Mary, Mary, Mary.....

Anyone alive in the 60's and 70's knew who Peter, Paul and Mary were, a fun singing trio that had a huge following. I always liked Marys blonde bangs and I would listen to albums for hours (actually the albums belonged to my mom). How else would I know that 'Stewball' was a race horse? Good bye Mary.

jobs we have now

While waiting an hour and a half for an inspector from Colorado to arrive, I just got silly. And at a Memorial Chapel for the Marines no less. The plaques have not even been installed and the dedication will be October 15th 2009. All the red bricks have a name engraved with date of death and the unit number. The project will be another feather in my cap but these jobs all run together after 20 years in the 'biz'. The retired 4-star General was happy with the job. This Chapel was built within walking distance of the Marine Museum at Quantico, Virginia.

Using "The Dad Voice" as a Rhetorical Tool: Day 8 as a T.A.

Today was the first day I had to use my "Dad Voice." The classroom was getting a bit too chatty while I was trying to carry on my lesson. After a soft-spoken, "Guys?", I barked out a "HEY!" It worked remarkably well. For those of you who don't know me, I'm 51 years old, bald with a gray goatee and, I'm told, broad shoulders. Also, my natural facial expression tends toward the unhappy. Even when I smile, the corners of my mouth turn down.

In essence, I look like way more of a badass than I'll ever be. The look has served me well over the years and kept me out of many a fight. Being able to add both the "Dad Voice" and "Dad Glare" to my repertoire has helped instill general classroom compliance

I imagine this can be a bit harder for some of the younger TAs -- those who are barely 4 or 5 years older than their students, but this is one of those times in life when being old really does have its advantages.

Last semester, while still an undergrad, I had a chance to talk with one of the other grad student/teachers. I admitted to him my nervousness over teaching. He told me not to worry -- They would take one look at me and know who was in charge.

It's a little like spiders; they're more afraid of you than you are of them.

But, I guess like spiders, if you don't crush them, they can come back to bite you on the ass later.

Hooked on "Quack"

5:00a.m., 29 degrees outside and frozen boots on my feet means only one thing, it's duck and goose season. Well, we are gearing up for the season that arrives soon by attending a banquet tonight sponsored by Ducks Unlimited. Myself and several of my buddies are going to the shin-ding to swap stories and tell lies about past hunting seasons. But, I'm in a weird place this year and I'm not sure what's happening. I have all the gear and shotguns and decoys any amature hunter would ever need but that's not the problem. Here goes, I don't know if I want to hunt anymore. Let's forget the whole argument about "killing animals" and shit like that, I won't even entertain the argument. I eat what I hunt, period, end of conversation. My issue is not a moral dilemma but more of a change of interests. I took up with these guys years ago as a way to join in their "reindeer" games and fit in with the fellas in my new found surroundings, namely Southern Maryland. Now, after 20 years in the area, I finally am accepted and fit in, so to speak. I have friends who would never eat meat, much less hunt. They have not 'shunned' me but may not have known about my hunting activities. My daughter cringed several years ago when I told her I had just returned from goose hunting.

I'm 51 years old and I'm starting to mellow a little and think I might just sit on the sidelines this year and watch the geese fly overhead. Well hell, maybe not.

ex-wife #13

I don't remember what attracted me to Terri, but maybe it was the fact that she always had cigarettes. She rarely wore shirts, preferring to sport a bra only which worked well in the Maryland heat. But after she chopped the roof off my work truck, I called it quits.

Teachers....

When I found out that Rick had taught his first English Class at the University level, I was proud of and for him. Not that I thought Rick had reached his lifes dream of being a teacher but just the opposite. I can't think of anything that Rick would rather NOT do than teach class, maybe I'm wrong. Prehaps the years have mellowed the grizzeled writer and he enjoys the banter with young thinkers. My mind drifted to the movie "Conrack" starring a young Jon Voight teaching the children on an island in the south. I always liked that movie and think I should watch the film again. I always liked Rick as well. Bravo, Rick!

Professor Raab-Faber

I have taught my first English 101 course and lived to tell the tale. MMmmmmm that's about it.

Let's take a moment....

The Moonpie cup will rest permanently in this display case.

This is about the time I stood in shock, total disbelief.

When something like this happens you shit yourself and then move on. Honey, get a wash-rag.

Moonpie Cup #1, gone but not forgotten

Nothing can prepare you for a tragedy like this....

The news spread around the world like a rocket.....

Even animated people were distraught. There was a weeping and gnashing of teeth!

How could this be? How could such a small event cause such heartache?

If you don't get it, you don't get it. The #1 Moonpie cup has been shattered! Falling from it's pearch high above the Craftsman tool-box to the concrete floor. I could only stand and watch as the event unfolded before my eyes.

Photos and more, at 11:00.

Where is the Moonpie mug?

The Moonpie cup blew into town riding a Indian ME 125cc.

Then stopped for coversation at the Snap-On* 'rest area'.

*the tool box is craftsman, the photo is Snap-On.

Then it was off to Memphis for a rack of 'dry-rub' ribs!

After the ribs, a nice cold beer! But wait a minute.....this looks like the same building to me. Let's ask around.

Bill Clinton, "I did not have relations with that Moonpie cup".

Larry King, "the cup....it's cool, right?

Dog the Bounty Hunter, "Lord, help us catch the Moonopie cup..."

Anyway, your turn, Where am I?