PERHAPS THE ONLY JOY THAT COMES WITH AGING - HUMOR IN MISHEARING

Here's a joke I heard the other night while at happy hour.

Father McLaughlin was holding service on Sunday, preaching from the pulpit on the subject of death and eternal life.  After 20 minutes of preaching on sin and souls, and angels and St. Peter, he thought he needed to wake up the audience up and so he asked a question.

"How many people here believe in ghosts ?"

The congregation stirred, looked at each other and about 100 people raised their hands.

"That's interesting", father said, "It turns out that many people believe in ghosts. It is not uncommon, but some people claim to have more intimate experiences.  How many of you also believe you have SEEN a ghost?"

About 25 people kept their hands up.

There was some murmuring, but father continued. "That is fascinating", father said. "but I have read that people sometimes report of the strangest of experiences with the afterlife. Experiences that would challenge anyone's belief system. Is there anyone here who has had sex with a ghost?"

Everyone put their hands down except one man. Sitting in the front row was Michael O'Callahan, an rather old, thin man with white hair and a cane.

"Michael", father said. "Saints above!  I've known you since I came to this parish 50 years ago. We have talked and had many a pint together at the pub. I would think by now that you would have told me of having sex with a ghost".

"A GHOST ?", Michael said, "I thought you said a GOAT".

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There is nothing good about growing old.  Except for maybe one thing - which this joke points out. As your ears deaden and the clarity of others' words are dimmed and you fill in the blanks with best guesses, there can be humor in that which you misinterpret.

And so it was that I was sitting with my Aunt Helen and her husband Bob, watching TV in their living room one evening last week. They are both in their 70s and Bob can't hear very well, so the TV is turned up really LOUD. I was barely paying attention to the show that was on, something about Merlin and Druids and a woman looking too sexy for the middle ages, and some kind of cockamamie rescue of the boy from a medieval castle dungeon.  As the scene was showing a man and a boy walking out of the dungeon, Bob turned to Helen and I heard him say,

"I see he has a woodie."

I suddenly focused, did a double take, and looked at each character on TV with disbelief, half examining, half hoping I didn't see anything. Then I looked back to Helen and Bob, also with disbelief, as I heard Helen say to Bob,

"Yes he does."

I looked at the characters again. I did not see anyone with a woodie and in fact, one was a 9 year old boy. And what were these old relatives of mine saying to each other in my presence anyway? 

And then it dawned on me... 

the kid is wearing a HOODIE 

A MATHEMATICAL DIVERSION FOR TRAVELERS AND PEOPLE WHO EAT PIZZA

Having just returned from a trip to Colorado, and looking at the new totals for my lifetime flight milage (365,399), I wondered what would be the equivalent number of trips around the world I travelled in those miles.

So here's a little rough math for my aging intellect and yours...

Roughly speaking, the EARTH is 7,926 miles in diameter at the equator, making its circumference, approximately 24,900 miles. (Note that this number is actually pretty easy to remember if you use a little gonzo approximating - that there are 24 time zones on the planet and each is about 1,000 miles wide.)

And if you were in a rental car (with unlimited mileage) driving on the surface, in a straight line trip, ignoring hills, valleys and detours, and the unpaved section in the oceans where that car you rented doesn't float and would need a few tanks of gas, but you already passed the sign in Patagonia that said, "NEXT STATION 4,320 MILES", it would be pretty easy to figure out.

Oh yes, and the pirates. You want to avoid the pirates !

But the real issue is, how far is a trip around the world if one is in an airplane? At let's say for convenience, an average of 25,000' above the ground. On that airplane ride, traveling about 5 miles above the surface, you have significantly enlarged the circle that describes your trip.

Or have you?

How much longer has your trip become ?

a. 30 miles
b. 300 miles
c. 3000 miles
d. all of the above (summed)

The answer might not be surprising to you, but it was to me. The trip distance around the world is only 30 miles longer in an airplane at 25,000' than in a car on the surface.

Do the math: The circumference (C) of the earth is calculated using our old grade school mathematical formula... C = πd.

With d= diameter = 7926 miles, and at an additional 25,000 feet (or 4.734 miles), added twice (for the diameter), becomes (7926 mi. + 2*4.734) or 7,935 miles (and a bunch of decimals),

the new circumference C' = π[3.14159 etc] * d' [7935 mi] = 24, 930 miles.

An addition of a mere 30 miles.

And the answer is, 14.657 times around the world.

This may not be interesting to you, but we can use this same math for something that applies to you and me in our daily (or at least weekly) lives.... PIZZA !

Let's say you're in a restaurant and you want to know which is a better deal, the 12" pizza for $12 or the 16" pizza for $16.

Same math, different formula because when you eat pizza, you eat not just the DIAMETER, but you eat the AREA. (Or maybe you don't eat the diameter because your mama told you it would make your hair curly - but let's ignore this for now.)

The area of a circle is πr**2 (pi-r-squared), where r is the radius (= 1/2 diameter) and π is our old friend.

12" pizza = 6" radius

Area = π*36 (or 36π)

16" pizza = 8" radius

Area = π * 64 (or 64π)

Without going any further, you can see that the 16" pie puts a lot more tomato and cheese into your belly (or better still, leftovers in your freezer) for that extra $4. And IF you looked at the numbers and said it was twice as big, you'd be close enough,. Perhaps we could even say you were in the smart man's ball park. The actual numbers are: 78% more pie for 33% more money. A good deal.

And you did the pizza math without a need to remember that the value of π is 3.1415926535 8979323846 2643383279 5028841971 6939937510 5820974944 5923078164 0628620899 8628034825 3421170679 8214808651 3282306647 0938446095 5058223172 5359408128 4811174502 8410270193 8521105559 6446229489 5493038196 4428810975 6659334461 2847564823 3786783165 2712019091 4564856692 3460348610 4543266482 1339360726 0249141273 7245870066 0631558817 4881520920 9628292540 9171536436 7892590360 0113305305 4882046652 1384146951 9415116094 3305727036 5759591953 0921861173 8193261179 3105118548 0744623799 6274956735 1885752724 8912279381 8301194912 9833673362 4406566430 8602139494 6395224737 1907021798 6094370277 0539217176 2931767523 8467481846 7669405132 0005681271 4526356082 7785771342 7577896091 7363717872 1468440901 2249534301 4654958537 1050792279 6892589235 4201995611 2129021960 8640344181 5981362977 4771309960 5187072113 4999999837 2978049951 0597317328 1609631859 5024459455 3469083026 4252230825 3344685035 2619311881 7101000313 7838752886 5875332083 8142061717 7669147303 5982534904 2875546873 1159562863 8823537875 9375195778 1857780532 1712268066 1300192787 6611195909 2164201989 3809525720 1065485863 2788659361 5338182796 8230301952 0353018529 6899577362 2599413891 2497217752 8347913151 5574857242 4541506959 5082953311 6861727855 8890750983 8175463746 4939319255 0604009277 0167113900 9848824012 8583616035 6370766010 4710181942 9555961989 4676783744 9448255379 7747268471 0404753464 6208046684 2590694912 9331367702 8989152104 7521620569 6602405803 8150193511 2533824300 3558764024 7496473263 9141992726 0426992279 6782354781 6360093417 2164121992 4586315030 2861829745 5570674983 8505494588 5869269956 9092721079 7509302955 3211653449 8720275596 0236480665 4991198818 3479775356 6369807426 5425278625 5181841757 4672890977 7727938000 8164706001 6145249192 1732172147 7235014144 1973568548 1613611573 5255213347 5741849468 4385233239 0739414333 4547762416 8625189835 6948556209 9219222184 2725502542 5688767179 0494601653 4668049886 2723279178 6085784383 8279679766 8145410095 3883786360 9506800642 2512520511 7392984896 etc.. etc...etc

The BOULDER FARMER'S MARKET (around 13th and Canyon) on Saturday mornings is the place to be. You can find real farm grown food (unlike say, the Chestnut Hill farmers market). Most is organic of course (this is Boulder), and a lot of real good stuff to eat. After sampling a ton of stuff, I settled on this $4 tray of Vietnamese slaw - a pile of cabbages with a sweet-sour, fish sauce dressing, topped with shredded chicken, thai basil, mint, vietnamese hot cilantro, chopped peanuts, and all the SAMBAL I wanted to dish on top.

After shopping around, tasting more cheeses, peaches, salsas, chocolate, gluten free brownies, I settled on some Red Wagon Organic Farm tricolor beets, 3 ears of sweet white corn (picked this morning), a round of Haystack Mountain chèvre and a crusty, yeasty, seeded baguette. Thought I would bring it back and make a little vegetarian dinner of corn and a roasted beet salad with chèvre and candied walnuts.

Bob yelled at me for spending my own money.

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ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK

OMG Bs&Gs, it's a $20 entry fee now !! I tried not to let it upset me as I think of where my taxes are going instead of to the national parks. Yes, I now own GM and some BANKS (as do you) and the next time I take a loan to buy a MALIBU, I'll remember to thank myself. Unfortunately, that will happen on the 4th of NEVER (to misquote a song line). So let's leave that train and answer the question...

What does the $20 entry fee get you?

For me this time, in addition to a good feeling of supporting the national park system, it bought me 2 hikes - one in an alpine meadow to a snow field, and a second along the Ute trail, taking me to some close encounters with elk - and some time in a July snow shower.

That and a renewed appreciation of the beauty of the Rockies, which I had lost in the 16 years since I've been here.

Oh yes, and also for your entry fee, is a sometimes, tortuously slow trek through the park due to the ubiquitous presence of the American Tourista. You can see them here in this picture, walking up a set of steps from the parking lot to a predefined spot for looking at the view and snapping pictures

CAUTION - OPINIONATED COMMENTARY with SARCASM follows.

If you are weak of spirit, lean way too far left, or are someone who may become offended by the possibility of uttering the phrase "Wait, that's me he's talking about", you may want to scroll down to the next section

The American Tourista (homo cluelessian) is a bizarre but common animal who is currently native to all parts of the United States and in all prime, commercial vacation destinations on this planet. He and she often sports a glazed set of eyes and mismatched clothes. Some ride noisy Harleys and if "lucky", you may see one leaving a tourist gathering lot without his rider (also know as his "chick"), because he forgot her, and pulling in front of a pickup truck driver who looks confused too, and who makes a face but stays silent (perhaps intimidated?). The Harley bikers who have chicks on their backs will often be seen with a camera attached to the chick's appendage, jutting out at a right angle as they ride through the park. This is not well understood, but it is assumed that the chick licks repeatedly at the scenery and that there are googols of uncropped, unedited, and largely unseen pictures, uploaded on various computers and Flicker accounts around the world.

The tourista also has the annoying habit when driving along Trail Ridge Road, and if seeing something of interest, simply slowing down and/or stopping in the road to take it in - totally without regard for the line of cars behind him. Anyone following (e.g., me) can no longer look at anything else but the back of his car, because it may do anything at any time as the driver indulges himself. And when one finally pulls over into a lot, he must do it without a turn signal. Number one rule of being a tourista - it's all about ME.

It has also been observed that when tourista park and jump out, they will often express amazement at how the cheese doodle bag has expanded to the point that they are afraid it is going to explode. Then they open it up and while some eat the contents, the others laugh like its the funniest thing since Hee-Haw went off the air.

SPECIAL APOLOGY HERE to anyone who has been reading along in agreement but also found Hee Haw to be funny. I'm just going along with what my research department tells me is the consensus opinion of 18-65 year old non

touristas.

What's nice though, is how easy it is to get away from the touristas. All it takes is to stop at any pull-off that isn't an obvious stopping spot (i.e, with signs, large numbers of other cars, rest rooms, etc.) and a short walk over a hill to an open mountain meadow, where it is untrod and quiet - except for the birds and the wind. A spot where lichens and alpine flowers grow, and snowfields without footprints are still present. Another option is to hike along a trail for more than a mile, at which point you will lose them all and maybe find others who search out the same stuff you do. On these trails, it is good at some point to go off-trail and follow an elk path until you get to a spot where it feels right or you are feeling winded or maybe concerned that you may walk into a bear. Then head back and let the elk come up to you for a photo shoot.

Or find a path through the undergrowth to a rushing mountain stream. Put your hands in the ice cold water and move some of the bigger rocks to look for big gold nuggets (none that I saw today). But sifting through the debris at gathering points, you may find clumps of quartz with bright shiny stuff in them - some of which may actually be chunks of silver or gold or something else metallic (hopefully not lead). I plan to ask my soon to be PHD son for a quick test to assay for gold and silver.

GREETINGS FROM BOULDER COLORADO (Pt.2)

Each time I visit Colorado, I think about a socially departed friend of mine, Bob Ferrante.  Bob was part of the group that drove coast to coast in 1973, in a Chevy Malibu and an MG Midget - a trip that created several entries in my list of near-death experiences.  We were fresh out of college and poor. We camped out in an old Boy Scout tent that had no floor, and slept on the side of the road when we weren't near a national park.  One night in Colorado, in Rocky Mountain National Park, while we were sitting by the fire and drinking and playing acey-deucey, Bob took a current John Denver song, Rocky Mountain High, and reapplied it to us, giving new meaning to the words  "...sitting round the campfire and everybody's high".

Wonder where Bob is these days and how is he doing. 

*  *  *  *

Wednesday afternoon at 4 became HAPPY HOUR at DOLANS - a local restaurant that Helen and Bob enjoy, and a happy hour that they have been telling me about for years, but never working into our past visits. This time, I suggested - if they were up for it - that we wander over.  It was a calculated strategy to stimulate some activity for them and to help Bob get out again. I left it up to Helen to say that she felt good enough to do it.  And except for the incident with the chef, It went perfectly and seemed to work like medicine for them!  It was their first time out in a while and they both enjoyed the outing, talking about it repeatedly later.

Mike Dolan (the owner) and the staff came over and of course, fussed over two of their best customers. Helen and Bob ate it up and jumped right into a dozen oysters. Mai Tai for Helen (which she declared was too sweet), Pinot for Bob (which he loved).  While Mike sat and talked with us, he called for another glass of wine for Bob - a 100% Grenache that he was bragging about discovering. Bob gave me a taste and Mike asked me what I thought. Hey, I don't mind being put on the spot. I thought is was really good for a Grenache - smooth, lightly fruity, nicely balanced but had a short, slightly off finish. 

Anyway, wine critiquing aside, I started with a Beefeater Tonic followed by a local brew (the name was never clear, nor was the type - supposedly a Belgian ale). Too "thin" for me. Helen agreed. However, the next pint of Anchor Steam was perfect.  To eat, I had an open face ahi quesadilla with pickled ginger and a fresh salsa (I was wary of ordering it but it was surprisingly good), and a "surf & turf" pair of sliders - a buttery crab cake and a colorado beef burger (both excellent). 

Cross one more thing off the list.

*  *  *  *

Gotta go... The Farmer's MArket is calling. I know I promised some news on Zombies and my flying companions. Have to save it for later.  I'll also make sense of the elk picture above later.

TRAVEL! GREETINGS FROM BOULDER, CO (pt.1)

DREAM - When I'm away, I go through changes and sometimes my dreams open up.  Had a dream last night - a twist on the common theme of being unprepared.  I was asked to play guitar and sing for a live radio broadcast, following my brother's opening numbers.  As of a few minutes before show time, I had not determined what I would play and although I could not play anything from memory, I was not too concerned.  But I did think about how to kick it off.  I thought I'd set the audience's expectations by saying -- "Usually, they save the best for last...... not tonight".  (Where did that little piece of self deprecation come from?)  My plan was to say it while I started noodling around the notes for Smokestack Lightning. That was the plan. The whole plan!

*   *   *   *

Let me tell you about GLACIER ICE CREAM.  This is a place that understands ice cream and isn't afraid to create a diverse set of flavors, including some of my favorites... CINNAMON,  COCONUT CHOCOLATE CHIP (looks like a mashed up mounds bar), ESPRESSO CHOCOLATE BUZZ, and a yet to be tried but sounds like I should, CHAI.  Easily as good as the best I've tasted. Hell, it's as good as what I make.  I left with 3 pints of gelato - Vanilla bean, Bittersweet chocolate and Tiramisu. It should last us a few days, then I'll go back for more. 

*   *   *   *

STORMS  The local news crew had a ton of fun reporting Monday night's storms. It was tough keeping up with all of their foibles and crack-headed reporting but here's what I was able to capture. 

We apparently had:

• "hen egg" size hail (this made me wonder if other areas of the country have different local references to hail sizes - like in italy, hail comes in OLIVE and LARGE SCOOPS of GELATO sizes)
• "rivers of hail"
• "neon green thunder" (yes, in colorado, apparently they are able to hear colors)
• "absolute carnage" (the horror of a damaged greenhouse)
• "It sounded like a freight train" (ho-hum)
• A traffic reporter described one section of town as "absolutely, probably the worst hit"  (thereby defining a new way to waffle)
• "the car buried in hail... that might be the money shot"
• and then there was a woman taken away with "a tree embedded in her arm".  (good, now we need to start worrying about aggressive trees)

*   *   *   *

RESTAURANT REVIEW - FALAFEL KING, Boulder CO   I posted this on the restaurant review site, YELP.  

Eating outside on the Pearl street mall. OK, the Pearl St. mall is not my favorite but the food at FK was excellent and just what I wanted for lunch. Although the portions were smaller than the price, it was tasty. I ordered the "4x6" (or "6 and 4"?) - 6 small, crunchy falafels and 4 sides - tomatoey eggplant salad, creamy and smoky baba ganouj, dolmades, and tabbouleh (my only complaint - the tabbouleh was more cracked wheat than parsley and lemon)... served with pita and a not too sweet pomegranate lemonade. Yum !  

Note to the woman who talked loud on her phone about how important she was and had the stinky artificial smelling candle or something in her bag - please talk lower and sit downwind next time, so I don't have to leave early !

*   *   *   *

RESTAURANT REVIEW - MAY WAH (Thai, Vietnamese & Chinese), Boulder CO.  Also posted this on YELP.

In Boulder, I expect ALTITUDE, not ATTITUDE (*).  The attitude from the distracted hostess as we picked up our takeout was surly and impersonal.  

Sadly, the food was worse. 

Drunken noodles. A dull, lifeless, insipid pile of brownness, devoid of anything to perk it up.  Where was the occasional crunch of vegetable?  Where was the spiciness we specifically requested when the order was called in?  Where was the Thai basil ????  ARGHH! Worst version since that crap I was served one night in Peoria - which, like this dish, won't soon leave my memory.

The other food we ordered was bad too - Bob threw out his scallops. Said they were inedibly overcooked - but he ate the vegetables that came with them.  Helen ate some of the soft shell crab but complained about it. And from the taste of the over-battered piece I sampled, she shouldn't have eaten as much as she did.

Did I mention that even the RICE was bad. I've had many varieties of rice before - long grain, short grain, sticky, wild... this was broken grain. And it was blander and less glutenous than I thought rice could be.

(*) Trying to be modest, still I think this is the best opening review line I've ever written - on par with Alan Richman

COMING NEXT TIME....  The horror of flying with mongrels and curs....  The bus ride with pod people.... Hiking in the mountains..... And the infamous tale of SOMEONE (not me) who visited and drove the Suburu around town in FIRST GEAR.