A spring urge

I suspect that women suffer this anxiety every so often, but for completely different reason. It doesn't seem that odd, until you actually want to ask someone about it. Then the words are difficult to form on the lips. Asking the question, out loud, just isn't done. So I'll do it in print.

Do you ever want to see your toes? Just a straight bend your head down and see your feet? I do.

steve burke photo

It's not that I worry about them. I suspect that they are still there, and working as best they can under the enormous loads and unfair working conditions I put them under. I just need a little reassurance.

I can lay down, and hold my feet up and see them. Sometime I get a fleeting glance putting on my socks.

When I rid myself of the spare tire, life will be so much better. I'll see my toes every day. Until then I must resort to these.



Welcome spring!
Toad

BoA Blinked

Paige and her father were the receipients of a cashiers check from BOA this afternoon.

When ask to open a new account, without fees, Paige demured.

Let us give thanks, and check our statements, our kid's statements, and our grand kid's too.

Toad

Odds and Ends

You must understand that Mrs. T rarely reads these pages. This could be proof positive of her inherent good sense, or her belief that what you don't know can't hurt you. Either way the coast is usually clear.

In this case someone, probably my daughter, tipped her off, and I was fed hot tongue and cold shoulder for what seemed an eternity.

My sole defense, thanks to Foobella, was that I was going, with a smile.

Of course I'm speaking of the Marvin Hamlish ordeal, on St. Patrick's Day.

The ducats were for Mrs. T and a guest only. No trades, no substitutes. She had to go, present a picture ID, and a guest if she could dig one up. It had to be her.

So who spent the day, and the week, curled up with her nebulizer?

She couldn't go, and I was gypped.

We later talked to friends who went. They expected to get out of there long by 7 pm, having time left to partake of at least some of the days festivities, as there would be no leaving the taping early. They left a little after midnight. Whatever enjoyment they had, was lost somewhere along the way.

BOA

BOA may have blinked, although nothing has been settled yet. I'll let you know.

Kansas Basketball

Each year I wager #1 son $1,000,000, double or nothing, per game for each of KU's basketball games. By the end of the Big 12 Tourney I'm out half a billion dollars or so. By the second week of the NCAA tourney I'm even. Happens every year.

Whatever hit my bride

Has laid the dogs and I low as well. We are almost on the mend, so tomorrow may have some substance. As well, everyone is finally safely home from Australia. Thank you Ozzies for taking such good care of them.

Be well, enjoy the first week of spring.

Toad

Separated at Birth?

Alice

Tal Wilkenfeld

For the uninitiated Tal is about the hottest thing to hit the bass guitar since Paul McCartney. She barely 20 and can hold her own playing bass for Jeff Beck and/or Eric Clapton. Whale of a jazz bassist too.

Toad

Tailors, and a book review

In sheer desperation I consulted reference librarian, ADG of Maxminimus for a recommendation on a book I wanted to order. He choked at my choice, and instantly wrote that "my eyes should fall out reading such trash, read this instead." Where upon he sent me a link to Richard Anderson's book, Bespoke: Savile Row Ripped and Smoothed.

The book wasn't bad, but I don't believe it had the effect the author intended. Mr. Anderson was a long time tailor at the reknown Savile Row tailor Huntsman.



Over time Huntsman, lost their way, falling from the the top rung, to become just another shop, albeit the priciest on the Row, and that's saying something.

Anderson got out in time, and hung his own shingle, next door to his old firm, and is doing very well thank you. The point I took from the book, was most of the stuff on the Row is so-so, the big names fall, and you're most likely to leave Savile Row, down the price of a new car, for a suit that you're likely to be unhappy with.

Another voice in the wilderness is Steven Hitchcock of The Savile Row Tailor. He took over Alexander McQueen's seat when McQueen left Anderson and Sheppard. His blog often focus's on conducting a post mortem (ripping apart other tailors clothes) to see how well they are constructed. Often he is not amused.

Which is long way to get to my point.

A length of 10 ounce navy linen cloth showed up on my doorstep yesterday. Enough for a jacket, but probably not a DB. I've spent the day scrounging pieces to take to the tailor, so that he can work his alchemy.



The lining will be an old silk escape map.



The buttons from a Benson and Clegg set.

Now for the details, stealing heavily again from ADG.

One button front. This was an old Huntsman conceit. Their jackets are cut like body armour. My body is not, but I like the look.

Two button sleeves. It's all I have buttons for.

Side vents. As a right hand in my pants pocket man, I just like the way side vented coats move.

Besome pockets with ticket pocket. I keep Mrs. T's smoking supplies in there.

I haven't decided on the collar yet. If there is enough for a DB, then shawl. Otherwise, I just don't know, and am open to suggestions.

Finally, I'm torn. The material feels like it wants to soak in a tub for a couple of days before being handed off. Any ideas?

With luck, if I drop it off soon, I may get it back before the Easter bunny hits town.

Toad

Art? Part 3 The stall is working

We have visited the ART Man's gallery in the past. You can revisit our excursions here, and here.

Mrs. T and I drove by Sunday to see how things were progressing. Much has changed since our visit over the holidays. The man's megalomania may never end. In the mean time, 3 of his closest neighbors have placed their homes for sale. Similar homes two blocks away in the same subdivision sell for $100k more. Go figure.

Then

Now




Then

Now



Then





Happy St. Paddy's Day to y'all.
Toad

Upgrade the neighborhood

Buddy David, of Midwestern Malaise has off and on publicly fretted about his need/want of new garage doors, but at the same time lamented the expense replacing the doors would be. His neighbors may be willing to chip in, if only he'd ask, but I suggest a third way, mayhaps a better way to solve his dilema.

Why live with nasty old garage doors when you can have this?





or perhaps



or my favorite


Or David's?


A creative type could probably fashion their own. Fairly easy to make and install, inexpensive, impressive and fitting for all neighborhoods.

Whatta think David?

Toad

Happy Birthday

Have you seen Dr. Henry Louis Gates' current PBS series on tracing family history and how the use of genetics makes discovering your family's roots almost an exact science? I find it riveting.

In the course of the series Dr. Gates' researchers have traced the family tree of six or seven people you have all heard of. Meryl Streep, Yo Yo Ma, Eva Longoria, Steven Colbert, et al.

The stuff he found! If you haven't seen it look for it. I promise you will enjoy it.

One of my hobbies is an interest in the other than Anglo history of North America. Taught history relies almost exclusively on who, how and what the British did. Others were here first, and yet we are taught almost nothing of it.

Dr. Gates includes the history of today's birthday girl's family back to, and including, a petition, her many times great grandfather made to the King of Spain asking to be allowed to join his uncle in the new world. The request was granted. Ancient relative arrived 10 years before the Mayflower.

This young Latina chica's family has been here longer than ANY New England founding family, and today is her birthday.



By the time the Mayflower landed ancient relative had been granted land in what is now Texas. The family has been there since. A more recent great grandfather, without moving off the family property, lived under 5 flags in his lifetime. Spain, Mexico, Texas, the Confederacy and the US.

Recognize her now?


Happy Birthday, Eva Longoria.

Toad

How'd BOA miss this?

This is the little girl who was robbed by Bank (thanks for the Tarp) of America.



In the March 6, 2010 Economist appeared this article. Click on the story to enlarge it.



Reread the last line very carefully, and imagine how much stealing BOA could do in the interest of public service. It's a wonder they didn't think of it first.

Toad

Deteriorata

A Sartorial Observation

Men's business clothing is boring as hell. Blue, gray, stripe, no stripe. White shirt, blue shirt. It's not only boring to look at, its boring to wear. It's a uniform, and short of embroidering names on jacket fronts it needs to be treated as a uniform.

Don't even get me started on formal wear. By definition, formal wear rules for straight men require a man to be a neutral backdrop for the dish on his arm. Black suit, white shirt. What's more bland. The lack of respect for this simple rule is part of the reason men at the Oscars look so damn stupid.

There is no such thing as flashy formal wear. If you want proof, look at the characters in a symphony orchestra. Musicians and wavers dress to mute their personal virtuosity. To not get in the way of the tunes. It works.

Gym rat that I have become, depending upon what time of day I show up, I can get doused with Ellen or Dr. Phil on one set of monitors and ESPN on the others. Mercifully, without my glasses I can barely see the floor, but I have seen enough ESPN lately to make one observation. It may be a rule.

Except for the old white men, big conference and pro basketball coaches, both men and women are collectively the best dressed people in America.

I base this on a small sample size, but the rationale is sound.

Most of the men, were players. Being big, much of their clothing is custom. Many are young enough to still read GQ, and are influenced by what influences their players. They are paid well, and I would suspect NIKE, et al slips a bit of a clothing allowance into their Christmas stocking,along with a personal shopper.

Save for the size issue, women coaches are have the same incentive to look well.

Over the next couple of weeks, look around. I may be right.

Toad

Scotsmen and their sports

I've written before about my sports allergies, they're real. Caused me to miss the Olympics. Every last second of them.

What stuck with me though while I wasn't watching was how many normally clear thinking people blogged, wrote and talked about how they saw that their future involved Curling. At the time that struck me as odd, even for Americans.

Over a short whisky one evening, the reason this madness had taken over, became as close as the glass in my hand. It was the winter Scotch madness. Allow me to explain.

Much like Catholics, if you weren't born Scottish you're unlikely to become one. They're different from you and me, and we'd never catch up.

To an uncluttered mind the Scots are known for 3 things. Whisky, golf, and funny clothes.

Let's begin with the whisky. A natural product known for bringing courage to even the dourest of Scots. Some even develop a smattering of a sense of humor, in a dry, droll sort of way.

At home Mrs. T and I call it the "boy's and beer" excuse. Most things bad, can generally be blamed on a mixture of young males and too much beer. It's not much of a stretch to go from boys and whisky to swell games like caber (telephone pole) tossing.

You can pretty well imagine how this got its start.

A few telephone pole throws can play hell on your back, so even a blind man can see the appeal of looking for a similar game only with a smaller stick. Hence golf.

The aesthetics of Caber tossing required the old family kilt, but being male, golf participants needed an entirely new set of threads and toys, something to show off not only family pride, but also great bravery and daring do.



Somehow this madness caught on, and whole fields of the similarly attired can be found throughout the world on any given day. Some people even travel great distances, just for the opportunity to wear such duds.

Well, like sands through an hourglass, every year the seasons turn and eventually it becomes unpleasantly cold chasing a harmless golf ball around a field, so participants retire to a smoky room to reminisce and plan the next years clothing.

One year, after a bit of too much courage, a golf boy told his friends about how Italians play a game called boccie. A few persuaders later they rose as one from their den into the cold to give it a try. Wooden balls on snow didn't work. A few more persuaders and someone said, let's try it on the loch, and so they did, and it was good.

Being that they were male they needed new attire for this toe curlingly cold, ice boccie. A quick look into their sporting lockers gave all the inspiration needed.



Toad

funeral homes

Somewhere along the line, funeral homes, became parlors, then became mortuaries. Decca Mitford probably had something to do with that by the publication of "The American Way of Death". In typical Mitford fashion, she set off on the funeral industry like a wild dog confronting the funeral industry abuse of aggrieved families, she saw behind every funeral.

She had an impact for a while. To distance themselves from their shady competitors many "parlors" went from family enterprises to chains.

At the top of our street, next to the high school, is a mortuary. They have, what Mrs. T and I disrespectfully describe as, maybe 3 shows a month. How or why they stay open is a mystery, but every time I pass I'm reminded of Decca.

Passing there often makes me wonder what they could do with their free time, that is when they aren't having shows. I've gotten fairly creative at times. Seems like a wonderful junior prom space, art gallery, chauffeuring business, church. Who knows.

It seems as long they are empty, and probably have bills to pay whether or not they're working, it could be a great community resource, so long as you could deal with sudden cancellations.

Out of the blue, Number One Son sent me a link to this story in the Topeka, Kansas Capital-Journal, originally published in the Berkshire Eagle.

Mass. mortuary hopes chili cook-off brings 'life'

The Associated Press
PITTSFIELD, Mass. — A Western Massachusetts funeral home is trying "bring life" to business with a chili cook-off, a murder-mystery show and free limo rides to couples on their 50th anniversaries. Terry Probst, the new managing partner of the Devanny-Condron Funeral Home in Pittsfield, hopes the events will remind people that the funeral home is a center for community life.

He said if customers know that the funeral home also can be the setting for other, happier activities, they might take some comfort in the place later when dark times come.

Among other other events sponsored by the funeral home are an art walk, a visit by the Easter Bunny, and monthly birthday cakes to the Pittsfield Senior Center.

For all my joking about it, this kind of creeps me out, but I'm unsure why. Any ideas?

Toad

Bank of America

Several years ago, ten year old granddaughter Paige, in the spirit of American capitalism, opened a custodial savings account at her local Bank of America office with the $100 she saved. She hasn't touched it since.

Monday she received a letter from the home office stating her account had been closed and the bank wanted the $11.07 she owed. Her parents called to ask, huh?

Monthly account fees they were told, its our thanks for the Tarp funds. It shows up on your month statement.

Paige doesn't receive a statement, she went green years ago.

Tuff, pay up, or will sic the dogs on you, the voice on the phone intimated.

Today, Paige is going to school late so the local branch manager can tell a 10 year old why he stole her money. Mom stands ready to go "trailer trash" on them (dad's quote) if they don't give it back.

I'll let you know.

Toad

Stages of a boys life

Mrs. T and I volunteered to help a great friend at a professional do-gooder event over the weekend. Her husband is one of my oldest friends, and as guys will, he and I quickly began sizing up the women in the crowd. Pigs, I know.

There were two young, very attractive women in the crowd, and while cute, friend said, I have no interest any more. You?

I replied with my usual, "my shoes are older than her." He replied with his usual which I will not repeat.

That exchange led to this expose. It might help.

A boys life travels a long road.

From

I'd love to meet her

to

I'd do her

to

I'd do her, but at great personal cost!

to

I'd do her, but I am unwilling to pay the great personal cost involved, so I'll do something safer and as expensive instead.

to

I hope I can do her.

to

I want to do it all over again with her.


I hope that helped.
Toad

I bet your state doesn't do this

Missouri, probably much like your state, has money trouble.

Mercifully, the state constitution strictly requires a balanced budget. That's because the crackers and muttonheads that run the legislature are generally under indictment by the end of their limited terms, and given unlimited budget authority god knows where we'd be.

Unlike your state however, ours has a plan to restore fiscal responsibility.

Ready for this?

The Powerball Lottery

The state senate is arguing a bill that would require the governor to pony up $2 a week out his own pocket to "invest" in lottery tickets. If he wins, the winnings go to the state.

Pretty cool, eh?

From The Associated Press, February 24, 2010 - 10:16 AM

JEFFERSON CITY, Mo. (AP) - Some Missouri lawmakers want the governor to play the lottery in hopes both he and the state will win big.

The House Tax Reform Committee scheduled a hearing Wednesday on a bill that pokes fun at Gov. Jay Nixon's proposed budget.

The measure would require Nixon to buy a $2 lottery ticket each week from his personal paycheck until he wins enough to make up a $300 million budget shortfall.

Nixon's proposed 2011 budget assumes Missouri will get about $300 million if Congress extends the federal stimulus payments to states for an additional six months.

Toad

Thank you

Kids, collectively we have been awarded a major award.

The talented and witty Scottish Princess, Dumbwit Tellher has bestowed upon us the Kreativ Blogger Award, for which I am deeply humbled.

I like prizes.

If you haven't read her blog, Ms. Dumbwit is a visual feast. Part Art and Architecture, part life, love and family, and always entertaining, upbeat, and exciting. I look forward to her daily posts.

Subscribe right now.

Toad

Movie Stills

Think back to your favorite movie.

What was it that inspired you to see it? Had you read the book? Was your favorite actor in it? Was it date night and you had to pick something you'd both like?



Or, was it the photo in the ad, that caught your eye. It sure as hell wasn't the trailer.

Iconic images from movies fill our lives. I'm not alone in my inability to name famous actors. I may not be able to tell you who was in it, but I can probably recall the poster.

Each decade has a photo or a poster that is meaningful for a generation. Remember Easy Rider?


As long as movies have been made, stills have been released to generate publicity and to gauge fan reaction. It will go on forever.






If the movie is any good this could be the photo that rings a generations chimes many years from now.


Stick in the mud Mrs. T won't go, but I'm planning on it. Just wish I had a grandgirl in town to take me.

Toad

Women we Love

All my life and then some, Esquire Magazine has published an annual "Women We Love" issue. I haven't read it in 15 or 20 years, but was reminded of it when I saw it on display at the local newspaper stand.

In it are the usual, half sensual photo spreads for the movie starlets of the season, and clips and hints of only, what if. Normally pretty boring.

The last issue I read did have a column that has struck with me all these years, "women we are supposed to love but don't". Included in the list were the Victoria Secret girls. I couldn't have agreed more.

The second part of that story was naturally, the women we are not supposed to love, but do. I haven't a clue what any of the candidates then were, but I nominate the Eileen Fisher women.



Maybe it's because the appeal of 14 year old child/women posing as 20 somethings has just about finally lost its appeal for me. Do not misunderstand. I'm not a monk, but most fashion adverts leave me cold.



I probably should have asked, my bride, but didn't where Eileen ranks in the pantheon. I like the look. More importantly, I like the models.

Toad

Speeding tickets?

Police citations are taken with a grain of salt in Mayberry. They are somewhat more advisory than serious, especially if you have a certain mindset or are a member of a certain local tribes.

Tickets are meant to be fixed, except by the seriously stupid.

Get a ticket and one of two things takes place. You call your lawyer or police buddy and somehow everything goes away. All records are expunged. The second, more public option is this. On most commercial intersections hangs the shingle of one of the guys who was near the bottom of his law class. He advertises his ticket fixing service for $49. You may have to plead guilty to excessive noise, or part time vagrancy, but no moving violation ever occurred by the time he's through. All perfectly legal.



If you're of the right tribe, examples abound of cops driving the impaired home, after too many. In one case of mistaken identity the locals shot the tires of a tribesman involved in a drug bust gone bad. Once they realized their mistake the officers changed the guys tire, and returned his guns and merchandise.

I offer this background so you may share my incredulity encountered during dinner recently.

Mrs. T and I were at an event, the conversation was more gossip than anything and one of the women at our table, stone sober and straight faced, allowed that she couldn't count the number of times she had received multiple tickets in the same day. Usually driving car pool. She wasn't kidding.

Mrs. T got her first ticket in 30 years last summer and cried all day. She was unable to speak.

I asked if it were OK if her kids followed her modelling. Most certainly they wouldn't, she informed me. I'm still wondering why.

Toad