Pros and Cons of Bowleggedness

For my entire life, I have been bowlegged.  I did not have rickets.  I attribute the condition to riding horses and genetics.  Many fine athletes, such as Gale Sayers and myself, are bowlegged.  It gives us a better base for our superior balance than if we were, heaven forbid, knock-kneed.  Tacklers find it much easier to tackle players whose knees collide anyway.  One might be able to tackle a knock-kneed player with one hand, the knees being so close together and all.  As everyone knows, Gale Sayers and I can only be tackled with great difficulty.  An opposing player can barely reach around both knees at the same time.  I don’t know if Gale likes to ride horses, but I do.  Again, the advantage for a bowlegged rider is obvious.  But enough about me and Gale.

Let’s contemplate the legs of my lovely wife, Miss Sugar.  I doubt that prior to this very day she ever desired to have bowed legs.  For example, when she won the swimsuit event in the Miss Texas pageant, she did not have bowed legs and it is possible that she might not have won had she had bowed legs.  Of course, that is speculation, but nevertheless, Sugar has never seemed envious of my legs.

Today Sugar learned that her legs, as good as they might look, are not as functional as the bowed legs of me and Gale Sayers.  I will tell you what happened today.

As we were talking to a lady in the front yard of a suburban neighborhood, she told us to watch out because a loose dog was coming towards us.  The large dog approached from the rear.  Suddenly, he was in front of me, having passed between my legs.  It was like going under a  bridge.  I do not recall feeling any contact.  He just walked through.  I had an adequate inseam as well as space between my knees.

Then he tried the same thing with Sugar.  It did not go so smoothly,  The dog nearly knocked her down when he tried to go between her legs.  He did not have room to maneuver once he tried to squeeze through.  He got into the tight space and panicked.  Sugar had to move forward with him to try to keep her balance because he was so tall that she was almost sitting on him.  It was like she was riding him.  They moved forward together for nearly ten feet.  Finally, the dog was free again.  Sugar kept her balance.  The danger had passed.

Sugar might be re-thinking which of us has better legs.

The photo above was displayed for weeks at a gallery of photography.  It was larger than life-size in the front window.  These are Sugar’s actual legs.  They served her well for modeling and girly things but, let’s face it, as Gale Sayers could tell you, they really would not work for a running back in the NFL.  Just sayin’.

I am the fella wearing a blue shirt and white hat.  Note how a large dog could run between my legs.

Miss Sugar Gets Carded

Young people are carded in order to prove that they are old enough to purchase cigarettes and alcoholic beverages.  The sellers of such products require identification showing a birthday in order to calculate age, usually with a drivers license or a fake drivers license.

Miss Sugar looks young for her age.   Her age is, however, more than 21 years.  She is entitled to purchase cigarettes, but refrains.  She seldom purchases adult beverages, but she is legally entitled to do so.

A few days ago, Sugar came home in an unusually good mood.  “I was carded today,” she gleefully announced.

No, she was not trying to purchase alcoholic beverages nor tobacco products nor to attend an adult film.

Do I have your attention?  Are you waiting with bated breath?  Are you curious?

Sugar went to Goodwill on senior discount day.  The cashier would not sell anything to Sugar for a senior discount because Sugar is clearly not a senior citizen.

Except, legally and chronologically, she is (how should I say this,?) — of age to qualify for the senior discount at Goodwill.

So, in order to convince the cashier to extend the discount even to someone who looks like fair Miss Sugar, she had to show her drivers license.  She had indeed been carded.

Her drivers license photo doesn’t help convince of her advanced age, yet it shows her birthdate.

I wonder if Christie Brinkley has the same problem.

Beeing a Bride

If you can see clearly enough, you will observe a bee (or maybe wasp) on the bride’s “train” very near her right elbow.  Maybe he liked her perfume or was attracted to the flowers.

Now I will tell you the rest of the story.

First, please allow me the pleasure of introducing the main characters and the setting.  The bride is my bride, Sugar.  The occasion, however, was not our wedding.  So, you wonder why she was wearing a bride dress unless it was her wedding?  Miss Sugar, I have mentioned in other posts on this blog, was a model for many years, and, as such, was called upon to pretend to be a bride.  The photo above was taken for an advertising spread for some planned  bridal event in Boulder.  The photo shoot was outside.  So was the bee.

Moments after the photo, Sugar felt the bee on her arm.  When she went to swipe at it, she was stung.  She tore off her headgear (I forget what it is called) and screamed.

Oh, well.  The photographer got his shot for the ad.  The show must go on.

 

We Slept Together the Very First Night

So my wife and I picked up our new puppy yesterday.  His name is Gus.  He is a Yellow Labrador Retriever.  He joins Sadie, who is almost 14 years old, and Beau, who is 6 years old.  They were not too enthused about the idea of bringing in an 8 week old baby to change their lives.  Three is a crowd perhaps.

We spent the day as an orientation period.  Gus seems smart and curious.  He is pretty brave.  He likes following the older dogs.  He wants to make friends.  They are usually tolerant, but Beau snapped at Gus when he got too close to his personal bone.  Sadie left the living room at bedtime and, instead of sleeping there as usual, showed up in our bedroom.  Turns out that was a smart idea.

It was a smart idea because Gus cried and cried from his crate, which I had placed in the living room, thinking he would be comforted by having the other dogs around him.  Not so much.

I remember my father sleeping on our screened porch when we got a new puppy years ago.  He did it so as to take the puppy out to potty during the night.  Also, I suppose, to keep it company.

So I copied my Dad in a modified fashion.  I found the puppy shut up as long as I laid down in front of the crate.  I stayed until he fell asleep.  Then I sneaked away to join Sugar.  An hour later, I was awakened by pitiful crying from the crate in the living room.   I took Gus outside to see about peeing or pooping.  Then I put him back in the crate.  Then he cried again.  Then I laid down in front again.

We repeated the process every hour or so.  We went out four times.

The successful part is that there have been absolutely zero accidents in the house.

Gus feels that I am learning quickly how to sleep in front of the wire door to the crate so he can watch over me.  It only took a few times for me to catch on.

I am sure gonna miss my wife.  I really prefer sleeping with her.

 

That’s What I Had in Mind

When I said I do, I meant that I will ’til the end of all time
Be faithful and true, devoted to you
That’s what I had in mind when I said I do    — Clint Black

When I said “I do,” I fully expected our marriage to last for our lifetimes, but I did not foresee what all our shared lives would entail.  Newlyweds are told that marriages have ups and downs.  However, that is hypothetical until actual events become those ups and downs.

I have been surprised many times over the years.  The biggest surprise is that someone as wonderful as my wife would accept my marriage proposal.  If you knew her and knew me, you would be surprised too.  You would say, as another lawyer told me after meeting her, “Man, you sure married above your station in life!”  I agreed.

On the surface, you would notice that my wife, Miss Sugar, is physically beautiful.  That is not merely my biased opinion.  It is an objective finding in that she was actually a beauty queen in Texas, a state known for beautiful women, and had a long modeling career, including being a swimsuit model.  No brag, just fact.  I am a lucky man!

But as alluring as that was for me to pursue her, after I got to know her, I learned that she is a better person than me by almost every measurement.  (I say almost because I can bench press more weight than she can.)  She is kind, generous, smart, and musically talented both as a pianist and singer.  She is a great artist and teacher.  And mother.  And wife.  I am not being modest or humble when I say that I don’t deserve her.  I truly do not deserve her.  Love can be mystifying.

She is fiercely loyal to me.  She has proven over the years that she actually loves me.  It is a wonder.  Miss Texas agreed to go out with me, agreed to marry me, and did indeed marry me.  That is amazing.

What is not amazing is that I love her.  I’d be crazy not to.

I am still crazy about Sugar after all these years.

Today is our anniversary.  We just listened to a song by Clint Black that is special to us.  I encourage you to read the lyrics and maybe look it up on YouTube.  It is called When I Said I Do.

Engineering 411

I do not know if any of my loyal readers are graduates of M.I.T. or any other fine engineering school.  (I myself am largely self-taught as a mechanical engineer, yet I do not denigrate the path of those who felt the need for mentoring).   If you are an engineer, you might learn something from me today.  If you are merely a member of the general public, you still might learn something, provided the subject is not way over your head.

First, some family history:  my maternal grandfather on my mother’s side was a civil engineer who worked for Union Pacific Railroad (as distinguished from a locomotive engineer who operates trains and probably has much more fun).    Like me, he did not go to engineering school, nor to college of any sort, going directly to work after graduating from high school.   One day at church, a man who knew my grampa at U.P., came up to me and asked whether I knew that the man who replaced my grampa had a Ph.D.

So, apparently I have engineering genes so strong that actual coursework is unnecessary.  And that brings me to the topic of the day.  I put together TWO home projects in ONE week.

My ever confident wife, Miss Sugar, purchased two items which each came in a box clearly labeled “Assembly Required.”

One of the projects was a fire pit from Home Depot.  It is no longer in the box.  It is actually assembled.  You should have seen me.  Anyway, we have had four successful fires.  Grampa would be proud.

The other project was a bird bath.  There were six, waddayacallem, yea, bolts, and just as many, you know what I mean, nuts.  I won’t explain the entire process.  All you need to know is that the finished product is already in use.  Charlie Sheen and I call that WINNING!

If you, loyal readers, ever have any home improvement projects, now or in the future, simply call my toll free number for expert assistance over the phone.

I will let you know when the number is working.  I have delegated that to Miss Sugar.

Show Time

You know that awkward feeling when you ask if someone is going to a party that you will be attending and the person you asked tells you that he or she was not invited?

Out of kindness, I suppose, I have not told my wife, a former model and television actress, that I am being contacted on a daily basis by Casting 360, which has modeling gigs, acting jobs, and movie extra work for me.

I am not certain how this agency discovered me.  Perhaps this very blog site attracted their attention.  I imagine that some folks at Casting 360 have been ogling photos of me posted on this site.  I am surprised that they did not respond as positively to the many photos of the photogenic Miss Sugar also on this site.  So maybe I was discovered in another manner.  Sometimes, as I walk down the street, I notice people noticing me.  They never come right out and tell me how good-looking they think I am, but I can see it in their eyes.  Probably some of those admiring eyes work for Casting 360.  It is hard to say.

Nevertheless, for whatever reason, Casting 360 is desperately trying to recruit me.  All I have to do is pay $7.99 a month for them to send me notifications about the jobs they have for me.

That is a good deal.  My first movie job should more that pay for it.

That is when I will tell Miss Sugar.  She might notice my absence when I have to travel to the movie set.  For $7.99, I could use my connections to bring her back into the family business — show biz.    If you, gentle readers, also want to try show biz, simply send me your credit card information, Social Security number, and a portfolio of photos.  I will see what I can do for you.

I can’t make any guarantees, however.  Modeling and show biz are very competitive.  Good looks are all that count.  Some of us have it, some of us (present company excluded) don’t.   You know who you are.

Miss Sugar Goes to Court

As a prerequisite to reading this post, one is required to view the movie, My Cousin Vinny, so as to understand my comparison of Miss Sugar to the role played by Marisa Tormei in that film.  I think she won an Academy Award.

So, today Sugar went to Small Claims Court as a plaintiff in a landlord-tenant dispute.  The judge did not allow me to act as her attorney.

As her own advocate, Sugar was very cute.  I sat in awe at the force of her personality.  From the witness chair she ordered the defendant to stop rolling his eyes as she spoke.  She impeached the credibility of his testimony by playing a voice message he left, proving his denial on the stand was indeed untruthful.  .You would not want to be him going against her.  As Muhammad   Ali once said about an opponent, “I pity the fool.”

At one point in her testimony, she wept — sincerely and appropriately.  That is a tactic I have never tried.

To paraphrase Jim Croce:  “You don’t tug on Superman’s cape.  You don’t spit into the wind.  You don’t pull the mask off of the Lone Ranger.  And you don’t mess around with Miss Sugar.

Another Bat Bites the Dust

Warning:  If you are a lover of bats, the following post contains disturbing material.

An erratic flight pattern by something crosses the TV screen in the dark room.  We know what it is.  We have had this experience many times before.

I turn on the lights in the room and we try to spot where the creature has landed.

My wife, Sugar, is my spotter.  She tells me to look at the third log from the top, right of the smoke detector.  I grab my trusty Red Ryder BB gun and take aim.  POW!

The winged creature drops to the floor.  The wings close around the body of the deceased.  It is a goner.  Another one bites the dust.

Not everyone shoots BB guns inside one’s home.  But I ain’t everyone.  I am a special marksman living in a log home with high ceilings.

We like bats flying around outside, presumably eating bugs.  But inside?  That’s where I draw the line.

Girls’ Afternoon Out

My lovely wife, Sugar, aka Miss Texas, on occasion goes to a nail place for manicures and pedicures.  Some women do that.  Girly ones that is.

As you, dear readers, know, it is a universal truth that manly men do not get pedicures, nor do they get manicures.  It is also an undisputed and widely known fact that I myself am a manly man.  Well, until today that is.  This very afternoon I committed an act which likely will lead to me being required to turn in my manly man club membership card.

But I can explain….

Several years ago a horse stepped on my left foot, resulting in an injury to my big toe.  I don’t rightly know whether it broke my toe because I am too tough to get it checked out by medical personnel.  I just know that the subject toe turned black and blue and the toenail fell off.  The injury affected my gait for awhile causing me to go on “injured reserve”  which as you can imagine prevented me from playing in any NFL games for that entire season, whichever season that was several years ago.

Unfortunately, that severe toenail injury resulted in the replacement toenail growing back in thicker and misshapen.  Up until then, my appearance was without flaw.  Since then, I have been unable to model sandals.  Losing gigs as a sandal model has been costly by limiting my opportunities to earn a decent living.

So, out of economic concern, when Sugar, who was sharing a car with me, thus stranding me at the nail salon, suggested that I get a pedicure while I was stuck there waiting for her anyway, I conceded.

So I did, very self-consciously, take a seat in one of those pedicure chairs, carefully watching the front door in case someone I knew came in.  I was ready to duck.

That toenail on my left big toe now looks and feels mahvelous!!!!!!!!!

Hey, before you judge me, walk a mile in my boots.  It was pretty difficult with that thick, ugly, jagged toenail tearing holes in all my socks.  Now my boots are more comfortable and, darn it, I am more secure about my masculinity than ever.  (Just promise to not tattle to the National Football League Players Association.  I don’t want to be laughed out of the locker room).