracker was said Tin Man doll. When I reached to remove him I discovered he was "stuck" to the Witch's base. I didn't remember it being part of the Witch figure so I lifted both gingerly. And, to my surprise, I was greeted with a tacky stickiness from The Tin Man as I attempt to pull him away from The Witch. <br /><br />The material he was made of had somehow denigrated to the point it was virtually melting. He had "glued" himself to The Witch and wasn't easily being removed, as if he'd lovingly become "attached" to her, contrary to his fear and loathing of her in the film.<br /><br />It was quite evident Tin Man was toast as I stripped him away and left residue of him attached to her base. He had obviously met his end and it was time for him to exit stage left.<br /><br />Goodbye, </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><b>Tin Man</b></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> ... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYMBgkmrnwScWQ6C7Ty4UPmUh3Xia8OLY4cvpFLxM3T63Tm2FRZThifDP-RRnIQ6-LEVCP05bytYqHZQhltgXfRyypE7k7X4kquiVThj_GPLhEUmJusjmUWjiKC85HH701Ex-KOxZgSfiJzReqFGy1Q2AAcY1CuAlVTzsNpsegGby8g-3-1YlEAkVnCVw/s681/Tin%20Man%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="383" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYMBgkmrnwScWQ6C7Ty4UPmUh3Xia8OLY4cvpFLxM3T63Tm2FRZThifDP-RRnIQ6-LEVCP05bytYqHZQhltgXfRyypE7k7X4kquiVThj_GPLhEUmJusjmUWjiKC85HH701Ex-KOxZgSfiJzReqFGy1Q2AAcY1CuAlVTzsNpsegGby8g-3-1YlEAkVnCVw/s320/Tin%20Man%202.jpg" width="180" /> </a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span>.......... Ruprecht (</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><span>Heart?</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span> <b><span style="color: red;">STOP</span></b></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">ped</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span> )</span></span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br /> </span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-13781361495598211332024-01-23T07:02:00.000-08:002024-01-23T07:05:41.461-08:00Success!<p> </p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt69OLOMSE2d3iFUecKYVkk5kRVLwbmsJBk3QFgFjHx-6ToxpemSaMMkbvsnsxQie6PKW7nXr02zOmugSJd8bv_hqGud8DRqxJnkmbK3Io-_DEMWQM5FstrQe65zuRgGVqGPyxVi23Bdm-n74b43Ff3Awv9N8nEw_zSeIw48ysakaN6BOGVaqInv3IVrNE/s251/Steve%20Richter%20Art.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="172" data-original-width="251" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt69OLOMSE2d3iFUecKYVkk5kRVLwbmsJBk3QFgFjHx-6ToxpemSaMMkbvsnsxQie6PKW7nXr02zOmugSJd8bv_hqGud8DRqxJnkmbK3Io-_DEMWQM5FstrQe65zuRgGVqGPyxVi23Bdm-n74b43Ff3Awv9N8nEw_zSeIw48ysakaN6BOGVaqInv3IVrNE/w397-h272/Steve%20Richter%20Art.jpg" width="397" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It was around August of 2012 <b>Steve Richter</b> started his <a href="https://www.steverichterart.com/uncategorized/all-new-cartoon-contest/" target="_blank">Cartoon Caption Contest</a>. <br /><br />And that means I've been contributing captions for 12 years. <br /><br />But it wasn't until this latest competition I actually won coveted bragging rights in the form of first runner-up!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBnZYAQYD6LLyAXwY7h0bHE7Bhccm5WEG_yXkd8dzKTMOVHgZJV4Thn8JlU-4IUZ4rXtW3J_j_hc3KDhRIYrzzLUWiE-8DwH-c5_hdwi0IxrjP4tMyPwZfQLnIlXUs3_Luun86FdIOq-b_Kld8Pb7IPYpipHh-v2WMqx2Xfhr98wP0ykf9J0v9VcnTSoA/s1024/Monster-Michael-Noble-1024x646.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="1024" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBnZYAQYD6LLyAXwY7h0bHE7Bhccm5WEG_yXkd8dzKTMOVHgZJV4Thn8JlU-4IUZ4rXtW3J_j_hc3KDhRIYrzzLUWiE-8DwH-c5_hdwi0IxrjP4tMyPwZfQLnIlXUs3_Luun86FdIOq-b_Kld8Pb7IPYpipHh-v2WMqx2Xfhr98wP0ykf9J0v9VcnTSoA/w448-h283/Monster-Michael-Noble-1024x646.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br />Persistence pays off! </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span>.......... Ruprecht (</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">doesn't know the word</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span> <b><span style="color: red;">STOP</span></b> </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">when it comes to captioning cartoons</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span> )</span></span></p><p></p><br />Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-45842684056540695312024-01-13T06:58:00.000-08:002024-01-13T06:59:38.197-08:00One Collection I Don't Need ...<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyaxqEPG5Uj7YfeXoQN-w1inmcvu_Qcon7d3C-6sgWYULHZlx6EWiH0VicCShvLH26F__nwK0FlTB3rNwhEdGka6Fot_0-796mkgY3ejxscGdmEJLmPXj40B5OEFIZveC5JNBkRacLWNLo2u6T69q3VGh88Jr1IO3sFaKVvgxCI76QX36AxwS_Is4pmra_/s1200/Samuel%20Spade%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyaxqEPG5Uj7YfeXoQN-w1inmcvu_Qcon7d3C-6sgWYULHZlx6EWiH0VicCShvLH26F__nwK0FlTB3rNwhEdGka6Fot_0-796mkgY3ejxscGdmEJLmPXj40B5OEFIZveC5JNBkRacLWNLo2u6T69q3VGh88Jr1IO3sFaKVvgxCI76QX36AxwS_Is4pmra_/s320/Samuel%20Spade%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><i>No. Just ... no ...</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><i> </i></span><br /></div><div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I pass the couple items of clutter on the kitchen counter on the way to getting water for my morning coffee ... and it was as if a wave of </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">déjà vu </span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">struck me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">An errant soft drink cup from the night before featuring an image of the titular character from the program <i><b>Reacher</b></i> emblazoned on it got me thinking: <br /> </span></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><span style="color: #01ffff;">"When am I going to be able to collect the <b>Monsieur Spade</b> promo cups with the new series featuring Clive Owen bowing on <b>AMC</b> in just a few days?"</span></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItX4ndWFEUnQmF-G7NXZxNYQIfsajmhDQZaVk7tg1pF_164uR3i2LMBPi5vyIF8UAcDq7c9M7uDFmlv0WgZwjFsUOz2QbLqUWizgqCWd6TCC99XTdoFAGiQ4nzfdk6Nxy63wAoqoPVxAOnOzUVe2Ww21SaLeP5d-SCbAf-Tudev7yliI9Bq9_3nobHBaL/s618/Samuel%20Spade%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="551" data-original-width="618" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItX4ndWFEUnQmF-G7NXZxNYQIfsajmhDQZaVk7tg1pF_164uR3i2LMBPi5vyIF8UAcDq7c9M7uDFmlv0WgZwjFsUOz2QbLqUWizgqCWd6TCC99XTdoFAGiQ4nzfdk6Nxy63wAoqoPVxAOnOzUVe2Ww21SaLeP5d-SCbAf-Tudev7yliI9Bq9_3nobHBaL/s320/Samuel%20Spade%204.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyaxqEPG5Uj7YfeXoQN-w1inmcvu_Qcon7d3C-6sgWYULHZlx6EWiH0VicCShvLH26F__nwK0FlTB3rNwhEdGka6Fot_0-796mkgY3ejxscGdmEJLmPXj40B5OEFIZveC5JNBkRacLWNLo2u6T69q3VGh88Jr1IO3sFaKVvgxCI76QX36AxwS_Is4pmra_/s1200/Samuel%20Spade%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <br /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Absolutely not</i></span><br /></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You know ... promo cups akin to those of the Marvel character Slurpee cups of old I collected from 7 Eleven in my youth.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AA-oKCKKkbzIgdJEN4F5loQvt_2DUpQRPHT_glDISSpDMAFZgprOiXfvmQoLox8srX79JxJ_iC6vXfvdXv_i2D4CYPH99a3ScPUGRrbh9RbM2kPlKCocJsMtp9R4yWf1OyaCvzhxEQkk4hBymCSzBYfEZO2lRyT9xuHn5PEtkRMACq2X0DQrj7n8humd/s700/Marvel%20Cups.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="700" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AA-oKCKKkbzIgdJEN4F5loQvt_2DUpQRPHT_glDISSpDMAFZgprOiXfvmQoLox8srX79JxJ_iC6vXfvdXv_i2D4CYPH99a3ScPUGRrbh9RbM2kPlKCocJsMtp9R4yWf1OyaCvzhxEQkk4hBymCSzBYfEZO2lRyT9xuHn5PEtkRMACq2X0DQrj7n8humd/w438-h249/Marvel%20Cups.jpg" width="438" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And then I realized: I don't give one rat's ass about collecting <i>Monsieur Spade</i> promo cups ... even if they existed. Not even if the image of Spade's backside is featured as in the teaser trailer for the program ...</span><br /></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.......... Ruprecht ( <b><span style="color: red;">STOP</span></b> </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">déjà vu-ing </span></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: arial;">about M</span>ons<span style="font-family: arial;">ieur Spade already</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> )</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p></div>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-16759501978406321562024-01-12T09:13:00.000-08:002024-01-12T09:13:27.713-08:00Ran Dumb (/ˈrandəm/)<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1JQzG7j0oP-kWQcnod7JV7WoCttGTfhMYZQ-ByVCovTFunwtDniSCmoWxJgrAwJ7ewGfE764BgAhbDIJDbEOiIpItc-ne7sF5fmhhlyiYQr5Q7f2ucS93AWYLd48uHVP0v0oT9VFA1BVigrl6Zxp-76lIKw55uoofJNCyNDwgvI2eCVmFkZvqjQgq3r5/s719/Star%20Trek%20Hot%20Pad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="719" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1JQzG7j0oP-kWQcnod7JV7WoCttGTfhMYZQ-ByVCovTFunwtDniSCmoWxJgrAwJ7ewGfE764BgAhbDIJDbEOiIpItc-ne7sF5fmhhlyiYQr5Q7f2ucS93AWYLd48uHVP0v0oT9VFA1BVigrl6Zxp-76lIKw55uoofJNCyNDwgvI2eCVmFkZvqjQgq3r5/w431-h408/Star%20Trek%20Hot%20Pad.jpg" width="431" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So ...</span><br /></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When I think of old school Star Trek functionalia, the first thing that comes to mind is a Trek themed hand-molded hot pad.<br /><br />That being said ... in space, no one can hear your scream when you burn yourself with scalding tomato soup. So there.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> (P. S. I have no idea where I got this.) </span><br /></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.......... Ruprecht ( <b><span style="color: red;">STOP</span></b> </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">the randomness</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> )</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-20773621477356544852024-01-07T07:16:00.000-08:002024-01-07T07:27:44.174-08:00The Pillbox Incident<p> </p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeObjN8tHhvJSgkHpYd0pViw0baISbEnVyDG6IzwysqaCIUB5VQHObjwCTu34Rzw0h0LAgJgg5uobxHviUP5b0tVx3rawe9FalYUL6Ib-QIc7xAStHOQQtarho4YPFAHNP3PjhUnlfA86_fqlQlQn78ejDy7fBghiIYHlrn-x-AxQVg6n3yEmg98wedU_d/s1156/Pillbox.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="1156" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeObjN8tHhvJSgkHpYd0pViw0baISbEnVyDG6IzwysqaCIUB5VQHObjwCTu34Rzw0h0LAgJgg5uobxHviUP5b0tVx3rawe9FalYUL6Ib-QIc7xAStHOQQtarho4YPFAHNP3PjhUnlfA86_fqlQlQn78ejDy7fBghiIYHlrn-x-AxQVg6n3yEmg98wedU_d/w484-h221/Pillbox.jpg" width="484" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><span style="color: #01ffff;"> </span></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><span style="color: #01ffff;">Not too long ago ...</span></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />I was privy only to the part of the conversation heard from this side of the phone call. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> I didn't hear what the caller was saying throughout but, from the receiver's end and the reactions that came about as a result of what was being said, it was an animated call to say the least.<br /><br />And then the call ended.<br /><br />"You're not going to believe this," I was told.<br /><br />"For whatever reason (anonymous) picked up (their) pillbox to take (their) medication and noticed a droplet on one end of it. (Anonymous) licked the whatever it was off the corner of the pillbox ... and then realized it might be hand lotion or something. (Anonymous) said (they) weren't certain what it was on reflection. (Anonymous) panicked and decided to immediately go to the emergency room ..."<br /><br />"<u>What</u>?!? Why didn't (Anonymous) call us? We could have taken (them) to the emergency room. Wait ... better question: Why didn't (they) call poison control first and find out what to do prior to running down to the hospital?!? How dangerous could a drop of hand lotion be if ingested? I mean ... were (they) ill after licking the thing? Hold on, hold on ... <i><b><u>WHO LICKS SOME UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE FROM A PILLBOX</u> ... !??!??</b></i>"<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><i><span style="color: #01ffff;">Not too long after the entire incident ...</span></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><span style="color: #01ffff;"> </span></i></span><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">(Anonymous) survived the ordeal with nary a consequence from (their) actions. </span><br /></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.......... Ruprecht ( <b><span style="color: red;">STOP</span></b> </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">licking whatever's on the end of the pillbox, for Pete's sake</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> )</span></span></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p> </p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-49806930273137964182024-01-01T19:32:00.000-08:002024-01-01T19:33:43.749-08:00Calendar Chicanery<p> <span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"></span></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Well, well, well ... let's start off the New Year with a brand spankin' new episode from <b><i><span style="color: #04ff00;">Assault Of The 2-Headed Spacemules</span></i></b>!</span></span></span></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Host Douglas Arthur and I discuss the month of January as provided by my recently acquired 2024 Holiday-A-Day calendar. Enjoy!</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></span></span></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Since the dawn of time (well ... since the very first episode of </span></span><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i><span style="color: #04ff00;">Aot2HSMs</span></i></b></span></span></span><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">) I've been contributing to Douglas' podcast. Why? Sometimes even <i>I</i> have to ask myself that question ... </span></span></span><br /><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div></span></div><p></p>
<iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="352" loading="lazy" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/episode/6Npx9vYy8Sy041sZbrYwPN?utm_source=generator" style="border-radius: 12px;" width="100%"></iframe>
<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.......... Ruprecht ( <b><span style="color: red;">STOP</span></b> </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">what you're doing and give it a listen already</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> )</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-50486304540144704012023-09-10T11:23:00.004-07:002023-09-10T11:24:46.096-07:00 Three Restaurants, Three Months: The NorCal6<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />Ahhhhhhhh ... the maintenance of the 'ole blog when it comes to The NorCal6.<br /><br />Sometimes it's effortless, other times not so much.<br /><br />June and July were mostly non-events. We hit <a href="https://www.themelt.com/" target="_blank"><b><i>The Melt</i></b></a> in Folsom and <b><i><a href="http://www.thebrickovenpub.com/" target="_blank">Danette's Brick Oven Pub</a></i></b> in July, the latter having been visited in a previous year. Both? Were adequate when it came to food and atmosphere. <br /><br />No drama, no surprises and it was agreed we'd return again. <br /><br />Now ... <b><i><a href="https://www.rockeroysterfellers.com/rocker-oysterfellers-placerville" target="_blank">Rocker Oysterfeller's</a></i></b> in downtown Placerville last month? Different story all together. Oh, the drama ...</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXk6NPOXV_VTahQQKmfdTbX9LFCwvyDgD0BMR7XbKQh24yR8KczzEVtTKnpNjGXogN593kLHEnmkLPSDy7pt6hdMkALLRGQT6m3nDq2hSqjPvbyU6DLzWIGOK2tZxXba15JgEFkA5hxnsSb8B9gPabUWC_m7bXTTwS0DLcvyvKPiqd3lghzeB8Vn8c7Veq/s1211/RO%20Photo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1211" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXk6NPOXV_VTahQQKmfdTbX9LFCwvyDgD0BMR7XbKQh24yR8KczzEVtTKnpNjGXogN593kLHEnmkLPSDy7pt6hdMkALLRGQT6m3nDq2hSqjPvbyU6DLzWIGOK2tZxXba15JgEFkA5hxnsSb8B9gPabUWC_m7bXTTwS0DLcvyvKPiqd3lghzeB8Vn8c7Veq/w507-h285/RO%20Photo.jpg" width="507" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />The food was rather good. I partook of Louisiana Hot oysters (even though I know it's rarely a good idea to order seafood far, far away from the sea) and some Blackened Gulf Shrimp Tacos. Tasty stuff indeed, despite being a bit on the pricey side. (And, truth be told, I was kind of pressured into ordering oysters ... but I really didn't mind getting hornswaggled in that department.) Pete and Missy ordered the same thing, Smashburgers. Pete said his was delicious. Missy's was a letdown, she said - overcooked and not very tasty. My failing recall forgets what Laurie ordered but I do remember Grant got the Molasses & Bourbon Pork volcano Shank which he enjoyed right down to the very last. <br /><br />So, overall, the food worked. The appetizers? They did start off the evening with any sort of anticipation once served ...<br /><br />A plate of Bear Battered Onion Rings was proffered while we were all talking and, by the time I got a chance to take a gander at them, there were 3 rings left ... and pretty anemic looking ones at that. I didn't remember seeing anyone going for them so I surmised the order was a singular half dozen rings, all told. <br /><br />"What happened to the rings?!?" I asked. With I would have nabbed a shot of them for evidence. Grant ordered some Cheesy Jalapeño Pull-Apart Bread and, if I didn't know any better, it came from the middle of Death Valley. It was that dry. No dipping sauce or butter or other was offered with it, so butter was requested ... but by the time it got there it was too little too late. (Skip this item if you go there. Trust me.)<br /><br />And, in the mix, was our waitress who was not only scatter-brained but appeared out of sorts with the entire concept of waitressing.<br /><br />The first couple beer orders I attempted weren't available. On the third try - a <b>Henhouse Stoked! Hazy Pale Ale</b> I ordered with emphasis on the "Stoked!" because of the exclamation point - she asked me "The dessert?"<br /><br />"The dessert?!?" I responded. "No ... the beer." I had not idea what she was talking about. And, apparently, neither did she.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0adk_bQc09tHc9tRsR4jszEqwGaTfLQjL8nliZ2QVLTqjrzOb04wq-7iC4D3FcY6zastuSw00j41DpEBVLgHSSVZmfk6TJnI_Q60Lb6QC_N39AYKMwpinC6PMp2nRKzPMgUpnqhxjlGsuoJt0faCk5pm6Ro4S-sUhdVaBfXdazsg0alAALeUX-8mHs_k/s681/RO%20Beer.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="383" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0adk_bQc09tHc9tRsR4jszEqwGaTfLQjL8nliZ2QVLTqjrzOb04wq-7iC4D3FcY6zastuSw00j41DpEBVLgHSSVZmfk6TJnI_Q60Lb6QC_N39AYKMwpinC6PMp2nRKzPMgUpnqhxjlGsuoJt0faCk5pm6Ro4S-sUhdVaBfXdazsg0alAALeUX-8mHs_k/w296-h526/RO%20Beer.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">"Oh, yeah ... okay. Got it." And off she stumbled to put in my order.<br /><br />It took an inordinate amount of time for the drinks to come but the food came in relatively quick order. But ... most of it was served to the wrong person. As noted: Our waitress wasn't the sharpest took in the shed.<br /><br />Interestingly and at one point ordered an additional brew ... and I attempted to so same. But each time I was spurned, ignored as if I was a ghost. This was rather amusing to Grant but let me flabbergasted. I could see our waitress' tip diminishing to a trickle as the moments ticked by.<br /><br />And then when all was said and done the checks came ... complete with automatic 20% gratuities already attached. <br /><br />On the inside? I was slow burning, on the way to fuming. But ... on the inside.<br /><br />I wasn't going to allow the substandard service of this gal get in the way of everyone's enjoyment of the get-together nor was I going to expose my inner asshat. <br /><br />But come on ... an automatic gratuity for a "large party" as detailed on the receipt? Since when did 6 people encompass a large party? I buried any comments I wanted to unleash and pleasantly paid the bill without incident.<br /><br />Tasty food (though a touch pricey), terrible service. <br /><br />It's going to take convincing to get me back there, this I know.<br /><br /><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.......... Ruprecht ( <b><span style="color: red;">STOP</span></b> </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">bad, ditzy waitressing</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> )</span></span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><br /></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-49718805783431188582023-08-23T08:14:00.008-07:002023-08-23T08:14:50.702-07:00The Great Northern California Corn Shortage: The Beginning<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkWImitz2w9eZ6FPKdidHcFLVCsB8gnDopy6x8GSMyJfdqM53spNrik9DQweV6kef47og9IdX7ArIB4rgqqBPenuyi3myf6A-3EN2lYoxt8LKLPgiWjD3dvhf5rZDYx7j0TjY3XphhLUkQ_7Gs93si8339zvPoukMKtKwfZLDXXusxM-UZYyGRLWTISyU/s517/Corn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="517" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkWImitz2w9eZ6FPKdidHcFLVCsB8gnDopy6x8GSMyJfdqM53spNrik9DQweV6kef47og9IdX7ArIB4rgqqBPenuyi3myf6A-3EN2lYoxt8LKLPgiWjD3dvhf5rZDYx7j0TjY3XphhLUkQ_7Gs93si8339zvPoukMKtKwfZLDXXusxM-UZYyGRLWTISyU/w502-h218/Corn.jpg" width="502" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Honestly? I don't know what's going on. <br /><br />I guess I could blame it on something if I really wanted to get into a conspiracy theory frame of mind. I could blame the new COVID variant, or Trump. The overwhelming proliferation of home repair shows or the bevy of medication television ads. Climate change. Any number of things could be fair game. I mean, the list is potentially endless.<br /><br />What am I talking about? I'll tell you what I'm talking about. Corn. Sweet corn, specifically. And, more exactingly, sweet corn right here in Northern California.<br /><br />You see ... last week? It was 10 for $1 at the local grocer. Grab as much as you want. 10? 20? A couple cases? No matter, knock yourself out. It's all for the taking, corn o'plenty. It was almost a corn free-for-all.<br /><br />This week? It was a different story completely. This week (and the sale ended this Tuesday past) corn was 4 for $1, <i><u>limit 4 items</u></i>. Four measly ears of corn, take it or leave it. What the hell happened ... !??<br /><br />The brakes got put on the cornucopia, such that it was. That party got cut short. Those halcyon days of maize got the kybosh put down, chop chop. The grain got grounded.<br /><br />And it's all the public's fault. Thanks, public. Thanks a lot. You went kernel crazy and now we're going to be paying for it. Literally. And with conditions.<br /><br />Today, if you want your fiber, vitamins, minerals and antioxidants courtesy of that staple corn you're going to be paying a lot more for it. Because the buying public succumbed to the frenzy of 10 ears for a buck. 10 ears weren't enough. You needed <i><u>more</u></i> than enough, you greedy bastards.<br /><br />And so, here we go. Thrust right into the throes of <b><i><span style="color: #fcff01;">The Great Northern California Corn Shortage: The Beginning</span></i></b>. <br /><br />And, if you haven't felt the pinch to date, you're going to experience it first hand in the coming days.<br /><br />Courtesy of the greedy public who decided it needed more ears than it knows what to do with ...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><span>the greed</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><span>)</span></span> </span><br /></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-70211576462504273512023-08-10T08:37:00.006-07:002023-08-10T08:37:31.556-07:00For God's Sake ... We Need To Reorder Pepper RIGHT NOW ... !!!<p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBFdWnPrefGAh5smC3QXbOJ767r4LaqClZYEFmCUqTtKRX3kmWBrtq6RyYw0hMnDaHjQHHY9O32Pio6J7uTWC5j849TbqPAFmpxCPqTRE1aBXS53PzAvKl3HqZJFgiNuy8E4eK-j6b7_KlpTwabLP8aagCGHbGTZYM0O33uKOJ42ty1120p_0FoLHRydZ/s1211/Pepper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1211" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBFdWnPrefGAh5smC3QXbOJ767r4LaqClZYEFmCUqTtKRX3kmWBrtq6RyYw0hMnDaHjQHHY9O32Pio6J7uTWC5j849TbqPAFmpxCPqTRE1aBXS53PzAvKl3HqZJFgiNuy8E4eK-j6b7_KlpTwabLP8aagCGHbGTZYM0O33uKOJ42ty1120p_0FoLHRydZ/w499-h281/Pepper.jpg" width="499" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br />I really like pepper.<br /><br />And I really <i>love</i> fresh ground pepper.<br /><br />Fresh cracked pepper on a turkey or a tuna sandwich, good stuff. Pepper, along with other condiments, makes the omelet for me. Fresh, fruity pepper on a perfectly cooked steak ... nothing better. <br /><br />The smell of it, the pungent aroma of it when its newly ground from a mill, gets the 'ole taste buds salivating. Goes without saying I use it in a majority of my recipes. And liberally.<br /><br />Regular table pepper (when I can't get the freshly ground stuff) is a necessity at a meal. Even in a fast food joint, I pepper where it's appropriate. French fries, for example. Curiously (or, maybe, not so much) I might use more pepper on my fries than I do salt. <br /><br />Which is exactly the case while dining at <b><i><a href="https://www.themelt.com/">The Melt</a></i></b> in Folsom recently. I nabbed a couple packets of pepper to spread on my order of fries and happily began partaking.<br /><br />In front of me were a couple of unused packets of pepper and I looked them over while eating ... and noticed something rather curious ...<br /><br />See the photo above? Take a look at the top packet and, in particular, the following wording printed on it: "reorder #4043295."<br /><br />Odd, I thought. I mean ... think about it a moment: When Melt needs more pepper, think they pick up the errant packlet out of a box of many and look for the order number on it in order to acquire more? Or do you think they already have some sort of form available to resupply more? Don't you think that's a bit odd?<br /><br />You don't have a reorder number on the bottom of your favorite shoes so when they begin to wear out you can easily requisition another pair, right? You don't find any sort of identification anywhere in you car stating "To get another, here's the send off number to make it easier for you! You're welcome!" There's nothing on the side of the pen barrel you're using for fill out that report indicating "At some point you're going to run out of ink ... so you better get to gettin' and put a request in for this, your very favoritest pen." How 'bout an imprint on a banana stem saying: "Is this your last banana? Avoid the annoyance of running out by accessing this code right now!"<br /><br />Or ... maybe I'm just thinking about the imprint on the pepper packet a bit too much ...</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>thinking so much ...</span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>)</span></span></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br /><br /></span><br /></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-71644149484970895552023-08-08T09:07:00.002-07:002023-08-08T09:07:06.320-07:00I Was Wrong Wednesday: The Missing Concert Ticket Edition<p></p><br><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7NH3f3uFwc7Wi2jEGXE52iXyoW8xYUginfnuDa_-I-OPoeDsz5GEemwZWqvPWaeh74ro8sN2cyF_glj9hU-OIP82J6QO4yhm8yz0aDlF5xw8ZYuAqM98djjnsLLPpa8FS_dP9vBuF2Gs-WmuGCcS0qeKnkYa2G8Lyddn_VIFf7SPmVkMahkrl-H8sFdE/s1050/I%20Was%20Wrong.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="1050" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7NH3f3uFwc7Wi2jEGXE52iXyoW8xYUginfnuDa_-I-OPoeDsz5GEemwZWqvPWaeh74ro8sN2cyF_glj9hU-OIP82J6QO4yhm8yz0aDlF5xw8ZYuAqM98djjnsLLPpa8FS_dP9vBuF2Gs-WmuGCcS0qeKnkYa2G8Lyddn_VIFf7SPmVkMahkrl-H8sFdE/w486-h255/I%20Was%20Wrong.png" width="486" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You know, no one <i><u>likes</u></i> being wrong. <br /><br />And yet ... even I don't know if that's completely true. I'm sure there's someone out there that likes being wrong. Maybe even just part of the time.<br /><br />But I'm not one of those people. And, while it pains me to admit (in this particular instance) that I'm wrong, I'm still going forward in doing so of my own volition.<br /><br />So ... here's my tale. Which concludes in the admission I was indeed and in fact wrong ...<br /><br />On March 14th, 2023 I purchased tickets through Ticketmaster for a Sunday, May 21st Oakland, California concert featuring the band <b><i>Love And Rockets</i></b>. <br /><br />Now, understand this is a band I've wanted to see since I first discovered them back in the 80s. They've continually escaped my seeing them live over the many years with one small exception; their alter ego <b><i>Tones On Tail</i></b> - which featured 2/3 of the members of <i><b>Love And Rockets</b></i> - played in a small club in Hollywood years and years ago. <i>That</i> show I did get to in the flesh ... and, while the band performed nary a tune from the L&R catalog, I was at least a bit satisfied I caught a derivation of a band I felt connected to.<br /><br />So ... tickets acquired, I hurried up and waited to see a show still a couple months hence.<br /><br />And then? It was time. That very morning I got on my computer and searched for the electronic tickets that would afford me entry into the show. But it was to little avail as I couldn't find them to save my life. <br /><br />The account I had with Ticketmaster (where my electronic tickets were housed) wasn't cooperating and didn't let me access the tickets in question. Tickets for another upcoming show - <b><i>Tears For Fears</i></b> - were handy and accessible but my <i><b>Love And Rockets</b></i> tickets were nowhere to be found.<br /><br />Now, I had the foresight to print out a copy of my receipt for my purchase. And that included the order number, the date, the amount paid for, the venue the seats ... just about everything that I needed. But the receipt stated it could not be used to gain entry into the show. So I went on a hunt to see how I could go about getting my tickets for the show later that evening. <br /><br />The response I got back via e-mail was that someone from Ticketmaster would contact me within 24 to 48 hours with a response, zero help in that the show was a scant 10 hours away. I did everything I took could to try to get in contact with Ticketmaster some other way but to zero avail.<br /><br />Now? I had a decision to make. Do I drive 2 1/2 hours to Oakland and try to get into the show with the receipt I had in hand containing the very seat numbers printed in plain view as proof of my purchase, even though there's a statement on the receipt saying I couldn't use the receipt to gain entry into the show? Did I commit to a 7 hour round trip to and from Oakland which might yield nothing for my efforts? Or do I just admit defeat and see what I could do about getting reimbursed for the tickets? <br /><br />I decided not to waste my time in going to Oakland. And I immediately began the process of trying to get a refund for the extenuating circumstances.<br /><br />One of the first things I did was access my account that shows upcoming and past events on the Ticketmaster app. Nowhere did it show there was anything to do with <b><i>Love And Rockets</i></b>. That in itself was curious. Additionally, I had the foresight to purchase insurance on the tickets should anything come up. So I had that peace of mind going for me. (Or so I thought.)<br /><br />Little did I know months of reimbursement attempts would get me nowhere.<br /><br />Round and round and round I went with Ticketmaster complaining I had no access to my electronic tickets. The fact there was nothing on the Ticketmaster app saying I even <u>had</u> <i><b>Love And Rockets</b></i> tickets I felt was proof enough there were extenuating circumstances to the situation, proof I couldn't access my tickets. But Ticketmaster wasn't budging. They stated it wasn't their fault that I couldn't access my tickets. I tried reasoning with them, I asked how I was supposed to access tickets that weren't there. Weeks of attempts from different viewpoints led to one single conclusion: It was apparent I would need to hit up the insurance I'd purchased for the tickets to get reimbursement.<br /><br />But even <i>that</i> wasn't a solution to the situation. According to the details and fine print of the insurance, my particular situation wasn't one that culminated in reimbursement.<br /><br />So almost three months after purchasing the tickets, I finally got access to speaking with an actual person at Ticketmaster as opposed to a chat session or e-mail. The lady I spoke with was very attentive and understanding, acknowledging exactly where I was coming from with my explanation. She took copious notes and told me it would be three to five days for a response to get back to me, which I was satisfied with. I mean ... this is the furthest I'd gotten with Ticketmaster since the whole situation started.<br /><br />But ... when I got the response, I was told my tickets <i>were</i> accessible and there would be no refund.<br /><br />So back on the phone I got and spoke with another woman at Ticketmaster. And this, in three months of attempts, was the first time I got some conclusive and definitive reasoning why I couldn't access my tickets. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The woman had noted she could see my tickets in my past events. So I asked her why I could not? She asked me to verify my e-mail address and, when I did, she stated that wasn't the e-mail address used to access my Ticketmaster account where my <b><i>Love And Rocket</i></b> tickets were housed. The only other e-mail address I had I gave to her and she said <i>that</i> was the one where I could actually see my tickets.<br /><br />So come to find out, months later, I had been working with an incorrect e-mail to access my Ticketmaster app. At some point in the distant past I had to have purchased some tickets through my secondary e-mail and completely forgot I had done so. For whatever reason it was <i>that </i>e-mail I purchased the <b><i>Love And Rockets</i></b> show, thus my ultimate demise in not being able to access the tickets.<br /><br />So, the insurance didn't help me get a refund, my many, many explanations through all forms of communication with Ticketmaster didn't help me get a refund. <br /><br />It was my own faulty blunder, plain and simple.<br /><br />No refund, no satisfaction ... just the glaring realization I had to admit that, on this particular Wednesday, August 2nd, 2023, I was wrong.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>)</span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-8807751892403865022023-07-23T21:09:00.004-07:002023-07-24T05:33:38.822-07:00IndiaOppen JonesenHeimer: A Tale Of Two Showings<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8uRVTn9YVGDrKQ6fSytLqX1EFvvvqjt47muNhOFoKWoyPLM8wYf33thSYIzARUCkNFibSJ8R4zQpzAvXSmVznTSTcXAfb2ozGDq3rsQIrf-3dtdXnF7gxP_Qd_Vuh6qdiM_nf0UHBBDXa5FeppKg_1DA-ARMv0rKfyWIcaOLp6k_gOcuL4Zt8hdgiZO6/s391/Indiana_Jones_and_the_Dial_of_Destiny_theatrical_poster.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="391" data-original-width="255" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8uRVTn9YVGDrKQ6fSytLqX1EFvvvqjt47muNhOFoKWoyPLM8wYf33thSYIzARUCkNFibSJ8R4zQpzAvXSmVznTSTcXAfb2ozGDq3rsQIrf-3dtdXnF7gxP_Qd_Vuh6qdiM_nf0UHBBDXa5FeppKg_1DA-ARMv0rKfyWIcaOLp6k_gOcuL4Zt8hdgiZO6/w367-h562/Indiana_Jones_and_the_Dial_of_Destiny_theatrical_poster.jpg" width="367" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The vast majority of the time I will maintain the best way to see a film is on a great big movie screen inside a theater. It's personal, immersive, grand, sometimes overwhelming and often gratifying.<br /><br />Of course there are exceptions to almost every rule, however.<br /><br />One of those exceptions was when I went to see <b><i>Indiana Jones And The Dial Of Destiny</i></b> a few weeks ago on its opening weekend. <br /><br />The venue was our local theater, in and of itself not a bad locale by any stretch of the imagination. The audience, in this case, "made" the movie I'm sorry to say. And the theater contributed, too.<br /><br />The few seats we were able to obtain for the Sunday afternoon showing were in the very back row, high up in a theater that housed maybe a little more than 100 patrons. Not that I minded sitting that distance from the screen as the screen itself was large and wide, plenty of viewing area with no blockage from anyone from down below us.<br /><br />Within the films first 20 minutes or so there's lots of action, as was showcased by a woman to my right a few seats down from me. A surprising sequence elicited a "Whoa!" that practically echoed through the theater ... followed by another in short order. <br /><br />And this would continue throughout the movie, more than a half dozen times. Some of them were short bursts of exclamation, others long and loud and annoying.<br /><br />Then? There was the parent who was quickly scooting a small child down the longest path possible through a row of seats in an attempt (I surmised) to get the kid to the bathroom before he exploded from the drink he obviously need to finish 30 minutes into the flick. And then? Afterward, here they come back again to reclaim their seats.<br /><br />But that wasn't all. <br /><br />10 minutes later, there they came again, practically running down the aisle. Mom at the rear urge the kid on as quickly as possible.<br /><br />This happened no less than 3 times in 45 minutes. I don't know if the kid genuinely had to go, if he was sick or what. But it turned just as annoying as the "Whoa!" lady to my right.<br /><br />Half way through my bag of popcorn, I began to sweat. Profusely. I just sat there, trying to concentrate on the film and ignore the beads of moisture forming at my temples, threatening to roll down my face as soon as the accumulated enough moisture to do so. What the hell? Why was I sweating? Was it the damned leather chairs that seemed to be baking my back and backside into a stew of perspiration? Was I having a reaction to the popcorn? And then, I realized, it was hotter than hell where we were sitting because we were all the way in the back row, closer to the ceiling than anyone else. With zero air conditioning supply units anywhere near us. Dead, hot air going nowhere. No wonder it felt like the beginnings of a sauna ramping up on its way to the "Hell" setting it was obviously set to.<br /><br />But wait ... there's more. All of a sudden I'm blinded by some ditzy woman at my 11:00 o'clock position while she checked her phone and began to text. I was in no mood for that and began to slowly boil. But, just as soon as I almost grumbled out loud, she doused her phone. <br /><br />30 seconds later, it was back on again.<br /><br />And then ... off once more. I waited for a third offense but it didn't come in short order because, if it had, I was going to leap from my seat and give her what for.<br /><br />Sure enough, she was on her phone once again a minute later. That did it. <br /><br />I actually leapt from my seat (as much as the leather would allow me to leap while attempting in vain to contain me in its sticky confines) and rushed over to her. I got right down on her shoulder and scared the bejeebers out of her as I said: "Hey! You're phone is blaring right in my face. Turn the damned thing off!" Startled and half out of her seat herself as I griped at her, all she could do was squeak out an "Okay!" meekly and bury her phone in her lap. I trudged back to my seat and plunked back into it just as the lady a few seats down yelled out yet another "WHOA ... !!!" at something that happened on screen.<br /><br />It was one of the worst experiences I've had in a movie theater.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbS8Cg1-a-awd7BJLcQv8i6fhN9GXEw_xB2LKl_oqcIXGVndzyxJFbb8u4GfRUiSKKDjbR5ioaHXdJtyWph21DuC3mkxuZhI7cDDECLU3e7gOwRgEpOu1UBZTRJutjvJpxdC7EGEHDQUnIvrX0QGrrbw7Y_NPzTpNEf3v_kGWJHYid7oBk4-vjd0ymuVz/s282/Oppenheimer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="178" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbS8Cg1-a-awd7BJLcQv8i6fhN9GXEw_xB2LKl_oqcIXGVndzyxJFbb8u4GfRUiSKKDjbR5ioaHXdJtyWph21DuC3mkxuZhI7cDDECLU3e7gOwRgEpOu1UBZTRJutjvJpxdC7EGEHDQUnIvrX0QGrrbw7Y_NPzTpNEf3v_kGWJHYid7oBk4-vjd0ymuVz/w356-h564/Oppenheimer.jpg" width="356" /></a></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />And then? Yesterday we headed to <b><i>Oppenheimer</i></b> at a larger theater in Folsom. <br /><br />Incidences during that 3 hour film? Exactly zero. Not a one. <br /><br />Two different theaters, two different genres, two different clienteles. One horrible showing, one excellent showing.<br /><br />Just goes to show you: They can't all be gems.<br /><br />Oh ... and the films themselves? <b><i>The Dial Of Destiny</i></b> was miles above <b><i>Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull</i></b> but seriously ... how is anything expected to beat the grandeur, awe and excitement of <i><b>Raiders Of The Lost Ark</b></i>? It was reasonably enjoyable with some typical Indiana Jones-type action and some satisfying acknowledgements to past events ... but greatly lacking in one particular casting situation.<br /><br /><b><i>Oppenheimer</i></b> was exactly what I expected ... long, somewhat convoluted, intriguing and a great testament to Nolan's writing and directing chops. (And, oh ... what a cast!) Downside? Problematic for those who are easily distracted or aren't paying attention. <br /><br />But a nifty film nevertheless ... </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>)</span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <br /></span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-55581100728962746222023-07-09T08:00:00.006-07:002023-07-09T08:02:36.536-07:00Decapitation By Guacamole<p></p><center><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></center><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGb-i5Sq_zAtZt5xMCKD8jlG_WH45gLgrQoXapE51gsuvMkNKRWTikCH4XHTQOZH5-VE6xVddTDvWKrXdb5gnmFw27rgzIbWxir9KIpoX69niT6TAC-ezfYqEfWm1f0y47PxvoIgm9-DsXSRaWsyXckDBh7zSsRdHDYJA_taF16Y45pZ0TWURqaxcGRUGD/s1200/1200px-Decapitaci%C3%B3n_de_San_Pablo_-_Simonet_-_1887.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="1200" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGb-i5Sq_zAtZt5xMCKD8jlG_WH45gLgrQoXapE51gsuvMkNKRWTikCH4XHTQOZH5-VE6xVddTDvWKrXdb5gnmFw27rgzIbWxir9KIpoX69niT6TAC-ezfYqEfWm1f0y47PxvoIgm9-DsXSRaWsyXckDBh7zSsRdHDYJA_taF16Y45pZ0TWURqaxcGRUGD/w482-h296/1200px-Decapitaci%C3%B3n_de_San_Pablo_-_Simonet_-_1887.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I pulled the frozen guacamole out of the freezer to lop off a chunk to go with the omelet I was making. <br /><br />I have a small cleaver and a cutting board. I place the guac on the board and I stick an end of the cleaver into it to begin working a piece of the rock hard stuff free. I'm successful from the get to and continue to do so until I get several pieces released from their confines, enough that I'm satisfied I have enough for my recipe. <br /><br />From behind me I hear Missy state: "You know ... you should use something else before you decapitate yourself."<br /><br />Now ... I've done plenty of kitchen prep work over the course of my life. I mean ... I like to cook, so there have been countless times I've had the opportunity to chop and slice and pare and skin and drain and peel and separate and grind and more. <br /><br />But never, ever, <b><i><u>ever</u></i> </b>(and, yes ... I used the word "never" there, something I rarely, rarely use) positioned my neck between a knife and what I'm cutting when I've prepped food previously ... using your neck as a cutting board, for Pete's sake.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"> <span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: arial;">using your neck as a cutting board, dammit</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>)</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span> </span></span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-50357140295412745692023-06-25T11:21:00.007-07:002023-06-25T11:27:20.221-07:00Glory Fade<p> <span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJz4cqczDbDGvsicTioh91TE88ENgJM8-geJY-4Lb2T3Kbll6uNIIsvgbrLIN0-p3ae-fOkLuWOEiTDRegTZw3hT_D6tFrrRKxlURslrI2uPisbddo9JLVOmFgh61W42CCB9tyz7MT3WvgLurGS-m5wTN7T0R52TdXAS1S-AGo-0is5unv0CRbciLq_wH/s4032/PXL_20230625_175705888.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJz4cqczDbDGvsicTioh91TE88ENgJM8-geJY-4Lb2T3Kbll6uNIIsvgbrLIN0-p3ae-fOkLuWOEiTDRegTZw3hT_D6tFrrRKxlURslrI2uPisbddo9JLVOmFgh61W42CCB9tyz7MT3WvgLurGS-m5wTN7T0R52TdXAS1S-AGo-0is5unv0CRbciLq_wH/w521-h293/PXL_20230625_175705888.jpg" width="521" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So, yeah ... it's finally be time. Time for the old <b>Faded Glory</b> shoes to give up the ghost.<br /><br />They've
been a faithful companion for far more than 20 years. They've gone
through thick and thin, been glued together at the sole, at the heel and
elsewhere at least a couple dozen times over their lifetime. They've
weathered mud and rain and all sorts of weather. Each gouge and scuff
mark tells a story. There are places where they're threadbare, the
anterior heels are worn down to a nub. The material lining the insides
of them (what little of it is left) has long since frayed and given way
to almost nothingness.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAVi_7DXvDVybZOpAt-O2fwCV2TmDNj7FIN5JBApS-5Jz4J1XnIAdL8_2kjZP7a1HdJoNNGudlwmhG8_v87qXWj8TN8sI618fKg5vWSnZGklifbUNy9rm27d_8KMLbbSQotKlHpNQEj3GWs3hIwQo37QdaDEfpXk--Z76wbCTJAGoEVISQR3xVAQtvI48/s4032/PXL_20230625_175623751.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAVi_7DXvDVybZOpAt-O2fwCV2TmDNj7FIN5JBApS-5Jz4J1XnIAdL8_2kjZP7a1HdJoNNGudlwmhG8_v87qXWj8TN8sI618fKg5vWSnZGklifbUNy9rm27d_8KMLbbSQotKlHpNQEj3GWs3hIwQo37QdaDEfpXk--Z76wbCTJAGoEVISQR3xVAQtvI48/w521-h293/PXL_20230625_175623751.jpg" width="521" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Surprisingly, the soles of the shoes themselves are not that worse for wear. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUztEHQuyz6F5J_fM9F1NO8uxivjUpyo8BUykk6N472zT_x8QFaUl5AWsMquZsAeiM72pkg2YAsqWVxJm3MVxbdiTLKG6y00Ji1hQUlTlqH8DpkU8O9suWSCiX7BwNnALs63j026Rxp733KCx77Mhhm_z89NN2CLp4LMeUWRRZtujxKX-i4Zl8CsgGH-6/s4032/PXL_20230625_175610814.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUztEHQuyz6F5J_fM9F1NO8uxivjUpyo8BUykk6N472zT_x8QFaUl5AWsMquZsAeiM72pkg2YAsqWVxJm3MVxbdiTLKG6y00Ji1hQUlTlqH8DpkU8O9suWSCiX7BwNnALs63j026Rxp733KCx77Mhhm_z89NN2CLp4LMeUWRRZtujxKX-i4Zl8CsgGH-6/w523-h295/PXL_20230625_175610814.jpg" width="523" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /> <br />Regardless,
one more gluing, one more repair, one more modification to keep them
wear-worthy just isn't in the cards. You can see the repairs I've made
to them everywhere, all sorts of different glues oozing out the heals.
The rubber of them is has actually begun rejecting mending and
restoration. I'm pretty certain that time last year when I chased an
escaped dog for a mile and more was truly the start of their ultimate
demise.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfe1yottVhEjBpgqVyJdtLMttoyDoSdx3L8MWjLOlUXfEBGoGcda3Wiq6sYZImzv313-CxlgsujItzI4Z7ogKLj9wCD-wF-zn9rsW4RMY0vSItDkVvJQF9VYRrKJZIXILXEq9KP0ucilxnq-Yjnr5JAZKZrLEcMOgPnylVuEQa03al2kWSExIb3DSlsB_l/s4032/PXL_20230625_175548776.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfe1yottVhEjBpgqVyJdtLMttoyDoSdx3L8MWjLOlUXfEBGoGcda3Wiq6sYZImzv313-CxlgsujItzI4Z7ogKLj9wCD-wF-zn9rsW4RMY0vSItDkVvJQF9VYRrKJZIXILXEq9KP0ucilxnq-Yjnr5JAZKZrLEcMOgPnylVuEQa03al2kWSExIb3DSlsB_l/w536-h302/PXL_20230625_175548776.jpg" width="536" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br />They've
housed many different feet, hundreds of thousands of steps, an extended
life that should have seen them tossed many moons ago. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnq6rdjAtoYiGRlawqK2h0wXT6BTM1oA3jytiFAshqflKfG1v4K4QGBx8knVkGqroxs0tGt79nP6iC3eT8i_NgsRZ2uVKAKrCI8K3bu66yA6oSXtjq6O0pBxQBPSRVUuDvw01TdgIf8y1Vg7TSLAKGombYCzu9nGNDNzh4AV0QcPfSD8d4dAOZsV0pShhh/s4032/PXL_20230625_175610814.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnq6rdjAtoYiGRlawqK2h0wXT6BTM1oA3jytiFAshqflKfG1v4K4QGBx8knVkGqroxs0tGt79nP6iC3eT8i_NgsRZ2uVKAKrCI8K3bu66yA6oSXtjq6O0pBxQBPSRVUuDvw01TdgIf8y1Vg7TSLAKGombYCzu9nGNDNzh4AV0QcPfSD8d4dAOZsV0pShhh/w535-h301/PXL_20230625_175610814.jpg" width="535" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLQbb1Xy4FrpUbXTuNADBccomGQ9xE-tOInt5RHbLoSj5Vi-oNXr02CZZpfeJGcruTCpMRyMhUVQhRlXzKVYcCOSY7YFmxsPYILpnYsjNII4IW_6wdjPBfic6NlzDVHBgQcjGGkGrLLtls0Vm-ZCFi-yvygYZQaTId53Z5FaONl4Sbs8OtJq6d-Ne-gW3/s4032/PXL_20230625_175720925.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLQbb1Xy4FrpUbXTuNADBccomGQ9xE-tOInt5RHbLoSj5Vi-oNXr02CZZpfeJGcruTCpMRyMhUVQhRlXzKVYcCOSY7YFmxsPYILpnYsjNII4IW_6wdjPBfic6NlzDVHBgQcjGGkGrLLtls0Vm-ZCFi-yvygYZQaTId53Z5FaONl4Sbs8OtJq6d-Ne-gW3/w531-h299/PXL_20230625_175720925.jpg" width="531" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br />So long, old friends. You've been faithful and true ...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>)</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-85338741102566579002023-05-23T06:53:00.002-07:002023-05-23T12:42:47.873-07:00A Lusty Tale Of That Scallywag Blackbeard The Pirate ... or not ...<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFa27gm5bPlsDpT4mgFj0QsVZWl6JXowMGtDWnkKUKbzjHxOaHGLAjhXT8LpUXOIoDNd_5lFVTZMZjqzmTCQ9_lzGfMXChLEBh3Hwzg_94H_vknJOh8P0FvXXXae4pdb1aRIpeLGXyAgij8UGK_BVmu4cCGtj_X2Uhmd0Q_vBRgl1MwZp4DgkXB7GMGw/s512/resize.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="512" height="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFa27gm5bPlsDpT4mgFj0QsVZWl6JXowMGtDWnkKUKbzjHxOaHGLAjhXT8LpUXOIoDNd_5lFVTZMZjqzmTCQ9_lzGfMXChLEBh3Hwzg_94H_vknJOh8P0FvXXXae4pdb1aRIpeLGXyAgij8UGK_BVmu4cCGtj_X2Uhmd0Q_vBRgl1MwZp4DgkXB7GMGw/w433-h433/resize.webp" width="433" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It wasn't too long after <a href="http://frolickryredux.blogspot.com/2023/01/covidlessness.html" target="_blank">coming down with Covid</a> I decided to go free for all rogue.<br /><br />With my beard, that is. Yep ... shaving be damned. <br /><br />Now here's the thing: Missy doesn't like me bearded. As a man of a certain age, it comes in way more gray than salt and pepper. She says it makes me look older. <br /><br />But I don't care if it made me look older. I just wanted to have the beard again. Because I could.<br /><br />So ... razors? Trimmers? Begone. I've no need for you for a few months while the growing commences.<br /><br />Now, this time, as my beard got thicker and thicker, I saw a transformation in Missy. She didn't complain about it as she had in the past. "I hate that thing." "When is that coming off?" "You know it makes you look way older than you are." All were commonalities I heard daily, little asides I think she'd hoped would bury in a crook of my mind and nurture there into some form of common sense. <br /><br />And yet she knows one of my superpowers is stubbornness, so I really didn't get the barely audible gripes and what purpose they were meant to serve. <br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Realizing her complaints were going in one ear and out the other, she formulated a new tactic. As things proceeded along, I was given an ultimatum. One where the beard would come to its end of days. I decided to prolong that date a bit longer and made a deal with Missy: <br /><br />"Look ... even I get tired of it after a while. Tell you what: Give me until the end of April, one more month, and I promised it will be gone."<br /><br />Missy countered something like this: <br /><br />"Well, since you put it that way, I'll make you a deal. I'll give you the extra month ... but you have to Grecian Formula your beard at the end of the month so I can see what it looks like. Deal?"<br /><br />We shook on it. <br /><br />And then? The end of the month loomed. <br /><br />As it happened, we were scheduled for an outing with <b><i><span style="color: #04ff00;">The NorCal6</span></i></b> on the final weekend of April to the </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festival</b></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">. (You can revisit that tale <a href="http://frolickryredux.blogspot.com/2023/05/you-know.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) So I told Missy I would Grecian up that Saturday morning before we left for the Fest. <br /><br />Let's just say the results were, well ... interesting. Here's the beard before coloring ...</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0f5qtLMpfgbsF3qRQ1Uj0onLrnffLk9XYVSXIm0X9b1a-JwOEtXk-xjesCInodiOajUkHgI0-L94d0sEDWHIAJSLBkQKzb3jZxlg44UphjDOkQC15UmPUxpdxAMcr0wimR8VlaBIkNIUjgUbQxa_9kbDo3qfYdde_PtIVBLrCvCAsxb9dbqNxZDj0g/s682/PXL_20230429_152140790.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="429" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0f5qtLMpfgbsF3qRQ1Uj0onLrnffLk9XYVSXIm0X9b1a-JwOEtXk-xjesCInodiOajUkHgI0-L94d0sEDWHIAJSLBkQKzb3jZxlg44UphjDOkQC15UmPUxpdxAMcr0wimR8VlaBIkNIUjgUbQxa_9kbDo3qfYdde_PtIVBLrCvCAsxb9dbqNxZDj0g/s320/PXL_20230429_152140790.jpg" width="201" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> ... and afterward ...</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicomKny_s3P_VJ8r-RWcqi96PLPJ9UsY4GKxEVhGbSzfiBpIYj2yhWFex_hOML04jcvm4y-Xn_6g4Ad8Iwy_xMmIoDpCu_u_osMpqheHQvuaoJxRI0d_0I0IcpiSGN2YETCEbGMPnsJKdsgQKTeM6b58ayv_5dH-Be7aFFZApwWDIRjledkBIgEM3ToA/s682/PXL_20230429_153129789.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="424" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicomKny_s3P_VJ8r-RWcqi96PLPJ9UsY4GKxEVhGbSzfiBpIYj2yhWFex_hOML04jcvm4y-Xn_6g4Ad8Iwy_xMmIoDpCu_u_osMpqheHQvuaoJxRI0d_0I0IcpiSGN2YETCEbGMPnsJKdsgQKTeM6b58ayv_5dH-Be7aFFZApwWDIRjledkBIgEM3ToA/s320/PXL_20230429_153129789.jpg" width="199" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><center>Zoinks!</center></i></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Just gotta say: I don't know whose idea it was to get <b>BLACK</b> Grecian Formula to wash into my beard ... but, well ... WowZah!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When Missy saw me I couldn't help but notice her mentally take a step backward. Admittedly, it is a bit shocking. "You know you weren't supposed to go so heavy on the stuff. You should have just sprinkled it in here and there so there was more of a salt and pepper effect ..."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"But it wasn't doing anything that way" I offered. "It just sat there like gunmetal grey goop, doing nothing. Besides ... I've never done this shit before so how was I supposed to know ... ?!?"<br /><br />And, if you look closely (actually you don't have to look <i>that</i> closely) you can see where the dye leached onto my skin, around my mouth and outside my beardline ... <b>SO THAT IT DYED MY SKIN ... !!!</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVtZivFJ1f_SRDKY2DJG0j1WrzSCQGHSDADBtcV4nb3lzBM6lAHtAh7d44ymexfyv9md0gk4sncVoaE4bJOW1Xt16HoB15ELs1ZLDB8EHg15N8ZibY2vjAOSH6R6BKlK6KJeXLzzX1CSKz9yJcB6GqXRyudo6Fn7YBVRLVIETLth3HK-t_isdDZqXJfA/s257/PXL_20230429_153129789%20close.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="257" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVtZivFJ1f_SRDKY2DJG0j1WrzSCQGHSDADBtcV4nb3lzBM6lAHtAh7d44ymexfyv9md0gk4sncVoaE4bJOW1Xt16HoB15ELs1ZLDB8EHg15N8ZibY2vjAOSH6R6BKlK6KJeXLzzX1CSKz9yJcB6GqXRyudo6Fn7YBVRLVIETLth3HK-t_isdDZqXJfA/w388-h274/PXL_20230429_153129789%20close.jpg" width="388" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b><i><center>GAAAAAAHHHHHH ... !!!</center></i> </b> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Was this stuff gonna come off??!? Or had I inadvertently (possibly permanently) tattooed myself ... ?!???!!?<br /><br />I immediately began scrubbing the areas. After applying more than just a bit of elbow grease (and about 25 minutes later), the majority of my dyed skin was free of blackface and, luckily, only slightly irritated and red from sandpapering the stuff off. <i><b>*whew*</b></i><br /><br />Missy convinced me to powder up my newly-colored facial hair with some grey-covering concoction to lighten up the garishness of it all and it seemed to do the trick. But I found out in short order the cover-up wasn't all it was cracked up to be; it seemed to be reacting with the dye itself and appeared to be melting off my beard! (It was simply the grey-covering goop sloughing off, not the dye itself.)<br /><br />Well ... I was in for a penny, in for a pound at this point so, like it or not, it was onward to the Grilled Cheese Festival, newly colored facial monkey business in tow. <br /></span><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqt9Eu2_eXI-xaopmFGa2xYfXmNgH44QGFU5MbrwQwClyZj64no4r7ZicL0f5Tre3TVUwzZVynT2ncBHJbvrXjqTabSKdva20dGvK64TeW9VEt6U9sxjU9JCZpFGW3TNUd6LU0M8g5rG78M1Yn1_w3FSSFNiH-WA56-itbU5fV3m9F_RlRztkba9UtUg/s1212/PXL_20230429_220202013.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1212" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqt9Eu2_eXI-xaopmFGa2xYfXmNgH44QGFU5MbrwQwClyZj64no4r7ZicL0f5Tre3TVUwzZVynT2ncBHJbvrXjqTabSKdva20dGvK64TeW9VEt6U9sxjU9JCZpFGW3TNUd6LU0M8g5rG78M1Yn1_w3FSSFNiH-WA56-itbU5fV3m9F_RlRztkba9UtUg/w391-h220/PXL_20230429_220202013.jpg" width="391" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>See? It doesn't look THAT bad ...</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>But I'm not of 100% certainty Laurie isn't laughing at me ... </i></span></span><br /></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />And while friends Grant and Peter chuckled at my new and comical appearance, it didn't look all <i>that</i> bad in the outdoors ... despite the fact I kinda sorta looked like a G.I.Joe Land Adventurer with Life-Like Hair & Beard ...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmyiKOUjW45IHa-Lyg794IQjx-VYVzNwKxzjnih2fqzkuny1EmlJdU4T11XdvJ-3tfwYf77bSpJMvZXOEGwuMn_sx95rFsNxjggZqvMcztSv75aVPVVUrj0ONgGqfFaqSL1NKTPEBovJ79mGYNZ5VqkUKrTsz1N1BqV4zOxmJXAIHID0Q-3yp1IsF1Q/s415/canvas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="415" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmyiKOUjW45IHa-Lyg794IQjx-VYVzNwKxzjnih2fqzkuny1EmlJdU4T11XdvJ-3tfwYf77bSpJMvZXOEGwuMn_sx95rFsNxjggZqvMcztSv75aVPVVUrj0ONgGqfFaqSL1NKTPEBovJ79mGYNZ5VqkUKrTsz1N1BqV4zOxmJXAIHID0Q-3yp1IsF1Q/s320/canvas.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>growing and dyeing your damned beard already</span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span> )</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br /> </span><br /></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-91781243575309401042023-05-22T14:12:00.002-07:002023-05-23T16:28:18.114-07:00The NorCal6 Roll Into Placerville For May … Literally!<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f919be6-7fff-3188-d73a-780b39a07724" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSZ_BLWSuWVHp5U1R_nI_7EtYWrGhXwTEPV8q27a7W6WYkh5KimJeU6mKkSQ32s4Gi_RY34D40MLSFTJU2oAiLFFxDHJ4oFKA-EyTslFL4P1OUjKtXKAacJAyFDbh3tr7rGGbZrZVNrxpgtllz1wMMPt8JSSXidvn-0fgga00QWftSlIzB-wjS9t2Nw/s486/Bunco.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="486" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSZ_BLWSuWVHp5U1R_nI_7EtYWrGhXwTEPV8q27a7W6WYkh5KimJeU6mKkSQ32s4Gi_RY34D40MLSFTJU2oAiLFFxDHJ4oFKA-EyTslFL4P1OUjKtXKAacJAyFDbh3tr7rGGbZrZVNrxpgtllz1wMMPt8JSSXidvn-0fgga00QWftSlIzB-wjS9t2Nw/w486-h330/Bunco.jpg" width="486" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(<span style="color: red;"><b><u>Editor's Note</u>:</b></span> I've passed the writing duties for this blog entry over to My Better Half, Missy. Please enjoy her take on May's monthly get-together ...)</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /><br />Since one of us is a huge lover of party games (yes, it's definitely me), it was decided the event for this adventurous group (okay, some more than others), would be a Bunco night party hosted at our house.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, we couldn't have just </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i><span style="color: #04ff00;">The NorCal6</span></i></b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> of us for this event so our numbers expanded to 17 including family members, coworkers and other friends. The guests trickled in and when all were in attendance, I gathered everyone around for the obligatory reading of the rules and we went our separate ways to grab a spot at a lucky table. Grant was definitely not happy we were not eating prior to the games and gave me some serious stinkeye! Admittedly, I can be a little OCD when it comes to planning events and keeping things on schedule in my mind. In years past, I have been referred to as "Julie The Cruise Director" because of it!</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><center><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamlx5LDVF7uLuGKuGWBocOTNY7ig7aM0xrtBGTMxKOfxebEN8NYtLr2y3Syg4vqO_tStYHsTLvufdw4xj3mvpWje9N3w6zR3SusphOzh-8nd3C9P2F1aVAlb3eCOM9CsLF0mkWA6DWFsc_x5RExHIrBBG4TEhluMoZe49GdPoGc0iv3A5ksQL5DT50A/s300/Julie.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="300" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhamlx5LDVF7uLuGKuGWBocOTNY7ig7aM0xrtBGTMxKOfxebEN8NYtLr2y3Syg4vqO_tStYHsTLvufdw4xj3mvpWje9N3w6zR3SusphOzh-8nd3C9P2F1aVAlb3eCOM9CsLF0mkWA6DWFsc_x5RExHIrBBG4TEhluMoZe49GdPoGc0iv3A5ksQL5DT50A/w482-h321/Julie.png" width="482" /></a></div>Missy played the role of Lauren Tewes this particular evening ...</center></span></i></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Normally we start with a nice loud cowbell ("More cowbell!") to get us going but somebody (Kelly, Grant) forgot to bring the bell. Now I really can't give them that hard of a time because, as we all know, the typical decibel level of Michael's voice is definitely loud enough to get the dogs next door howling. So he was our own version of the cowbell.</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And … off we went. With the game underway, some rude person had to get a Bunco on her second roll! Amy was very happy with her accomplishment but jeers were flying her way from all directions! (Good natured ones, of course.) <br /><br />The rules of the game, at least at our house, is that winners wait (stay at the table) and losers leave (move to the next table). In other words, those losing that round had to get up and walk to another table. Kelly and Laurie were the unfortunate two who got to enjoy the pleasure of getting their steps in for the evening, if you catch my drift. </span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After two rounds, it was time to line up at the Mexican-themed potluck taco bar. I'm not quite sure but I think Grant may have tackled someone to be first in line! Two kinds of meats were on order along with chile rellanos and all the fixins … but wait a minute … we had a mystery brewing! (We’ll get to the mystery in just a moment …)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, most of us in attendance are of a certain generation who remember a particular commercial with a catchy tagline for Wendy's restaurants, a cranky Clara Peller asking "Where's the beef … ?!?" </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN3kmyghI3nJ5Ppe85vayn5aXvX_WG7mpwUJ-56HbvibxJcklRm6XeGZU5p0ptV1F2yxDT9YKvWSfH9Zelx_ctc99E9bO6yhKeip8mgqVDlmgDKiXwjfrhE5KyEQQcxn6T9a0yqD5pcztPxOVCsE8qUszJUtoRVUuHVCQRV5AePGEGWQKHMEdI32NxwA/s1200/flashbakbeef23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="1200" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN3kmyghI3nJ5Ppe85vayn5aXvX_WG7mpwUJ-56HbvibxJcklRm6XeGZU5p0ptV1F2yxDT9YKvWSfH9Zelx_ctc99E9bO6yhKeip8mgqVDlmgDKiXwjfrhE5KyEQQcxn6T9a0yqD5pcztPxOVCsE8qUszJUtoRVUuHVCQRV5AePGEGWQKHMEdI32NxwA/w496-h265/flashbakbeef23.jpg" width="496" /> </a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Where's the beef ... ?!?" </b></span></i></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So … our big mystery of the evening? “Where's the beans … ?!?" It’s a taco bar with tacos and rice and beans and margaritas … so … <i><b><u>where were the beans</u>?</b></i></span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You know that wonderful situation we’ve all experienced as couples, that thing called “miscommunication"? Well, it seems Pete - when given the choice to bring rice or beans to the potluck party - told Michael at their work he and Laurie would bring beans. Now, to be fair, it is a very long commute from the workplace of Michael and Pete to Pete and Laurie's house (maybe 9 miles), so maybe jet lag or a time difference is to blame for the brain fart, but Pete informed Laurie they were to bring <u>rice</u> to the party, not beans. Michael, never one to let an opportunity to give someone crap pass by ("Hey ... where’s the beans?!? <i>Did someone already eat <u>all the beans</u>?!?</i>”) decided Laurie would hear the big question of the evening multiple times!</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, as a good hostess, I naturally joined the back of the line when it came my turn for food. With the party at our house, Michael and I had been very busy getting the house, yard, tables, patio area, etc. ready for guests … and it felt fantastic to sit down and enjoy some great food. So much so I decided to go back for a second helping. About two bites into it though, there was Mr. Stinkeye (the one who was first in line for food, about 15 people ahead of me) wanting to get back to the game. Really, Grant did me a favor by curbing my overeating since I will be donning a wedding dress in the near future.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So we continued our second and final round of play. By the end, we had 5 people in the running for most Buncos: Laurie, Sandy, Josh, Dale and myself. I know everybody plays with slightly different rules but I love having that extra little jolt of competition so we had a roll-off with the 5 of us; first to score 30 points or a Bunco would be the big winner. My sister used to accuse me of cheating at Monopoly and always winning because I was the banker (which I never did!). Yes, I was the scorekeeper for the roll-off (yes, possible conflict of interest there) but, with everyone gathered around, there would be no way to cheat even if I wanted to (which I did not!). You may have guessed by now, yes, I was the big Bunco winner. (In all seriousness, I was the big winner anyway, having family and friends join us for a wonderful evening of games and food.)</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next up, a roll-off for Most Wins between my sister Sandy and Whisper, the wife of one of my co-workers. (Sandy won that decision.)</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The final roll-off of the evening - Most Losses - came down to Kelly and Laurie. It was a tight battle but Laurie (Miss “I Never Win”) was the winner … or <b><u><i>loser</i></u></b> as the case may be.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next up, some fantastic cookies courtesy of Kenny and Whisper plus a tray of oh-so-yummy margarita cupcakes baked lovingly by Kelly (the master chef of our group). Gathered around the table, we all enjoyed the sweets and recounted the events of the evening while quaffing beers, horchata and margaritas. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDW9F_vnYTiKbte_HazZiKG-hNIF_11qASGDe-VyT9hWb3MHRiKU6SNCgQ2_4QrKSf0ZmycN_irENxhXgbEPnSq9B7M_lKGFYXM81-vqEk_7cczwC9Tzkn_zwwhULDHjBKq3Mg-N6yIv0F-mpBVa6JQFtPMyv94x19ypowF3Vr3D-6jXwgz_Z1rsGRQ/s4032/PXL_20230521_022758485.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDW9F_vnYTiKbte_HazZiKG-hNIF_11qASGDe-VyT9hWb3MHRiKU6SNCgQ2_4QrKSf0ZmycN_irENxhXgbEPnSq9B7M_lKGFYXM81-vqEk_7cczwC9Tzkn_zwwhULDHjBKq3Mg-N6yIv0F-mpBVa6JQFtPMyv94x19ypowF3Vr3D-6jXwgz_Z1rsGRQ/w534-h300/PXL_20230521_022758485.jpg" width="534" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><i>Left to right: </i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><b><span><i>Kenny, Mena Rose, Whisper, Sandy, Dale, Dave, Grant (Mr. Stinkeye), </i></span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><b><span><i>Amy, Alma, Karen, Laurie (Miss "I Never Win" above Karen), Jose,</i></span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><b><span><i>Carla, Pete (above Carla), Baby Josh, Missy and Kelly</i></span></b></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> <span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We did have some uninvited guests crash the party who seemed to be hell bent on trying to extract every last drop of blood from my body - yes, the dreaded mosquitos made an unwelcome appearance, grinding the party to a quick end.</span></span><p></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last to leave, Dale and Dave as we discussed the planning of our upcoming October and November nuptials.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was a great night … great company and great food. Big bonus, the dog was so worn out he slept most of the next day.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next month … <b>The Melt</b> at the Palladio in Folsom ...</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-41783357528642739902023-05-21T22:41:00.002-07:002023-05-21T22:41:55.172-07:00To Date, I Still Haven't Seen Love And Rockets Live ...<p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgQVCTT8K3CieBP1Y13ErBm7uygvZIMKdJN2MbIvMT2qbGsiBFvnlhi4dAxP-GqQxBZLcfKiziIgWJnqUrtGUIy7-zucWBl1n1MauTg0c8d4pUnZpi1A8B0qctkhxs1p5w7WsAD9mnrlc8mVCO54p3wHZlcBxiuEcyiS5JQfpsYc5N3f4mD6AjEuUYw/s1200/Love-and-Rockets-Blank.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgQVCTT8K3CieBP1Y13ErBm7uygvZIMKdJN2MbIvMT2qbGsiBFvnlhi4dAxP-GqQxBZLcfKiziIgWJnqUrtGUIy7-zucWBl1n1MauTg0c8d4pUnZpi1A8B0qctkhxs1p5w7WsAD9mnrlc8mVCO54p3wHZlcBxiuEcyiS5JQfpsYc5N3f4mD6AjEuUYw/w424-h424/Love-and-Rockets-Blank.jpg" width="424" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Well, I can't say I'm exactly happy at this particular moment. <br /><br />As I begin to compose this, it's 12:50 p.m. Sunday, May 21st 2023.<br /><br />Instead of not being happy right now I <i>should</i> be jumping in the shower in preparation of leaving for Oakland California's Fox Theater to catch a concert this evening by a band I've never before seen live: <b><i><span style="color: red;">Love And Rockets</span></i></b>. <br /><br />But there are some challenges. I'll break it down for you ...<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">First, I purchased tickets from Ticketmaster back in the early part of March for this show. Decent seats, not cheap, not too expensive, because I jumped at grabbing them the morning they went on sale. I got an e-mail confirmation saying "You Got The Tickets!" for L&R along with an order number and all the particulars on the show. I also accessed my Ticketmaster account and verified the show was on upcoming concert schedule. Things were looking good and proper.<br /><br />A few days later tickets went on sale for Tears For Fears. Ended up getting tickets for that concert as well and, again, received confirmation I had tickets for same. An e-mail confirmation of that show was on my account. <br /><br />A couple concerts within a few months of each other. Places to go, performers to see. And I was especially pumped for the L&R show as I've never seen the band live previously.<br /><br />And then somebody came along and slapped me upside the head and back into reality. I tried accessing my tickets this morning online so I could print them out or at least have them available on my phone; they didn't show up in my account. So I started doing some digging.<br /><br />I have my verifications. They say I've got tickets for the show. I've got an order number. I've got a date, a time, a location, even my seat numbers. I've got confirmation of payment. I've got a transaction number, got a payment ID number, a number for this, a number for that, a verification over here, a confirmation over there. I got the whole shebang. But I still can't access my tickets and the receipt I have showing the majority of this information states:</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="color: #01ffff;">"This is not a ticket. This cannot be used for entry."</span></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">No QR code to access, no barcode to scan. Nada, nil, zilch. So what to do? <br /><br />Well, after 45 minutes of fruitless research and another 10 minutes or so speaking with Ticketmaster who couldn't locate my information I discovered it wasn't Ticketmaster after all I was talking to. It was some third party ticket service. <br /><br />Another venture online with Ticketmaster (verifying it was indeed Ticketmaster I was actually volleying with this time) resulted in a query asking about my account to try and resolve the issue. As noted previously, the problem was the Love And Rockets show wasn't on my account. So I had to shimmy around Ticketmaster's system of e-mail queries to explaining what was going on. The response I got back was that it would be 24 to 48 hours (possibly less) before I got a response. Well, that really isn't going to cut the mustard when the concert starts in 8 hours.<br /><br />So what to do? Well I had the foresight to purchase insurance on the tickets. But, reading over the rules and regulations of the insurance, my situation isn't exactly covered. Speaking to a live person, however, gave me hope that that doesn't mean I can't file a claim in light of the circumstances.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FodO3xVOpA8" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So ... the question is do I take my chances drive 2 1/2 hours to Oakland and show up the at the theater with all my verifications in tow hoping I can get in? Because with all the rigamarole I've gone through thus far it doesn't look like I'd have much luck on that front. Throw in a 5+ hour round trip, parking and incidentals and that's gonna aggravate me exponentially if I can't step foot in the theater. Or do I just throw up my hands admit to myself I'm not attending the concert this evening and save myself the grief? </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Also, do I risk not going to the show and finally getting some kind of response from Ticketmaster to which they very well could reply "Well, you really didn't make an effort to try to get into the show, did you?" And my answer would have to be to agree with that sentiment. But that doesn't discount the information I have backing me up my decision.<br /><br />When it comes right down to it? I'm going to take my chances, save myself the wear and tear and probably engage in a little contest about getting my money back.<br /><br />Stay tuned ... </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /> <br /><br /></span><br /></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-70730520028742624822023-05-19T07:06:00.010-07:002023-05-19T07:46:15.134-07:00The NorCal6: Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festival, 4.29.23<p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99sUz_ELuBItj3OOHmd9HUsmGpsRDHG_8A7CI0TFjLu7gTHpPdyaor3gjNwNQI9PGZicAKmG40KTUOkB1yeTB9PG21O22Y06ENtrQL_-o3qX5m4X2NxJOst_8yJaLgMPqXPq6TSsXgxKMGazC1XTnLrQMqyq0kdRiPGgBqzN19rxnciLCXbW9955F9w/s656/589be5_45aa45c03076482193233e749dbdb1d5~mv2.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="656" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99sUz_ELuBItj3OOHmd9HUsmGpsRDHG_8A7CI0TFjLu7gTHpPdyaor3gjNwNQI9PGZicAKmG40KTUOkB1yeTB9PG21O22Y06ENtrQL_-o3qX5m4X2NxJOst_8yJaLgMPqXPq6TSsXgxKMGazC1XTnLrQMqyq0kdRiPGgBqzN19rxnciLCXbW9955F9w/w461-h385/589be5_45aa45c03076482193233e749dbdb1d5~mv2.webp" width="461" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You know ... it's a wonder <b><span style="color: #04ff00;"><i>The NorCal6</i></span></b> even made it to the <b>Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festival</b> at all last month. (What with my <a href="http://frolickryredux.blogspot.com/2023/04/i-was-wrong-wednesday-grilled-cheese.html" target="_blank">accidental cancellation</a> of the original tickets purchased and their re-acquisition. What a cluster ...)<br /><br />But we made it. And, for the most part, a terrific time was had by all.<br /><br />The Fest, an annual gathering of all things grilled cheese, was strung out over the course of a weekend. Saturday featured UNLIMITED samples of specialty grilled cheese sandwiches, craft beers, regional wines, desserts and more for those 21 and older while Sunday was the family friendly day where the food samples and drink were available for individual charge, not the free-for-all of the day prior.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZN9GVOeW8pYyzfBmlyh96KV7kmlebX-QY26TW3AzFEI8lesyOttNPv4bKH_r0WXsDCGtiQkTIV4hyVyFUW6Tn6jAjoDdkF02IPW4fuKDU42emQODFtFmC12UE5Dxb8QCMsekdUV1hsuV6inHpMqiuykDG7Rg7ovoKi1ufpVZRF7BBYU83_-hFTrwfZg/s1212/PXL_20230429_220123470.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1212" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZN9GVOeW8pYyzfBmlyh96KV7kmlebX-QY26TW3AzFEI8lesyOttNPv4bKH_r0WXsDCGtiQkTIV4hyVyFUW6Tn6jAjoDdkF02IPW4fuKDU42emQODFtFmC12UE5Dxb8QCMsekdUV1hsuV6inHpMqiuykDG7Rg7ovoKi1ufpVZRF7BBYU83_-hFTrwfZg/w409-h230/PXL_20230429_220123470.jpg" width="409" /></a></div><i><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><center>No ... I don't know why Grant feels the need to announce<br />he's #1 in many of these photos ...</center></span></i><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Grant, Kelly, Missy and I got in an hour early courtesy of V.I.P. passes and Pete and Laurie joined us shortly thereafter. Street parking was relatively easy when we got there. I can only imagine how strained the parking situation got as the event got close to go time.<br /><br />Held at Southside Park in downtown Sacramento, you couldn't have asked for a better location. It was pleasant, sunny and never got too hot over the course of the thing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And, oh ... the comestibles they had coming out the booths! Let's highlight a few, shall we?<br /><br />There was a <b>BBBJ</b>, a blackberry bacon brie & jalapeño grilled cheese concoction from Bella Art Works that was surprisingly tasty. Additionally, this same joint featured the <b>Mother Clucker</b>, breaded chicken, provolone, cheddar and honey mayo. Damned good stuff. Two particular sandwiches from Rancho Rio Bravo Catering - the <b>Cowboy Up</b> (smokehouse brisket, smokey cheese, TexiCali blackberryy red wine & cracked pepper) and the <b>Wranglers Roundup</b> (smoked pulled pork and cheese with duck plum cranberry sauce) - were exceptional. <br /><br />I didn't get the chance to grab two specific sandwiches I was looking forward to from Sacramento Pop Up Truck: <b>The Crustacean</b> (a lobster and Gruyère grilled cheese) and <b>The Surf And Turf</b> (a brisket, lobster and Gruyère creation). There was only so much you could get to as the day wore on and the crowds increased in size.<br /><br />But one of my favorites was a French onion grilled cheese sandwich that came with a side of French onion soup. There were two vendors featuring French onion grilled cheese so I'm not sure which one I got from who but, whichever one I got my hands on, was the right pick. It was outstanding. And I wish I would have gone back for seconds.<br /><br />But, you have to understand, there wasn't just grilled cheese on the menu. There was beer tasting as well, raising this little get together to an entirely different level of affair. It was a grilled cheese festival and brewfest, too!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxCBp6FLzoomrRwCleMBQ-w1wuQnu6Cayp9s8KBvhF5vtfZj_nyD4klLHUqpbI7yZAlXph0l9iJD1hm4oA1FIC0zh1N-VOF0Sa16WtfjVoQ_SaooRaFA4veITtNVUutfr4vldBwDfcU-YoBbE44LZ3jfanuGoB0ixT1unbw2fG9h4eE5xfQSv2RSRqQ/s1212/PXL_20230429_220202013.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1212" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxCBp6FLzoomrRwCleMBQ-w1wuQnu6Cayp9s8KBvhF5vtfZj_nyD4klLHUqpbI7yZAlXph0l9iJD1hm4oA1FIC0zh1N-VOF0Sa16WtfjVoQ_SaooRaFA4veITtNVUutfr4vldBwDfcU-YoBbE44LZ3jfanuGoB0ixT1unbw2fG9h4eE5xfQSv2RSRqQ/w431-h242/PXL_20230429_220202013.jpg" width="431" /></a></div><i><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><center>Yes, my beard is black. That's an entirely different post ...</center></span></i><br /><p></p><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkOAx5_spvh0q3bjU6pBUq6qS6oQ4aDcMgThHUOsqru4YdWfqNGcHWdjghMSnrEhAkCSdCNCbRiLD4JgnHyy2_AeLhhLfs4aHGEyqHX1KEx9vOnsMmcE-CdomZYawCImsgwfOLIZO1zfvoYd2Y0AEh9fA1xZ1Ihb2pFprkcTTT1aIZv9vvqtFi411RQ/s682/PXL_20230429_223828925.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="384" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkOAx5_spvh0q3bjU6pBUq6qS6oQ4aDcMgThHUOsqru4YdWfqNGcHWdjghMSnrEhAkCSdCNCbRiLD4JgnHyy2_AeLhhLfs4aHGEyqHX1KEx9vOnsMmcE-CdomZYawCImsgwfOLIZO1zfvoYd2Y0AEh9fA1xZ1Ihb2pFprkcTTT1aIZv9vvqtFi411RQ/w140-h249/PXL_20230429_223828925.jpg" width="140" /></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>At Ease Brewing Company</b>,<b> Great Notion Brewing</b>,<b> Morgan Territory Brewing</b>,<b> Track 7 Brewing Co.</b>,<b> Boring Rose Brewing Co.</b>,<b> Sierra Nevada Brewing Company - Chico</b> were some of the breweries present along with a few more I don't recall. <br /><br />And, if that wasn't enough of a good time, there were distilleries in attendance as well handing out tiny sample shots and signature cocktails as well! <b>Humboldt Distillery</b>,<b> J.J. Pfister Distilling Co</b>,<b> River City Brands</b>,<b> South Fork Vodka</b> to name a few. It was </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>J.J. Pfister Distilling </b></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">which had a very, very tasty rye whiskey sample I gravitated to a a time or several. I even got Grant to give it a try. And he didn't dislike it, a bit of a surprise there. (Grant? Not a rye guy.) And once Pete and Laurie got there, Pete was drug here and there to give the various samples a try, too. The girls were drinking some foo-foo sweet pink grapefruit vodka punch refresher from South Fork Vodka that wasn't too shabby. Even Missy was digging on it ... and she doesn't like grapefruit. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Bva1H-Xua9CicSJvqTFZWq4xxM8YXENLfJhOW5TXinh3JCFR2AZ8zWsVv1GPM6S5NQh8bfWPtwuo-P1lx-modeqCVq56UJNO_hCFzhFRONPOl5SfzOJlSsr_1wh0GjgWwAeftswQbupZ8M3ocygCb8Tn0eBvm_JCthq0k2-Lcinm-FQc7OxNUZuLkg/s682/PXL_20230429_223841516.MOTION-01.COVER.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="588" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Bva1H-Xua9CicSJvqTFZWq4xxM8YXENLfJhOW5TXinh3JCFR2AZ8zWsVv1GPM6S5NQh8bfWPtwuo-P1lx-modeqCVq56UJNO_hCFzhFRONPOl5SfzOJlSsr_1wh0GjgWwAeftswQbupZ8M3ocygCb8Tn0eBvm_JCthq0k2-Lcinm-FQc7OxNUZuLkg/w160-h186/PXL_20230429_223841516.MOTION-01.COVER.jpg" width="160" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Needless
to say, with all the food being munched on and all the liquids swigged,
we had a pretty damned good time ... enough so we all concluded we'll be headed back next year. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In conclusion, I may have had a little bit <i>too</i> good a time at the festival. But what's a little frivolity among friends? Even loud ones like me? <br /><br />As the saying goes (a recent one I've come to embrace): <br /><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5xxV3wZ275JFriw8ChVVo2qFYkTymRbZL-qvLio74fK3FVMxwgc9RcYZLQzYSvlr38dqvuqgSRNFd_hp0J51m2y2Qt5oprZtNwXt1dge8lMrCsMyvgChYS0m9MI0afaJpQdjzLA6M5SZhoxaj_ftexIcXep0Xna9iJWcvl8XyQ9gQo-vQeEB0legHw/s858/Screenshot_20230408-090306~2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="858" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5xxV3wZ275JFriw8ChVVo2qFYkTymRbZL-qvLio74fK3FVMxwgc9RcYZLQzYSvlr38dqvuqgSRNFd_hp0J51m2y2Qt5oprZtNwXt1dge8lMrCsMyvgChYS0m9MI0afaJpQdjzLA6M5SZhoxaj_ftexIcXep0Xna9iJWcvl8XyQ9gQo-vQeEB0legHw/s320/Screenshot_20230408-090306~2.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Next up? Our house ... were there's gonna be a Bunko Party with a Mexican food theme ...</span><p></p><p></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-88320595005345087172023-04-06T13:05:00.001-07:002023-04-13T08:47:40.549-07:00I Was Wrong Wednesday: The Grilled Cheese Edition<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMOax4u2W9i7qY1Y-u9KBFXnDuewuJmQ1R6y-a5R2ogyKNTXP5BMksB42EeNtbXOZYLNDOHQ95-aCUZz0dX307I4UjR0xoXYi5JsNOVy-AnGislWyGDhdjjtKSqg0hg6_3J_AO-CFygEe_8GvA8YA-rf4Z11fvmA5LVmXxyybLcqwnMfWs_inAR5SDOQ/s1050/I%20Was%20Wrong.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="1050" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMOax4u2W9i7qY1Y-u9KBFXnDuewuJmQ1R6y-a5R2ogyKNTXP5BMksB42EeNtbXOZYLNDOHQ95-aCUZz0dX307I4UjR0xoXYi5JsNOVy-AnGislWyGDhdjjtKSqg0hg6_3J_AO-CFygEe_8GvA8YA-rf4Z11fvmA5LVmXxyybLcqwnMfWs_inAR5SDOQ/w482-h253/I%20Was%20Wrong.png" width="482" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Even though this was published on a Thursday, the events actually took place this past Wednesday. Thus "I Was Wrong Wednesday."<br /><br />A few days ago, scanning my bank account (the usual account check-up and verification) I came across a curiosity, a $412.76 debit of which I had no clue to its attachment. The notification stated "EB BBQ Unlimited" which I immediately thought was suspect. I scoured my brain for a few minutes and couldn't figure out anything I had purchased for $412.76 nor anything with "EB BBQ Unlimited" attached to it. So, dutifully, I went on a little internet discovery mission to find what that label might be.<br /><br />Quite a few BBQ companies came up in my search and I immediately suspected someone had gotten hold of my credit card number and committed some "Happy birthday to me!" present shopping at my expense. So I jumped on my bank's website and went through all the necessary steps to have the charge disputed. In so doing, it was suggested I cancel the card and get a new one. Well this causes all kinds of problems, especially from the standpoint of various accounts having that card information attached to it. That means I have to go to those various places and erase the old card and input the new one which is a pain in the ass ... but a necessity in light of the possibility fraud was involved. So I went through the motions and did what I needed to do, grumbling along the way.<br /><br />Fast forward to early this past Wednesday morning as I'm checking my e-mail. A couple items caught my attention, one of which was from the <b>Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festival</b> and another from <b>EventBrite</b>, both noting the 4 tickets I purchased over a month ago were being cancelled because I had requested a refund of the $412.76 charge I used to pay for them. Oh, so <i>THAT</i> was what that debit was on my account! And <i>THAT'S</i> what "EBB BBQ Unlimited" was. There was no fraud! I initiated the transaction all by my lonesome! <i><b>*yeesh* </b></i><br /><br />I shot a return e-mail to the <b>Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festiva</b>l letting them know my bonehead move and asked what I needed to do for a re-acquisition, being they were VIP tickets. <br /><br />And then I figured I'd better visit their website in the event tickets were still available. The festival is quite popular and sells out every year. And - being well into the month and the fact it was being held at the end of April - I figured everything was sold out already and I may be SOL. But, to my surprise, there were still tickets to be purchased ... and VIP tickets at that. So I jumped at the chance quickly, purchased them all over again and ended up saving face.<br /><br />Thus, the "I Was Wrong Wednesday" moniker. What a motorhead I am ...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> )</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-42847660954502171212023-04-04T14:49:00.000-07:002023-04-04T14:49:02.769-07:00Popped Top<p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When your significant other asks: "Why in the world do you need to collect empty bottles of </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Tapatío </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">... ?!?"<br /><br />How else am I going to replace the broken top other than purchase another bottle?</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7VboYOV15te-JLyi97_Mv9W3NRVaoTUuJxL2KtIwMkUS06yS5rcaSg6HH3AEPb2gWP2fiR9sDsHHic1GH8NFlrPAbVrypwIlkfQJ0lsFTsaAb0AVuCMpsNBC9sg0gnsT8ZmsRZIRREp9imBio67bJxUepafRxpP11Obj3WaVO6VF2-IQ4m0wgyQ_QA/s682/Tapatio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="390" height="641" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7VboYOV15te-JLyi97_Mv9W3NRVaoTUuJxL2KtIwMkUS06yS5rcaSg6HH3AEPb2gWP2fiR9sDsHHic1GH8NFlrPAbVrypwIlkfQJ0lsFTsaAb0AVuCMpsNBC9sg0gnsT8ZmsRZIRREp9imBio67bJxUepafRxpP11Obj3WaVO6VF2-IQ4m0wgyQ_QA/w367-h641/Tapatio.jpg" width="367" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /> </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Boom ...</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> )</span></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-48152318120004198212023-03-15T13:49:00.001-07:002023-03-15T13:49:50.532-07:00The NorCal6: Soriano's Restaurant, 3.11.23<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbv4xagFk1zA4O1VqwAOL7IJ2TqigXrMsKWAim1ECwxf8DbETAK3l2HdGIz2V24FX_7hz9g5lbxr2Nl3g8FXT--d0G6Feyjl12EOwSOQlDlArqiWg-OJpL692VRWokOjaFvMcqSVp2QGP2bD92Ce5a7U9k3LEboFwrqvLxxfvKDYvurX3kicZZtqyrA/s1312/Sorianos%203.10.23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1312" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbv4xagFk1zA4O1VqwAOL7IJ2TqigXrMsKWAim1ECwxf8DbETAK3l2HdGIz2V24FX_7hz9g5lbxr2Nl3g8FXT--d0G6Feyjl12EOwSOQlDlArqiWg-OJpL692VRWokOjaFvMcqSVp2QGP2bD92Ce5a7U9k3LEboFwrqvLxxfvKDYvurX3kicZZtqyrA/w470-h244/Sorianos%203.10.23.jpg" width="470" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><center><i>Left to right: Michael, Grant (and his wallet), Pete, Laurie, Kelly, Missy</i></center><center><i>all of who participated in</i></center><center><i>"The Case Of The Missing Wallet That Wasn't Really Missing"<br /></i></center></span></span></span><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">For those of you paying attention to this blog, you may have noticed there was no <b><i><span style="color: #04ff00;">NorCal6</span></i></b> blog entry for February. That's because a couple members of the group (Missy and myself) ended up contracting COVID at the end of January. So we took it easy, worked our rehabilitation grooves and applied our energy-less efforts into getting as well as possible. (<u>Update</u>: A month plus later, there's still some lingering fatigue and I'm not certain my taste buds are quite up to snuff ... but we're back in the saddle again.)<br /><br />Anywho, as threatened in the previous NorCal6 blog entry, <b><a href="https://www.sorianosrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Soriano's Restaurant</a></b> in Diamond Springs was our next venture. A Salvadoran / Mexican mix awaited us, something I was ready to explore. Not the least reason of which was because I was rather hungry that day having only eaten breakfast. <br /><br />The staff was friendly enough and greeted us warmly on our arrival; they were genuinely happy to see us and thanked us for coming in as they seated us. Chips and salsa were served and Missy and I chatted and looked over the menu while we awaited Grant, Kelly, Pete and Laurie. Missy ordered a wine margarita and I kept things light with a Coke. <br /><br />Shortly, Grant and Kelly walked in. (Funny little aside here: As Grant sat next to me, he put his wallet down on the table and skewed his cell phone atop it, I assumed so he could access it if need be without picking it up. More on this shortly.) Pete and Laurie we're a few minutes behind them. Then it got down to the business of ordering ...<br /><br />With the orders taken and concluded, the conversation rolled out. And at one point Grant shot back in his chair and called himself an idiot for forgetting his wallet at home. I didn't say a thing, knowing his wallet was practically beside me and out of his purview blocked by his phone. That exasperation lasted a bit before he realized he did, in fact, have his wallet as I picked up his phone and asked "You mean ... THIS wallet?" I was accused of harboring knowledge of it without telling him and I freely admitted to being guilty. The looks and laughs around the table were more than worth it.<br /><br />Mine? The "Borrego y Mas": a lamb shank entrée (the "borrego") with your choice of an enchilada, tamale, or taco filled with the protein of your choice (the "mas"). It came additionally served with marinade sauce, pico de gallo and sliced avocado along with rice and beans. Others in our party weren't as "experimental" as I was, leaning toward the more traditional Mexican fare ... and there's nothing wrong with that in the least. I also request an appetizer, some "chiles" which were Soriano's version of stuffed jalapeños.<br /><br />The outcome, from my perspective, was delicious. The borrego was fall-off-the-bone tender and flavorful, definitely a different take on how I've had lamb previously. It wasn't quite the same for everyone else, however. Comments ranged from "okay" to "meh" on the tastiness scale so it appeared I got the better end of the dinner experience.<br /><br />The caveat, however, was the staff forgot my chile appetizer. I didn't squawk about it however because, as it turned out, it wasn't included on my bill. And I wasn't upset in the least being I was pretty well stuffed from my dinner. <br /><br />At the conclusion of the meal, a dessert flan was brought out for "the birthday boy" Pete whose birthday was nowwhere near the date of Saturday, March 11th. I interjected rather loudly while looking at him with raised eyebrows "I had no idea it was your birthday, Pete!" but he didn't catch the clue and pooh-poohed the dessert away, stating matter of factly it was NOT his birthday. The staff noted someone had called ahead to make certain the celebration was observed but no one at our table was the instigator. It was surmised the waiter had gotten it wrong ... and the flan was hurried away. I glared at Pete and told him he just lost a free dessert. But ... a flan was saved that evening so no harm, no foul.<br /><br />You need to understand: During these little dinner get-togethers there is lots of talk and storytelling and cajolery and laughter among other things. At one point Kelly was practically in tears over something I said (I forget what), Missy was adamant about some hefty subject she was on about (something I had done, no doubt), Pete waxing poetic about some such and a straw was even thrown at Laurie because her memories about past events had come into question. (She's kind of known for this which is half the fun.) In other words, we usually have a pretty good time when we do our monthly "swingers meet up" as most of our kids like to call it. <br /><br />As it turned out, we were the second to the last group to leave the joint that evening. But, as we did so, there was the late Saturday night wave of people who began to shuffle in. <br /><br /><u>Next Up</u>: The end of April sees us attending the <a href="https://www.sacgrilledcheese.com" target="_blank">Sacramento Grilled Cheese Festival</a>. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> )</span></span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><br /></span></p><p></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-36707247935352043382023-02-27T07:53:00.001-08:002023-02-27T07:53:36.624-08:00February's Inktober52, 2023<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">#Inktober52
(The 2023 edition) <a href="http://frolickryredux.blogspot.com/2023/02/inktober52-2023-edition.html" target="_blank">continues</a>!</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /><br />February's prompts: <b>Mighty</b>,<b> Skull</b>,<b> Odd</b>, <b>Pup</b>. (I committed a play on words for that last one.) <br /><br />Two months down ...</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyf1s2Q1WUoewfD_hYn5pZ4yBZ713pQq018ARnIIZKV2O3nBKnWMQQpDBuNg4mVFyUnpE4mJi9QA-pfoxw-Rcxf9Hb_i-2Pp0-eDzP2R1_vQCsFDllwFRNVrE_L587glRM7E8zN_opJ5m67E4vfpKrE-7z2heqyV_Xr-wO_6Urb80rMbaNUDthCsju4w/s683/Week%205%20Mighty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="461" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyf1s2Q1WUoewfD_hYn5pZ4yBZ713pQq018ARnIIZKV2O3nBKnWMQQpDBuNg4mVFyUnpE4mJi9QA-pfoxw-Rcxf9Hb_i-2Pp0-eDzP2R1_vQCsFDllwFRNVrE_L587glRM7E8zN_opJ5m67E4vfpKrE-7z2heqyV_Xr-wO_6Urb80rMbaNUDthCsju4w/w270-h400/Week%205%20Mighty.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbjID2dYnzWBi-ULaaz7-9NDUTm8MQj9-B2xcf_mF3SxkZ_xL1NlNEdeyTJHpTB6-bSSiCe3CxbEcz0PfDgVgyDjAV1kwdXSAqhuYRi4UbiFoB6ePPGRF7_VVcBvDB5cUkQoshkcNmeo9QpktEklk1u1YqPtWFPasoSj7NkcLyg-90CHMLW47qWuzCQ/s660/Week%206%20Skull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbjID2dYnzWBi-ULaaz7-9NDUTm8MQj9-B2xcf_mF3SxkZ_xL1NlNEdeyTJHpTB6-bSSiCe3CxbEcz0PfDgVgyDjAV1kwdXSAqhuYRi4UbiFoB6ePPGRF7_VVcBvDB5cUkQoshkcNmeo9QpktEklk1u1YqPtWFPasoSj7NkcLyg-90CHMLW47qWuzCQ/w273-h400/Week%206%20Skull.jpg" width="273" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHclY-34bn-HTpctQJh7sHR1KTDA_xAJaYDAe00tdRQek3t9xXaP5nEo6QTDDlIvXIFyESgmJlFggYBr3bxVTIo4CAWkyYfw0Q2defCdR9Ec-fYuKU0F9m42QsO6JPYb1HDwc_sGsj_fnfCqw7QqXwmZ2USNWiyDH7yfG3Xlp0s52CNGBqsP94-pITGg/s682/Week%207%20Odd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="503" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHclY-34bn-HTpctQJh7sHR1KTDA_xAJaYDAe00tdRQek3t9xXaP5nEo6QTDDlIvXIFyESgmJlFggYBr3bxVTIo4CAWkyYfw0Q2defCdR9Ec-fYuKU0F9m42QsO6JPYb1HDwc_sGsj_fnfCqw7QqXwmZ2USNWiyDH7yfG3Xlp0s52CNGBqsP94-pITGg/w295-h400/Week%207%20Odd.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx29wbnmyVmY2dshgKvjpEsUKcyZVQDDSv4Xfa2PaXTf0CeTlDnRkfFGED9_EwLl_Pap2me-PtASFTx0DqmMyk5kR1amz7SIvanOHHjzO6T2pjCR_44BdZHm9Mn3bue-H-vOngia4yjeyJaxyhbfIO9BY25EhLeJIvspcFzBJciS7QkPHwgDMZhQutIA/s526/Week%208%20Pup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="395" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx29wbnmyVmY2dshgKvjpEsUKcyZVQDDSv4Xfa2PaXTf0CeTlDnRkfFGED9_EwLl_Pap2me-PtASFTx0DqmMyk5kR1amz7SIvanOHHjzO6T2pjCR_44BdZHm9Mn3bue-H-vOngia4yjeyJaxyhbfIO9BY25EhLeJIvspcFzBJciS7QkPHwgDMZhQutIA/w300-h400/Week%208%20Pup.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>........ Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> )</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-89717817738788306332023-02-23T08:45:00.005-08:002023-02-24T11:12:28.412-08:00(Almost) Bleeding Out<p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAwHC33lcsR9HDi1rajdcVs9yJ-2XBgf3AunjnQhwxBEVem-R-tdo1Dd1o_CgSLzRJj3MgxQwODNdkEs0BPUbljpfhQa-zaawbFqC6zqk8WqrUr8W6NFnaSjgCrL26RKYSM-gSpKHwC11UDviJlRCjZWVMkBhLyCQBUI2-Is7YKlkno739gbb6JTCTA/s820/Pooling%20Blood.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="820" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAwHC33lcsR9HDi1rajdcVs9yJ-2XBgf3AunjnQhwxBEVem-R-tdo1Dd1o_CgSLzRJj3MgxQwODNdkEs0BPUbljpfhQa-zaawbFqC6zqk8WqrUr8W6NFnaSjgCrL26RKYSM-gSpKHwC11UDviJlRCjZWVMkBhLyCQBUI2-Is7YKlkno739gbb6JTCTA/w439-h236/Pooling%20Blood.jpg" width="439" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>No ... not an actual picture of my pooling blood</i></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> <br />You know how water forms that little tension curve at its surface? That's because their like molecules want to stick to each other until they're forced apart by gravity or some other means. <br /><br />Well, the same goes for blood. Only larger.<br /><br />But I'm getting ahead of myself ...<br /><br />I was using a scraping knife to get a label peeled off a book. I ended up slipping and gouging my finger just below the knuckle of my left index finger, gouging it deeply enough that blood started flowing from it and pooling on the counter where I was working. And man, did it ever flow. I don't think I've ever cut myself so deeply with a scraper. I didn't have anything to staunch the bleeding so I just stood there looking at it, thinking for a minute how I was going to get out of this predicament. Paper towels were underneath the sink behind me which was a good 10 feet away from where I was standing so I couldn't reach them without dripping blood all over the place and there was nothing but dish towels in one of the drawers just below me. I didn't want to bloody up any of them so I decided to stand there and think a minute.<br /><br />Now, earlier, I had given a printer cartridge to Missy for the out-of-ink printer we had in another room. She mentioned she didn't know how to install the cartridge and I playfully told her to figure it out. After a minute or two I went to see what she was up to and realized she had locked the door into the room where the printer was. I told her to open the door so I could install the cartridge but she resisted my help. "Nope ... you told me to figure it out and that's what I'm gonna do" she said matter of factly. I told her not to be stubborn and just open the door but she refused. I pointed at the printer through the window in the door and explained she needed to flip open the printer because that's where the cartridge was, buried in its innards but she just ignored me. So I just walked away.<br /><br />And, on my return into the kitchen, was when I started fooling with the book, trying to get the label off.<br /><br />So standing there dripping blood on the counter I began pounding against the granite countertop in an effort to try and attract her attention while yelling her name. I graduated to slapping the wall thinking the sound of thudding would be even more of an earful but she was obviously ignoring me. I knew she could hear me pounding away and yelling, at least distantly, but she was calling my bluff, ignoring my effort to help her install that printer cartridge. Little did she know I was injured and bleeding. <br /><br />Meanwhile, the blood pooling in front of me was growing ever larger with a pretty hefty meniscus forming at its surface. (I wish I'd had my phone handy so I could have snapped a photo of that pooling blood ... but that would have been rather garish.) At some point if I didn't do something about it it would threaten to drip over the edge of the counter. <br /><br />A good 30 seconds of pounding and yelling yielded nothing from Missy. Meanwhile, the pool of blood beneath my finger was growing exponentially. I didn't think there was any chance of myself bleeding out but, still, the amount of blood coming out my finger was somewhat alarming. That's when I realized I had rubber gloves in one of the drawers right where I was standing, so I opened a drawer with my free hand, pulled out a glove and jammed my bleeding hand into one so I wouldn't mess up any other surface other than the countertop. Finally, I headed into the bathroom. There, I started a water flush to get all the blood off my hand and begin cleaning it. I applied hydrogen peroxide and just waited for the bleeding to slow down. But the cut was pretty damned deep and it didn't seem as if it was going to stop anytime soon.<br /><br />I washed it as best I could to clean it and applied additional hydrogen peroxide. Finally Missy came in, curious what I was doing, and I told her I needed a little help, to please get me the Band Aids. I asked her if she'd seen the pool of blood on the counter when she passed by on our way to the restroom. She had not. She mentioned she'd heard me pounding and yelling her name but she thought I was just trying to gain her attention to come out of the room. I did but, instead, it was under the pretext I was injured and in need of assistance, not to coax her into letting me fix the printer.<br /><br />Obviously, not the best time to get caught in the middle of a (possibly) life-threatening injury. <br /><br />Which, really, it wasn't ... but it made for a bit more drama ... right?<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP </b></span>)<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Update:</b> Then, there's this accurate little drawing I put together that went with Week #7's #inktober52 prompt and appropriate here ...</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOeqDlW2LZ1L_I_f-HN0Nm4UC0RMCxK7vg9buQL6giRTg8mBXeTxgP7z09CWGa_N2ULmhozQQ7gtT2Zi-Rbhm7zBhFAFXSLHLmu4Zs4cFeku5_GBZ8mPWPbeaNf9BELP8SwO1890fk1wpEjJoiR-4OeH6gB9SlPPat7FDFf9RwB0AhSttetyLrt4S6A/s682/Week%207%20Odd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="503" height="513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOeqDlW2LZ1L_I_f-HN0Nm4UC0RMCxK7vg9buQL6giRTg8mBXeTxgP7z09CWGa_N2ULmhozQQ7gtT2Zi-Rbhm7zBhFAFXSLHLmu4Zs4cFeku5_GBZ8mPWPbeaNf9BELP8SwO1890fk1wpEjJoiR-4OeH6gB9SlPPat7FDFf9RwB0AhSttetyLrt4S6A/w378-h513/Week%207%20Odd.jpg" width="378" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-44037919105996786462023-02-11T19:05:00.004-08:002023-02-11T19:05:49.580-08:00So, Yeah ... Sometimes I'm Grumpy<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiBdbFqK9WcCUKglOsQSB1HvDz6x-eY7kO0t_V3l8-ofQ8SrH-VkOQS7b9IOzDUL6N_BpVSSVELkdsgpi_rWnwpDKi3ZREgF_0d9U8RPoT8lhZg-tqNyKuxfIO2Ka8bhq-7jI8fAptXBolz3xYsIrDZZ4-hEGyRYSinWgaTW47wbxbELvHz1L1Jw_Dw/s660/Clint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="660" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiBdbFqK9WcCUKglOsQSB1HvDz6x-eY7kO0t_V3l8-ofQ8SrH-VkOQS7b9IOzDUL6N_BpVSSVELkdsgpi_rWnwpDKi3ZREgF_0d9U8RPoT8lhZg-tqNyKuxfIO2Ka8bhq-7jI8fAptXBolz3xYsIrDZZ4-hEGyRYSinWgaTW47wbxbELvHz1L1Jw_Dw/w450-h356/Clint.jpg" width="450" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Look ... I know I'm a little grumpy sometimes. But that doesn't necessarily nor automatically denote I'm dead wrong about things and simply emoting off-the-cuff grumpiness.<br /><br />Grumpiness can be a good thing. It can be cathartic. It can be a good way to let off steam of the moment. <br /><br />So here's the prelude to the situation where I got grumpy: The front tires on my truck are in need to replacement, threatening to go bald. In other words, it's time for some new ones. In many instances that requires purchasing a set of four tires because there are businesses out there who won't sell you just two tires. (Or, simply, a single one for that matter.) And I understand that in certain cases. <br /><br />But when the rear tires on my truck are perfectly fine, there's no need to purchase 4 tires. So I ran down to Walmart, just down the street, to see what I could see. I took a picture of my tire size so I'd have it readily available and I talked to one of the service technicians down there. I gave him the size of tire I needed, he looked it up and gave me half a dozen options to choose from. I asked if it would behoove me to purchase a set of four tires - would there be a benefit to doing so price-wise? He said it didn't make any difference, I could buy one if I wanted to. Which I appreciated. And I thanked him. I asked if it was a good idea to make an appointment for later or if there was a best time to show up when I was ready to pull the trigger ... and then I was on my merry way.<br /><br />Fast forward to a couple days later. I mentioned to Missy I had gotten a price on tires from Wal-Mart and she suggested I look up America's Tires (one of her preferred tire shops), Costco and Sam's Club among one or two others. So right then and there I jumped on my phone and looked up Sam's Club. <br /><br />Once I navigated to the maintenance shop, I was asked to input my vehicle make, model, year and tire size before I could get any information. Well, I already had tire size so I tried to input that information alone but it wouldn't let me access it without jumping through all the hoops of putting in complete information. Which kind of ticked me off. <br /><br />In the meantime, Missy was looking up Costco tires and it was taking a long time for her to access that information in as well. But she finally got where she wanted to be while offering up quite a bit less information than I had to with Sam's Club. <br /><br />And that's when I got grumpy. <br /><br />Because I don't need to perform like a caged monkey just to get tire prices when I know exactly what I want. I don't need to surrender an inordinate amount of information. I'm reasonably intelligent and aware of what I need without requiring the "Purchasing Tires For Dummies" manual the Sam's Club website was asking for. <br /><br />I've got what I need, I know what I need, so fulfill my request already. But it's just not that easy, is it?<br /><br />And that's when I got grumpy. I ranted and raved that I didn't want to have to input 12 million things when all I needed to do was provide <i><b>ONE! THING! PERIOD!</b></i> How much simpler could it be?!? <b>GAAAAAAAAHHH ... !!!</b><br /><br />So, looking back ... yeah I guess I might have gotten a bit emotional about the situation. And maybe I did spit out a little vitriol along with a hefty dose of grumpiness.<br /><br />But, you know ... with good reason ...</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span>........ Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> )</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-86935622445604514462023-02-01T11:27:00.007-08:002023-02-01T11:29:32.773-08:00Inktober52, The 2023 Edition<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Well ... it's that time of year again. Time to get the creative juices flowing and the beginning of the year off to an inky start, so to speak.<br /><br />#Inktober52 (The 2023 edition) has launched once again, the challenge asking participants to output something ink-related 52 times based on a provided weekly prompt.<br /><br />The first four for January are in the books below: <b>Build</b>,<b> Puppet</b>,<b> Shadow</b> and<b> Angel</b>.<br /><br />One month down, 48 more images to go.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="875" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOaYXxNITCc8G_lfxz7PMHloeG_-bQyJq-mdEQ8WF6Vilxdlnj5i9vNmwO1oKXKIml7bc0lTTvRYyOT7y6hcsjMjq1-5-coj70z8m2hUQzYWCNvUwk_us82jBoDc67Xuc82pvcDPWQs5Lwbz6ioNhcNy4uMbX-B4XAjrrDbuiDbGN77mo-kBMMUo8oA/w448-h348/Week%201%20Build.jpg" width="448" /> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNtQXDZQeIEvzTg5B3l17_W-DW4oyHgssXgQGdZjRSJZjXEbIABGmw0hnLaFtrHhyBlTcxrF6D7jbUnanghzawh6sdPResG3RFlBFgQ321Cu-6PtTi_luDVyyk9OGoN7r8ZFxKYlWAtxRbriIP_jvOSDMgOHsZW1_m-zrsHg2zY6ynHeMm1YUxqVg9w/s682/Week%202%20Puppet.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="501" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNtQXDZQeIEvzTg5B3l17_W-DW4oyHgssXgQGdZjRSJZjXEbIABGmw0hnLaFtrHhyBlTcxrF6D7jbUnanghzawh6sdPResG3RFlBFgQ321Cu-6PtTi_luDVyyk9OGoN7r8ZFxKYlWAtxRbriIP_jvOSDMgOHsZW1_m-zrsHg2zY6ynHeMm1YUxqVg9w/w291-h396/Week%202%20Puppet.jpg" width="291" /> </a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVfuZR3PCLSe3J7Fy1lvHrU4NQMBVy74VIxGaUCsWRx2u4yhc41lHaQ0NPBlNVJEeV3hc1dbXneyiPN3UKqz4fFjeng_UisYazEhtPBUS2d7kV951CXjniiqVkkxGbcHdjrWSIhHYrg0DWws-r5H4ZYkBeQ5g2x1qfiUSXurhYhOoqPsx2hCm2vO97w/s934/Week%203%20Shadow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="934" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVfuZR3PCLSe3J7Fy1lvHrU4NQMBVy74VIxGaUCsWRx2u4yhc41lHaQ0NPBlNVJEeV3hc1dbXneyiPN3UKqz4fFjeng_UisYazEhtPBUS2d7kV951CXjniiqVkkxGbcHdjrWSIhHYrg0DWws-r5H4ZYkBeQ5g2x1qfiUSXurhYhOoqPsx2hCm2vO97w/w409-h299/Week%203%20Shadow.jpg" width="409" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEDsr5AwbQKLyWOIICxdc2rlFnAjtsQs5jVKPYp1edtTzhS5Pn3E3z8h82Jp-BjZ2UyvRmAfO1LDYNS1WrU2yR_klG3BOC1f1lbhVhizVFF7CfAQ6hKxzLDTdV8puznM-zL_5iY2GoYdJwk2TZGKwO3OMY3nq9Q_wE_uumBvS03AgueOROc-m6_FjqQ/s682/Week%204%20Angel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="449" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEDsr5AwbQKLyWOIICxdc2rlFnAjtsQs5jVKPYp1edtTzhS5Pn3E3z8h82Jp-BjZ2UyvRmAfO1LDYNS1WrU2yR_klG3BOC1f1lbhVhizVFF7CfAQ6hKxzLDTdV8puznM-zL_5iY2GoYdJwk2TZGKwO3OMY3nq9Q_wE_uumBvS03AgueOROc-m6_FjqQ/w290-h440/Week%204%20Angel.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>........ Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> )</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></div></div><p></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286306825898497851.post-55066707394171656332023-01-23T20:23:00.003-08:002023-01-24T08:43:26.500-08:00Covidlessness<p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Since the initial break of cases beginning in December of 2019 and continuing on for 3 years right on into January of 2023, I haven't contracted a lick of Covid-19.<br /><br />I personally know and have been around friends and family and associates and passers by and more, more, more, more, more who have contracted the illness, so the likelihood of having, too, "caught the bug" seems pretty high. Still, it's not like I work in a medical industry that caters to the general public like a hospital or in industries necessarily conducive or more apt to the prevalence of transmission. It's just that when you look at that stretch of time it appears an unusually long period without having contracted anything.<br /><br />From the initial outbreak, then into the isolations and the obligatory staying away from work, into the mask wearing when the needs necessitated venturing out to grocery shop, etc., right on into the thick of the pandemic when just about everything social was shut down, with a year going by where hospitalizations blossomed and serious illnesses leading oft times to Covid deaths and more, with news reports saturated in the whys and wherefores of the illness culminating in industry shutdowns and supply chain stoppages and into the series of inoculations ... well, you really have to wonder (or at least I did): With all this going on around us, am I in fact immune to Covid-19? Because that exact thought really did cross my mind several times.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How come virtually everyone I know and commune with, near, far or virtual, has been plagued with some form of coronavirus - be it a mild case or otherwise - and I've gotten off Scot-free to this point? Luck of the draw? Am I breathing upwind of anyone who may have symptoms and I've simply been that fortunate? </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbprroA00TCTs8RHB-lZwGwWGKot0eCV4gGlQP0Q__7KmaAT3GNyqrNcfBwctYndY48EEJy5nQIKh8ih5a3Q7rqGMZL-PPDFuVAYRZqj17dhXf8rfhLP80Hy2Mn6GgsCAQmJcOhW2VPCwD1nCqA3Qkghj7TWiegXvPNQmHLQfd_oysweoWljlMhiw2w/s1600/coronavirus-on-yellow-background.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbprroA00TCTs8RHB-lZwGwWGKot0eCV4gGlQP0Q__7KmaAT3GNyqrNcfBwctYndY48EEJy5nQIKh8ih5a3Q7rqGMZL-PPDFuVAYRZqj17dhXf8rfhLP80Hy2Mn6GgsCAQmJcOhW2VPCwD1nCqA3Qkghj7TWiegXvPNQmHLQfd_oysweoWljlMhiw2w/w520-h293/coronavirus-on-yellow-background.jpg" width="520" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Or ... is there the possibility I'm <u><i><b>actually</b></i></u> <u><b><i>immune</i></b></u>, unlikely as that may be? <br /><br />Let's face it: Entering three+ years of Covidlessness is a tidy little feather in one's cap if I do say so myself. A seeming damned fine achievement in the grand scheme of things, so to speak. <br /><br />But it truly is a small world. A very small world, indeed. 7.8+ billion (BILLION!) people in the world and I have yet to catch a whiff of coronavirus.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />That is ... until this past weekend ...</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span>.......... Ruprecht ( <span style="color: red;"><b>STOP</b></span> )</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>Ruprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877547409686157948noreply@blogger.com0