I'm on Vacation...

I should be back Sunday night or Monday.
Be good to each other while I'm gone.

Ode to Hair

I have enough hair
on my head with a wave,
But none on my face
Almost daily I shave.

But today in the mirror
there was a weird look,
I started to tremble
I stumbled and shook.

Right there on top
along the front hairline,
Emerged a few gray ones
Things were not too fine.

My eyes then gazed down
and what did I see,
My eyebrows had gone rogue
Like branches of a tree.

And sprouts of new growth
are taking over my ears,
Both inside and out
My greatest of fears.

My head tilted up
to inspect my fair nose,
Just the normal amount
of hair I suppose.

Even a few hairs
on my own chest,
Have gone over to gray
They failed the test.

Things have gone crazy
all over my body,
The hair on my person
is becoming quite shoddy.

The markers of time
are starting to show,
The hair is a first
What's next I don't know.

Will it soon fall out
or will it start thinning,
Whatever may come
Father time is winning.

I'm cool with it really
all that it means,
Is a little more grooming
So I don't cause a scene.

All that I hope
is that people don't stare,
And that is today's post
It is My Ode to Hair

Life got a little better today

Life got a little better today:

1. Baseball's Back: The Boston Red Sox played their first two Spring Training games today, beating Boston College and losing to the Minnesota Twins.

2. A weekend away: I'm outta here for the weekend, starting Friday. It will be good to get away from the stress of everyday life and hang out with some cool people for a change. I need more cool people in my life.

3. Chillin' and Grillin': Bratwursts on the grill and Blue Moon Belgian White Ale for dinner. Not much time left cooking over an open flame, so I'm thankful the sun came out.

So... what made your life a little better today?

What's next?

A little over a year ago, I got a letter stuck in my door jam by the property management company. For those who have lived or do live in apartments, you know this is never good news. Anyway, the letter indicated that the company's insurance carrier would no longer allow tenants to have charcoal grills on their patios. Being a guy, I like to cook over an open flame so I was bothered that I was going to have to store the Weber Kettle. In the letter, they did indicate propane gas grills would be ok with a fire extinguisher. So off to Lowe's I went and bought the grill, extinguisher and accessories.

Thursday night there was another letter. This one, with attached documentation, was a notice informing me that the City has passed a law banning charcoal AND gas grills from apartment complex patios without sprinkler systems. I now have 30-days to remove my gas grill or face eviction. One of the few things I enjoy doing that I can still afford is now being taken away from me. Happy Effing Weekend. What's next? Are they going to outlaw microwaves, toasters, waffle irons, George Foreman grills? How about candles, curling irons, smoking or any other activity that may involve a risk of fire?

I have relatively good health and my mother & brother are well. I still have a job, a roof over my head and non-grilled food in my stomach, so in the grand scheme of things a silly grill is not very important. I'm a lot luckier than many people these days, so I feel guilty whining about it. But if they try to outlaw my coffee pot, there's going to be trouble. I will be in the news.

For Megan

They are not as impressive as your set
but they get the job done.

This sounded like a good idea

I missed lunch on Tuesday, so by the time the dinner bell rang I was starving. I walked a few blocks from the office and strolled into Johnny Rockets. For those who've never been to Johnny Rockets, they are a chain restaurant themed like a 1960's diner with oldies on the juke box and authentic diner type food. Perusing the menu, I stumbled upon this...

Smoke House Single:
One fresh 1/3 lb. ground beef patty, Cheddar Cheese, thick bacon, crispy onion rings and our Smoke House barbecue-ranch sauce.

Oh my goodness... pair this monster of a burger with a side order of fries and I seriously believe I could feel my arteries clogging with each and every bite. Good thing I ordered that Diet Coke to go along with this. No sense in adding a healthy dose of high fructose corn syrup to my fat laden, carbohydrate loaded entree with deep fried, sodium spiced starch.

Someone call me an ambulance.

For Kylie

Bridges where I've lived...

A cute little drawbridge in the town I grew up in... Boynton Beach, Florida

The Royal Gorge Bridge in Canon City, Colorado, about 1 hour west of Colorado Springs. It is the world's highest suspension bridge, at 1,053 ft. (321 meters) above the Arkansas River. It was not designed for transportation purposes, but is a tourist attraction that can be crossed by foot.

The Piscataqua River Bridge in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. It connects the state to its neighbor Maine.

The Leonard Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge in Boston, Massachusetts

The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, California

The Megan Inquisition

Whilst taking a break from toasting, Megan compiled five interview questions for me. Should anyone want to be interviewed by just bob, follow the directions after the questionnaire:

1. You've mentioned your regret at moving to California. If you could accept a job anywhere in the U.S. where would it be and why?

My smart ass answer: Anywhere but the Dakotas.

My final answer Regis: Having grown up in Florida, if I had a choice it would be to probably return there. Colorado Springs, another one of my stops along the way, would be a very close second.

2. Why won't you tell us your birthday? Or did you already tell us and I'm just an idiot? When's your birthday???

My smart ass answers: Because the aliens erased my memory when they dropped me here. No I haven't told anyone. No, you are not an idiot. The same date every year.

My final answers Regis: My birthday really doesn't matter. The year was 1967, so I'm surely not hung up on people knowing my age. I don't feel it is an important day and others shouldn't make a big fuss about it. There are certainly 364 other more noteworthy days every year than that one. No I haven't told anyone. No, you are not an idiot. The same date every year.

3. What's your favorite book?

My smart ass answer: The Superbook at the Las Vegas Hilton.

My final answer Regis: It's almost embarrassing the few number of books I've read since graduating from college. Most everything I've read has been while flying and generally is only meant to get me to fall asleep. The one book that stands out is Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer. It is an amazing story of his ascent up Mount Everest during a disastrous climb in which several of his fellow climbers lost their lives.

4. You seemed to enjoy your foray into the political campaign back in the fall. Do you plan to go further with that and what will you do?

My smart ass answer: I'm going to be the next King of Norway

My final answer Regis: If there was another candidate like President Obama that I felt so strongly about I would volunteer for his/her campaign. I felt, and still do, that he is going to do tremendous things for this country and the world in the next four/eight years. I would hope that I could do more and have more responsibility in another campaign. The one thing I wouldn't do is run for office myself. It just isn't in my temperament or inner self to hold an office. I'm a nervous wreck all the time now. I could never see myself responsible for an entire city/county/state/etc. Additionally, there are way too many things in my past that would keep me from ever being a serious candidate.

5. I've never played golf but you have and I know others (including my brother-in-law) who enjoy it immensely. Give us a golfer's insight - what do you love about it?

My smart ass answer: The checkered golf pants and mosquitoes.

My final answer Regis: Where do I start with this one? To begin, golf is a solitary game. I've been doing things by myself for my whole life. Golf is a game that allows me to do that. Second, you can never have a perfect round of golf. Unlike bowling a 300 game, there is no ultimate in golf. The closest you can get is a hole-in-one, and even after that you have to play the next hole. Every day is different, every course is different, every swing or putt is different. It is a game of honor, calling penalties on yourself when no one else is looking is not only admirable but also expected. It is a morning or afternoon outside with no interruptions from the outside world. In those few hours, there are no bills that are overdue, crappy jobs to return to, or people stressing you out. It is only you against the golf course and your own personal goals. Finally, golf courses are some of the most beautiful, natural places in the world. The green grass, majestic trees, serene lakes, and abundant wildlife make it incredibly peaceful for me.

The rules in case you want to play along:

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions. If your profile does not include an email address, then send it to me at bobness22 at gmail dot com.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

The last valentine

In the weeks since that Sunday afternoon at the Tiki Bar, "K" and I had become closer and more than just friends. While remaining discreet and professional at work, the two of us were growing much fonder of each other. The time we spent together slowly moved away from two platonic co-workers and more towards two young adults enjoying the company of one another. Going out for dinner, or drinks, or a movie became more frequent. We started to choose places a little off the beaten path, seeking out privacy and avoiding the normal haunts where running into friends meant a group evening. As time went on, we had a standing Sunday 2:00pm date at that Tiki Bar. It was the first time we would attach the word date to anything we did, eschewing the phrase go out that we had used so often in the past. Those moments were filled with laughter at funny stories, and deep discussions about our goals and futures. We'd gaze intently at each other, hold hands, and play a flirty game of footsies under the table after one too many daiquiri's. As sun went down on those Sunday evenings, a kiss goodnight became something more than a peck on the cheek. The more we saw each other, the longer those goodbyes would linger on with a mutual closeness and growing attraction.

As the calendar turned to February, my thoughts turned to Valentine's Day. I had never had someone who I felt deeply about in my life to share the holiday, and I wanted it to be special. It should be simple yet significant I believed. A day filled with words and small gestures at work and a memorable evening to show "K" how important she had become to me. I picked her up for work in the morning bearing a single, purple rose. The uniqueness of the color set it aside from the more prevalent red, pink, or white roses. I wasn't sure if her reaction was more surprised or touched by the gesture. We had been keeping things quiet and discreet at the office, so anything I may have wanted to do there would be low key. It was the simple gesture of hiding a package of her beloved Fig Newtons in her top desk drawer for her discovery upon returning from a meeting that brought yet another smile to her face. "K" was surely more touched than surprised.

With the General Manager out of town, we availed ourselves of the opportunity to sneak out of the office early in the afternoon. We drove down to the marina on Singer Island and walked amongst the docked boats, sharing stories of our days on the water, her in New England and me in Florida. Although the experiences were much different, that was one thing we shared, having the water in our lives from an early age. We walked, we talked, and eventually found our way to a park bench overlooking the inlet and watched the sun sink slowly over the horizon. "K" and I made our way across the island to the beach resort hotel. We started with a drink at what had become our place, the Tiki Bar. We continued our evening inside the posh hotel at their restaurant. It was a semi-upscale seafood establishment which served outrageously good food. On the salary that I was making at the time, it was somewhat pricey but both of us had enjoyed our less expensive lunch experiences there in the past. It was my chance to splurge for the first time on Valentine's Day, and I wasn't going to risk it on a place that either of us might not have liked. We ordered a bottle of wine and toasted each other in the candlelit corner booth while the entrees were being prepared. The soft light accentuating her green eyes, her long blond hair pulled back like she always wore it, and the naturalness and comfort I felt being around her was everything any man could ever hope to find in a woman.

We finished the last of the wine with dinner. The meal was exquisitely prepared and extraordinarily delicious. "K" always had a bit of a sweet tooth, so we shared a dessert to culminate a wonderful dining experience. While exiting the restaurant, "K" spontaneously decided she wanted to take a walk on the beach. It was a chilly evening, with a cool sea breeze blowing gently off the ocean. As we walked holding hands, the only sound that could be heard was the waves ripple as they met the shoreline. Moonlight bathed the beach and the stars shone overhead as the lights from the resort grew fainter as we strolled further down the coast. Spurred on from our bottle of wine, "K" let go of my hand and began to playfully run down the shore, looking back over her shoulder to make sure I was intent on chasing after her. She weaved and darted, changing directions to be just evasive enough to keep the game going for a time. Eventually, I chased her down and with my arms securely around her waist tackled her to the sandy beach. We laughed and giggled and gazed into each other eyes. We kissed, gently at first but as the passion grew so did our intensity. It was reminiscent of the famous scene from the classic From Here To Eternity.

We rolled around in the sand, going as far as any two people could without undressing. As the intensity ebbed, I was ready to invite her back to the resort where I had made a room reservation for Valentine's night. It was meant to be the first time we would "be together." As we lay on the beach and before I could reveal my final surprise, she said we needed to talk. It was then that she chose to tell me she wanted us to be just friends. A friendship that had grown into a relationship, a day that started with a single rose and grew to a crescendo of nearly sharing the ultimate display of closeness and passion, was dashed in a single, heartbreaking moment. I was in shock and could barely breathe and struggled to speak. I'm sure I uttered something incoherent about my hoping we could continue to be more but that we'd always be friends. For all the vivid memories of that day, I honestly can not recall anything I may have said.

We walked back to the car and I drove her the few short blocks back home. A short hug, but no kiss, on the doorstep and I was on my way home. I was numb the entire drive, my heart ripped wide open. The overnight bag stayed in the trunk, the hotel room remained unoccupied. We did stay friends for a while, but things were never the same after that night on the beach. Fourteen years ago, that was the first and last Valentine's Day I have ever celebrated.

Better than a Grammy, Tony, or Oscar

Bobness has been awarded yet another prestigious award... this time by the Bacolicious Annieha. She is related to Megan so that definitely makes her good people.



The rules for the award are as follows:

Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass the Award on to 5 most-deserving Blog Friends. You must link to the author and name of the blog from where he/she has received the award.

You must display the Award on your blog and link to this post which explains the Award. Each blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add your name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, they will be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives this prestigious honor. You must post these rules on your blog.

So, without further ado, here are my five awardees:

I'm not sure how I stumbled across Hotfessional, but she deserves this award. Her stories of Mr. Hot, Shortman, and the Diva are always both entertaining and downright funny. She's got one of those blogs that I read immediately when she posts a new entry. Try her... you'll like her.

Leah at The Weather in the Streets is a wonderful writer and an even more wonderful human being. Her unending love for Sarge and Hedgie come through with each and every story. I think she shares that same kind of love and devotion for her blogging buddies too. I'm grateful everyday that she somehow found her way into my life.

Karen ^..^ at The Pitfalls of Life is another terrific writer. Even through some very difficult and trying times, her optimism is unending and inspirational. She wears her emotions on her sleeve and shares them with us, giving all of us a glimpse into her inner soul. This award goes to a remarkable woman who is brave enough to share so much of herself with all of us.

Joe at Practically Wisdom is practically hilarious. His wit, charm and downright comic outlook on the vagaries of life make me smile each and every time I read his blog. He seems to have a bit of trouble with ladders and has some sort of fetish involving shrimp trucks and berets, but I like him a lot. I some day hope to sit down with him over a cold beer at the Golden Banana or a large extra/extra at Dunkin' Donuts.

Jennifer at Writing to Survive is my soul sister. Our lives have seemed to parallel each other, each struggling though traumatic times in childhood which we struggle to understand and cope with to this very day. We both moved to the Bay Area around the same time and use our blogs to work through the thoughts, fears, and uncertainty in our lives. I think we likely understand each other much better than the other thinks and we draw upon each other for inspiration and hope. She paints a vivid picture with her words and I have learned so much from her writing that I use in my prose.

There are a lot more people who deserve recognition that I adore. I'm sure someday this award and many more will find there way to you as well.

It rained on our 4th anniversary

It rained on our 4th anniversary. It was if the gods of chain link enclosures were crying tears of joy. We were brought together four months ago today, dropped lovingly on my front doorstep. Our relationship has grown since that first day. I say hello to my fence every morning, a knowing wink that is shared by only us. I wave goodbye every evening, assured that my fencing will be there to greet me the next morning. Thousands of people pass by every day, seemingly not noticing the beauty that is my temporary fence enclosing more temporary fencing. The water pools around it, not congregating under the amassed metal threatening to cause it rust. The gods looking after their faithful follower. In a world gone wild, my fence has become a steadying calmness.

New rubber

Here's my new rim and tire. Now I'll have to scrub clean the other three so it doesn't stand out so conspicuously.

This wonderful screw and washer are the reason my spare tire kept going flat.

Here's a recap:
New Tire: $90
New (used) Rim: $210
Cab to work Tuesday: $20 (tip included)
Cab home Tuesday: $20 (tip included)
Air at gas stations: $4 at least (WTF, 50-cents for air?)
New spare tire: To Be Determined
New lug nut key: To Be Determined
Stress and aggravation: Priceless

I couldn't make this story up

I'm home... finally. It has been quite a Monday:

I left the apartment this morning and forgot my cellphone. Being Monday morning, I was running through my mental list of all the things I wanted to get done for the week. On top of that, our new Administrative Assistant was starting today so I was thinking about all the small details of getting her started in the office. I discovered the phone was missing about 5-6 blocks away from the apartment. I decided against turning around to retrieve it and continued on. In hindsight, had I returned to pick it up the remainder of the day would have been much different.


Another 1/2 mile down the road I made a left hand turn onto a busy side road. My car began to handle roughly and pull violently to the right. I knew that I had a front tire that went flat almost immediately after making that turn. I traveled a few more blocks down the road before I could safely pull into a gas station to see exactly what was going on. Walking around to the passenger side, I see what remains of my now flat tire smoking from the heat that was generated from traveling those extra few blocks. From what I could see, the tire was in ok condition so I filled it with air and doubled back down the road to the closest auto repair shop I could find. Of course it was closed.

Fortunately, the air held up in the tire long enough to find an automotive shop that was open. They referred me to the guy next door that handles tires. The nice guy let me use the phone (since I didn't have my cellphone) to call the office and let them know what was happening. I also was able to find someone to start getting the new Admin Assistant comfortable and working on the new hire paperwork. Anyway, the mechanic asks me for the key to the locking lug nut on the tire. I look in the hidden console storage where I normally keep it. Not there. I look in the glove box. Not there. It is no where to be found anywhere in the car. As there would have been no reason for me to take it out of the car, I can only imagine that when I had my brakes replaced last summer that the mechanics didn't give me the key back and I forgot to ask for it. Of course, this mechanic can not get the tire off without the key. He fills the tire up with air, I thank him for his gracious help with the phone & air and head off on my way.

I drove back to my apartment. I went upstairs, got my phone, and called the local Ford dealer. If anyone could get that lock off, it had to be the manufacturer of the car. They said to come on down and they would take a look at it. I transfer some money from savings into checking, hop back into the car, stop at two gas stations along the way to keep filling the tire, and get to the Ford dealer. The service manager takes a look at it and tells me the lock is a post consumer add-on and that they couldn't get it off. He's nice enough to fill the tire and directs me to WheelWorks a few blocks down the road.

The sales representative at WheelWorks couldn't have been nicer or more helpful. The wheel rim had some damage and needed to be replaced along with the actual tire. He called a few places to find a used rim that matched my car and ended up saving me a couple hundred dollars for new one. The problem is that he can't actually get it until Tuesday or Wednesday. So, I drive around back, they break the locking lug nut off and put on my spare tire. The plan is to use the spare for maybe a day and a half maximum with very few actual miles. The spare was under-inflated when they mounted it, but they filled it and I was on my way to work.

It was a hectic afternoon, giving a tour to the new employee, helping her through the mountain of paperwork, introducing her to most of her co-workers, and plowing through the average Monday morning weekly stuff. Of course, I'm still tense from the whole tire episode so I'm looking forward to getting back to my apartment to unwind and relax. I get out to my car and find out why the spare was under-inflated, because it's leaking air too and I now have my second flat tire of the day. Fortunately I got a car emergency kit for Christmas and it has an air compressor. I filled the spare, stopped at two gas stations along the way to keep filling the spare, and finally got to my apartment.

So here I am. My spare is slowly leaking downstairs and will be completely flat again tomorrow morning. I'm taking a cab to work Tuesday. When WheelWorks calls to let me know the wheel rim is in, I'll refill the spare tire, stop at two gas stations on the way there, and get things back to semi-normal. I obviously am going to need a new spare and somehow find the manufacturer of the locking lug nuts and purchase a new key. After the day I've had, I doubt I'll ever bitch about an average, run-of-the-mill, crappy Monday again. If you tried to make up a story like this no one would ever believe you.

No lobsters were harmed in the making of this post

These are my lobster slippers. As you can see, they have little black beads for eyes. The little pincher always goes on the inside with the larger claws on the outside.

This is me wearing my lobster slippers. When you walk in them, the back tail portion sort of moves up and down like they are swimming, as Queen Goob pointed out earlier this week.

This is me wearing both my lobster socks and my lobster slippers. It provides me dual layers of crustacean comfort in keeping my feet warm.

This me being goofy and putting the fake lobsters in a fake pot of boiling water. No lobsters were harmed in the making of this post and it complies with all SPCA rules and regulations regarding the use of animals in film and photography.

This is the B-52's playing Rock Lobster

The Dairy Bar

I was sorting the mail at work yesterday when I came across the latest edition of On Campus Magazine. It is a trade publication geared toward the food service industry on college campuses. Why it showed up in our mail bin I have no idea. It was as if fate had destined for it to land in my hands. The second I looked at the cover, my heart skipped a beat and a flood of wonderful memories came rushing back to me.

Right there on the cover was the Dairy Bar at the University of New Hampshire. The building was originally built in 1896 in Lynn, Massachusetts but was moved to its current location in 1912. It served as a train depot until 1958 when passenger service on the line was discontinued. In 1970, the depot was converted into the Dairy Bar and served breakfast, lunch, and of course ice cream year round. It was operated and staffed by the students of the University's food service management program until 2007. It was remodeled and upgraded and reopened in 2008 under management by UNH Dining services. When Amtrak reinstated passenger service on the rail line in 2001, the Durham-Dairy Bar station was added to the schedule with passengers able to purchase tickets from kiosks with the restaurant portion remaining open for business.

But enough of the history lesson. The Dairy Bar is a little more than 100 yards from the building I formerly worked in. It was an everyday fixture in my life for nearly five years. I remember bone chilling, mid winter walks from our doors to the Dairy Bar for a cup of their wonderful Green Mountain Coffee. They made the some of the best breakfast sandwiches I've ever eaten. Fried egg, bacon and cheese on toasted wheat bread with generous helpings of all the ingredients, grease included. The counter would always be buzzing with conversation. In the morning, it was university staff and employees talking about the hockey game last week, the current state of the school's budget, or how much friggin' snow we were gonna get socked with later that day. The trek for coffee was a morning ritual for "D" from the operations department and myself. Sometimes others would tag along, but most times it was just us two habitual coffee drinkers chatting about business, life, and the Red Sox early in the morning. The wait staff who knew us would always double stamp our coffee club cards so our well earned free cups would come a lot sooner and more frequently. I'm sure the "help" we gave to the tip jar didn't hurt either.

The afternoon was dominated by the students, either on their way to class, from class, or just waking up from last night's party in some dorm, frat house, or downtown tavern. The menu consisted of mainly deli sandwiches, all served lovingly in plastic baskets lined with wax paper and garnished with a generous helping of potato chips and a dill pickle spear. The chili was outstanding and the soups were tasty and the ideal way to warm both the body and soul on a chilly autumn afternoon. It was never fancy or necessarily the best dining experience, but it was never meant to be. The great charm of the Dairy Bar was that it was run by the students, from the cooking to the counter service to the limited table service complete with red checkerboard plastic tablecloths. They were getting practical experience in their chosen field, picking up a few bucks along the way, and seemingly having a lot of fun doing it. So sometimes the toast was a little overdone, the eggs a little runny and the french fries a little cold... but that was ok.

But the best time of the year at the Dairy Bar was during the summer. As with most small college towns, the campus becomes deserted in the summer. With the students and faculty gone, university staff and local residents are free to enjoy the peace and tranquility that can be found in such institutes of higher learning. With much of its labor force gone, the Dairy Bar didn't serve breakfast or lunch, but was open for ice cream, shakes, sundaes and floats for limited operating hours. While New England summers are generally mild, they can get extremely hot, humid, muggy, and overall miserable for periods of time. Some of my fondest memories of UNH were the days I'd stop all of the work in the office and treat my fellow co-workers to ice cream. The women would transform right in front of my eyes from grown adults to giddy girls. "I'm getting moose tracks," one would exclaim, while a voice from another office would come, "Well I'm getting sprinkles and a waffle cone." That short walk to counter was so filled with joy. Some of them even seemed to skip the whole way there... although I don't know if that was feigned excitement for my benefit or true exhilaration. We'd eat our ice cream outside, soaking up the warm summer rays that had to last through the next upcoming winter. Those breaks usually only lasted about 30 minutes, but seemed to gloriously go on forever.

One inadvertent magazine dropped on my doorstep took me thousands of miles and several years away to a much better place and time. I was brought back to a time when life was simpler, safer, and saner. One picture on one magazine. A magazine that will never make it to its intended recipient... or maybe somehow I was the intended (if not addressed) recipient.

And now for something completely different

These are my lobster socks. Please ignore the leaf to the left that I brought in from the patio.

When I wiggle my toes I can make them swim.

That's it for today.

Guess who wrote this ad?

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One more from yesterday's walk

I know I feel safer already.