Sunday, July 13, 2014


I wonder who first coined the word "fog". Must have been a primitive sort of individual, perhaps a caveman, who was looking for a word to describe the phenomenon to explain why he blindly bumped into another caveman.

"Excuse me comrade Six Toes. I got lost in the....hmmm, what is this crap....guess I'll call it 'fog'".

Thus, fog was invented.

Last night was a particularly foggy night on the harbor. As such, I was awoken at 2 a.m. to the sound of fog horns bellowing out their cautionary cries to those trying to find their way through the damp mass.


It must have been a dandy fog as the horns kept sounding for several hours. And I listened to every wonderful bellow.

There's something wonderful about the sound of a fog horn, particularly to me since I've not heard one in many years. It brought back memories of a trip to Maine where the wife and I stayed in an old home on a small bay. One night during our stay the fog rolled in. This fog was of legendary proportion and was more like a blanket, rendering everything barely visible beyond about 10 feet. Sprinkled within this blanket of fog were thousands of fireflies who were also trying to find their way through the heavy mass of low-hanging clouds. It was very memorable.

And, similar to last night, the fog horns bellowed loudly.

At 3 a.m. this morning, after listening to an hour of fog horns, I thought that it might be great fun to have a car horn that sounded like a fog horn. Being the overly obsessive-compulsive type, I rushed to my computer and Googled the description of what I was seeking.


Even J.C. Whitney, which carries every car gadget known to man, didn't carry one. In utter disappointment I returned to bed and fell into a deep sleep while the fog horns sounded in the distance.

I had a dream. I dreamed about the idea of a car horn that sounds like fog horn.

And how truly stupid an idea that is.

Readers, enjoy your day.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014


The wife asked me some years ago what I was passionate about in life. It took me a while to answer that question. I don't recall what I said but it made me think about my life and passions over the following months and years. Truthfully, I have never fully answered that question.

Until today.

Today represented a true milestone in my life - an awakening, a born again experience of Biblical proportions. I now know my purpose in life.

To rewind a bit, during each of our relocations over the past 30 years I have been dissatisfied with one facet of each of our homes. Despite the expense and the wife's protestations, I have in each home made a quantum leap in home improvement. This leap is particularly satisfying, especially today due to the fact that I was able to complete the task in two hours* and it involved only one trip to the hardware store**.

*   The manual said that it would take 45 minutes.
** Three trips is the norm.

Although unusual, my passion in life lies in the realm of garbage disposals. American home builders should hang their heads in shame that they install cheap, wimpy 1/2 horsepower units into our homes. The truth is that most people have never experienced the true joy of a high-end one-horsepower gem of a garbage disposal. Instead, we flip the switch, run the water, throw in the garbage, then wait for the 1/2 horsepower Wimpmaster disposal to noisily grind the leftovers. A half-hour later, left to its own devices, a 1/2 horsepower unit will still be spinning the garbage around, much like a Coney Island amusement park ride.

Before you read any further, I would like for both of my readers to go to their kitchen sink, look in the cabinet beneath the sink and assess how many horsepower their disposal unit is. One-half horsepower? That's what I thought.

Today I replaced the Wimpmaster with one that is guaranteed to get the job done. It's marketed as The Bone Crusher and promises to decimate the remains of a North Carolina-style pig pickin' in a matter of seconds. Whoooosh. I've even read in the instruction manual that there's a recorded message emitted by the machine  that states "is that the best you've got?" once you throw in your weekly pile of food waste. Indeed, The Bone Crusher is not a machine to be messed with.

But it needs to be put to the ultimate test.

The real test of a garbage disposal is to see if it can handle a pound of shrimp shells, a 1/2 dozen banana peels and potato peels from four large spuds...thrown in all at once.

I'm planning on having a get-together with friends to demonstrate this monumental achievement and share in my spiritual awakening.

You're invited. Bring some garbage.

Readers, enjoy your day.