“I just ate less…among other things…”

UNBELIEVABLE!!!

WAY TO GO…YAY, ME!!!

140.0 !!!!!

Okay.  Ten minutes have passed…which (in my humble opinion) is quite long enough to celebrate this current weight loss victory.

MY NEW WEIGHT GOAL:  BY DECEMBER 25, 2020…drum roll please…is…

139.0

Now…I know there are “people out there” who may think that losing one pound in approximately 25 days is a ridiculous goal…but…

I would beg to disagree.

For all the countless people in this world…achieving a goal of any kind is awesome…

But if you are a person (like me) who struggles with weight loss or weight gain…you know, agree and understand the impact of losing just one pound…

…and more importantly…keeping that one pound “gone”.

The irony of this most recent move from 140.6 to 140.0…is that I can’t figure out how I did it…

Oh.  Wait…  🙂

“I just ate less…among other things…”

Have a nice day…

 

 

 

“I just ate less…among other things…”

“139”…no change…

but still hopeful…

My new media entry on the opening page of my blog  is not meant to be pessimistic…

But rather…optimistic in that it shows spaces for possibilities…like if I thought really hard….I could fill them in and even add more!! 

Not that there was a choice mind you…but still…

It’s Friday, October 30, 2020 and in a few short days we will have a new president/leader in this country…OR if notI will begin having two candy bars after dinner and resume smoking…because…well…why the fuck not…life will be over…relatively speaking.

However…closing here on a positive note…I tried (BECAUSE I COULDN’T JUST LEAVE IT ALONE, COULD I???…) a trial run on our freeway system anticipating a return trip to the doctor’s office later in the week and MISSED the exit sign… “11C…11C…11C!!!!!!!”

I took 11B…

And…ended up incorrectly following the “light rail” construction site detour.  JFC…

It was bad.  I won’t lie to you…but it could have been worse.  I could have ended up in Wisconsin…

 This would have broken most people…but not me…

I obviously survived.  Somehow I knew that my life was not going to end…either literally or metaphorically…on some fucked up freeway system in the heartland of America.

See?  I filled in line one already…

Have a nice day…

 

 

 

“A story of death…”

 

(A true Minnesota story…)

This is what happens when 18 zillion inches of snow fall to earth in the autumnal days of October…and foolish you go outside even though your wife tells you “Don’t do it…”

So yesterday I was sitting here writing and looking outside my patio doors and the birds were flying past like it was a damn freeway during rush hour.

I was busy…writing…so I didn’t get up to investigate. I would have failed miserably as an investigative reporter…

THIS morning I walked over to see if any of the 18 zillion inches of snow had melted (some had) and I happened to look down…and saw a broken sprinkler head…except it wasn’t a broken sprinkler head…

It was a robin. Deader than a door nail. It’s little feet pointed straight up. Wings slightly fluffed. Red breast looking almost alive… I couldn’t see his head…under the snow…I hope.

So now I know why all the birds were flying by my door yesterday…it was a “fly by funeral”.

Today…like just now…I saw one robin walk stoically by my window heading for the dead robin…which was out of my current range of sight. It was a female robin. Perhaps this was “the wife”.

I know just what she said as she looked down at his little dead body… maybe even pecking his cold, frozen corpse for emphasis…

She said, “I told you not to go outside…but noooooo....you had to get one last worm before we left for Texas.”

Is there a moral to this story? Yes. She’s always right…

P.S. I was going to attach a photo of Mr. Dead Robin (not that I could actually do this with any semblance of professionalism) but chose not to…since after looking again at Mr. Dead Robin…I don’t think there actually IS a head. You’re welcome…

Have a a nice day…

“One guy…One girl…One motorcycle or…”

“Sometimes the truth can be

so boring…”

Chapter 13

I apologized profusely to sweet, young Nan…who had turned bright red but…had generously accepted my apologies…

And…after also apologizing to everyone else at the table and pleading temporary insanity…I quickly opened my menu and then slapped it shut.  I was ready.

Franny was still looking at hers and also occasionally peeking over the menu at me.

I gently cleared my throat a little…not to hurry her or anything…but…I did want her to speak first…

It was “my scene”…and even though she didn’t know it…she had the opening line to this little drama playing out in my mind.

Franny looked up from the menu and said…”What are you getting, Coop”

Yes!  I was “Center Stage”…

I glanced briefly at the menu again…just for show…and then I said, ever so kindly and politely to Nan, “I don’t feel like having a beer.  I’ll have a Coke…with lots of ice, please…and a chicken sandwich with fries.”

Then I handed Nan my menu.  I was so pleased with myself.  I looked over at Franny for her reaction.

Her mouth had fallen open slightly in surprise at my clever move…or maybe (okay…probably) because…without really meaning to…I had given my order to Nan using a heavy (and completely phony) Southern accent…a la Blanche DuBois from “A Streetcar Named Desire”…my favorite movie…

“I’ll have the same as her,” Franny said…pausing slightly and then smiling.  “Except…I do feel like having a beer.  I’ll have a bottle of Grain Belt with a glass, please.”

“My dad will have to check your IDs before he can serve you guys any beer.  He’ll be right over.”  Nan picked up the menus and headed toward the bar.

Feeling like I’d climbed Mt. Everest in the middle of a raging blizzard…with my oxygen tanks long since depleted…I leaned back against the booth.

I put my tanned hands on the table and admired my new Revlon Orange Blossom nail polish that I’d purchased yesterday at Larson’s Drug Store.

Taking a deep, relaxing breath I smiled across the table at Franny…and Bob.

“I’m hungrier than I thought!”  I said…with not a hint of a Southern accent…”I hope the food’s good.”

It never once occurred to me that we were sitting here with two strange young men…about whom we knew absolutely nothing.

Somehow it just seemed natural and perfectly fine.

I turned to ask Hank what he did for a living.  He was pulling his wallet out of his jeans’ pocket so he could show his driver’s license to the bartender who was headed our way.

My smiling eyes fell down to his hands.  They were even more tan than mine…

Except for a little band of pure white on the third finger of his left hand…you know…the ring finger…

“One guy…One girl…One motorcycle or…”

“Sometimes the truth can be

so boring…”

Chapter 10

But…wait!  Hold on!  Bob had said a “restaurant”…which…’by definition’…was absolutely not “a cheap dive bar with naked, dancing ladies, an opium den in the back and  a ‘neon sign flashing XXX’s over the front door”.

A “restaurant” was generally known as a place where families come to eat and families usually meant adults and children…so there.

I smiled and took a deep, calming breath.  No jail time for Cooper Malone today.  Awesome!!

I’ll order a Coke, I thought.  I love Coke.  Maybe I’ll order 2 Cokes…or a Pepsi.  Pepsi is a good choice too.

Let everyone else drink beer and flash their fucking ID’s all over the place.  “I’ll have a Coke…please.”

I planned the dialog in my head as we approached the town.

Opening Scene:  Restaurant interior…Cooper speaks confidently to the waitress…

“You know, I don’t think I’m in the mood for a beer.  I think I’ll have a Coke…” (and then all really polite-like) “with extra ice, please…”

The extra ice makes it really believable.  Right?  Right.

Like I could have a beer if I wanted to…but I don’t want to.  I am over 21 but…I just don’t want to drink beer…right now…today…even though I could…if I wanted.  Fade out…

And ‘former best friend’ Franny had better not say one damn word or there will be no “Roger encounter” for her at The Friendly when we get back.

That settled…I let my mind concentrate on Hank.  He looked older than either Franny or me…maybe about 25?  I wonder what he did for a living?

I knew for sure he was cute.  Oh yeah…he was cute all right and pretty damn sexy…he also had a kind of presence, not an attitude really, but something else…whatever it was…I liked it.

As we pulled up to the “Three Oaks Restaurant”, I noticed a family of four sitting by the front window.  Mom.  Dad.  Two little girls with pigtails…maybe 8 and 10.

Neither of the little girls were slugging down beers.  Not that they would be…of course!

“Settle down, Cooper.”  I said sternly to myself…as my thoughts ran crazily roughshod over any sensibilities that I may have had when this day had started.

 

“One guy…One girl…One motorcycle or…”

“Sometimes the truth can be

so boring…”

Chapter 5

“What’s your name?” Franny asked biker #2…giving him her customary, blazing smile…which suited her fiery red hair and dazzling green eyes.  Franny was something to behold…and most everyone did.

“Bob Nelson”, he answered quite politely.  “What’s yours?”

“Cynthia Zimmerman.  You can call me ‘Zimmer’ or ‘Zim’ if you like…”said Franny Sherman who…being five feet eight inches tall…found it ridiculously easy to sling her long, slim leg over the seat of the bike and settle herself down behind Bob..

Franny getting on his bike was about as easy as her almost never telling the guys she would randomly meet in bars her real name.  It was just her thing.

At some point either during the evening or at a later encounter…she would tell them the truth…if she felt like it.

You wouldn’t know it to look at her but…Franny could be…complicated

I looked up at my guy.  I could see he was pretty tall even though he was sitting on his Harley-Davidson…tall with tan muscular arms that flexed every time he revved up the Harley’s engine.  Okay…

I gave him my best smile and said, “So…what’s your name?”

Instead of answering, he moved his boot and flipped down a little chrome peg from the side of his bike.

“If you put your foot on that, you should be able to swing your leg over.”

I paused only for a second and then said super confidently…and…sprightly…

“Oh, I know…I’ve ridden before…hundreds of times.  In fact, my older brother, Owen, has a Harley-Davidson…not like this one exactly…but still a Harley.”

Point of fact:  I had never ever ridden a motorcycle before and I did not have a brother named Owen.  But occasionally I stretched the truth a little…but only if absolutely necessary.

I put my right foot on the little peg and then paused…casually looking around for something to grab so I could pull myself up and over and onto the seat.

I wasn’t sure if I should grab…you know…him.

At five feet three inches tall…I did not have the ability or the agility to easily sling my leg over the bike’s seat as Franny had done.

He looked at me for a second…kind of waiting…and then asked me the oddest question.

“So then.  You do know how to be a ‘passenger’ on a motorcycle…right?”

I glanced to the left and I could see Bob talking to Franny and gesturing a lot.

Franny was listening and nodding in acknowledgement.  I couldn’t really hear what they were talking about…Bob kept revving his bike engine.  I looked back at my guy.

“Absolutely!  I’m good!  I will be the perfect passenger.  You will have no problems with me at all.”

Words were coming out of my mouth that made absolutely no sense whatsoever…not even to me.

“No problems?…

“It Was a Dark and Stormy Night”

Chapter Two

Our new home was an older two-story, with a screened-in front porch, a screened-in back porch, a couple of bedrooms upstairs…a nice back yard…a scattering of trees and a single car garage.

I drive by it occasionally…the screened-in front porch is still there…the now magnificent Bur Oak tree in the front yard is still there…and I’m sure the bullet…by now deeply embedded in its formidable trunk…is still there as well…

Because my father worked nights delivering oil for Midwestern Oil and Gas Company, he decided it would be a really great idea for Gee to have a gun…so she could protect herself when he wasn’t there.

Clive wasn’t exactly sure what Gee needed protection from…but still…a gun sounded like a great idea.  My father…as I was to later learn…quite often had a lot of really “great” ideas…and this particular idea was prompted by the unexpected opportunity to purchase above mentioned weapon…very, very cheap.

One afternoon while Clive was perched on his favorite stool at “Jimmy’s Dew Drop Inn” some rummy wino lurched in the front door waving a silver, six-shooter gun…visualize a ‘cowboy’ gun…yelling “Ten Bucks!! Ten Bucks!!”

Of course, everyone in “Jimmy’s” ducked because they thought the guy was there to rob the place…even though as they collectively reflected later…they all thought it was odd that he was demanding such a weirdly low amount.

Clive, however, did not duck but instead turned on his stool and said, “I’ll give you $5.00 for it, Scotty.  Does it have bullets?”

My father…as I was to also later learn…seemed to know an awful lot of people…

 

 

“It Was a Dark and Stormy Night”

INTRODUCING…

“The Johnsons”

“Where the Simpsons meet the Sopranos…sort of…”

Chapter One

It was a bitter, cold December night in Minnesota…and even though I was not yet born…I remember very clearly every detail of that exciting winter evening because…

…my mother was an authentic genius with a tested IQ of 171 and could correctly remember absolutely everything that had ever happened to her and…

…because my father was a devilishly clever storyteller who could weave a tale that kept you listening…with your mouth hanging open…for hours.

Sometimes…in the middle of one of his stories that took place during my “non-remembered early life”…I would be holding my breath until my mom would gently tug one of my pigtails and say, “Lottie…don’t worry…you don’t die!”

So…as this particular story goes…it was on that cold December night when my “35 1/2 weeks” pregnant mother pulled a gun on a very nice policeman…who “as they so often do”…was just trying to help.

But…let’s begin at the beginning…shall we?

The 23-pound, golden brown Thanksgiving Day turkey had not yet even been carved…when Clive Johnson and his brainy and beautiful wife Gee (as in “Gee Whiz)…announced to all family and friends who had gathered together in Clive and Gee’s tiny  apartment…to celebrate this most beloved holiday event…that they would be moving the following week from their cozy but crowded one bedroom apartment with their adorable, chubby seven-year-old son Durwood and faithful hunting dog named Duke.

Worth noting:  My father did not hunt, had never hunted and would never hunt in the future…but had met some guy in a bar (of course he did) and the guy had been trying to sell his 6-month old purebred hunting dog…for a ridiculously cheap price.

Now my father really loved a good deal…but as he later told Gee, “His eyes just got to me, honey.”  And I’m pretty sure he meant the dog’s eyes…”

When I was able to talk…I called Duke “Thido Thia” for some strange, unknown reason.

 

 

“I just ate less…among other things…”

133.8!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT…I’m on this.

I realize now that I had forgotten to allow for the “X” Factor” when I was doing my  recent “Hershey” candy bar research…you know…the research that almost left me blind???  (What kind of scientist am I for heaven’s sake?) …

(Well, Tina…you are the “I Am Not a Scientist” kind).

I don’t know exactly what the hell the “X” Factor” is…I may have been partially blind at that point during my research…however…

It is possible that I am the “X Factor”…which would make sense since I have now discovered (I WORK SO HARD FOR THIS DAMN BLOG!!) that the definition of “X Factor” is:

“Telling yourself what you want to hear (or finding facts…however outrageous on Google…((I LOVE YOU, GOOGLE))!!!!) so you can feel really good right now…but will later come to realize that perhaps those ‘facts’ were wrong and that you are a completely idiotic person and you better now stop doing whatever you are doing to get yourself to this point (where you do not want to be)…like…

…RIGHT NOW.”*

*This definition might be slightly flawed…or maybe a little incorrect…or possibly skewered a tad…and…’bat-shit crazy’ will also work here.

Have a nice day…