Health Department

 

Notes from an actual report.

By the time I entered the room he was pulling each strand of spaghetti out of the bowl, rinsing it under the faucet and laying it side-by-side with the strands he had already rinsed.

My initial thought was that he didn’t like the sauce that was on the spaghetti, therefore he was rinsing it off.  No one else in the kitchen was questioning it, so I let it go.

The next employee I encountered was sitting at a long table sorting letters.  This time I had to ask.  “What are you doing?”  She looked up at me and said she was told to grade the cheese and was just sorting out the various letters before she got started.

From where I was standing, I could see legs sticking out from under the sink.  I thought, good – they’re cleaning out the trap.  I walked over and asked how it was going.  “Just adding fresh cheese,” Apparently it wasn’t the grease trap he was cleaning.

 

 

 

 

It's was a Trap

 

Using a Tee in the sand is against the rules.

The Great Escape

 

Larry's fence did little to keep the 

moles contained.

For Man's inability to fly

 

I blame shoes.

She's right.

You don't see us wearing those things.

There's money in used books

 

She didn’t believe in banks.  Consequently, she had her money tucked in various places around the house.  However, not unlike a squirrel, she’d forget where she buried her acorns.

$840.00 was discovered between pages 611 and 718.  They weren’t found by relatives but by the owner of Millie’s Antiques, where these six books were sold to Millie for $15.00

 

 

 

LaGuardia

 

Not to worry, he said.

It will be easy to spot.  I put a piece of

blue tape on the handle.

I'm sure it's the only one.

What you don't want to do in real life is skip to the last page.

 

You can’t hear footprints, just as you can’t see a shadow of a doubt.  I think I might have made a good detective.  I mean, how hard can it be to find clues?  There are those little numbered markers next to each one and the crime scene photographer has everything documented.  If all else fails, ask the narrator. He seems to always have it put together.

 

Just put it on my bill

 

My prediction is that it won’t be a government with first strike capability, and it won’t happen at the hands of a group of terrorists.  I truly believe there is a very stupid person out there that will do something extremely dumb.

That, my friend, will bring an end to humanity.  The only survivors will be those creatures who can accomplish all three modes of movement, walking, flying and swimming.  You guessed it.  Ducks will be the only things left on the planet.

Over time, they will evolve to create great societies, construct marvelous ponds and develop a system of credit that will allow each and every one to never worry about money.

 

 

 

 

Voted Blog of the Year

Not Yogi

 

It was where a large branch had been cut off but in the late evening, with the shadows playing their tricks, it looked as if an animal was hanging onto the trunk of the tree.  Add to that, my imagination, and suddenly there was a small bear in my backyard.

Not wanting to startle it, yet wanting quickly to snap a picture, I quietly went back into the house to grab my camera.  Fortunately, when I returned, it was still there hanging on.  Ever so slowly I eased myself around to where I could get a good shot of the thing.  I knew for sure, however, that if I used my flash the bear would get spooked and either climb higher up the tree or drop off and come charging at me.  Either way, I was ready to run as soon as I pushed the button on the camera.

The part I had forgotten about was the part when my camera sends out a little infrared light, so it can judge the distance and control the intensity of the flash.  That momentary pre-flash was enough to show me the bear was nothing more than the stump of an old branch.  Had this been a selfie - you'd see a picture of an idiot here.

Boo Boo

 

 

 

 

This part is true

 

Places, People and Observations

 

Spain:
The first and most obvious thing we noticed was the sky in Spain was much lower than anywhere else we’ve been, and it wasn’t just me who noticed it, we both did.

Michigan:
The cold or rainy days only came around on the weekends.  Monday through Friday, when we had to sit in school, it was always warm and pleasant outside.

California:
We met a man who called himself Al the Bugman.  His business card just said BUGMAN.  He was in his late 50’s and had a gravely voice, probably from inhaling various pesticides for years.  He must have been very good at his job, for 21 years, the entire time we lived in California there was never a bug problem.

Cheers:
We met some very interesting people at a local neighborhood bar.  It was called Hooky’s (attitude adjustment center). There was a large Greek man named Goose who enjoyed very large sandwiches with plenty of garlic.  There was usually an empty barstool on each side of him. There was a gay bartender who was a good cook and tried to strangle his mother. A lady bartender who couldn’t add or subtract and would hold out a handful of cash and say, “Take what’s yours.” because she couldn’t figure how much change you should get.

Florida:
Our next-door neighbors are often quite noisy. In the morning, they are the crows and at night it’s the owls.  The quiet ones are the ones with teeth.  As neighbors, they keep to themselves, but should you pass by them too closely they may eat the small dog at the end of your leash.

 

 

 

 

 

So self-help me

 

Not having much of an analytical brain, I didn’t go into this venture with a great deal of confidence.  Those few things I was sure of were not high on anyone’s list of importance.  There was nothing life-changing within any of my future plans.  In fact, I had no plans.   I was simply clomping through each day with little inspiration or hope of discovering anything worthy.

Then I noticed a bookmark poking out between the pages of an old schoolbook.  An Introduction to Literature, 5^th edition, by Barnet – Berman – Burto.

I wondered what was so important that I felt compelled to mark the place where I had left off?

What I discovered was that some student, before me, had used an ink pen to mark where they had stopped.  Pages had small arrows pointing at a paragraph that might possibly appear on some future test.

Was this to be my discovery?  A distinction between classes was a bookmark verses an ink pen.  Or was it the short-sightedness of the pen holder, marking for all eternity some potential importance?  Then again, it just might be that part of the paragraph that was important. 

“… he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.  He was lying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little, he could see his dome-like brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely.”

Real or imagined, either way, someone’s adventure was more important than my own at the moment.  I didn’t, however, concern myself so much with the boy who had morphed into a bug during the night, than I did with the student who had opted to write in their schoolbook.

What kind of person had they grown up to be?  I could see them becoming a politician, thinking only of themselves and their immediate needs.  Although a blanket generalization, history has shown it makes sense.

No, I doubt this was to be my take-away.  Scribbling in a textbook is hardly crime of the century, although it does hint at a questionable value system.   Now, that I have spent so much time on the subject, I’m starting to question my own upbringing.  It is altogether possible that my concern should be, why have I kept an old textbook on my shelves all these years?  I expect it is that which causes me to seek out a self-help solution, and for that – I’m on my own.

 

Lost

 It may be time to consider
you've gone the wrong way.

When your only way out

is to climb a tree.

Texas Roadhouse

 

Eight of us sat at a long table.  The place was loud and crowded.  The mood was festive, with many tables of strangers enjoying dinner and sharing adventures, although I noticed one customer sitting alone in a booth.  It was like a dry spot on the slopes, a tiny pinpoint of silence in a sea of chaos.  My view of them was often obstructed by passing servers and customers, but I could see they appeared troubled.  They didn’t look as if they were waiting for someone.  They just sat and poked at their food like a child wishing to avoid the lump of spinach staring back at them.

The back of the shirt on the server said, “I Love My Job”, and every server had to wear the same statement, as if they required constant reminding. 

Later that evening I thought how everyone there experienced a different time.  Not unlike the various animals wandering down to the same watering hole.  Some continually looking over their shoulder for danger, a few oblivious to everything, while one stares blankly at the steaming pile of spinach next to them.

 

 

 

 

Iron Pinecones

 

I have always been impressed by the tiny and intricate workings of a clock or watch.  Little mechanisms functioning with such precision, keeping track of every event on the planet.

The smallest of gears twitching, as if they had some affliction, yet keeping time with the earth’s rotation and stating exactly when a runner crosses the finish line.  Predicting with great accuracy when a plane will arrive at the gate or a ship pull into the dock.

I envision old men hunched over workbenches, using even smaller tools, assembling the pieces, insuring cleanliness, always focused on the task at hand, while time itself pulls at their chain. 

 

U.S. Postal Service

 

This Christmas card was mailed
on December 12th. 2024

It arrived today
January 27th. 2025

They're getting better.

 

So long old friend

 

Frank will be taken off of life support tomorrow.  He had a good life and did a lot of good for a lot of people.  All of the many charities he supported, I’m sure, will miss his continuous donations.

His adventures with kings and world leaders were always displayed in the photographs on his office walls, but he most prized his time at Florida State.

He will be missed.

 

Can there be light

 

without shadows

Carved in Stone

 Only a photograph

can stop erosion.

One Interpretation

 

We are all inside a giant clothes dryer. It has, for years, been set on gentle. The Sun is actually a large dust ball. Rays of dust particles travel from the Sun and land on surfaces around the house.

Some older people, like the odd sock, become lost.  We chalk it up to Alzheimer’s, when actually they’re just sock people.

Global warming is the result of the setting being changed from Gentle to Extra Dry.

The Greater Good

 

Who decides the greater good?  Who is to say this is better than that for everyone?  How is that even possible?  One person’s judgement is developed over time, based on their experience in life, their knowledge and understanding of everything they see, touch and hear, consequently every person has had a different experience at different times in their life.  Different things affect and influence someone in ways that may not be the same as the person standing right next to them experiencing the same thing.

Take Larry, for example.  Larry likes a frosty mug of cold beer, a soft warm, giant pretzel with a dab of yellow mustard.  He enjoys live music from an Oom-pah-pa band and large women.

Lucy’s taste seems to run away from anyone with a mustard stain on their shirt.

Into the mix we add Cooter Nelson, the Mayor of Anytown.  He has a massive ego, budget concerns and bald tires on his classic Studebaker.  He has approved and issued the temporary license for the Oom-pah-pa band to play in the town square, even though he knows a great number of voters don’t really care for that kind of music.  His feelings about mustard are not public knowledge.

 

I'll be back in a few.  I just decided I'm hungry.

 

Unlikely Blossom

 

Sun Catcher

 

Toolbox

 

As a writer, this is my toolbox.  It holds everything I need to construct a good sentence, fit them together and form a sturdy paragraph.  Whenever I stack enough paragraphs together a story is built.  If it is a good enough story, it will pass the test of time.  It will get told and retold.  It will be passed on from generation to generation.

Story telling is as old as the hills.  Great tribal chiefs told of massive buffalo herds, roaming the countryside.  They spoke of cruel winters with harsh north winds and long before them, caveman told stories with cave drawings.

The problem with my toolbox is the same problem inherent within the stories themselves, time.  With the passing of time comes technological change.  The language of the day evolves, and so must the toolbox.   The cave drawings of yesterday are the emojis of today.  The massive herds of buffalo have morphed into prepackaged, processed genetically altered foods, complete with all the flavor and excitement of yesterday’s buffalo.

Reluctant to continually modify my tools, I have opted to be content speaking with yesterday’s voice.  My stories may hint at progress, but my value systems remain anchored in the past.  In fact, this blog is as big a step as I am willing to take, even knowing that my read-by date will soon expire.

Z. Corwin

 

Moderate to Severe

 

I would have liked to have been invited to that first meeting, you know, when everything was being named.  Like the person who said, “Let’s call this a hammer, because we hammer things with it.  Obviously, someone else in the tool section popped up and said, “Well, then let’s call these things pliers, because we ply things with them.”

No!  We ply things with a crowbar.  We squeeze things with pliers.

“Then we should call them squeezers.”

Who are you?  How did you get in here?

“Why then don’t you crow with a crowbar?”

I think you are in the wrong section.  You should be over there, where they are naming the drugs.  Really, go over there.  You’ll have more fun.  You get to use all the odd and quirky letters and make things up like Skyrizzi.  The latest cure for restless eyelash twitching.

 

 

 

Yesterday's find

 

It was an old book, but it wasn’t in a bookstore or library.  I spotted it in an antique shop.  It caught my attention simply because of the way it looked.  I moved on a little down the aisle but found myself coming back to it to check it out again.  It was a deep, rich-looking leather, with rustic-looking lettering, sort of a scroll style font.

Not all that thick, yet it seemed substantial.  It was heavy for its size.  The pages were thin, almost transparent but not.  They looked frail but didn’t feel that way.  Just holding it made me feel good.  Not sure why.  A great deal went into the appearance of this book and I was curious to see if the contents lived up to the hype.

I was hoping the first sentence would give me a clue.  I opened it carefully and turned to the dedication page. 

To Nora – After the Storm

Now I was very curious.  What did that mean?  I turned the book over to see what price had been put on this.  A small white tag showed $140.00

I was going to have to think long and hard on this.  Never have I paid that much for a book before.  Maybe this was a first-edition or signed by the author.  Hopefully there was a hundred-dollar bill tucked between the pages.  I slipped my cell phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture of the cover.  I was thinking - this is going to be one of those things that I'll always wonder about.  Should I have bought it?  Was it really worth the price?

For now, I'd be content to walk away with a picture of it.  I'd never have to worry about it getting damaged, or a page getting torn.  My picture and memory of it would always be in perfect condition.

 

 

Problem Solving

 

Turns out it wasn’t about tires at all.  When my neighbor asked me to go tire shopping with him, I asked him why he would be putting new tires on the new car he had just bought.  He said that when he was pulling into his garage, he noticed his car shaking quite a bit.  “I’ll be right over,” I said. I want to take a look at your driveway and your tires.”

The moment I reached his driveway I could see the problem.  “Did you do laundry yesterday?”  He said that he washed a bunch of his wrinkle-free shirts, after which, he pulled his dryer outside and shook it upside-down to dump all of the wrinkles out of it.  “Well, they have all gotten into your driveway, and now you’re driving over them.  It isn’t your tires; it’s those stupid wrinkles from your shirts.  I have an industrial steam iron; it is good for both concrete and asphalt. I’ll bring it over.”

By mid-morning we had his driveway smooth as glass.  I suggested to him that whatever those shirt manufacturers were adding to their shirt material to keep wrinkles from sticking, he should get some and sprinkle it on his driveway, to keep this from happening again.  He agreed and I headed back home with my iron.  It was still a little warm but not too hot to hold.

         I felt good having helped my neighbor.  He would have bought four new tires and still had the same problem when he drove over those wrinkles in his driveway.  As I sat there thinking about that, a thought occurred to me.  Maybe along with a lint trap in clothes dryers there should also be a wrinkle catcher.  Something easy to clean so people, like my neighbor, wouldn't be dumping them outside.  Maybe I'll draw something up and see if I can get a prototype made.  I was hoping this plan of mine didn't have a wrinkle in it.

 

The Postcard

 

Hi Kids,

We finally made it to the lake.  Uncle Jerry is already out fishing, and your Aunt Marcia has been ordering things from Amazon since we arrived.  The cabin is short on a few things, so she’s getting them delivered.  Your cousins, Ron and Linda are already on their way to the golf course.  They left right after breakfast.

Claudia has put a batch of chocolate chip cookies in to bake and I’m just taking a minute to write you this postcard.  The lake and surrounding area looks like it always has.  I’ve seen Bruce, the guy in the next cabin.  He was out yesterday putting stain on a wooden table he made.  It looks professional.  I think he could sell his stuff if he wanted to make the effort, but he says he is retired and only wants to do things at his leisure.  I didn’t get to see his wife, he said she went into town to do some shopping.  Terry and Susan are off on some mystery trip, maybe across the lake someplace.

Okay, you’re up to date.  I’ll email some pictures later.

 

Love

Zobostic

 

You can stop looking

 

Taking a moment

 

It is an odd relationship you and I have.  It is one-sided to say the least.  You have sat there over the years reading my thoughts, as different and sometimes strange as they are, yet I know nothing of you.

For example, I have no idea exactly where you are at present.  Are you in a different country than mine, are you on a hard chair or comfy soft cushion?  Maybe you are standing, reading this on your phone, as you travel to someplace else, one hand holding onto an overhead strap or maybe a rail, while other passengers hang onto the same rail.  Possibly one of them reading over your shoulder.  Kind of snoopy if you ask me.  How do they know this isn’t private?  Hey!  You, stop reading this.

What kind of food do you have for dinner, and do you wrinkle your nose at the stuff you don’t like?  Do you just move the creepy things around on your plate, making it look like you did your best, like you did when you were young?  Do you watch television or read the newspaper?  Then again, if you’re like me, you don’t want to know.  It’s all so depressing and knowing any of it isn’t going to make anything better.  Trust me, you’re better off just reading this gibberish.

Anyway, this is just me, stopping by to say, “Hi.”

 OK, one last question.  If you walk past a picture on the wall and the picture is hanging a little crooked, do you stop and straighten it or do you just keep walking?

    Let me know.

 

 

Don't be surprised

 

So prevalent and invasive has advertising become that we may not even notice when our cemeteries join in the greed.

 

Verizon Arlington Cemetery

 

Pepsi Generational Forest lawn

 

FedEx White Chapel

 

Mail Pouch Lafayette Cemetery

 

KFC Highgate Cemetery

 

Humana Hollywood Cemetery

 

My Pillow Rest in Peace Cemetery

Capital One Cemetery

(What's in your coffin?)

 Chewy Pet Cemetery

 

 

Authoritative Proof

 

A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  F, G, H, I, 
            h          g
            I           g
            c
            k
            e
            n

          

Language Shadows

 

        Speech, much like photography, contains both shadows and reflections.  The composition of a good sentence can cast a wide shadow across an idea or allegation.  A true wordsmith might even use poor spelling as misdirection.

        Lawyers, practiced at the art of syntax, can easily create an overexposure, ultimately showing the negative. 

 

 

 

as a second language

 

Play Ad Free

 

(In other words)
Give us money and we’ll stop bombarding your system with advertising.

 

These people are not your friends.  They are not doing you any favors.

 ***

Big Sale

50% Off

 

(In other words)
We overcharged everyone who came in yesterday 50% more than we needed to.

***

 

Vote for me.  I’ll make your life better.

 

(In other words)

 

 

The Edge of the River

 

        I was first to arrive at the river.  The plan was, Tommy would be here by 10 after 3, and if not here, it meant something had happened and I was to go on without him.

        I couldn’t bring myself to believe he wasn’t going to make it, so I stayed longer.  The thing was, the mosquitoes were eating me alive, and it was getting darker, yet I just knew the moment I walked away, he’d come clomping through the jungle expecting me to be there.

        I seemed to be taking turns swatting at the pesky mosquitoes and glancing at my cell phone for the time.  That’s the other thing I found odd, why was I still getting a signal.  By all calculations I shouldn’t be. 

        I’m not sure why, but I suddenly remembered I had tucked a can of bug spray in my backpack.  As I was taking my pack off to go through it, I heard someone coming.  I stopped and just stood there listening.  With all my being I was hoping it was Tommy, but I had an uneasy feeling that wasn’t going to be my luck.

        Remaining still and quiet paid off, as it wasn't Tommy but an animal I wasn't familiar with.  It passed within 20 yards of me and just kept going.  I was surprised it didn't smell me standing there.  Now I didn't feel all that comfortable hanging around waiting.  Tommy would have to fend for himself.  As soon as that animal puts a little more distance between it and myself, I'm heading out.

        On the third day of following the edge of the river, I came to what looked like a good spot to stop for the night.  The river here seemed to slow somewhat and the bank, although still thick with brush, was not at all murky.  The earth beneath my feet was dry and solid and the mosquito population was tolerable. At least, so far.

        I would build a small fire and then have my lunch.  As I gathered twigs and sections of bark for the fire, I began to wonder what had happened to Tommy.  Was he also having lunch about now?  Did he even make it as far as our meeting place?  I wondered if I should have been leaving clues behind for him to follow.  It was too late to worry about that now.  I was on my own and now so was he.

To be continued