Cool wheels, dude!

A few years ago I built a home in the Lakewood section of Dallas.  It's a very eclectic, free-spirited kind of neighborhood.  A doctor might live next door to a buttoned-down CEO, and across from an "indoor horticulturalist".  *wink*  They were all over the board.

There was one guy in the neighborhood who always intrigued me.  I named him Leo, just because.  Internet guy above reminds me of him.  Plump, wild hair, tie-dyed everything, obviously an old, unrepentant hippie, and he rode either a bicycle or a little moped, depending on whether or not he was in a hurry (3 mph vs 6 mph).  I rather envied him, despite the fact that I couldn't be more un-like him.  (Mr. "Stick-Up-Your-Ass", that's what K calls me.)

New topic:  Bicycles.  They appeal to me.  The thought of hopping on a bike and going up to the corner market for a few last minute things, or to the coffee house for a latte....that sounds fun.  Never mind that one block north of where I live is a 4-lane boulevard, east is a 6-lane boulevard, and to the west an autobahn, and traffic moves at 70 mph on all three.  (Speed limits are apparently viewed as just a suggestion.)  And we don't have bike lanes.  Cyclists here I'm convinced have suicidal tendencies....if the traffic doesn't get 'em, the heat will.

The one thing that doesn't appeal to me about bicycles is that damn seat.  What sadistic bastard invented those?  Ouch!

What I need is something more like this.  Now doesn't that look more comfortable?  Mount something like that on a bike like this....

....and you might get my attention.  Mount one of these on it, too....

....and I might be willing to risk it.  

A couple months without a haircut, some snazzier t-shirts, a few more cheeseburgers, and I could be Leo!  (And Frisco, TX , the winter home of Thurston Howell III, would never be the same.  Haha!)  What was it Mad Magazine's Alfred E. Neuman said?...."Why be normal?"  

Tempting.

Peace, out.  ;) 

NOTE:  This post was inspired by my friend Dana "The Bug" who was recently presented with a new bike by her thoughtful spousal unit, the good Dr. M.

Wearin' the green....

Yep.  That's it.  That's all I've got. 

I suppose if I'd thought far enough ahead I could have looked for some of my Scottish family tartan and made a vest or something.  Although with St. Patrick being an Irish dude (right?) I'm not sure flaunting one's Scottish-ness would be too cool.

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While it's sort of a hassle to attend....traffic is terrible and parking is non-existent....the annual Greenville Avenue St. Patrick's Day parade in Dallas is always fun.  Because of a budget crunch at City  Hall this year's event almost wasn't.  But at the last minute Mark Cuban, the wild and crazy owner of the Dallas Maverick's peeled off a few "K" from his bankroll and things went off just like in the good 'ol days.

My favorite parade entrant was always the Paddy O'Furniture Lawn Chair Drill Team.  As my mentor Alfred E. Neuman was fond of saying, "Why be normal?"

Hopefully your St. Paddy's Day / weekend has been a fun one, too.  :)

S

Blakely and Dick Clark are home

New granddaughter Blakely is back home, a home where my daughter readily admits she's been demoted to the second most beautiful female.  I dunno, it's still a toss-up to me.  She really is a pretty little girl.  Except for a small bruise on her head which will disappear soon, she's perfect.  Not that I'm prejudiced or anything.  ;)  

Here she seemed quite content in grandpa's care. Now my challenge is to teach her dad "the stare".  He'll be using that on all the boys who will come calling for her in about 16 years.

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While most younger people may only remember Dick Clark from his Rockin' New Year's Eve shows and as a game show host, those of us with a few more candles on the cake remember him from the original American Bandstand show broadcast from Philadelphia every week.  For me, the closest I could come to being on AmBand was being on one of the many local knock-offs, such as Sump'n Else on WFAA in Dallas.

All us kids who could score tickets would hustle home after school, get dressed, pick up our dates, and get to the TV studio.  All the girls tried to copy the do's of the show's dancers, and all the guys dreamed of messing up those dancer's do's.  Needless to say it was an impossible dream.  If you'll look carefully at the set (top photo) you'll see they have a cut-out of my alter ego, Alfred E. Neuman.  I always wondered why they would want that when they could have ME!

While there were many American Bandstand wannabe's, there was only one Dick Clark.  He's back home now, too.  May he RIP.

Have a good weekend everyone. 

S

Passion?

In the previous post I was asked what my "passion" was, so I listed automobiles, aviation, football, etc. But the more I thought about it the more I realized those are not really my "passions", but my "interests".  To me passion means waking up in the morning and immediately thinking about "it", daydreaming about "it", and rushing home after work to immerse myself in "it".  Obviously I'm not talking about erotic passion.  That's a whole other subject.  No, I'm talking about obsessive interest in a subject.  To me that's a passion.


I'm not sure I truly have a passion.  I can go to a Concours car show and enjoy it, but I'm not obsessed with it.  Nothing rivets my attention to the point I can't get enough of it.  Same with a football game, or eating a special meal, or even my job.  Especially my job.  I've never had that burning 24/7 obsession some people have with their work.  Of course, they're gazillionaires and I'm not.


I'm not sure if this makes me shallow, lazy, or just someone with undiagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder.  I can wake up in the morning and go in any of 10 different directions and be perfectly happy. Maybe I was the inspiration for Mad Magazine's Alfred E. Neuman.  

"What?  Me worry?"

S