Monthly Archives: September 2009



Everybody knows we are blessed with the most unretrievenous retrievers ever to grace the planet.

We’ve pretty much given up on training them to do anything other than what they want to do and we’re pretty much good with that.

Aim low and you’ll never be disappointed.

But then, the other day, when I was at Wal-Mart picking up dog biscuits I saw the Flying Squirrel in the toy section (which kinda looks like a Flying Squirrel if Flying Squirrels were neon green and had glow-in-the-dark paws) and remembered that someone had e-mailed me months ago saying that THEIR unretrieverable retriever LOVED these things, so of course I bought one.

Hope springs eternal, ya know.

I got home and pulled it out of the bag and Cutter went berserk. Tug was a little interested but Cutter was madly in want.

I took them outside and sent the Flying Squirrel sailing away. It was hilarious. Picture teenage nerds trying to play basketball, all gangly arms and legs and desire and want but no real coordination and that was Cutter running and leaping after this thing. And when he finally got it he actually brought it back. Whoa.

Tug, as usual, just watched and waited.

After the second spastic retrieve Tug attacked and the two of them rolled around wrestling as they are wont to do and then Cutter picked up the Flying Squirrel and ran it inside and chewed it up.

Took about ten minutes. Me and Tug watched.

And then Princess Cutter got up, shook out his coat, and barked for a biscuit like he’d done something good and worthwhile.



I was gonna post about somethin’ else but then somethin’ else happened.

I work by myself, building stuff for people who are power tool challenged. I like it. I feel, I hope, I’m helping them in my little way to build their dreams.

Today, I went by a fairly big job, checking with the subs, answering questions and what not,  and once things were settled I went to another job to build a fence. It was nice and cool and quiet and I was gettin’ into some me time.

My cell rang.

It was a friend of the customer I had just left saying that she had been trying to reach her all morning and she wasn’t answering her phone nor her door and she was worried because she was a fucking manic depressive and had tried to commit suicide the year before and was worried that maybe she had succeeded where she had failed before and could I possibly meet her in twenty minutes back at her house?


So I hurried back and pounded on the door. When I didn’t get an answer I tried the knob and, finding it unlocked, went in, yelling her name.

Do you know what it’s like to call out to the maybe dead? It dries up your spit.

I moved through the house, my yells bouncing around, scared what I’d find. When I got to her bedroom I yelled louder ’cause I could see her, a mound under the blankets, with her dog lying next to her.

She didn’t move so I went to her and shook her and she woke up and I told her that her friend was worried sick about her and she needed  to call her and I went back out into the noise and grit of construction around her house and buried myself in it.

Life’s gotta lighten up a little bit.

Gonna Happen.



Enough already of the dark stormy introspective posts for awhile. Suffice it to say that, after yet another summer of hard partying fun, I’ve made certain promises to myself. Promises that I don’t want to broadcast for fear of the ridicule and snickering when I fail.

But I won’t.

So,  I’ll let ya’ll know what happened last week on November 1st. That way, one way or another it’ll be done. Or well on it’s way. Actually THEY’LL be done- there was, like, 4 things I swore myself to in that moment of shaky weakness.

We’ll see, huh?

On another note- a quick update in response to e-mails about my loser ability to keep a story line going-

MIGHTY WHITEY- I don’t know what I’m gonna do. My most favorite Chevy Suburban is slooooowwwwwwwlyy being re-built and I’m just about at the end of my patience. I’m thinkin’ I might just have her towed out of the shop she’s in and into another to finish it up. Enough already.

WEIGHT LOSS- This is something I touched on a while back. I’ve lost about 50 lbs and Miss Carol has lost so much that sleeping with her is like sleeping with another woman and who amongst us doesn’t chub over that? Ooo baby, baby.

CUTTER AND TUG?- Are fine as frog’s hair. I’ll post soon.

OCEANDOGGY.COM- Thanks to all y’all, I’m not going anywhere. Like Miss Carol says, you’re stuck with me.

Next- Fetch.




You wake up in the early dark hours with your heart squirreling away and you make promises.

I won’t do that anymore.

I’ll try to stop eating those.

I’m gonna start doing more of that.

I’m over it.

No more and no more.


And you lay awake staring at the little alarm clock numbers changing while Miss Carol and the dogs snore next to you and you wait, wanting to sleep and knowing it’s done.

Finally it’s time you can get up.

Outside a storm’s blowing rain sideways and you saddle up Cutter and Tug for their morning walk and head out.

Walking along the side of the road in the darkness a school bus plunks through a road lake drenching you and the dogs.

It’s gonna be one of THOSE days.


When you get back, you towel the dogs off, give ’em treats and food and water, change your clothes, and head out to work.

But as you climb up into Big Black and drive up the street towards the beach the sun breaks through briefly and brightly and-

Something clicks.

See ya, bye.


And just like that it was over, a memory rapidly fading.

On Monday, the 2009 Touron Season ended, as did one of the bigger weekends of me and Miss Carol’s summer, and maybe possibly my life.


When I started this post I had intended to write a detailed account of our weekend complete with, in no particular order, house guests, beachness and boating, pergola building, attending a 60th birthday party and a wedding in New York, all replete with the overabundance of food and alcohol that holiday weekends always inspire.

And don’t get me wrong we had a blast. But.

As I typed, my fingers numbed to the stupidness that is my life and I slowly realized I’m facing the same fork in the road that I’ve been idling at for way too many years.

The thought pushed me back.

I’ve been lazy. It’s easy to be complacent and lazy. I love easy. I say lazy because while I’ve enjoyed the motivation that writing this blog provides and loved hitting the publish (like it’s really being published) button, my writing hasn’t been good. Nor even close.

For the past year, I think I thought that just posting/writing something, anything, would fill the void, that tepidness in quantity could somehow equal something approaching quality and it doesn’t, nor should it.

So something has to change.

I need a challenge or something looking like it. Whether it’s the challenge of changing the mundane content of or doing something that challenges me to write better I’m not quite sure.

But I’m gonna try ’cause the days shorten and the years quicken.


Daily wood.


Holy effin’ jaysus,  it’s that time of year again.

Today Hooper delivered our firewood for the winter. We burn through roughly two cords a year and every year when he dumps it I swear the pile is bigger.

I stare at it and then try not to think too much about how many times I’m gonna have to handle each and every log.

But then I do.

First I gotta stack it so the neighbors won’t laugh and point at me. Next, I move it one wheelbarrow load at a time during the winter into the garage so I always have dry firewood. Then I carry it an armload at a time from the garage to the stack on the hearth where I finally put it on the pretty fire that Miss Carol enjoys each and every night while the cold northeast winds howl and skirl outside.

And somehow that last part makes it all worth it.



I had a weird thing happen to me today. All day long I was thinking it was Tuesday and that I’d exhausted the repertoire of meals I could cook for myself and that I’d either have to eat leftovers or go hungry until Miss Carol gets home Thursday night.

Then I happened to glance at my watch while I was working and noticed the date was a “2” and when I looked at a calendar later in the day the “2” corresponded with Wednesday and Miss Carol gets home on Thursday and all the sudden it was like Christmas in September.


So it’s cheeseburger night and the last night I have to cook and the last night I have to torture my reader with crappy pictures of simple food.

I think I just heard a faint woohoo from my reader. Thank you reader.

So anyway.

While the grill is heating up grab you a packet of Bubba’s Burgers. Without a doubt the best burgers you can buy. Totally unappetizing hockey pucks of uniformly frozen meat they undergo a metamorphosis while being grilled that is just short of amazing. Really. You can’t fuck these up.

Once the grill is good and hot toss them frozen hockey pucks on there and go get yourself a coldie. You deserve it.

After about three minutes or a couple a sips of beer, go back outside and season the burgers.

This is key. Seasonings are like free air. There ain’t no calories and there ain’t no guilt so let your seasoning flag fly. I like to sprinkle my burgers with Caribbean Seasoning, Coarse pepper, and Montreal Steak. You can do what you want. Just don’t be shy. It’s soooo good.

Flip ’em and season the other side and sip your beer and dream of molten hot mounds of meaty goodness.

After another couple of minutes and put the cheese on, close the grill and shut it off. As the cheese melts and the grill cools wonder why you don’t do this every day.


You can add what you will. I had these babies with sliced celery and avocado on the side and since I ate off a paper plate, I had this to clean up afterwards-



BTW- a variation on the cheeseburger is a goober burger. Cook the burger, slather mayonnaise on the buns and peanut butter on the burger.

Sounds totally gross but for some completely inexplicable reason the mish-mashup tastes really GOOD.

Key Lime Chicken.


Miss Carol’s in San Francisco so I’m left to somehow fend for myself and Cutter and Tug.

Cutter and Tug are easy ’cause they eat the same stuff every day but I’ve been spoiled by Miss Carol’s cooking and honestly, really enjoy a different meal each evening.

I only make about four different things good so I’m glad that Miss Carol gets back on Thursday.

Tonight is Key Lime Chicken.

Disclaimerville- If you’re lookin’ for a lot a precise information on my super simple recipes you’re not gonna get it. These are way easy ways of making something good that you can’t fuck up. Really. If you do, you shouldn’t be cooking, in fact, you shouldn’t be around open flames. Eat at 7-11.

Back to the Key Lime. Get yourself some chicken thighs and or legs and or wings, but use dark meat. It’s greasier and lends it’s self better to the recipe. You’ll also need lemon pepper, limes and cold beer. Actually you don’t need the beer, it just makes every meal taste just a little bit better.

Crank up the grill. Coat the chicken in the lemon pepper and squeeze the first of several limes over it and toss ’em on the grill like a seasoned cook.

Open a beer.

Note- this is a really easy recipe but you gotta watch the chicken. You can’t just toss it on the grill and go inside and dance with the pretty girls. You’re gonna have to cook.

OK. Back again. Every 5 or 10 minutes flip the chicken, squeeze more lime, and add more lemon pepper. Don’t skimp, you’re slowly building a lemony, limey, peppery, salty, crust to the chicken.

Not to mention, you look like you know what you’re doin’.

Note- after you squeeze the lime and add the seasonings go ahead and suck the lime. It combats scurvy, makes your beer taste really good, and your breath’ll smell like Jimmy Buffett.

Cook the chicken till it’s done and serve with whatever. I had corn on the cob and a tomato but feel free to explore.

You can’t mess it up.