Late yesterday afternoon, we found the ability to post new pictures had been restored. However, it seems the pics that were there all along are still gone, which is pretty distressing, but as long as I can now start adding pictures again, I can recreate whichever ones I can get my hands on.

From the Oh, Good Grief, Enough Already department, Michael Jackson’s burial is being delayed yet another two days. Originally it was scheduled for August 29th, which would have been his 51st birthday, but now the family needs time to get things in order before he is laid to rest.  Err…huh?

Will she? Won’t she? Rumors abound that Paula Abdul is back in negotiations to return to American Idol, possibly only for the “live” shows and not part of the audition process.  Or was it for only the audition shows? I don’t know. All this important information swirls by at such an alarming rate it’s hard to keep up. But, with the likes of Joe Jonas and his adolescent authoritative opinion (whoops, sorry, he’s now twenty) as a guest judge, hardly anyone will notice the void. Some other names that are being bandied about to take on guest judging duties are Victoria Beckham, Mary J. Blige, Katy Perry and Shania Twain. Of those, in my opinion, only two are viable (looking at it that the show is taken seriously), Mary J. Blige and Shania Twain. And of those two, I’d go with Mary J. Blige. She’s a hard core soul singer, which is more “pop” than Shania’s “country”. But that’s just me.

Remember a week or so ago I asked you to imagine the two deer laying in my backyard? Well, imagine no longer. Thanks to the miracle of perseverance and as much patience as we could muster, I can now show you what I was talking about.     

And keeping with the deer theme, isn’t this the most incredible video? Yeah, the one after the commercial…good grief! My aunt sent it to me and I was compelled to share it with you. Have a great weekend.

Deer For Breakfast In Texas – Funny blooper videos are here

Anthony, a representative from Wordpress itself, tells me, yes, I can transfer my blog to a new “home”. However, he, Belinda and Grace, Belinda’s supervisor all seem to be skirting another two points I’m trying to clarify: A) Will pictures transfer? (provided I can ever get them back) and B) Why can’t I upload any new pictures? The function is disabled and no one seems to want to tell me why or how else to get new pictures in there. But after one last try with these people, whether it’s intact or not, we will probably be moving this blog to a new place where I will have fully operating functions.

Over on the McGinty end of things, we spoke with someone yesterday, Jonathan, a second level supervisor who ascertained that yes, the particular section of building blocks I work with in putting together my McGinty installments is “broken” and they know about it and by August 28, it should be fixed. However, he suggested if I want to go forward I can use an alternative template which is now working. I will have to do that, because it’s been too long since my last McGinty. I have to go in and clean up that page from all the “tests” that “they’ve” done and things are a bit disheveled. I can do that over the weekend and you can look for a new installment (actually, the one from August 3) at the beginning of next week and my McGinty M should be able to take you there, unless something else happens in the meantime.

I got a call from my dentist yesterday. The last set of molds he took, the day he had to push back those overgrown swollen gums was a success and the first fitting of my new teeth will be on September 3. That seems so far way, but it’ll be here before you know it.

My nose is healing nicely and I see that doctor next Monday morning.

What’s today, Wednesday? That’s what I was afraid of. Bye!

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was in the wee, still dark hours of the morning of July 6, 1980 when we, the six of us; Grandma and Grandpa B., my mother, my sister Donna, her girlfriend Linda and I, stopped in our travels for a break from the hypnotic pace of the Interstate. We were on our way to Florida, for vacation. This was during the time I had that job in the factory along with the crazy Italian lady, just to give you a frame of reference in time.

We stepped out of the…what was it, a Ford Galaxy?…I don’t remember the year, or the make of the car really for that matter, but I remember the car we were driving in was huge and dark green and I recollect a Ford Galaxy being in the family at one point in time or other, but I digress. The early morning air was damp and refreshingly cool and made having to stand around, hunched over until our bones and muscles became aware we were no longer in a seated position a little more bearable.  For the sake of argument, I’m going to say this was South of the Border and it was bustling with like minded exhausted travelers. There was the soft whooshing sound of traffic from the highway, crickets chirping without a care in the world, muffled conversation from the throngs of people who had nothing more in common than to use the restroom or to perhaps grab a cup of coffee or a bite to eat and there was a haunting musical sound wafting from somewhere in the ether of the mist shrouded parking lot. It was only one tone that repeated at regular intervals, a wailing plea of a sound. “Baby, I…” it repeated, over and over. Of course, in our imaginations, Donna, Linda and I deemed it something sinister, like a cultish call or something and we wouldn’t find out until later in the trip what it actually was. Turns out, it was this:

We continued the drive and finally arrived at our destination, my grandparents’ trailer home situated just off highway A1A in Flagler Beach, Florida. The air was still cool and dewey as the sky was just beginning to brighten at this early hour of around 6:30. We wearily unpacked the car and collapsed until pots and pans began to rattle and bacon and eggs snapped and crackled on the stove. Quite honestly, and this is not without much exageration, it was most likely within the hour of our arrival-–Grandma B never slept (or at the very least claimed to have never slept) and when she was ready to get the day started, no one else slept either.

So, while we ate breakfast, the three of us young-uns concocted a fool-proof secret plan on how to negotiate the use of the Galaxy for later so we could head to the beach to start our must have Florida tans. That plan? “Can we use the car to go to the beach?” Good plan! Of course that was followed by “Oh yeah, by the way, how do we get there?” By 10am we were suited up and our towels, rolled up into neat little bundles and bottles of suntan lotion (remember when it was innocently called that?) were thrown into the backseat and we were on our way, smug with the satisfaction of our plan working like a charm, giddily anticipating a luxurious day of sunning, the reward of which would be a the beginning of a dream come true–a deep rich and tropical tan. We were also unaware of the horror that would soon befall us that would ultimately downgrade our reveling sextet into a fivesome-well, maybe a quartet and half a zombie. But any of that was the furthest thing from our minds as I maneuvered that tank of a car to a parking spot along the beach and we three self-named sun gods marched headlong onto the virtually barren sand already rippling with heat vapors.

Follow along next week when Florida Tan Tuesday continues.

Okay, enough of my computer woes. Let’s talk about my camping weekend. YES, the Rain Man came through. His powers of meteorological persuasion transcended across 6 states and into the eastern time zone. He would not divulge his methods but did assure me they involved secret ceremonious dances and gyrations and a failsafe incantation and other things he dared not speak of. We had picture perfect weather from the moment we arrived until…well, it’s still picture perfect. So, thanks, Rain Man.

It was however, very buggy in our site. Well, actually, all over camp. No matter how we doused ourselves with bug spray, we were still like a pay one price all you can eat buffet for every imaginable biting insect. Mosquitoes were anything but sparse and I’m peppered with bites all over the place and in one place, on the side of my neck, I got bit twice. Are there such things as vampire mosquitoes? And what’s with that other flying thing that looks like a long streamlined housefly, that moves at lightning speed, bites just as quickly and keeps at it until it meets it’s well-deserved demise once the victim can connect with it with a fatal swipe.

I also forgot it was daddy long leg season and everywhere you looked it was like an infestation. You know how I am, constantly on the lookout to begin with, but with so many around, my head was spinning. At one point, I actually said to Ariel that I think I need professional help. The older I’m getting, the jumpier I’m becoming. When we were packing up the truck at the beginning of the weekend, as I was carrying out the “kitchen” crate, I passed under the lightbulb in the basement with the string attached. The shadow of the little bell thing at the end of the string floated across the top of the crate and I bristled, gasped, and nearly dropped it because I instantly thought it was a spider and it was much too close to my face for comfort.

Well, I had my moment of quick thinking and took away a set of sore knuckles. We were on our way home and driving along when suddenly, a huge daddy long leg came marching across the dashboard, right at me. I could see the intent in every one of those eight legs. It was impossible for me to hurl myself into the backseat and my gasp followed by the back of my hand smashing the hard molded plastic took Ariel by surprise yet he maintained control of the truck and congratulated me on my victory and handed me a napkin for the clean up.

This was the first completely dry AND sunny weekend of camping we have had in the last 4 years. I don’t know if all that magical aura will stay with us and I don’t know if I could ask one more favor of the Rain Man, but we do have one last trip in a couple of weeks and, oh boy, how great would it be to close out the season with another dry weekend?

Reverend Dr. John Ruthledge, of the fictional Chicago suburb called Five Points, was a major character when The Guiding Light debuted and it was in reference to the lamp he kept in the window of his study that gave the show its title. It was this light that indicated to the residents of Five Points, that he was available to them in times of need. The Reverend was based on Preston Bradley, a Chicago preacher and founder of Peoples Church, which promoted the brotherhood of man.  19 year old Irna Philips found guidance in his sermons after giving birth to a still-born baby and it was those sermons that formed the core in the soap opera’s creation.

The Guiding Light, as it was originally known, began as a 15-minute radio show on January 25, 1937 on the NBC network. For about three months, the show was canceled by sponsor Proctor & Gamble which resulted in a barrage of angry letters from listeners. The show was reinstated on March 16, 1942 and ran until November 29, 1946, this time being sponsored by General Mills, who canceled the show.

Once again being brought to you by Proctor & Gamble, the show moved to the CBS radio network on June 2, 1947 and beginning on June 30, 1952 until June 29, 1956, The Guiding Light aired on both radio and television. June 30, 1956 brought the end of the radio version and the 15 minute broadcast was now being exclusively televised.

March 13, 1967 gave us the first color episode and a year later, the show expanded to 30 minutes. In the fall of 1975, The Guiding Light was officially known as Guiding Light and on November 7, 1977, the Bauers and the Spauldings and later the Lewises and the Coopers of the fictional town of Springfield, graced television screens for an entire hour.

A new look came to the stagy appearance of soap operas in February, 2008 with a more “realistic” look, filming the show with lots of exterior shots and with handheld cameras, effecting that skaky-cam style becoming popular with other television shows. Even interior shots were filmed this way to give them this new realistic look.

It was no prank, however, when on April 1, 2009, CBS announced it was canceling Guiding Light, due to low ratings. Several avenues were explored and offers made for other networks to pick up the flagging soap opera, but, as according to Telenext Media’s (the current owner of the show) senior vice-president Brian T. Cahill, “we are confident we have exhausted every possible option.[to find a new home for Guiding Light]“

I was waiting until today to post this as it was the original planned date of the final taping. But as it turns out, that happened on Tuesday of this week. The final in-studio filming was completed last week and the final on-location “shaky-cam” shots were completed in Peapack, NJ on the 11^th.

Reverend Dr. John Ruthledge’s lamp has been dimmed and the grande dame of daytime television, Guiding Light, is set to go dark with its final episode airing on September 18, 2009.

                      The flame of remembrance never dies…There is a destiny that makes us brothers. None goes his way alone. All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.     –  Edwin Markham

Today’s the day my query goes off to that agent lady, so now I just have to sit and wait.

And here we are faced with a great irony. You know I still can’t show you pictures, which hopefully will get rectified today. I asked the woman we’ve been working with trying to get this matter under control to call me after 2pm today and maybe between us we can get me back in business. The irony is, we’re camping this weekend and I just looked on the weather.com website for the weekend forecast and believe it or not, it’s nothing but sun, sun, sun and I can’t show you! The forecast is from tomorrow until the middle of next week but we need only until Sunday. It reads as follows: (Friday-Sunday) mostly sunny-partly cloudy, high temps of 80-81, low temps of 59-61 and chance of precipitation 20-10%.

My father is otherwise known as the Rain Man in his Goldwing group. His purpose is to keep away the rain from any event the group has planned. He told me yesterday he would do his best to try a long distance ritual (he wouldn’t divulge just what that is) so I could have at least one dry camping weekend. And it looks like it’s working. I just hope I haven’t put the kibosh on his spell by speaking about it prematurely. I’ll have to report back on Monday to see just how well it worked out.

And now, YIKES, I have GOT to get moving. I have an 8 o’clock dentist appointment and it’s 7:45. See you tomorrow!

Here’s the stupidest thing. I have a dentist appointment tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock. I’m going in so he can measure the bite for my new teeth. The post office is a two minute drive from his office. How convenient that I’ll be right there. But, get this, the post office doesn’t open until 10am. It used to be 8am up until about a year and a half ago, but they changed their hours to better service the community. Huh? So, Ariel has offered to take it with him and get it mailed from a more rational post office.

Other good news! The second scab that formed on my nose got sweated off yesterday while I was doing my workout. Were it not for the slight discolorations remaining in that spot, you’d never know I had surgery there. I think it’s going to heal virtually undetectably.

I found this in the news: Clifton Williams, of Joliet, Illinois, is facing six months of prison time for what records call a yawn-like sound in Judge Daniel Rozak’s courtroom last month. The yawn happened as Williams’ cousin was being sentenced for his crime. Williams was found in contempt of court and given the jail sentence, but if he apologizes and Judge Rozak accepts during a status hearing tomorrow, he could be freed. By then he will have served 21 days. A spokesman for the state’s attorney’s office says that what came from Williams’ mouth could hardly be called a yawn. “This was a very loud, boisterous, deliberate attempt on the part of this individual to disrupt the proceedings and show disrespect for the court,” the spokesman said. Ho hum!

In other news, Okeke Ikechukwu (say that three times fast!) a 26-year old stuttering laborer from Lagos, Nigeria is going to marry his pillow with which he has had a relationship for the past ten years. “I have my needs,” he says, “and so I have taken to sleeping with my pillow in my arms ever since I was 16. I have grown to fall in love with it, and I intend to spend the rest of my life with it.” His reasoning? “Since I am a stutterer, ladies have always laughed at me whenever I try to talk to them.” Unlike a woman, he says, the pillow would cost him little to nothing to maintain for the rest of it’s life. “I think it will make the ideal mate for me.” Well, divorce would also be easy. Do you know how many pillows I’ve been through in my life? Maybe he should take a cue from Mel Tillis and sing to his lady friends. Just a thought. But, oh, that gives me an idea. Maybe I can marry my….hmm? Oh, never mind. Gotta run. Bye!

One thing, though, I’ll put out to my tech savvy readers is a request for some help on a specific term. Any idea what an XML file is? I was asked to work with that to see if that’s where my blog pictures went. I don’t really understand too much detailed tech talk and this is one of those instances. If anyone can explain it, maybe I can work on that while I wait to hear back from Belinda.

In the meantime, I finally got off my you know what and got myself down to the gym yesterday for a much needed return to exercise. Not only do I feel the need (sore back, aching feet, panting with nearly every step I take) I also saw in the mirror the most obvious reason to get back to the weights and some heavy duty aerobic exercise. There, I’ve painted a nice grotesque picture of myself for all the world to see. It wasn’t the most stellar performance of my life, but I muddled through and just have to keep it in my head to persevere. And of course that means not capping off the night with a Mr. Tod’s mini pie or two. I bought a box of 10 mini pies at the end of last week so I could also wish him good luck on the show, Shark Tank, but I didn’t get to actually see or speak to him this time. Turns out, though, he got the investment from one of the “sharks” on the show.

The next thing I have to start concentrating on (both of us do, actually) is getting back to walking in our 4 mile route in the mornings. I know I mentioned it quite some time ago we were going to get back to it. We still haven’t.

I got an invitation to attend a writer’s conference with a guaranteed 15 minute, one on one sit down with a publisher for a personalized discussing and chance to pitch my novel. If I registered by yesterday I could save $50 dollars off the admission fee. I hemmed and hawed, as I usually do and when I saw the price tag–$395– I thought ‘you gotta be kidding me!’ I can’t afford that and there’s no assurance it would even do me any good.That probably sounds defeatest, but that’s quite a chunk of cash to throw away on a rejection. That’s defeatest, I know.

 I saw a report this morning that Paula Abdul could possibly end up on the new season of Dancing With The Stars, either as a judge or a contestant. Ay yi yi. The trauma.

Now it’s late and I need to get to work. Have a great day.

PS. The Florida story is coming!

The reason we couldn’t check on the website Saturday is because we had gone to the campsite for the night. It was a big party weekend and everyone we know (just about) was disappointed the last time we were there a few weeks ago when they learned we didn’t have this weekend in our schedule. So, we thought we’d go for the day, party it up and get a room at a hotel nearby.

That’s what we did. And, true to form, the sky was overcast and rain was predicted for later that night and we were told by Tim and his gang that up until that day (they’d been there since Thursday) the weather was picture perfect. Whatever! The party was great, tons of people around, more than we’ve seen on any one weekend in a long time and the rain started, but just an off and on drizzle.

The room we stayed in at the Holiday Inn was evidently a smoking room because as soon as we entered, we were smacked in the face with the stench of stale cigarette smoke. If that wasn’t bad enough, when I showered in the morning, I could smell it washing out of my hair. I must have picked it up from my pillow. Funny, how when you’re not exposed to it on a regular basis how offensive and yucky it really is.

On the way home, we hit alternating spots of rain and signs of hopeful clearing and we stopped for lunch at the Clinton Station Diner along Rt 78 here in NJ during one of the latter moments. We pass the building all the time and what intrigued me about it was the attached Blue Comet observation car turned dining room. And by luck, that’s where we sat. The food was good, the service was friendly. However, just so we wouldn’t feel like we failed at having a monsoonal weekend “at camp” or anywhere, for that matter, I think it was fate that our table was apparently underneath the air conditioner runoff because just outside our window, water, at a nice steady pace was dripping and splashing. 

Well, don’t worry, we’ll have our chance again next weekend. We have a regularly scheduled camping weekend planned.