Armored trucks are the answer

Yes, I am crazy but armored trucks are the answer. If you have teenagers of driving/dating age or know of any parents who have teenagers, then armored trucks are the answer. Don't waste your money buying them a BMW or some clunker. Sure, what teenager would not want a BMW, but who is going to have to fill the gas tank? You, of course.
Okay there are a few parents who have told their kids that if they have a car, then the kid takes care of all the maintenance and insurance.
But what about taking their friends out? And those date problems. Any friend would love to be picked up in a BMW. But imagine being picked up in an armored truck? Would you want to be picked up in an armored truck to go to the movies? Do I see any hands up?

That's the whole idea. The boys will not be able to get any female dates and boy's male friends will not want to be seen dead in the family armored truck. You can always weld all the doors shut except for the driver’s side. But if you do weld the doors and you need to borrow the truck to go grocery shopping... You see my point.

Have your mechanic install a motor governor with a cap at 35 miles an hour and your kid will never speed no matter how hard they try. The new young driver will also never drive on the highway at high speeds!

And as a finale note, if your teenager is ever involved in an accident, rest assured your child and the family armored truck will be fine.
As you can see, armored trucks are the answer!

I.C.E.

God forbid something should happen to you while you are alone.
But suppose something does happen. And that something is bad enough you have to be taken to a hospital. And for whatever reason, you can not speak.
How are your loved ones going to know where you are?

If you had entered the letters ICE in front of your wife's,girlfriend's or boyfriend's name or any other relative who happened to be in your digital something in your purse, pocket, or briefcase, the medics would know to contact that person.
You see I.C.E. stands for In Case of Emergency.

Don't delay, It's time for ICE.

94 Pounds

A bag of cement weighs 94 pounds. I'm sure there is a logical reason for this occurrence. One of my readers will know the answer. Cement is one of three ingredients for my artificial stone pots. But as it turns out, cement is the heaviest.
About three weeks ago, I went to my local Home Depot. Honestly it was not the closest store. I'm willing to travel a little to find a store where the sales help is willing to help. That's what sales help is for. To help. Not to point and walk away. Or shrug their shoulders and say, it's not my department.

So I went to the Home Depot further away. I walked to the construction materials area and found the area for the cement. There was no cement. All I wanted was plain old Portland cement. Not pre mixed or extra fast setting cement. Just cement. I saw mixtures for stucco or filling in post holes. There was the self leveling cement mix but no Portland cement.

I found a salesperson, who said there had just been a delivery in the parking lot. Then he turned and walked away. I looked at his vanishing image. He stopped and looked at me. Oh, you want me to follow you?

I followed him to parking lot. There was another sales person unloading the shipment. The fellow I was following asked me how many bags I wanted. "One," I said.
The guy on the top of the load picked up the bag like it was a bag of potato chips.
The bag was handed to the guy I had followed. The guy I followed, groaned a little.
Turning around, he asked if I needed any help.

"No," I answered as the bag was handed to me. I felt my back muscles begin to quiver. I held the bag close to me as sweat began to pour off my forehead. My cart was maybe 15 feet behind me but it felt like it was moving away from me as I moved toward it. Of course, my nose began to itch. Oh, what I would have given for a third arm/hand. I thought of asking someone to scratch my nose but perhaps it would be a little forward of me.

I got to the cart and gingerly dropped the bag. Of course the bar code had to be on the bottom when the cashier wanted to check me out. "I'll lift the bag and you wand it," I told the cashier. As I lifted the bag, she looked in the store directory for bags of Portland cement. She knew what was going through my head but I can't say because I run a family blog, for now.
Pushing the cart through the security check point, I made it to the car.

Bags of Portland cement were not meant to bend over a trunk lid. As I lifted with my legs, the bag suddenly felt heavier. Was the cement absorbing moisture through the plastic liner? I got the cement over the trunk lid and into the trunk without altering too many vertebrae.

Arriving home, I carried the 94 pound bag of cement to the garage. Then I had this great idea of putting the bag of cement into a plastic trash bag to keep out the moisture.
Bad idea.
I wonder if Portland cement comes in 10 pound bags with easy carry handles?

Another Shower

Today is Friday, July 1, 2005. It is our pizza night. Pizza night means, da, we get pizza and we also share a bottle of wine. We used to get a large plain pizza every Friday night but then my wonderful wife realized that eating this much pizza was not good for us. We both looked forward to Pizza night every Friday night. Our two dogs knew when it was Pizza night. Of course, they would get samples from each of us.
Now we have a medium pizza with an assortment of veggies every two weeks. A medium pizza with veggies IS NOT THE SAME AS A LARGE CHEESE PIZZA. I just wanted all of you to know that!

Because I now exercise 6 days a week and usually do my workout at night, on pizza Fridays, I exercise in the morning. We both know not to exercise after wine and pizza. The results are not pleasant.

So this morning, my lovely wife asks me why I'm getting into the shower. I look at her with my typical confused look and say why should I not, or something like that.
She says that since tonight is Pizza night, you need to exercise this morning. I pause and tell her that I plan on walking for an hour this morning.
She says you will sweat out there.
I tell her if I sweat, I'll just take another shower.
She shakes her head.

I began walking the streets of our town at 0535. Please don't tell anyone that I'm a street walker. Word travels fast in a small community. I felt as though I was walking through humidity as thick as pea soup. There were some places where I actually felt a breeze. Those places, I could count on two fingers.

On my way home, I noticed a guy delivering newspapers. When I lived in Berwyn Heights, I delivered newspapers as well. It was a learning experience. Some of my neighbors were so nice when I would see them working in their yards. But when it came to collection time, they treated me like I was foreclosing on their house. I got more excuses about why they could not pay me than I would ever like to hear.

So this morning, I see this man throwing newspapers from his Mercedes. I stopped and thought I was hallucinating. It was the heat and humidity that made me think that a newspaper person was driving a Mercedes. But then I remembered that I saw this same man driving a Lexus the other day. And he was also delivering newspapers as well! I wonder if anyone gives him a problem when he drives up in his Mercedes to collect for the newspaper?

I approached the house, with my clothes clinging to my body and sweat pouring off my forehead. I felt like a car which had just gone through a car wash. If the temperature had been zero degrees, I would not have sweated.
My wife is correct most of the time. Today she was 100% correct, as I stepped into the shower for another shower.