Tag Archives: humor

So Many Snowballs and So Little Time

I live in a part of the country where we normally get snow each year, but the amount rarely exceeds 6 inches at a time. This week we have experienced one of those unusual occurrences. Some parts of the state (Virginia) received as much as twenty inches.

I’m not much for playing in the snow, but have several grandchildren that it is right up their alley. One in particular, when he sees snow, he runs through the house screaming, “It’s snowballing! It’s snowballing!”

I remember being his age and waking to an overnight snowfall. The first revelation was a day out of school. Then, there were snowball fights, sleigh rides, snow men and anything else you could think of to do in the frozen slush.

Nowadays, I set back in my mahogany covered library, surrounded by books and write novel after novel, occasionally gazing through a picture window at the beautiful snowfall outside. . . . if the truth be known I sit in my bedroom with my computer, monitor and a flat screen mounted on the wall. There are also 4 three-way Kenwood speakers mounted on the wall so I can lose myself in some loud rock n roll – preferably the power trio, RUSH. Believe me when I say, I can rattle the walls on our sizable abode. Keeps me on my toes when I’m not making snow angels.

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It’s That Time of Year . . . Enjoy!

Have you ever seen Christmas decorations? Consider that a rhetorical question, because of course you have.

Have you ever seen the movie, Christmas Vacation? That question is a little more problematic because you may have, and for the sake of this blog, we will assume so.

Imagine taking the premise of the movie, moving it inside, then replacing the lights with other Christmas paraphernalia. So many in fact, you couldn’t swing a dead mouse without hitting one of many Christmas decorations. This I will proudly say is my house.

I owe this holiday hoedown to my lovely wife. She labors from Thanksgiving until done, starting each day as early as possible and working late into the night. To the amazement of all, especially the grandchildren, this labor of love is completed long before Christmas to be enjoyed by all. My wife also manages to do quite a bit with lights, garland, Christmas trees, deer and an elaborate Nativity scene, all elegantly arranged on the outside of the house and throughout the yard. She loves Christmas and best of all, we share a bond of closeness that is centered around God. Let me sign off by saying, “Have a very Merry Christmas and may God bless you in the upcoming New Year!”

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Celluloid Heroes Dance Before My Eyes

In years past, a small percentage of books became movies. Currently it seems, each movie that travels across the silver screen begins with a hard front cover, a hardback cover and a plethora of paper and ink in between.

Being a writer, I would love nothing more than to see one of my novels I had pumped so much energy into flying across that screen. As an author, I would feel complete.

No time for wishful thinking. We’ll look forward to that at a later date.

At the moment, (and I don’t know why) an awkward thought has crossed my mind (and this happens more frequently than not), the mere mention of the silver screen has brought about my childhood and teenage years spent staring at the majestic drive-in movie screen.

As a child, my father cut a piece of plywood that would fit into the backseat of our Buick. He would cover that with quilts, blankets and pillows so my sister and I could lie down in the back and watch the movie until we fell asleep. In those days movies were double features that began with a cartoon . . . ahhh . . . the good ole days.

I remember there was a centrally located building that housed the camera equipment and a snack bar.

As a sixteen year old, the drive-in theater had already begun to phase themselves out. Fortunately (or so I thought), there was one still close to me. I found it to be a place where you could fog up the windows of your car. Of course, this was accomplished with a few smooches and nothing more.

All in all, this has been a nice little drive down memory lane. Hmmm, I wonder if there may be one of those elite forms of entertainment left. I guess I’ll have to jump on my favorite search engine and take a look and see . . . then again, maybe not. 

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Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief, Even Might Find a Little Time to be a Thief . . . Probably Not

Several years ago I began writing a humorous piece on a couple remodeling their home. They were not performing the work themselves, but moreover acting as the general contractor.  

This is something that has become the norm, especially since all of the D.I.Y. programs have appeared across the stupid screen. Please don’t take this as an insult, for the one penning this blog absorbs entirely too much of the screen of stupidity himself.

However, I can say that I have one up on the weekend home-improvement guy. My father was a carpenter. My grandfather was a carpenter and my uncle was a carpenter. So guess what I decided to be when I grew up . . . you got it . . .  a carpenter, and graduated from high school a year early to participate in this noble profession.

I cut my teeth after school and on weekends, when I was fourteen learning how to remodel homes and then moved into new home construction, From foundations to roofing. I built everything from the simplest rancher to four thousand square foot homes, in the ritziest of neighborhoods.

I then moved on to commercial work,  finding it offered so much more. By the age of twenty three I began my first superintendent’s job, albeit small, to me I was raising the Empire State building.

Years passed and jobs in size grew, until I abandoned it all in my early thirties for a position in a trade show fabrication shop for a pharmaceutical company.

Here I learned how to build cabinets and some of the wildest displays you could imagine, not to mention traveling the length and breadth of the United States.

Due to health reasons I left this line of work after sixteen years and of all things, chose writing as my next attempt at a career.

So far things  are going well, at least they look good on paper, (no pun intended) but not as good as I would like as far as lining the wallet goes. I’ve published four novels, with a fifth on the way.

What I have learned from this lifelong experience is, never give up!

As far as being an author, I don’t believe I could have chosen a more enjoyable vocation, but if you don’t get your books in front of eyeballs that will read them, you may as well scribble on paper with a crayon. If you want to be a successful writer, then remember these three words…Marketing! Marketing! Marketing!

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Pick One Quick, You Never Know if it Will be There Next Year

Occasionally when writing, I am called upon to produce a fictitious celebration or holiday, though as of yet have not produced one quite as unique as the many we reside with each year.

Three months ago I passed through a new ritual entitled, “Christmas in July.” I’ll have to admit I was taken aback, not having this lackluster summertime holiday preceded by, “Thanksgiving in June.”

Of course, we mustn’t forget The Great Pumpkin and all of the candy that failed to arrive during the month of May’s, “Halloween.”  

Wait a minute . . . does this move “Easter” back to March, or February (since this sacred holiday is sometimes celebrated in March) or does it stay where it is, being there is plenty of room left on the calendar?

Ya know, there is one thing I never understood. What does Jesus hanging on a cross to save us all, have to do with a bunny rabbit that lays eggs? Even though I have heard several explanations or theories if you will, I’m still unable to reconcile the two.

There’s not much that can be done to alter New Year’s Day, of course I don’t doubt someone will try.

Meanwhile, take advantage of tonight and the chocolate toxic syndrome reserved for you and the little ghosts and goblins who occupy your abode. Happy Halloween!

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Writing a Novel is Like a Good Game of Golf, Both are in a Genre of Their Own

I’d have to say I’m passionate when it comes to writing, especially in the science fiction, fantasy and action adventure genres. I’ve published four novels, soon to finish the fifth and will return to number six, which has been patiently waiting for completion to come its way.

I’ve penned numerous short stories, write a weekly blog and a monthly newsletter. After all this work, the one thing I’ve never written about is golf.

Now I know that my last statement, in and of itself, seems a bit off kilter. You may even be thinking, what’s this guy talking about? This is where I need you to trust me and follow my logic; however, illogical it may seem.

I used to play this so-called, game of kings, though found it to be more of a throw your club, along with a cuss word or two. Hit an errant shot, followed by a cuss word or two. Reach the green in two and then four putt, followed by a string of cuss words and finally spending entirely too much time searching for lost golf balls with an occasional cuss word.

What you must remember, is all this fun comes after spending a small fortune on equipment and dozens upon dozens of little white balls.

What you really need to purchase, and so far I’ve been unable to find, is a golf swing.

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Is Vacation Really a Vacation or Just Another Way to get Further Behind?

The strange thing about vacations is packing up a vehicle with all your stuff and driving many miles in order to take it to another place. The normal time period you will reside at this other place is a week. Considering you left on a Saturday, this means you will not return home until the following Saturday. More than likely, you have rented a house or condo and will be cooking all your meals. If you’re at the beach, you’ll swim, lay in the sun and possibly fish. After your seven days are up, you will re-pack all your stuff and drive many miles on the return voyage home. When you reach your abode, once again you will unpack your stuff and place it where it resides fifty-one weeks out of the year.

I bring this vacation scenario up because my assistant is taking one of these rituals this entire week. No matter how I have pleaded and cried for her to stay, she will have none of it. She is determined to take time off with her husband and leave me without a typist. What gives her the right to help me fifty-one weeks out of the year, and leave me to my own devices on the fifty-second? . . . Ahh, anyone that can put up with me for as long as she has, deserves a week away, but I am gonna miss her.

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