Greetings from Minnesooooota.

Paul Bunyan, life size. (not really life size)

Dateline:  Bemidji, Minnesota

Hello Gentle Readers, As I write this I am in the process of returning from a business trip in the northern area of the state, in the small town of Bemidji (pronounced:  how the hell should I know, I don’t speak Minnesooootan).  I heard it was named after a wise old Indian chief who was famous for saying:  “he who chops his own firewood warms himself twice”…..and who probably had a nagging wife telling him to chop firewood. 

I learned on my trip some interesting, yet useless facts.  Bemidji, Minnesota has several claims to fame.  One is that they say the Mississippi river starts here.  Well, I guess it had to start somewhere.  And this is the area made famous by Paul Bunyon.  Mr. Bunyon, the legendary giant lumberjack, was an avid, yet awful golfer.  He would repeatedly swing and miss the ball   creating divots all over the state.  These divots, according to tall tales, filled with water and became the area’s lakes.  This is the land of 10,000 lakes, so Paul was a busy boy.  He played almost as much golf as President Obama. In addition to creating lakes, Paul unsuccessfully tried to introduce plaid shirts and suspenders as the official dress for professional golfers. 

An important landmark can be found in Red Wing, Minnesota.  This is where the Red Wing boot company has the world’s largest boot on display.  It is a size 638 ½, (in men’s, EEEEE width in case you are shopping for boots).  And you may be interested to know there is a museum dedicated to Spam, the canned pork product, in Austin MN.  The admission to this museum is free, so it must pose a dilemma for economy minded Jewish tourists.

I have heard a lot about ice fishing from the guys I came to meet with.  A lot about it. Apparently this is some kind of winter ritual.  Ice fishing, man cave style, is where the local men drag small, portable buildings out on to the frozen lake in a spot where they think fish might be.  These man caves don’t have floors in them, which is perfect since men aren’t going to vacuum anyway.  Some of these man caves have leather chairs, flat screen TV’s, propane heaters, and ice chests full of beer.  (What a shock).  The fishermen cut a hole in the ice, drop a line, and then ignore it for hours at a time while they watch football, drink beer and avoid vacuuming.  I am not sure why they feel the need to use fishing as an excuse, to hide in their little rooms.  I guess they have nagging wives that would be after them to cut fire wood.  That seems to be a common theme among nagging women.  (did I write that outloud?)

I can just imagine what would happen if I, Your Intrepid Traveler,  had an ice fishing man cave.  I would drag it out on to the frozen lake, and cut the hole, as usual.  I would drop a line in the water, and stare blankly at the slushy hole.  Since I am a Texan, and not used to the low temperature, I would rapidly get chilled to the bone.  So I would do the natural thing and turn up the heat inside the man cave.  I’d quickly make it toasty warm, not thinking that the heater would melt the ice, soon leaving only a man cave sized hole in the frozen lake.    Where did Bill go?

You may be asking yourself:  “Self, how did Bill learn so much about Minnesoooota when he was only in the state for 36 hours?”  Answer:  A wise old Indian chief, hiding in a teepee shaped man cave, told me.

 

 

 

House sitting

Cheers !

House sitting -  July 2013

Hello Ali and Andrew

Thanks for letting me stay at your house while you were away.  Everything here is fine, now.

When I first arrived it was a bit stuffy in the house, so I opened up all of the windows and doors.  But then it got hot, so I cranked down the thermostat of the A/C.  You have a great unit.  I could feel the cold air boiling out of the windows when I sat out on the deck.

I decided to make myself an adult beverage and found your blender and a bottle of 18 year old scotch.  I knew you’d appreciate me using up that old scotch so you could buy some fresh scotch.  I poured the entire bottle into the blender, along with some fruit and ice.  You’d think the fruit would make it a healthy, yummy beverage but it tasted like crap.  So I tossed it out.  I then found a full bottle of vodka that I used for the next three batches of fruit drink. 

I felt very refreshed after that. So refreshed, that it seemed like a good idea to fire up your grill and cook something.  I had the fire going really, really well, then realized I had not checked your refrigerator to see if there were any steaks to grill.  There were not, so I drove to the store to find something to cook.

After a few hour of driving around your neighborhood, lost, I stumbled back on to your street.  Thank goodness the trash can that I had knocked over when leaving for the store was still in the street or I might never have found your house.  It was quite busy around there, however, because some nosy, George Zimmerman wanna-be neighborhood watch character had called the fire dept.  It seems the coals from the grill had fallen out and caught your deck on fire.  I think it was probably time for you to replace it anyway, right?

This neighborhood watch guy gave me some fake sounding name like “Ben”, like I am going to believe that is his real name.  He said he spotted the smoke coming out the front door.  I told him it shows that the house has good ventilation if the back yard air can freely come thru the house to the front.  He should be happy for you. 

The fire dept. says the smoke damage inside is minimal, and the deck and garage are replaceable, so no harm done, right?  Too bad the dogs did not know to stay away from the flames, however.  Ben claims he took them to an animal hospital for treatment.  Does he think I am so stupid as to believe there are HOSPITALS for DOGS?? Yea, right.

Anyway, the good news is Ben picked up the garbage strewn all over the street from when the fire truck hit the can that I knocked over. The carpeting is beginning to dry out from the fire hoses, and your A/C is still pumping our very cold air to the neighborhood.  I am sure you will be applauded by everyone for lowering the temperatures around here.  I am happy to help you be appreciated by your neighbors.

Let me know the next time you both will be out of town at the same time.  I will be happy to house sit.  But please get more vodka and steaks.  A man has to eat, you know.

 

Poor Thing

pre-boarding condition

Poor Thing

The fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler is one of those unlucky travelers who has an inner ear affliction which causes her dizziness and nausea when she is moving.  If she can’t see the horizon or get fresh air on her face, or guzzle a quart of Grey Goose before boarding an aircraft, a boat, or a fast moving escalator, she is in trouble.  In no time at all she will turn a pasty blue color and start looking for a trash can or toilet to puke in to.  She’s been known to get air sick when watching the movie “Top Gun” or sea sick from eating Captain Crunch cereal.

The TSA has her profile in the National Traveler Data Base as a known “projectile vomiter”.  The Airlines, now aware of her problem, proactively print her boarding pass on a little white stomach distress bag which has a dotted line across the top with the words:  “do not over fill” printed on it.  Her seat assignment is closest to the toilet, in Row I, seat 6 (get it?:  I sick)  On most planes they now have installed a clear glass panel between her seat and the rest of the passengers, similar to the sneeze guard you’d see in the salad bar of a buffet restaurant.  The boy in the bubble was not this isolated. 

Recently we were flying home from a trip to San Diego.  I was sitting near the window, Wifey was in the middle seat and a fellow passenger was to her right.  Somehow the topic came up about her getting air sick.  I think I may have innocently brought it up.  I told him about the time we hired a small plane to fly us around Mt. McKinley when we were in Denali National park in Alaska.  We had waited two days for the weather to clear in order to make that flight and my wife was very anxious to take the trip.  We finally did get airborne, but she almost immediately got air sick. I think she went thru a dozen stomach distress bags.  There is now a permanent stain on the glacier we flew over from what she ate for lunch before our flight.

Anyway, I was telling our fellow passenger about her proclivity to be air sick, and perhaps embellished the story, a bit.  Then I handed him one of those air sick bags and said “here, you will need this. She always pukes to her right”. I could tell from the expression on his face that he thought he was in the middle of an Ebola virus outbreak.

Many years ago, she and I went deep sea fishing in Mexico.  Wifey knew she needed motion sickness medicine but she may have taken too much.  She was curled up in a fetal position on the deck, her face an ashen blue color.  She was nearly passed out from the Dramamine.  I don’t know how long she laid there, but long enough to get a sunburn on half her face.  I guess I should have been paying more attention to wifey’s plight, but this was an expensive charter and I was very busy not catching anything. In hindsight, I should have done the proper husbandly thing and flipped her over every half hour.  I think one of the other fishermen finally thru a towel over her to keep the Fish and Game inspector from coming aboard and arresting us for illegally poaching a rare blue faced dolphin.

Her sunburn later reminded me of the Richard Dreyfuss character in the movie “Close Encounters” that got a sunburn on half his face from looking up at the spacecraft’s lights.  My wife’s face was quite a sight, half of it was red from the sunburn and the other half  was blue from the motion sickness.  She looked like she was painted up and ready to go to a college football game.  We finally had to coax her away from the edge of the boat because we were afraid of sharks and did not want her to add any more chum to the water.

These days, Wifey takes Industrial strength motion sickness pills to get her thru the ordeal of a trip.  These pills are so strong they would tranquilize a dozen would-be jihadist hijackers, except they are the non-drowsy version. So now, instead of sleeping, she is wide awake and fully aware of her nausea.  But at least she does not do the Linda Blair “Exorcist” kind of head spinning, then across the room puking that I have come to expect.  Poor thing.

Mumbai Outsourced Blues

yes, I know it is upside down. 
It's from the other side of the world.

Mumbai Outsourced Blues
words by Your Intrepid Traveler -

(sung to the tune:
“London Homesick Blues”
with apologies to Gary P. Nunn)






If you're not where you wanna be
And you ain’t got a Rupee
In Mumbai, you’re are hopeless
Even the Taj Mahal has been taken down
And moved to Las Vegas
Now I know why
And I’ll confirm what they are saying. In India they are paying
Much less for the very same position
And they will dirty their air and apparently don’t care
It’s their country which they have to live in
                                                                                                                                                                                             Chorus                                                                                                                                                                                     We We wanna go back to full employment
To the days of work enjoyment that we had before
we were outsourced to New Delhi and to Bangalore
                                                                                                   
2nd Verse
Well, it’s hot over here, and I swear
I wish they owned an A/C
But they can’t under bid, and still provide what we did
All the comforts in the office and the shop floor.
It takes more than ten of their scrawny men
to equal an American workman
they have no payroll taxes, and no middle classes
So they can underbid our plan

Chorus                                                                                                                                                                                       
We wanna go back to full employment
To the days of work enjoyment that we had before
we were outsourced to New Delhi and to Bangalore
                                                                                                          
3rd Verse
Well, I decided to finally prove to you
That American products are better
We’ll compete with them and work hard again
Just like we did before we were outsourced
We will re-capture the prize that our Lefties despise
Some people call American know-how
Our productivity will begin to shine
And our market share will soon be fine
We’ll be on top again, now

Chorus
We wanna go back to full employment
To the days of work enjoyment that we had before
we were outsourced to New Delhi and to Bangalore                                                                        

DENIED



whoa!

DENIED

In my younger days, back in high school, I rarely dated.  I was very shy and could not stand the thought of approaching a girl and being rebuffed.  I think that is a common feeling since no one would want to feel the pangs of being rejected.

Fast forward a few decades.  I was scheduled to go to Perth, Australia for a large industry trade exhibition.  This event is held every other year and I missed out on being able to go last time. So, I was excited that I would finally get to visit Australia.  This was going to add another country to my list and also a whole new continent.  I would then only need to visit Africa and Antarctica and I would have gone to all the continents on earth.  That would be very cool.

I had our company travel agent book the flights, and made my plans.  I would be gone for more than two weeks.  No matter how excited I was in making this trip, 16 days is a long time to be away from the fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler, my dog, and my farm.  But sacrifices must be made.

A few days before departure, I went on an Australian government website to see what the weather would be like and what points of interest would be near my location.  It was going to be late summer in the land down under. Last year I got my scuba diving certification and I wanted to take advantage of some water sports while I was there.

On this website I found the entry requirements for the country.  And to my surprise, there are about six countries that need an entry VISA to get in to Australia; the United States being one of them.  Damn, who’d have thought the Aussies would have any restrictions for Americans to come down under for a visit?  No matter, I just had to fill out a simple online questionnaire and pay $20 for processing. 

When I was done, I was supposed to get an email with my confirmation number.  Instead, I got a message saying:  “Check back in 12 hours for the results”.  Twelve hours?  OK, but I leave in a few days, so I hope this does not become a problem.

I checked my email the next day and saw in the message the word:  DENIED.  I was denied entry in to Australia!  Whaaaaa?  There had to be a clerical error. Maybe I put a wrong digit in the credit card number or got a letter out of position on my name.  So I re-submitted and waited another 12 hours. But I got the same results.  Panic is starting to set in now.  The departure clock was ticking and I didn’t have an entry VISA. 

I called the Australian consular office in Washington DC.  A lady with a melt your heart Australian accent began working with me to get this issue sorted out.  We went thru the same questions I answered on line.  She could not understand why I had a problem before.  She asked if I was in good health?  “Yes”.   She asked if I was of good character?  (gulp. by who’s standards?)   I paused, then said “yes”.

She called me back several hours later and said she could not fix the problem because there were multiple attempts for me to register.  The system had me locked out.  ARRRRGHH. Of course there were multiple attempts.  I was trying to get an F-ing hall pass to go to F-ing AUSTRALIA, FOR GOODNESS SAKES!  She said my only way to get a VISA was to visit the nearest Consular office in person and get this resolved.  The nearest office to me was her office, in F-ing Washington DC! , which was halfway across the country and my flight was scheduled to leave Houston in 8 hours.  ARRRGH.

I finished packing, kissed the wife and dog goodbye and headed to the airport.  There had to be someone there who could fix this problem.  I was flying Singapore Airlines and a counter attendant listened to my quandary.  She got on line and tried to register me too.  She made several phone calls but no one could get in to the “system” to even find out why the VISA was denied.  This was way worse than that shy high school boy being turned down by the cheerleader to be my date to the prom.  I was just spurned by a whole country.  25 million people don’t want me!   But I am really a good person, why don’t they like me?

I gave up.  I threw in the towel. I know when I am not wanted.  I gathered my luggage, called the van service and had them take me back to my SUV in the long term parking.  On the long drive home, I started thinking about all the stuff I really didn’t want to do in Australia anyway.  I didn’t need to go diving and run the risk of being stung by a Lion Fish, or eaten by a Great White Shark.  I had no use for meeting an Australian Aborigine or buying a gallon sized can of Foster’s beer at a local pub. 

I feel stupid about all the hours I wasted in preparing for this trip.  I immersed myself in the Australian culture by watching hours of Crocodile Dundee movies.  I collected a dozen or more recipes on how to prepare fresh Koala.   And what am I to do with these croc skin boots and leather vest?  In the big picture of life, who really needs to add another country and a new continent to their list?  Who the hell is counting countries and continents visited anyway? 

Sadly, I am.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Big Sleep

The Big Sleep

At a recent medical exam my doctor was concerned about my daytime sleepiness.  I told him I was always sleepy.  He gave me a questionnaire to rate how sleepy I was on a scale of 1 to 3 with 3 being “very likely to”.  There were a dozen or so questions like “how likely are you to fall asleep while riding as a passenger in a car.  Or fall asleep in a work meeting, or while watching TV. Etc.  I did not finish the quiz because I think I nodded off.

He looked at my results and suggested I take a sleep study to find out if I had some abnormal sleep behavior.  A sleep disorder study is where you go to a medical facility at night and let a perfect stranger see you in your jammies as she sticks sensors and wires all over your scalp and body parts.  Then you are supposed to sleep without disconnecting any of the wires or strangling yourself.  And during the entire ordeal you are being watched and videotaped.  I don’t even like the idea of being watched at the drive thru bank, so having a stranger watch me try to sleep was a bit disconcerting.  The sleep study itself seemed like abnormal behavior. 

The night of my sleep study was wet and rainy.  The parking lot was empty and I grabbed my overnight bag off of the back seat.  I went in to the lobby of the building and it was completely vacant.  There was a sign that told me to go down the hall and take a left.  The glass doors closed automatically behind me, and I felt like I was in jail.  Gee, do I get conjugal visits?  Was I supposed to bring my own conjugator?  Is that even a word? 

I checked in.  The attendant was a friendly lady who put me at ease.  She gave me several forms to fill out.  I had to sign permission for them to call my next of kin in case of a major medical malfunction.  I noticed on the form that parts of it were already filled out in my wife’s handwriting.  The box was checked where it said “do not resuscitate”.  Hmmmm.   

The attendant had me change into my night clothes after we did the paperwork.  She used a measuring tape and a pencil to mark specific areas on my scalp to put each sensor.  My hair is rather thick, so she really had to dig in to my scalp to mark the spots for the electrodes.  It felt like she was carving a pumpkin up there.   The attendant said these sensors were to pick up brain activity.  I told her according to my wife; there is was no brain activity.  The attendant was not amused.  I also mentioned that the spots she was carving in to my scalp were becoming a bit tender.  She suggested that when I got home to have my wife massage my head.  I told her she did that regularly, usually with a rolled up newspaper.  The attendant was not amused.

The attendant started to wire me up.  She strapped two elastic bands around my chest that held on what looked like a transistor radio.  I really was not in the mood for music.  Maybe it was the remote control for the TV?  That actually seemed like a clever idea.  I am always losing the remote, so having it strapped to my chest would have benefits.  She ran electrical wire down each leg and connected them to my feet with tape.  She hooked up two more on my arms.  Then she globbed some sticky stuff on those pencil marks on my scalp and attached electrodes there too.  This reminded me of a moment in the movie “Back to the Future” where Doc had a vegetable colander on his head that was connected to a tangle of wires.  The wires were connected to a toaster and when he sneezed the toast popped up.  Maybe I am not remembering that part right.  Anyway, the attendant gathered up all the wires dangling from my body and scalp and plugged them in to that box on my chest.

I was finally wired up and ready for the study to begin.  It was still early so I watched a little TV before going to sleep.  The TV remote was apparently not working because no matter which button I pushed on my chest, I could not change stations.  I drifted off around 10pm.  I prefer to sleep on my side, so I knew that this box on my chest was not going to stay put for long.  And sure enough, several times during the night the attendant came in and had to re-plug in some of the wires that I managed to loosen.  At 3a.m. I woke up and could not get back to sleep.  But being a tight wad, I wanted to get my money’s worth, so I laid there until five.  

I was happy that the test was over and I could get unhooked.  I hope the Dr. will get some useful information from watching the video of me asleep.  I hope I didn’t do anything weird like sleep walk, or pee in the corner, or put the TV in to my overnight bag.  However, I did not feel rested at all, so I would not recommend this activity for anyone who has difficulty sleeping.  When I got home I told my wife all about the study.  I mentioned the suggested scalp massage.  She immediately looked around for the Sunday paper.   Hmmm, maybe I should go back and do another study.

 

Dueling for dollars

Dueling for dollars

the young fellow on the right did not have time for a duel. 

Those of you who are faithful readers will perhaps remember that I made my first trip to China last year.  The purpose of that trip was to present my design for equipment to the decision makers of a Chinese corporation that does energy development projects globally.  The project I was vying for was in Turkmenistan.  The result of that trip was that we were awarded a huge order (yea!) and are in the final stages of completing the job now.

We got word that the President, the Vice President, and the Purchasing Mgr of this energy development company were traveling from Turkmenistan to Houston and wanted a meeting with my company.  Since I am Product Mgr., that meant I was the guy who had to prepare for them.   This meeting was a big deal and we did not know what to expect.  We were late on the delivery of the equipment so we assumed they were going to jump all over us for this.  To shield myself from the delivery issues, I had our Manufacturing Manager travel to Houston from India for the meeting too. 

There were continuous changes in their schedule and the meeting date kept being postponed.  My Manufacturing manager had been in town all week and needed to get back to his job.  Finally, we got word that the visitors were heading to Houston from Turkmenistan. 

The day of the meeting I was also participating in a charity event.  I could not pick up our guests myself, so I sent a limo to pick up the group. I raced to the office after my event  and arrived just in time to change clothes and set up my presentation. I had a real bad feeling about this.  I really wasn't prepared to discuss the details of delivery schedule.  I was more focused on the new project coming up. We have another huge quotation to this company that I really want to get.   But I was concerned that our late delivery was going to kill this next opportunity.  

We got the call from the limo driver saying that they had arrived.  So, any moment now all those big shot decision makers would gather in to our conference room.  But when we went to the front entry, only one man was there.   The lone visitor was Mr. Liu, the Vice President.  He later explained that the other executives had problems with their VISAs and could not make the trip.   

This situation reminded me of an old Bugs Bunny cartoon.  This is the one where Bugs encountered a terrifying space alien.  This giant alien was wearing a menacing space suit, but when he crawled out of it, he was actually a tiny non-threatening little pipsqueak.  When Mr. Liu showed up, he turned out to be a tiny, non-threatening fellow himself.  He seemed irritated at the beginning of the meeting, but eventually we got along well and he was a pleasure to know.

After our meeting, we went to dinner.  Mr. Liu was traveling with his adult son, who was a grad student at a U.S. university in Washington D.C.  So before we ate we went to their hotel and picked him up. Mr. Liu’s son had earned a Finance degree and was still in school since he could not find a job.  I told him he would never find a Finance job in Washington D.C. since no one in that town apparently understood money or finance.  He did not understand my meaning.

The son asked what they could do for half a day in Houston before they had to get to the airport. Since the charity event that I spent the morning at was a team pistol shooting competition I mentioned that it might be fun for him to go to a gun range and shoot a pistol.  His eyes lit up.  He said he had never fired a gun because private citizens in China are forbidden to own weapons.   So, after hearing that, I suggested  this:  rather than shoot at a gun range he and I could just have a friendly duel.  Or I said we could pretend we were filming a Hollywood movie.  He could be the villian.  I would give him an empty gun to use and he could just throw it at me while I fired away.  Upon further reflection, he decided that they really did not have any time before their flight.

So, the evening ended with new friends being made, more potential business in the future and no blood being shed.  I guess that is about as good as it gets for an evening that I had originally dreaded.  It is always gratifying for me when I can do my small part for creating global cooperation and avoid an international incident.  But I hate to let my pistol shooting skills be wasted.  Maybe some congressman in Washington D.C. would be interested in a Duel?  I wonder if they would notice that their gun was empty?

 

Xmas Party Planning ideas for dummies

              Christmas decorating and Party Planning ideas for Dummies

Instant decorations

The HR (Human Relations) dept. for the company I work for is always trying to find ways to be relevant to the employees.  This week someone from HR sent out an email reminding us all the typical cautions to take when decorating for the holidays.  This is the same list of dangers that we’ve known about since the days when we could still leave milk and cookies for Santa and he could smoke his pipe indoors. This list included tired old worries, like “don’t use frayed or damaged electrical power cords, don’t let your Christmas tree dry out, don’t use gasoline to clean the brick around your fireplace….blah, blah, blah.  Nothing but don’t, don’t, don’t. 

It seemed to me that we should be telling each other what we CAN do, instead of what NOT to do.  So I was inspired to create a list of decorating and party planning ideas that we CAN do, if we are dummies.  And, isn’t it really more fun to be a dummy than to be a boring, safe person?  Here is my list.  I welcome your additions. 

·       Putting up the outside Christmas decorations is always more fun and exciting after the Rum Punch is served.   The traditional Rum Punch recipe calls for one part rum for every part of punch.  The amount of rum punch you need depends on the thirst of the decorators, so have plenty available.  Don’t bother to tell the decorators that there is rum in the punch.  Just say this is Grandma’s special recipe.

·       Now that your decorators are well lubricated, it is time to put up the outdoor lighting and decorations.  For this you will need several ladders and plenty of extension cords.  It is part of the joy of Christmas to watch people dangle from the roof after their ladders have collapsed.  Don’t worry if the electrical cord is not rated for outdoor use.  Modern electrical breakers will probably trip if there is a circuit overload or a ground fault occurs.  Make sure your fire insurance policy is up to date.

·       Paper Origami candle holders in the shape of angels are a lightweight method to add candles to the branches of your Christmas tree.  Light them all at midnight to help Santa and the volunteer fire dept. locate your house.

·       Create an instant winter wonderland by scattering bags of asbestos powder all over the house and yard.  Don’t worry about the costs. This stuff is really cheap now that there is no legal way to use it like in the good old days.

·       Road flares lining your driveway will add a festive look to your landscape.  An added benefit is that when the party is over your guests will be able to see better as they to back out of your driveway, regardless of how intoxicated they are.

·       Use yards and yards of colored tissue paper around your fireplace to add a festive look near the flames.

·       Another decorating tip is to use depleted uranium powder from obsolete military ammo to flock your Xmas tree.  When you turn off the lights, the tree will continue to glow for 10,000 years. 

·       During your holiday party make sure to schedule time to play fun traditional games, like “Running with Scissors relay races”, “Bobbing for Cracklins”, or the ever popular “Toss the Elf” game.  But please, no wagering.

·       A wonderful way to add unique lighting to your holiday dinner table is to put several strings of lights in a fishbowl, fill it with water and plug them in.  Fish are optional.  If you do add the fish, you might as well have some tartar sauce on hand too.

·       For an extra-ordinary visual effect, go out into the woods and catch eight tiny wild reindeer.  Tie them together on the roof along with a sleigh and Uncle Bob, dressed in his Santa costume.  If the weather turns chilly you can throw Uncle Bob a blanket and a bottle of Grandma’s Rum Punch.

·       Holiday traditions are important.  One traditional drink is Egg Nog.  A simple recipe is to blend eggnog 50/50 with moonshine. This will help to create a festive party mood for you and your guests.   If your mother in law is also a guest you might want to eliminate the egg nog half for your own beverage and go with straight moonshine.  Then join Uncle Bob on the roof.

                                                  HAPPY HOLIDAYS

Don't eat the casserole

   Don't eat the casserole

You are probably asking yourself, “Where has he been?  Why has it been so long between Intrepid Traveler reports?”.   Well, thank you for your concern. If you were not concerned, I think you should be ashamed of yourself.  If you really were concerned, I think you need to get a hobby.

Here is the short answer to why no new reports from the edge of normal:   I have not been out of the USA since my China trip, and I have been too busy doing very uninteresting things, so there was nothing to write about.  But the worst thing that kept any new Intrepid Traveler reports from hitting the “E-Waves” was the fact that I had my laptop stolen from my vehicle.  The laptop that had all my past stories in it . The laptop that has accompanied me to most of the 30+ nations that I have been to.  I had thousands of photos on that hard drive and hundreds of irreplaceable files on it.  I also had a brand new, excellently written, fabulously witty story on it that I was ready to publish.  That story was about the odd foods that I have eaten or been offered during my years of travel overseas.  The title of the piece was “Bad food for thought”.    But it is lost forever since I did not have it saved in any other location.   Oh well.  I hope the thieves enjoyed reading it.

Speaking of food…..

I was watching professional football this evening when hunger forced me to stop and find food.  Since I am a man and am at the top of the evolutionary food chain, I knew that I had the skills and intelligence to hunt and gather food from the refrigerator.  Using my well-honed survival instincts I found some leftover ham from last week  and some green bean casserole.  The casserole was in a Tupperware container, and, being a man, as mentioned before, I will eat pretty much anything that is found in Tupperware, regardless of how old it is. 

I scooped up a large portion of the green bean casserole to accompany my ham, heated it up and scarfed it down.  I resumed watching football.

An hour or so later, I started to feel very bloated, like I had eaten way more than I should have.  I felt extremely lethargic, my joints began to hurt and I was achy.  But since I pretty much feel like this all the time, I really didn’t think much of it.  I decided to go to bed early since I had a busy work week ahead of me.  I layed in bed and tried to read a book, but could not concentrate on it.   I finally decided that there really was something wrong with my stomach.  The longer I lay there the more I could feel my guts knot up.  I could feel it begin to bubble.  This was not good.

I got out of bed, and called to my wife that I was sick and warned her not to eat the casserole.  (I am always in a protective mode for the fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler) I told her I was going to throw up.  She said she thought I said I was going to go out.  I walked in to the bathroom and calmly puked in the toilet.  Several times.  If any of you have ever drunk too much alcohol and gotten commode hugging drunk, as they say, you will appreciate the difference between vomiting when you are sober and when you are drunk.  Since I was sober, I found it much easier to coordinate the opening of my mouth at the proper moment for the vomit to spew out of it.  When drunk, (So I have been told) it is not always easy to coordinate the mouth in time, forcing some of the vomit to come out the nose.  Vomit being forced out of your nose is BY FAR the worst thing about puking.  The smell of it, the taste of it, and the chunks of it are now plugging up what is supposed to be your air intake system.  So, even if you are drunk you are assaulted by the remains of the vomit in your sinuses, and that is just plain gross.  But I digress.

Since I was not drunk, this puking session did not have any of that unpleasantness. I just vomited a few times and then felt much better.  I washed up and told my wife I was going back to bed.  She said she was going to sleep in the guest bedroom because she did not want to have me puke on her.  We have a modest sized bedroom and she sleeps on the side of the bed between my side and the bathroom.  I suppose she thought I would be too lazy to get out of bed and just do some projectile vomiting over her and have it land, artfully, into the toilet.    I told her I was done puking but she did not want to take any chances.

I was lying in bed, making sure my guts had stopped bubbling, and started to formulate this story in my head.  So, I grabbed my new laptop and began to write this story down.  It sounded a lot more interesting in my head than it is on paper.  I guess you will now, after reading this, be asking yourself: “when will he go away again?”

Olympics and other crazy events

Olympics and other crazy events

This has been an interesting week.  For those of you who may be reading this blog article a year or a decade from now, possibly after it has been awarded that elusive Pulitzer Prize for “Oddest writing style on the weakest topic”, this week is the first full week of the 2012 Summer Olympic games, being held in London, England.

The opening ceremonies of the 2012 games were highlighted, in my opinion, by Agent OO7 and the Queen of England parachuting in to the stadium during the opening of the games.  I really liked it when the Queen, upon safely landing, spiked her crown on the turf, then did a war whoop and a double back flip.  I think it scored a 9 out of 10.  It would have been better had Mr. Bond not immediately shot the Queen, suspecting she was an imposter.  That’s what she gets for stepping out of character. 

There have been the typical heartwarming tales about specific Olympic athletes.  A perfect example:   In the Kayak event, the New Zealand kayaker was disqualified by his mother, for brushing one of the poles in the race.  I bet she also sent him to bed without dinner and admonished him not to run with scissors or talk with his mouth full.  I also understand that she asked him if all the other Olympic athletes jumped off a cliff, would he too? Turns out she was a real judge in the event and had to score her son’s performance.  In the entire world there are not enough judges to keep this guy from having his mom penalize him? 

It was heartbreaking to hear that the Olympic swimmer from Mexico came in fourth in his event, and did not receive a medal.  This is surprising to me.  Some of you may remember that I wrote a blog entry decades ago (actually Sept of 2005) that said the wet-backstroke was the official Olympic swimming event in Mexico.   I guess all the best Mexican swimmers have already made it across the river to the U.S. 

And there’s the female javelin thrower from Paraguay.  She is beautiful, and readily admits she has no hopes of being competitive in her event.  She is there at the Olympics to promote her own modeling career.  At least she is honest and realistic.  She will earn more gold in that field than in Track and Field.

The crazy events of this week have not just limited to the Olympics.  I happen to be in Mexico City for a business conference.  I found out yesterday that my personal Yahoo email account was hacked.  Someone used it to send a message to everyone on my Contacts List that I had gone to London for an “unplanned vacation” (yeah, right, during the Olympics?) and there I got mugged.  The message said all my money and credit cards were taken, and I needed money.  The hacker gave a number to wire funds to.  In today’s 24 hour / Global culture, it is interesting that I first found out about this scam from a friend who is in India.  I later heard it from a friend in Buffalo New York.  I am still waiting to hear from my mother.  I think she is busy judging the Olympic kayak events.  Thank goodness she is not judging the Olympic blog writing event.  All my boyhood misbehaviors would come back to haunt me big time.

I quickly sent out a note to everyone in my Yahoo Contacts list that the message was a fake.  I had not been mugged, and it was a scam.  But if they wanted to, they could send me money anyway.  I was really touched that several people contacted me to make sure I was all right.  Even my Insurance Agent wanted to double check my safety.  She contacted the fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler to find out about my condition.  (I must have some policies due for renewal soon).  One person, who I don’t know, but I had emailed a message to regarding a fence that separated our properties, used the opportunity to remind me, in a return message, to Trust in Jesus.   Gee,Thanks.  Trust him to wire me $?

My daughters knew instantly that this was not a message from me since there were no hidden jokes in it.  Or subliminal messages, like:   vote Republican, or buy your dad a new chainsaw for Christmas.   And I am sure my wife knew too, since she knows I live in dread of putting myself in a spot where she can say “I told you so”.  So, I appreciate all the concerned friends who contacted me and their messages telling me that my account had been hacked.

It is pathetic in today’s world that a stranger half way around the world would fabricate an attack on me to solicit a sympathetic reaction for money.  (That’s my job) Now I have to come up with another scam to tug at your heartstrings.  I will have to rely on my brains and intellect.  Damn.  Maybe this time someone will send money.  You still have a chance to prove that you are a caring, concerned Yahoo Contact person.  Just fill a manila envelope with large denomination bills for the “Hacked Victim Fund” and leave it under the mat.  Or, better yet, stuff the Queen’s crown with cash and drop it off.  I saw it rolling around on the ground and am pretty sure she no longer has a use for it.

Edible Pandies

Edible Pandies –

My first visit to China - part three

When you travel to a new country there typically is a language barrier.  For me, anywhere I travel there is a language barrier.  Sometimes just a slight difference in accent is enough for my ears not to understand what was just said.  Eight years ago my wife and I took the kids across Canada on a long vacation. On a few occasions my kids had to translate the Canadian accent to me.  They would look directly at me, hold my face in their hands and slowly repeat the English I had just heard from the English speaking Canadian.  I would nod my head like I understood, then shut up and go sit in the corner.   Verbal communication can be a challenge to me, yet I have somehow managed to stay employed for three decades by verbally communicating with people.  It is a good thing I have smart clients.  Or maybe there is a benefit to me being a manly hunk of eye candy.  OK, it must be the smart clients.

When I visit a new country it is common for me to have a meal with whom I am there to see. This trip was no different.  On my first day in China I ate a late lunch with the fellows that my company has partnered up with.   I was starving.  It was after 6pm and I had not eaten since breakfast.   The director of that company, Mr. Chen, could understand no English and, as mentioned above, rarely can I.  So Jack, our trusty interpreter, had a tough job.   Mr. Chen was doing his best to find common ground between us.  We spoke of our families and a few other topics.  I gathered from this that he was married to an automobile and has a son with two noses.  Or maybe not.

Mr. Chen told me a little about this region of China.  He babbled on for a moment or two.  Then jack explained what he said.  Part of it was this:

Mr. Chen:  “Near this city is the area which is famous for the Giant Pandas.  Do you like Pandas?”

Bill:  “Yes, I think they are delicious”

Mr. Chen did not seem to appreciate this comment.  Jack must have said something inappropriate.

The waitress brought out several bowls of steaming dishes to the table.  I followed my host’s lead, and un-wrapped my chop sticks.  I have used chop sticks before and to me it just seems silly for a culture to keep using these things after knives and forks were invented.  Western eating utensils, in my humble opinion, expedite the food - to - mouth process more efficiently than using tapered sticks. 

I tried to use the chopsticks to grab bits of food from the nearest serving bowl.  I had no idea what it was but my growling stomach told me to eat it.  They watched in amusement as I repeatedly chased that portion of food around in the dish with no success.  This went on for several, long, awkward moments.  Now I know why Asians are slender.  There are only 24 hours in a day and this method of eating could consume most of that time and still not give me enough nourishment to fuel a game of tic-tac-toe.

By the end of the week, however, my host remarked that I had become much more proficient at using chopsticks.  He wanted to know how I learned so fast.  I told him it was simple.  Starvation is a great motivator.

There are two things that really don’t set well with me with this culture’s dining behavior. The first is that they use their chopsticks to grab food out of the communal bowl, then put the food directly in to their mouth.  Then they repeat the process over and over again.  I began to fixate on them sticking the chopsticks in their mouths then putting them back in to the food dish.  I tried to remember the spot where I had seen them grab food from and avoid it when it was my turn to pick from the serving bowl.  But that was a losing battle.   I could not stop obsessing about the germs leaping from their mouths to the sticks, then to the serving bowl.  I felt like I was eating out of a giant petrie dish of contamination.  

The second cultural meal time trait which I found irritating was the tiny size of their napkins.  Since I was eating with tapered sticks instead of a fork, the food tended to get away from me during the transit from the bowl to my mouth.  I had to rapidly stuff the food pieces in to my mouth before it has a chance to escape my grasp.  I ended up with as much food on my face as in my mouth.  So using these postage stamp size napkins was a bit frustrating.  I had to use a whole handful of them in order to stay tidy. 

So, that was pretty much my first day in China.  Pretty riveting stuff, I know.  And it will make my wife happy to read this.  She is always afraid I will inadvertently cause some international incident and she will see me on CNN standing in front of a firing squad.  Why would the Chinese want to do that to me?  I love their favorite animal.  I hear they are delicious.