Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Category: About (Page 9 of 21)

It’s about books

It’s all over…

Football season has ended. Quit. Done. No Mo. At least, my weekly predictions in the online contest are over.

I’ve entered the Tulsa World’s Football contest for the past several years, and a couple of times during the contests, I’ve had a pretty high ranking. Never won, but did well enough to have B-list bragging rights.

Right now, I am tied for last place with about 400 others. I know when it’s time to lay down the crystal ball. At least now I can concentrate on OU-Texas Week.

When I first moved to Tulsa, there was even a parade of sorts downtown. (Admittedly small and unofficial.) That was back in the time when the oil companies were really going strong and a couple of executives with allegiences on either side of the Red River made some big splashes supporting their teams. Barbecue followed.

Some things bring out the competitor in us, like driving on Elm Street in Broken Arrow, where motorists are in training for Olympic Tailgating (the car in motion kind). I remember when I couldn’t let the boys beat me at ping pong, since they were already trouncing me at every video game. I figured they’d beat me at table tennis soon enough.

We’ve even got chili cookoffs these days. Competitive brisket smoking. Some are able to combine all of the above in the morning before the college football game. Outside the stadium you’ll find the competition pretty steep among the tailgating, brisket-smoking, parading, ping-ponging videogamers, who’ll end up so distracted they’ll completely miss the game.

That’s my crystal ball’s prediction, anyway.

Competing in the business world:

Is Your Name Famous?

Tell Me Why…

My friend Jim used to whoooosh his arms to one side in a sweeping movement while saying, “you gotta let it go, man…” Haven’t mastered his Zen technique yet, which is apparent when I find myself wondering things like:

Why do drivers back into parking spaces? Bank robbers, I understand. That whole quick getaway thing. Loading or unloading the trunk. I get that. But backing into your own driveway or in front of the diner? They even back in at QuickTrip. It’s just as difficult, traffic-wise, backing in as backing out. I parked in the south-40 at Reasor’s this morning but when I came out there were two cars in that single acre of parking.

A guy backed in to the space next to me. I squeezed inside, so I wouldn’t bang my door against his. He wouldn’t have noticed. He was trying to eat a burger in four bites. Big burger. Half of bite #1 was still hanging on the outside waiting for mouth-vacancy. Made me remember holding a sugar cube in front of a horse. Flump, flump, got it!

Burgers make us defy logic. Nefarious. I stopped at Burger King for a snack. They call their little burger a Whopper Junior, but needless to say, it’s not a Whopper. It’s barely a Whipper. It’s on the dollar menu. Price? $1.35

Go figure.

Some of you will remember when the regular McDonald’s burger (the super-flat thing with a squirt o’ mustard and ketchup, tiny diced onions and a couple of pickles) was fifteen cents. And to think: we had to save up the money to eat out…

The Good Old Days are only as good as our memories:

Is Your Name Famous?

Momma Tol’ Me…

…not to make that face, because it would likely get stuck that way. That was a long, long time ago. I was starting to make a face for some reason over the weekend and felt a muscle cramping up. My God! She was right!

I quickly pushed every facial muscle back where it ought to be and held my breath for just a second or two, before exhaling a sigh of relief. I thought she had been kidding.

She told me, when I was in high school and using the floor hangers for my clothes, that I’d better pick things up, or I’d end up breaking my leg. It was actually the anterior cruciate ligament, but we both knew the difference was merely academic as she happily drove me to the emergency room. I had tripped in the dark on a cast-off shoe.

As a result, I have a new sympathy for those big football players writhing on the astroturf alternately grabbing their knee and pounding the carpet. I’ve never caught a touchdown pass, but I have squirmed on the rug in pain. Pretty close to NFL in my book.

Of course, not all of the motherly advice can be looked upon as factually-based in experience. She also taught me to look both ways before pulling the car out into traffic – some time later I learned that her own practice is to close both eyes and invoke the guardian angels. Whatever works, I suppose.

I have found that morning traffic requires the help of the angels. Between those still waking up and others stoked on six or seven cups of coffee, the average rate of speed on a major streets ranges from six miles-an-hour to fifty-eight. And that’s just in the school zones. The traffic grid is just an accident waiting to happen, which is what momma knew all along.

And that’s why we change our underwear everyday, cause ya just never know…

When someone says “You sound just like your mother!”:

Is Your Name Famous?

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