Somewhere in the box of notes in my mind...

It was thirty two years ago, probably this week, that I got my first lunch box. Probably walked up and down the aisle at Ayr-Way or even Mr. Wiggs to find the most awesome lunch box to take to school. It followed the adventure of going to the grocery stories. Plural. We shopped Maloley's, Kroger's, A & P, Rogers and Scott's (the one on North Clinton, the one that had the giant hot dog that hung from the ceiling). Friday was grocery shopping day but it was also the time we stopped at Belmonts. Not the liquor store, though I am sure my parents probably wished it was on the weekly route. Sometimes, I would get to go to Kings, which was next door to the North Clinton Scotts. This Scotts also gave out free donuts to the little munch-kins. Trust me, I was powder-sugar faced all the way through the store. I remember these things like they were yesterday. I remember K-mart before Martha Stewart got her evil hands into it, and we would get the submarine sandwiches there for lunch. This was were I did my first theft. Note to self and others, the little books of crossword puzzles...not free... Which makes me mad to this date, that I could get free food for the walk around the store, but I could not get a little bit of mind candy for the growth and development that my brain would need. This led to another brush with the morality law when I would later steal a rock from a garage sale or rather a barn sale. I still have the rock as a mental note of what I should never do again. Rock sits on my desk at home and I have had that rock for about thirty years. Now, mind you, who in their right mind would be selling a rock in a barn sale. Why would I even want to steal a rock? The answers are buried deep somewhere in the box of notes in my mind...

Plus or Minus?

Oh, who has not heard the controversy of developing downtown with the beginning point being a baseball stadium? Now, mind you this is not your little league or t-ball game, no this is big time, big money minor league baseball. Correct, I hear youu, we do have a stadium that is a bit off the Downtown path, that just seems new as the day it opened . So let me ask you, when did you last see the stadium in person, not on TV, or through a drive-by, but in person? I can tell you it was 1998 for me. So, I think the seats were blue, and I think I had a hotdog. But why do I think that if the stadium is downtown I will come? Well, I probably won't. Sorry, baseball is not my cup of tea. Just saying that though, I can understand the importance of putting something downtown to get people downtown. Trust me, if there is a ball park, there will be food, there will be bars there will be shopping, there will be vagrants and there will be corner peddlers. But at least they are downtown. Right? I am sure that people of the Fort do not know all the facts about the downtown improvement plan. I did not. So check out the city of Fort Wayne's web site. Read and determine if you can support the advancement of Fort Wayne. I wonder how we cannot support growth. Rant of the day, may be more of a ramble...so add or subtract what you need to make a good support for or against the advancement before just assuming that a stick of wood and a big ball of yarn will ruin our city.

Oh, I will tell you where to stuff it!

I was thinking last night that I have made the singles Thanksgathering limited to those who I think may want to attend. Even last year, I invited a few married people, so I can see evolution happening with this event. This is the only party each year where I will allow, permit, accept someone bringing food into my home. No, it is not some new aged religion where my food has to be blessed by me, or I have a gazillion food allergies...it is that I am a Capital C control freak in the kitchen. Thus why I am single (hangs head, Charlie Brown theme plays). Thanksgathering is the first Sunday in the month of November. It is that my friends gather with food bucket in hand and we say thanks for the friendship, the frivolity, and the free food! It is very light hearted, no agenda, no series of questions (unless you sit by someone who has been boning up on jeopardy and states everything in the form of a question). Some people will bring recipes to share. Others cannot share their recipe because of family ethics or that Kroger's did not give them their recipe when then made it. Good cooks go all out, some fair-weathered cooks make a tradition and the non-cooks bring rolls, salad or a pumpkin pie (frozen). Unless, Fresh Market has the big $2.99 homemade pie sale, then we have a plethora of pumpkin pies. Well, the reason I started this rant, is to see if anyone who may be tuning me on LIVE on the INTERNET, may want to come. So, open invitation...leave me a comment if you would like to take part in the Carbo-Thanksgathering.

It ain't as you might think...

Last night the 99th episode of the Emmys took place. Well, maybe it was not that version of the show, but one award show looks like another, if you ask me. I was passing through the TV channels when I came across Joan and her worthless daughter Melissa interviewing celebrities. When my surprise, Morgan Fairchild "popped" out of the screen. This lady was pulled tighter across the face than a snare drum. She was blessed thanks to the support of a local doctor. She looked like she was 28 not 68. Then, pan the camera over to this blonde lady who had a gravelly voice. She had scattered hair and kinda nasal tone... holy mother of Irene Ryan, it was Joan Rivers. Now mind you Joan is collecting social security and is pre-arranged for burial! She looked as if she was younger than her worthless daughter. Oh, by the way, I think her daughter is worthless. I was surprised at how the show kept a decent pace for the first hour, until I had to turn off the show. Well, they wheeled Dick Clark out. Come on people, how much of a train wreck do we need to see on television. We already saw Melissa Rivers. Anyway, it was a tribute. Except, he was positioned in front of a microphone. The poor man could barely talk. His eyes screamed youth, yet, but the rest of him just was not ready for prime time. Last night, I think I saw Hollywood at its worst. Some might argue, but I am not a big advocate of the plastic manipulation that has turned our aging actors young and our young at heart actors spectacles.

RIP Pluto...

As a kid, I am not sure I really paid much attention in class. So, when something did get tossed against the wall of my brain and stuck, it is really tough for me to accept that it was wrong. Like, when I was in fourth grade, the teacher proclaimed that "you will never be lost if you remember that North is always in front of you". Okay, I am not the person you want to go on a driving trip, because I am the only person who can drive from Canada to Florida and still be facing North. Now, all these later, I can see the flaw in her words, but I cannot shake that North is still in front of me. Imagine my amazement when within the past two weeks we are told that Pluto is not a planet! There may be more planets than we initial knew...mind you planets were not just discovered this month, this year, this decade, this century, no a gazillion years ago the planets were discovered. So, somehow, we thought we would turn over all these men and women in their graves to announce that all those years of science and star gazing have lead to lies and myths. Now, I can see where news of the world being round rather than flat upset the people when Columbus got on his boat and headed North to the new lands!!!

Must not... Can not, oh no, stop it....

Last evening as I was lounging in my chair in front of the television, I flipped past a real spook show. Mind you the hot topic of the night was the JonBenet killer John Mark Karr. That was not the spooky part, it was the host of the show, Nancy Grace. I think I know what I would be at Halloween time, because she has the look to scare a person senseless. She is not even level headed. She is not nice. She is not open to any other ideas. She is one to convict a person on her preconceived thoughts. Now mind you, this top of Karr is easy to close the book, lock the cell and throw away the key. However no matter what she was talking about, she was angry. We need to send her over to war. She could kick some major booo-tay. She could fill in for the vacationing Condie Rice. No doubt Nancy Grace was a train wreck that I could not stop watching. Flash back to the Fat beauty pageant I watched last month. I am beginning to think that all television is not pushing the envelop just decided to write with crayons on big paper.

When you see the bus coming....

School time is rapidly approaching and kids are returning to the classroom. As pedestrians, we need to watch where they are going because we have no idea what they are thinking. As a driver, I do find myself frustrated with buses, slow cars and well anything that is in my path as I go from point A to Z. Sometimes, no matter what side of the bed we roll out of, and since I sleep in a bed all by myself (well, Clyde does sleep dead center) most things do not go right. Now, I have prided myself on having pretty decent character. As honest as I can be. Most therapist can tell more about the truth than the truth actually tells, but nonetheless, I have made great strides to live a darn good life. Recently, when things did not go as well as I imagined, I was given guidance about living by a mantra. I have a hard enough time living day by day, but the thought made sense. My mantra just might be ... When you see the bus coming, either jump or take the hit... I think I would take the hit, because I do believe that I should stand for what I believe. PS...this really had nothing to do with the kids returning to school, it just helped to position to this topic.

Look Mom, my teeth come out...

I try not to follow the pop culture neighborhood crime events, you know like the ten year old case of JonBenet. As horrific as the death of a child is, and as horrific as the attack of the media against a family, I yet find some contempt for the parents. This makes Carbo-blog first to talk about a current event that does not have any relevance to my life, but this topic seems to have struck a chord with me. When one hears of a child having her teeth removed to have dentures installed to give her a perfect smile so she can be a runway model, this is only proof that we are prosecuting the wrong people. Now, I do not know if JonBenet had this surgery performed to enhance her smile, but if not she was not far from it. The accused murderer was into child pornography. He was a teacher. Lord knows, he probably was a Miss TinyWiny judge. At what point might one think that the parents only enticed the accuser by dressing her like an adult, parading her around town like a Macy's Day balloon. I think a child should be a child and a parent is to protect, guide and assure safety. I think JonBenet's parents had stronger motives that indirectly dealt the worst blow a parent could receive....If we can not have chicken fights, where a chicken gets attacked, why on earth do we have children's pageants where the child will never recover from the rejection, criticism and even worse attacks.

Now that is Ph-unny!

Well, I have returned from my adventure to Chicago. Had a blast, and I will tell you more later. Along the adventure I realized how infectious a laugh can be. I also realized that Hong Kong Phooey is out on DVD. One may illicit the other. As a kid, I loved the fact that Hong Kong could run and jump into a file cabinet, get stuck, with the aid of the his trusty feline friend and a few taps to the cabinet, he left the world of being a janitor to become Hong Kong Phooey. Somehow, I see the similarities where my career path started. Though I do not know karate, nor do I drive a Phooeymobile I do have a hip set of wheels that could help solve worldly issues if pushed to the limits - I do presume. The show was short lived, merely 16 episodes. It had Casey Kasem and Richard Dawson as voices. Must have been the high cost of production with star talent which lead to its short 1974 notch in the history books. I have found throughout my life, that laughter has helped make better friendships, better times and even prevent illness (or at least I have been told so).

Floored with calories.

The blog will be taking a few days off so I can visit my second home, Marshall Fields. I have boasted about Chicago, the city named after a group, but the city would not be anything without it's State Street legend, Marshall Fields. The farewell visit is to see MF in its prime. Remember it as it was rather than as the "Star" company. I am sure Macy's will take good care of the multi leveled shopping experience...but it will never be the same. Indulge in Frango Mints on the escalator up, and down .... oh, like I am the only one who has done this! Or, gone to the top floor for the visitors discount pass...tell me I am not the only out of towner who has enjoyed a nice discount, a slice of Frango Mint Cake....Or meander down to the food court to enjoy wonderful desserts. Hmm, I guess I ate at Marshall Fields more than I bought cloths. Too bad Dean and Deluca did not buy the franchise. Well, my blog-like friends, I will return with great stories, and rants very soon. In my absence, have a snickers bar and think Carbo-thoughts.

One stick of butter...

Tonight, YLNI had a hot spot to toast opportunities to network, socialize and just relax. You can imagine the conversation a table of young, energetic and fun people could begin. Of course, the topic of food simmered at the top of the pot. It is no surprise that I spoke highly of the always perky, sometimes provocative, Rachel Ray. Many other highly visible TV chefs made the cut too. The person who was prominent in the anti-health state was Paula Deen. The country bumpkin, with the annoying sons who make lard and butter the other part of the full house, can make even a pan of fresh cut green beans a caloric nightmare. It is always ironic that this lady can still be on the air when people lobby against McDonald's for having too high of caloric count in their salad dressing. I love to cook but I just do not get the ten pounds of lard with a cup of oil to make a pot of rice. Don't get me wrong, she is fun to listen to, ya'all. I even saw her once at Marshall Fields on State Street in Chicago and she is as cute as Mrs Clause on Christmas Eve packing the sleigh. But this lady needs a bit of a health kick from time to time. Maybe she can show me how to make my deviled eggs. Trust me, those eggs would cause a heart attack.

Termites!

I am a pretty light sleeper. I would be the person who could hear a branch fall in a forest or some profound phrase where there is a lot of noise and I yet could manage to hear it. Now, during the day, I am the person who says "huh" and yet answers. That is an entirely different blog....stay tuned.

Last night as I was watching my "must see TV" (Guiding Light, and Law and Order) I decided to have a popsicle. [Already I am sure you are wondering how did we get from sleep, to TV to a popsicle, stay the course, read my lips..rather blog]. It was a vanilla ice cream bar with a toffee chocolate layer on a stick. Pretty darn good. Felt like I was 7 again. It did not melt down my hand or anything, but then again my house is colder than the icebox to begin with....

Well, following my programs, I got up out of my chair, took Clyde outside for his walk and we went to bed. He snuggled near me, to help stay warm so he did not freeze in the subzero house. It was a good sleep, solid. Until 1230! I heard wood breaking.

The alarm did not go off, so no one was breaking in. Then my worst fear - Fire. But no smoke. And you know what they say where there is smoke there is fire, so the converse must be true. Then I thought ... Termites. I have seen the commercial, they eat hundred of pounds of wood an hour. My house was going to be gone by morning. So I got up out of bed to find Clyde was gone. Oh no, someone killed Clyde!! (Wrong show). I am calling him, but he does not come. I am thinking, uhho.... Well, to cut to the chase, I do not have termites. No fire. No woodchuck chuckin wood, nope. My pup decided that he recalled I had a popsicle which I had left the stick on the edge of the chair table.

With his abilities to scale small chairs in a single bounce, Clyde saved the popsicle stick from falling from atop the table. He though found it had a nice sweet taste and he thought he would munch on it.

So now I can go back to sleep.

Circle Unbroken.

For as long as I remember, I have always championed myself as a person who says what he thinks, does what he feels is right and cares more for others over himself. I am sure we all have recaptured conversations in my mind after the fact and wished we could whitewash it and start over. However, being human, we do need to just proceed through our lives being as honest and forthright as possible. Good happens most of the time, and when the bad does come we need to be able to turn to the people who were honest, forthright and compassionate. The part of my life that defines my success is not the cd collection, or the Carbozo bash (that I am sure will be a stellar event), or my pup that is the envy of all critters one foot and under. I value my friendships. A good friendship allows one to gain something without taking. Gain a value that one will carry to the next person, and low in behold, the goodness chain becomes a circle. No one really has a new idea, they are all just repackaged. So, thank you to the words I have heard before ... the words I share ... and the listening I do to keep the circle from breaking.

Ashes to ashes...

A few of my friends have started a list of the fifty things we want to do before we die. I know, it sounds morbid, but really it is goal setting. We all have dreams and aspirations. Things we got to do at least once.
Now, my list is not full of wild adventure. Like, I want to learn a language. I think
I may start with English, just so I can cross it off my list. But there are things like being able to have teeth straightened and whitened (no offense for saying I want to be more white). I want to figure a way to store all my cds in a neat cabinet that I can access like a card catalog. I want to fall in love. Stop laughing! It does happen to people. Dr. Phil talks about it on match.com (not that I would know). I want to travel the world, or at least the United States and Greater Italy. I want to have a kick-ass Carbozo celebration this winter that keeps all the neighbors up all night long, and that the breakfast is just as rad as it was last year. The challenge I have faced is coming up with fifty things for my list. So, right now, my list is shy about 24 items. I have a friend who wants to sky dive or something amazingly dare-devilish. The one thing I want to know is how to make deviled eggs. But lord knows, I try to do that I will burn down the house and all that will be left is ashes to ashes and dust to dust and then my list of fifty may be closed before its time. So NO eggs.

A city named after a band...hmmm

Fort Wayne and Chicago. The two things us Fort Wayners talk about all the time. Chicago is hot. Chicago is happening. The world would be no where without Chicago. Fort Wayne could only dream of having

the draw of Chicago. Well, reality is, Fort Wayne will be the home of Chicago -- October 6, 2006 at the historic Embassy Theatre.

Anyone who knows a tad about me, knows I love sad songs. I love music with horns. I like music that transforms from one feeling to another. Chicago grabs me and has always been one of my favorite groups.

Mind you, I wish Peter Cetera was still the voice behind the microphone, but all and all the new gang is just as fun. Whether it is Saturday in the Park, or You're the inspiration, or Baby what a big surprise.... Chicago is the reason that city by the lake is who they are today.... From the warped perspective of Carbo, everything does revolve around music. So, with that, you should plan to get your tickets Friday when they go on sale and enjoy one of the best forth decade bands LIVE in Fort Wayne.

Destiny

I found this great picture of an amazing evening where Anne Cochran was joined by some guy named Donny Osmond and a piano player, Jim Brickman. Over the years, I have attended the Anne Cochran Christmas Special, a few New Year's Eve concerts with Anne and a Valentine concert. She is always backed by Jim Brickman, who is starting to make a name for himself. Good going Jim!

Over the years, I have attended probably seven concerts of Anne Cochran's and I think you should attempt to attend one if given the chance. Check out her web site, buy a cd, and experience the fun: Annecochran.com.

You old goat...

Does anyone ever wake up and just wish they could go right back to sleep? The past week has been a zoo. Not fun like a petting zoo might be, but a zoo that is shy of a circus.
Work has been busy - good busy - and my spare time has been filled with a great opportunity with YLNI. So, I am not complaining, though, why have a blog if one is not going to complain, right? Well, this past week made me reflect. It started a few postings ago about going egg head on ya, scalping myself. So, to prepare for this moment, I decided to replace the small amount of my hair from the top to the bottom. I have done the metal shaving shuffle, and I now have a goatee. Though I may look like a convicted felon, it is kind of fun to have it. I feel as though I am someone else. I have been telling people that it is on test-drive. Over the next couple weeks I will determine if this is the new look. I have enclosed another new picture to let you see what I look like with it. Hope you enjoy.

Old Fashion Sunday...nothing to do...

Not much to post. I had a quiet and calm night. Watched some television. Made a pasta dish and a dessert, which I ate both very well, thank you very much. I have a quiet agenda for Sunday also. Going to get some things organized. Get my printer hooked back up. Every since the move to the upper level (haha upstairs), I have been without a printer. So, now that I have found the disc, I should be in business. I bought corn on the cob at the Farmers Market, yesterday, I think that will be lunch. It is a sad when all I can tell you is about corn and I am not in Iowa. So, with that said, I have posted an updated photo of me. I am sure you can see why the shaved head look is not much of a stretch.

Grocery Shopping

What an experience! Just got home from getting some fresh vegetables from the Farmer's Market, and a trip to the grocery store (Meijers). Good gracious, what a cluster F**K. I have found where the Three River's Festival people are on Saturday morning.
Plus every old person on a rideable cart, children pushing mini carts...It was like a circus. Something must be piped into the store, because the shoppers were dazed and confused. I was ran into twice by carts, bumped into by a walking shopper, and backed into by a lady who forgot she was in reverse. Mind you, I just needed a few things. Beverages like white cranberry juice, Propel mango water, orange juice. Plus some meats and a cake. How difficult could this be to pick up. Even the staff seemed to be left of center. Fast and furious pushing a flat bed cart of empty boxes that fly off. The meat lady even was shoving her leveled cart into people. Full moon? Uncertain! I remember the time when the kids were put into the little front section, facing the cart driver and held the coupons. I remember when elderly people had friends and relatives who picked up the stray peach and sanka coffee canister and brought it to them, rather than turn them loose with an electronic contraption. All that medication does state NOT TO DRIVE. At the end of the check out process, if good, the kids got a penny and rode the electric horse. Ironically the penny horse still exists at Meijers but the kids are so wore out from pushing the carts into people, who needs to ride back and forth to be tuckered out for the ride home. I got home and thought, I wish I could just live off air and water. It worked for Karen Carpenter for a while. She must have not liked shopping either.

Heading for a heartache

For the past twenty years, my hair has been receding at about 1/4 of an inch a year. Now, I may sound very left wing when I say that something has to change. New laws need to be enacted. Like the environment, our shorelines are eroding and soon California will not be the west coast rather Nevada will. Same thing has been happening to my head. My hair is slowly inching backwards. I have never even given a thought of a toupee. I sweat way too much. I can just picture that fur rug sliding right into my Flat Top stir fry. I did try the magic soaps that give my hair follicles the strength they needed to come back to life. Well, too little too late. Magic soaps did not work. Then I did try, while in college, a magic potion that was sold through a pharmacy. I think I remember having to stand on one foot and eat bat livers on Thursday when the moon was half and the north star was at it's highest point. Well, I think that worked, but it was just too much planning for me. Well, I have bounced around the idea of helping progress speed up. Have my favorite groomer even the playing field. I think if I was all shiny I could just carry around a squeege to keep the moisture from dripping. I think that I would be sad that I would not smell the Aveda soaps in my morning shower. But, I just wonder, if my egg head may be better polished rather than the mangy approach that plaques me now. Either way either my groomer or my head will be headed for a heartache. Stay tuned if I decide to go under the blade.

Some one else needs the wood....

Last night, I spent with two friends with a nice dinner and a movie. We watched the 1992 classic (according to my account, not others) Straight Talk with James Wood and Dolly Parton. It takes place in Chicago --- The City I love, home of Marshall Fields. But that all ends at the end of this month. Marshall Fields gives way to the big star, Macy's. Somehow, my happy blog note, just went sad.

Anyway, back to the movie and dinner. Dolly accepts a job as a receptionist at a radio station (where I dreamed that I would work). As she headed back to break from job she works from 9 to 5, she walked into a room where the coffee pot is located and into being the mistaken identity of the new Radio Talk Show Host who will solve your love and life problems. Though she struggles to go on the air (which I would never have challenged) she is drawn in to hear someone else's problem. "Sometimes a dog will run the wrong squirrel up the right tree". The romantic comedy kicks up it high heels and makes us feel comfortable for about 90 minutes. With all the negative stuff we hear about on TV, in the paper, and at the water cooler, it is nice to retreat to a good dinner, with great friends. As Dolly takes one phone call from a nagging, never ending caller, she proclaims, "Get off the cross, hun, someone else needs the wood."

Edge of night...

Over the past twenty five years, I can tell you about a group of people I never have met. I can tell you what I was doing when Reagan was shot. I can recount a person hanging from a cliff, falling, dying but coming back to life. I can tell you about a person who got amnesia, and became Amish. About a doctor who drank before a surgery and killed a person. Or about the person who was blackmailed to marry a person who never actually had the child. For the past twenty five years, I got hooked on a show that made my college schedule mold to fit the time change. I got a VCR to make sure I could stay in touch with the Spaulding's, Lewis's, Cooper's, Bauer's and Reardon's. I have TiVo now, so I still can stay in touch with the sometimes gripping, sometimes sad, and sometimes just dull as a cows snot. But, I am a Guiding Light fan! My mom would take an afternoon break from the daily chores and watch the guilty pleasures of Guiding Light. I got hooked. In fact, I bet my mom has not watched the show since I went to junior high. This month, Guiding Light has taped its 15,000 episode. Sad to say, but I think I have seen a good portion of them. Useless trivia winner in the making! At one point, mom had watched Edge of Night, but that show was a mere half hour and I couldn't get into. Needless to say, it was cancelled. I am hopeful, that Guiding Light outlives me. I am addicted. And now you know something even more useless than my bad judgment of watching two hours of Monica.