Music Monday: Remember me?

Congratulations!  For the past four months, you have unknowingly taken part in a sociological experiment I like to call, "Could you survive without Bone?"  I don't know how you did it, nor am I sure I want to know.  But somehow, against all odds, you have done it.

Others were not so lucky.  Some turned to Facebook.  Some resorted to more extreme measures, such as interacting with other people, face to face.  But even as we mourn those less fortunate souls, we must move on.

I am going to attempt to begin posting on a somewhat regular basis again.  In fact, my goal is 3 posts per week.........

Why are you laughing?  (I'm pretending I still have readers, just go with it.)

One might wonder why I am even telling you this.  My hope is that by making such a public statement, it will hold me more accountable.

Think of me as you would an absentee father you've not seen in years.  Just as you finally pull yourself together and accept that you will never have a relationship with him, he shows up and wants to be part of your life.  He promises this time will be different.

Will he keep his promise?  Not likely.  But I gotta think he feels a bit more guilty breaking his promise than he would having made no promise at all.  (It occurs to me this might not be my best analogy ever. I knew I should have gone with my "I'm still, I'm still Jenny from the block/I'm still, I'm still Bone from the blog" idea.  Now I blog a little, used to blog a lot, etc.)

So where have I been?  Working?  Watching countless episodes of "WKRP In Cincinnati" on my new DVR?  Spending every free moment reaching Level 90 on Trivia Crack in only five weeks (in all likelihood a world record)?

Sure, I could blame it on any of those things.  And while all have some validity, the bottom line is if I wanted this relationship to work, if I truly wanted to be a part of your life, I would have made time to be here.  There are always a million reasons not to write.

In closing, and because I am fresh out of segues, here is my promise to you.  Actually, it's just a song called The Promise."  Originally done by the British band, When In Rome.  This is a fairly recent version by Sturgill Simpson.  The words don't entirely apply to our situation, but Sturgill has been scratching me where I itch lately.  Figuratively, of course.  (Am I using too many -ly words?  Probably.)



Here's to blogging more (and to hoping I'm a better father someday than I've been a blogger). 

"I'm sorry but I'm just thinking of the right words to say / I know they don't sound the way I plan them to be..."

High, and (still) dry

When anon I realized I hath not blogged in a span of nearly twain fortnights, I didst recall yon erstwhile days wherein my nimble fingers wouldest blog daily.  Erelong didst I question why I had just useth "fortnight" to describeth time.  But in nowise finding any answer, and whereby I am unable or unwilling to continue in my present manner of writing, do I ashamedly present the following scantily clad entry.

The election has come to an end.  The Electoral College has spoken.  I call for all Americans to now come together and enjoy a few weeks with no political ads, because one thing's for certain: Campaigning for 2016 will begin all too soon, if it hasn't already. 

In case you somehow managed to miss the election results, allow me to fill you in.  We here in Boneville USA voted for the status quo.  That is, to remain a "dry" municipality.  (Do people in the rest of the country even know what a dry city/county is?)

Chant with me.  Four... more... years... four... more... years... of no legal alcohol sales within the city limits.  More chanting.  No... we... can't!   I read somewhere we are the largest "dry" city in the state.  Kind of a quirky claim to fame, er, something, wouldn't you say?

But all is not lost.  For my state is one of several to have a petition started for us to secede from the Union.  That's right, ye Scallywags, tonight we're gonna party like it's 1861!

Oy.  That really is the facepalm of all facepalms.

But ere ye think we've all gone mad down here and have Sean Hannity piped into our homes 24/7 (was that redundant?), there comes this bit of news: Nick Saban received dozens of write-in votes for President in the state of Alabama.  (I said "in" not "of.")  Twenty-two votes in one county alone.  And suddenly everything is set back in order.

His wife even received a write-in vote for circuit clerk in one county.  And no, it wasn't my county.  Although I can't promise it won't be next time.  Let us raise a toast... Uh... on second thought, it's like a seven-minute drive to the nearest beer store.  So scratch that.  We'll have to settle for a virtual fistbump.  *makes explosion sound with mouth*

Speaking of football, I am sure some of you were concerned about me following Bama's first loss of the season.  Let me just say that your concern is appreciated, and very much warranted.  The past three weeks have been an emotional seesaw.

After the LSU game, I was on a three-day high.  Or what I imagine a high to be.  I've never really been high, at least not in the drug-induced-brain-altering sense.  Once I got a splitting headache from being around a guy who had obviously been smoking pot, but I don't think that counts.  Anyway, had you tested the levels of dopamine in my brain following that game, I would surely have been stripped of all my Tour de France titles on the spot, assuming I had won any, or owned a bike whose tires were not perpetually both flat.

It seems almost not possible that the football season has passed so quickly.  I guess time flies when you're in a near-constant state of anxiety interspersed with brief moments of relief.

And if ever I need to get away from the stress of it all, an afternoon walk with Nephew Bone does the trick.

As autumn wanes, we talk about things like why Uncle Bone can't crack just one pecan by itself, where does this road go, the importance of finding just the right stick, and "Ooo, look!  A helicopter!"  You know, the important stuff.

These moments are among my favorite.

I wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving.  And on that note, I'll leave you with four-and-a-half minutes of not-entirely-politically-correct classic sitcom gold.



"Educated in a small town / Taught to fear Jesus in a small town / Used to daydream in that small town / Another boring romantic, that's me..."

Beach and Johnny Fever

85, 84, 80, 73 ,82, 82, 82.

No, those aren't my most recent bowling scores, fortunately. Nor are they my most recent golf scores, unfortunately. Rather those are our high temperatures the past seven days. And pretty much for the last month. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. For I would never complain about warm weather. It's just left me with a fierce case of beach fever. Worse than usual, even.

I mean, it's beach weather practically every day. If only I could dig an ocean, and stumble upon some sand.

I struggle with what to write. Not that I ever thought my life especially exciting. But when I look back a few years and see 3, 4 blog entries per week, it seems I must've led a virtual Kardashian-like existence then compared to now.

This weekend was an exciting one for me, what with the Final Four to watch on Saturday night and my fantasy baseball league draft Sunday night. My fantasy team name this year? Dusty's Spring Field. It was a holdover from last year. Too good to pass up two years in a row.

Also, don't hate me, but I've already clinched my NCAA tournament pool! I don't know how. It wasn't looking good early. (I was very wise to hitch my wagon to Missouri's star.) Still somehow, I was doing pretty well through the Elite Eight. But then I went from having correctly picked six of the Elite Eight to only having one of the Final Four. That almost doesn't even seem mathematically possible.

Most exciting of all, this unexpected windfall -- of $60 -- means I can finally afford this little gem I've had my eye on:



Spotted her in Cracker Barrel a few weeks ago. (Isn't that where everyone gets their DVDs?) That's right, my friends. Pretty soon, I'll be living on the air in Cincinnati, with Jennifer, Venus Flytrap, Mister Carlson, Les, Herb, Andy, and of course, the inimitable Dr. Johnny Fever.

Hmm, I guess my life is more exciting than I think.

For now, I'm going to settle in and watch Kentucky versus Kansas. And hope for a couple of crowd closeups of Ashley Judd. I admire her... passion.

"Maybe you and me were never meant to be. Just maybe think of me once in awhile..."

The Queen City

(Yesterday was my 7th bloggiversary. I figured I couldn't truly claim to have made it the full seven years unless I did at least one more post. This is a recap of my trip to Cincinnati a couple of weekends ago.)

I think I was always meant to go to Cincinnati. I was raised to be a Reds fan. Well, I was raised to be a Bama fan and good southern boy first, but Mom also rooted for the Big Red Machine. (For my sports-challenged readers, the Big Red Machine is not some obscure Communist organization. It was the nickname of the Cincinnati Reds teams of the 1970's, who appeared in four World Series in the decade, winning two.) Once the Big Red Machine was dismantled, Mom could not have cared less how the Reds fared. So it has been my cross alone to bear, lo, these many years.

The most interesting thing on the drive up Friday evening was the point in the state of Kentucky where there is an adult video store on the right side of I-65 and a billboard with the words "Hell Is Real" on the left side. I made sure to keep it on the straight and narrow through there.

As I neared Ohio, an interesting geographical question began to formulate within my brain: When exactly does the South turn into the North? That was followed by other questions bubbling up, festering. At what latitude do people begin to speak faster and become difficult to understand? Do they serve sweet tea on this side of the Ohio and not on the other side? And just how many Union sympathizers have infiltrated Kentucky in the last century-and-a-half?

We actually stayed on the Kentucky side, in Covington, just to be safe. From the hotel, it was only a short bus ride or mile-and-a-half walk across the Ohio River to the stadium. The walk was either very pleasant or incredibly soggy, depending on the weather.

We wound up attending both the Saturday and Sunday games. The Reds lost the Saturday game, 5-0. On Sunday, the outlook was as dreary as the drizzly Ohio sky, as the home team fell behind 4-2. But a late-inning comeback produced a thrilling 5-4 victory. My fantasy team closer got the save. My fantasy team catcher had the game-winning RBI in the bottom of the 8th inning. And the guy my fantasy team is named after hit a homer. I was glad we had decided to go back.

One of the highlights of most any trip is the food. At the ballpark, we sampled a Skyline chili cheese coney and something called a Walking 3-Way, which is not nearly as difficult as it sounds.

Saturday night, we went to Fountain Square, which is a simply gorgeous area downtown. I found out later -- by Wikipedia'ing, of course -- that the fountain can be seen in the opening credits of WKRP In Cincinnati. After reading that, I think it's fairly obvious that fate had led us there.

We had dinner outside at the Rock Bottom Brewery. There's just something about eating outdoors at little cafes and restaurants that I absolutely love. It reminds me of being in Europe, which is quite odd when you consider that I have never been to Europe.

Our last meal actually came at the suggestion of the desk clerk at the hotel. As we were checking out on Monday, she commented that she liked my shirt. I was wearing my "This Is How I Roll" Bama shirt. Turns out she was a Bama fan, so naturally we struck up a conversation. She knew her stuff, too! Refusing to call Auburn by name, she referred to it instead as "that school on the other side of the state." Talk about feeling at home.

Anyway, she recommended a place across the street called Riverfront Pizza for lunch. I tried their ranch pizza, which was pretty good. But the best part was that they had sweet tea! That's when I knew that the Yanks hadn't completely taken over Kentucky.

After I got home, I was telling Mom about going to the Reds Hall Of Fame following the game on Sunday.

"Did you see Johnny Bench or Pete Rose?"
"No, they weren't there."
"What about Morgan?" (That's apparently what my Mom calls Joe Morgan, which I wasn't aware of until that moment.)
"No. He wasn't there either."
But I was glad that she remembered them.

Overall, I loved Cincinnati. There are certain places that feel like home when I visit. They bring a sense of being completely comfortable and content. The beach is always like that. Nashville is like that sometimes. And walking into Great American Ballpark for the first time, there was a similar feeling. Seeing thousands of fellow Reds fans I thought, "Ah, these are my people."

Three or four different times random people on the street made comments about the Reds to me. Even though it's been thirty years since the Big Red Machine and twenty years since their last World Series title, it's still a baseball town.

"I walked half way from Louisville. Now there she lies at the foot of the hill. Shinin' like a jewel in the valley below, Cincinnati, Ohio. Cincinnati, where the river winds, 'cross the Mason and the Dixon line..."

Wonder whatever became of me?

Let's begin today with a little humor. Very little.

Phone call from Dad the other day:
"Did your sister tell you I'm getting an iPad?"
"What! No you are not."
"Yes, I am. I'm getting an iPad."
"Oh, Lord help us." (Thinking, how will he ever learn how to work it?)
"The doctor says I have cataracts, so after they do surgery I'm gonna have to wear an eye pad."

*smacking self on forehead*

These are my comedy roots. Knowing this, I think it's quite remarkable that I have ever made anyone laugh at all.

Easter has come and gone since the last time we commenced. Highlights included Nephew Bone hunting eggs. Although they weren't really hidden, they were just sort of strewn across the yard in plain view. Back when I used to hunt, the eggs were hard to find! They would be up in trees, across a busy street... Then again, I was thirty-six.

Then, of course, there's the Easter candy. How they came up with the combination of hiding eggs and eating candy I'll never know. Asking me to pick my favorite Easter candy is sort of like asking me to pick my favorite Wham! song -- virtually impossible and even the bad ones are pretty good.

However, Marshmallow Peeps are a perennial favorite around the Bone household. I especially appreciate the extra effort they take in putting two brown dots for the eyes on each and every chick. What was the thinking behind this? "No! You can't market them like that. No one will ever believe they're chickens unless they have eyes!"

This past Saturday, I ran my first 10K of the year. I say first, which would indicate that there will be at least one more in the lead-up to the half marathon of a still-to-be-determined date and location. I ran a 48:35 Saturday, good for a solid 66th-place finish. I also realized that I have the same thought when I get to every race and see hundreds of people milling around: Am I the only person here who isn't normally up at 6 AM on a Saturday!?!?

In other news of note, I think we may have skipped right over spring this year in the heart of Dixie. We had about two days of windy, 65-degree weather. Otherwise, we pretty much went straight from not-really-cold-enough-to-be-winter-but-too-gray-to-be-spring to may-as-well-call-it-summer. I briefly considered inventing another new season -- perhaps Spummer or Suing -- but I figure one new season is enough for one person for one lifetime. I don't want to be too prolific, else people will start expecting things.

Not that I'm complaining about the weather, mind you. I enjoy warmth, whether it's an inappropriate hug from a grandmotherly old lady who I don't really know or simply basking in the glow of our yellow sun. Temps have been in the 80's most of the last two weeks here and I've been taking full advantage, doing plenty of grilling, golfing and running.

Next weekend, I'll be heading up to Cincinnati to see my beloved Reds play. It'll be my first visit to Great American Ballpark, or Cincinnati for that matter, land of Johnny Bench and Johnny Fever. We're going to the game on Saturday. I'm open to suggestions for something to do that Sunday, as apparently there is, much to my dismay, not a WKRP In Cincinnati museum.

"From some other planet, I'd get this funky high on yellow sun. Boy, I bet my friends would all be stunned..."

I meme...because I have nothing to write about

Yes I...just made meme into a verb.
I have not...participated in a meme in ages.
I have been...going through a bit of a writing dry spell lately.
I found...this over at Ally's.
Feel free...to participate yourself.

I am...honest to a fault.
I think...way too much.
I know...more about Seinfeld than probably anyone you have ever met.
I want...to be walking on a beach somewhere.
I have...enough.
I wish...I were better at golf.
I hate...yelling.
I miss...feeling sure of love. Also, Milli Vanilli, Casey's Top Forty, and WKRP In Cincinnati would have been accepted here.
I fear...catheters.
I feel...frustrated.
I hear...my text message alert. It sounds like a submarine ping.
I smell...pretty decent, I think. I used shower gel this morning instead of soap.
I regret...spending too much time in the past.
I love...Nephew Bone.
I care...about my writing.
I always...enjoy a nap.
I am not...good at the movie category in Trivial Pursuit, at all.
I believe...in miracles. Where ya from, you sexy thing?
I dance...to embarrass those I'm with.
I sing...almost constantly when I'm driving.
I write...entire blog entries in my head sometimes.
I win...almost always at putt-putt.
I lose...my voice at most Bama games.
I never...feel ready to get out of bed in the morning.
I listen...as long as nothing shiny is around to distract me.
I can usually be found...trying to make people laugh.
I am scared of...having to be catheterized.
I read...directions only as an absolute last resort.
I forget...almost everything, so don't take it personally.
I just...smelled my arm again to verify the "I smell" line above.
I am happy about...warmer weather arriving soon.

Also, I've added a few categories of my own.

I only...use 2 to 4 slices of every loaf of bread I buy.
I need...a new ringtone. "How Far We've Come" is just a little old now.
I wonder...if I ever become famous if my fans will be proud to call themselves Boneheads.

"Maybe you and me were never meant to be. But baby think of me once in awhile. I'm at WKRP in Cincinnati..."