I am using this bath picture of the happiest baby in the world, Sebastian, in my blog today along with a picture of my younger brother Grandpa Anson and my grand niece, Mila -- it's second generation baby time!!! What's not to love and care about either of these gifts of God??? I have decided that I am going to be Sebastian's secret godfather and maybe some day I can be Sebastian's Kindergarten show and tell guy and play the guitar and sing Woody Guthrie's "The Car Song" - how cool would that be?
And if I am still keepin' on when Mila reaches Kindergarten, that offer stands for her, too.
I mentioned, I think, that I finally got to meet the happiest boy in the world last week and it was an exciting morning. No doubt about it folks, I'm in "grandpa love" and he's not even related to me.
For sure I am officially now Sebastian's secret godfather. so don't tell anyone.
Denny Marion stopped over to the bungalow last night to run through the tunes we will be using on St Patrick's Day eve at the Red Parrot.
I rolled out a sausage, onion, green pepper pizza and we shared a couple of Leinie's which put us in fine fettle to rehearse. Later today I gotta run lyrics to my own tunes as it has been so long since I last worked with the band that I have forgotten some of the verses.
In addition to being just one of the hottest players n the Valley, Denny is a joy to be around. He has such a good attitude about life and it rubs off! Try and catch the show wednesday night. We are gonna cook! Unfortunately I will have to leave my Elvis moves to home as I will be sitting on a bar stool thanks to Mr. achy ankle. But armed with Brett Favre candy and Leinie's high test regular I wil be feelin' no pain.
At a dinner party down at Tiit's Fall Creek domicile recently, someone recalled how we played a Game that I made up that evening called "SCARS".
"SCARS"has fairly simple rules to play. Players simply take turns revealing a scar upon their body and then relate the story of how it got there. You are awarded 10 points for each scar revealed and if your accompanying story is entertaining enough, the group decides whether or not you get the "Well Told" five point bonus.
This is a good right after dinner- we're still at the table- swilling wine- game because as the game progresses and more wine is quaffed, the more intimate scars become easier to reveal.
Here's a run down on my contributions:
1. Star shaped scar on the center of my upturned nose, given me by a neighbor's dog when I was very young. I think I was holding onto his ears so I could stand and he, not being amused, nailed me with a quick nip.
2. Two and one half inch scar on my left forearm, put there by a "DP" (displaced person from Latvia who , not understanding english, did not know that one is not to ride bicycle directly through an ongoing softball game.) I was at shortstop, and as I moved to the left to field a grounder, Stasch Shmenge ran over me with one of those fat tired Schwinn's. I think the sprockett took a bite outa my aarm.
3. Gash on my right upper abdomen - put there by a surgeon in LaCrosse, Wisconsin, as a result of appendicitis attack while I was attending Holy Cross Seminary. A sure sign from God that I wasn't meant to be a man of the cloth.
4. An angular scar on the back of my head under the hairline where my two older brothers , not wanting to share a tractor seat, pushed me off and I landed head first on the attached plowshare. How did we ever survive childhood?
5. A very small scar, nearly invisible at this point, on my right pointer finger. a self inflicted wound performed with a hatchet while trying to chop kindling.
6. An incredibly long and wide scar which descends from the inside of my right knee all the way to my ankle as a result of having broken my right leg in 7 places. The width is because surgeons reopened it to remove hardware and to install an artificial knee.
7. A scar upon my chest from the year 2000 quadruple bypass surgery which saved my life.
8. A series of scars the entire length of my right leg where the surgeon harvested veins to patch up my heart blockages in above mentioned operation.
9. I have never gotten inebriated enough to reveal my vasectomy scars, thank God.
One would think that would be enough to be a winner. However, the story that got a bonus bonus was told by our former Vietnam special Ops manly man, Steve Rogers.
Seems that after he got discharged he partied hearty for quite a few years before he married Mz Apple and started to settle down some.
At one out of control blast, he ended up losing his balance and toppling over backwards, his head crashing into a gold fish tank. The tank, the fish, and Steve went to the floor and when all was said and done, he found himself ensnared by a triangular shard of glass from the aquarium. Now by ensnared I mean that the shard had punctured the back of his neck, barely missing the spinal column. He couldn't figure out why he couldn't get up. When friends pried him off the floor, he also extricated the shard from the aquarium frame as it was lodged deeply into his neck. At the time they were unaware that this probably saved him from bleeding to death as the shard acted as a plug
His muchachos hauled his ass to the emergency room, stemming the slight blood flow with towels. The doctor on call scrubbed up, and had Steve sit up. All the while Steve is imploring the doctor for morphine, a drug he was familiar with during his Special Ops gig.
The doctor grasped the shard with surgical pliers and quickly drew it out. He asked Steve if he felt that. Steve said no. The doctor told him he didn't need morphine as he was obviously self medicated enough.
If that story doesn't give you a pucker factor of ten, you are a bad MF.