Dealership Blues

This morning I was at an auto dealership for regularly scheduled maintenance.  I gave them my info and what was needed: oil change, check the tires, look for leaks, etc, etc.  This is all my expert opinion, mind you.  Given this would probably only take 10 minutes, I opted for the customer lounge.

The lounge felt like an emergency waiting room except more cozy; and better brewed coffee.  All the customers were pressed waiting to hear the damage.  Most were reading or watching TV quietly; only lady was reading a book and laughing out loud every other page.  I get the impression she is single.

As a good citizen of the lounge nation; I quickly turned my phone to silent as not to disturb my neigbors.  Not that anyone was going to call me or that I would actually talk to someone during my time in wait. There were some bad citizens in the room, namely a french speaking student and a mom who clearly didn't understand the sign "No Cell Phones in Waiting Room".

After waiting 1 hour, I checked my phone to realize that I had a missed call and a voice message.  Excited that it was an employer calling to hire me sight-unseen, alas it was not.  However, it was the dealership calling to discuss my car and the recommended work. Huh? What? Really? Am I on an episode of Quantum Leap?  The same dealership in which it's lounge I was sitting in.  In fact, the same dealership in which I stated that I would wait to hear what was going on.  In fact, the same dealership in which I was told had exceptional customer service.

Check the lounge!

Bedtime Thoughts

In these poor economic times, it is easy to allow your mind to wander to depths not previously envisioned. It is hard to see where the next 100K jobs will be created, or that what happens when the federal government has a budget gap that our children's children children children can not correct. Or does all these in-fighting make us more of a target for a terriorist attack. Or what will happen if our nation's healthcare isn't made more affordable. Or our nation's test scores in math and science continue to drop lower each year.

But, in all the worry, in all the tension, none of these are the topics that keep me up at night.  I lie in bed at night, with one pressing thought...

"If the shit hits the fan, how will I get enough soluable fiber in my diet?"

Sweet Dreams....

Life Goals...

Life constantly evolves right before our own eyes; hopes and dreams of childhood are often corrupted in adulthood.  This corruption is not symptom of a bigger problem but rather a function of maturity; and a sense to accomplish that which is attainable.  Here are a few dreams of mine there were crushed by the reality of adulthood...and made to fit my life.

A. Playing football in the National Football League
B. Watching football on my 42' inch flat screen in HD; so it is like I'm really there.

A. Marrying a tall blonde who played professional volleyball in Norway.
B. Marrying a fiery red-head who allows me to travel to Norway on vacation.

A. Becoming a member of the United States Armed Forces.
B. Dressing up as a GI for holloween.

A. Living in a quaint European town for a few years.
B. Living in Washington, DC and trying to figure out 95, 495, 295, 395, 195 traffic flows.

A. Accepting a job that was offered from a response to an listing in The Economist.
B. Reading all the articles each week in my subscription to The Economist.

A. Owning a Ford F-150.
B. Owning a great gas mileage hybrid car that is eco-friendly and cutesy.

A. Rooting for the Cubs in the World Series.
B. Rooting for a National League team in the World Series.

A. Becoming CEO of a major financial institution.
B. Being able to pay all my bills on time.

A. Attending an Ivy League school.
B. Visit the gift shop of an Ivy League school to purchase a long sleeve T-shirt from that institution.

A. Root for anyone against Notre Dame.
B. Root for anyone against Notre Dame...well, somethings don't change.

A. Travelling to the moon as an Astronaut.
B. Setting my MAC screen saver to travelling through space, zooming through the stars.

A. Working in corporate America for 30 years and retiring.
B. Working for myself at what I enjoy doing; which includes, drinking, socializing, and dancing.

A. Being a father of 10 childern.
B. Watching celeberties adopt kids from Africa like they are a bag of Skittles.

A. Living forever.
B. Living just long enough.

Just some thoughts; did I mention how much I root against Notre Dame?

In a real pickle

I'm all for saving a buck or two when grocery shopping.  But there is one item that cannot be compromised on....and that is pickles.  Sorry to let the cat out of the bag on this one, but not all pickles are created equally.  There, I said it and it is out and therefore, I feel better.  How hard it is to mess up the pickling process?

After buying a less than name brand pickle, I tried making a pickle sandwich and to my disgust it was like rubbery green planks filled with sea salt lacking any crispness. lacking taste. lacking personality.  I mean how were they allowed to sell that piece of pickle?  It is moments like this, that make me think the terrorists won.

So, my fellow Americans...a pickle by another name is not a pickle.  Buy Brand Name American, and Americans have taste.

This message was brought to you by the Council of American Pickle farmers and President Obama and the letter Q.

Chiropractic....I barely knew them!

Going for your annual medical exam can be a daunting, everyone seems to run away from the dentist and no one I've ever met said a positive or negative thing about their optometrist. Leading me to one unchallengeable conclusion...everyone loves their Chiropractor.

On my recent visit, Ted (over-the-top cheerful receptionist) had a cup a fresh brewed Dunkin' Donuts coffee ready for me. When I sat down in the waiting room, Ted (still very cheerful) handed me a crisp copy of the Washington Post, he offered me the NY Times but it hsad already been read yielding it less crisp but still considerable fresh. A final act of Ted (still cheerful) was to ask me about my week while led to a wonderful conversation about Chili and how sometimes it is better to use fresh tomatoes versus canned. Ted excused himself back to the reception area and began to type feverishly on the computer logging insurance claims or something equally important.

When I was done reading the sports section, which included an overview of how bad the Washington Nationals suck AND that the Washington Redskins are even more suckier, Dr. Asaph emerged from the examination room and asked if I was ready. Indeed, I was and took one last sip of coffee before making the 7 step trek to the exam room. Dr. Asaph, a constant professional, wasted no time asking me in a direct yet understanding way, "so, ummm...how are you feeling?" Stunned by his introspective to me sole, I needed 25 seconds to collect my thoughts during which I deflected his question by muttering, "Good, good, I mean that I haven't felt better EXCEPT..."

After coming to my senses, I informed the good Doctor that my aliments have been feeling better except for this pesky hip that continues to suffer the brunt of strain and stress though the week. Dr. Asaph agreed but thought that process was being made and that nothing would stop my complete return to health. A prognosis in which I revelled!!

Once a few pulls, twists, and elbows had been applied to my spine the exam was over. My adjustment had been complete. It was time to enter back into soceity as a man with a healthy backbone; a man walking the straight and narrow; a man who was looser than a goose. Here I am world, here I come.

On the walk home, I sneezed and threw my hip out of alignment.....son of a b*($#&!