Happy Trails, Number 69

Today I got on a boat with Scarlet Colley, Mary Laddis, Rozzi the dolphin dog, some island visitors and a whole bunch of formerly cold-stunned green sea turtles -- each of which sported two new finrings and a unique number scrawled in white out.

These were the survivors and our mission was to return more that 60 of them to the wild as Texas Parks and Wildlife had deemed the water warm enough. We chugged across the bay from PI, picked up the turtles at the Sea Ranch and then headed north.

We (gently) tossed turtles in spurts, carefully observing to make sure that each one grabbed a big lungful of air or two and then dove down deep. "Bubble butts" - distressed turtles that float on the top of the water - are cause for concern and must be retrieved with nets and brought back to land for tests and medicine at Sea Turtle Inc.

We had to bring three "BB's" back to the Sea Ranch. Wishing numbers 1, 10 and 29 a speedy recovery -- and a ride on the next boat out.

I'm sure there are lots of women aged 50-60 willing and eager to bear your love child, dude

I stopped flushing money down the match.com toilet ages ago. However, I still receive and sometimes read the "matches we've chosen for you" emails -- primarily for their entertainment value.

Here's a good one:

outspokenman10
55, Kingsville, TX
5'8" (172.0cm),
Seeks: Women 50-60

He is divorced
His faith is Christian / Protestant
He definitely wants kids

"Perfect Pair"

What it is: an adult beverage comprised of pear vodka and fresh-squeezed whatever (today it's oranges)
When it is to be consumed: at precisely 5 PM after an at least somewhat productive day (slackers don't get perfect pair rewards 'round here)
Where: On a deck, preferably in the sun's waning rays

Additional Information: This is not a sociable drink, nor is it something you drink more than one of. Too much damn trouble. So you better make it good and big enough the first time.

Sez Who: Me. The keeper of the inn. That's who.
Official Mac Time: 4:57 PM

Notable Deaths in 2009

A lot of worthies passed away in 2009 - but one the New York Times somehow failed to note:

Donald P. Wierenga, an educator, builder, artist, optimist and humanitarian, died on April 20. He was 78.

The world is a sadder and poorer place for his loss.

Link

Just in case you were wondering what is pissing me off today...

All the stupid airport security crap that we have to go through and TSA doesn't even pay attention to their own "watch lists" -- preferring to spend their time patting down clearly harmless folk like you and me while letting known terrorists breeze through without a second glance.

stupid stupid stupid stupid

Joyful Noise

Living right downstairs from one’s rental unit can be noisy. Vacationers like to listen to music. They drink beer, they exchange jokes and they laugh. Vacationers frequently keep different hours than I do, But much as I value peace and quiet, I have to tell you that I get a little nervous when I don’t hear anything up there. Are they not enjoying themselves? Are they perhaps quietly plotting against me and/or my property? Strange as it may seem, I am comforted by the squeaks, rattles and flushes of daily life coming from above.... to a point.

Extremely inebriated shrieking and hostile rap music played too loud make me even more nervous, as does overwrought emotion (I can’t hear distinct words, but I can hear emotional tones) and mysterious crashes. The rhythmic bouncing of a pool cue may start my toe to tapping but can soon lead to madness. And there was a time that the plumber-foiling “please jiggle the handle” toilet - whose pipes drain inches from my head when it is in bed - frequently ran all night. Sleep hours went down: water bill went up.

I do have favorite noises: the flurry of activity that indicates impending mass exodus (usually followed by a period of blissful silence) was one of the first I was able to recognize. But my very favorite noises are the joyful ones: a snippet of “The Entertainer” banged out on the old upright grand; the crack of billiard balls followed by a hearty cheer; guitar flogging and lusty singing and even the happy thumpiness of dancing.

Those joyful kinds of noises don’t bother me in the slightest. Unless they go on past -- oh 2 AM, say.

a day at the beach