This Moose Walks Into a Bar - Part Two

Portland, 1991, originally uploaded by Thomas Hawk.

Back in April of '07, I posted a picture of a cute moose drawing and titled the post 'this moose walks into bar . . . ' and I asked for jokes. Don't recall much response.

Since then, I get hits here from google searches and various other searches looking for the phrase 'moose jokes' or 'moose walks into a bar' or any number of variations on that theme. So, I decided today to provide some jokes for the searchers.

I searched high and low and came up with this post titled 'A Duck Walks Into a Bar' at that place called A Community of Curious Minds (a place after my own mind).

So, without further adieu, I give you - a joke - or three.

Drum roll please.

A man walks into a bar. Ouch!

Ok, that was short. The community leader at curious minds says it's in fact the shortest joke on record - speaking in terms of ducks and bars, or man and bars (or moose and bars - pick your poison).

And another - with a backward construction . . .

An Irishman walks out of bar. It could happen.

Of course, I must provide a lawyer joke (lawyer wanna be that I am).

A man walked into a bar, leading an alligator by a leash. He asked the bartender, "Do you serve lawyers here?"

"Sure do," said the bartender.

"Good," replied the man. "Give me a beer, and I'll have a lawyer for my alligator."

Laughter ensues here.

And another . . .

A dyslexic guy walks into a bra.

Aw come on - that was funny.

- - -

Often too, I see hits from googlers and the like looking for 'the recipe' or 'the Baldwin sisters' (remember the Waltons and John Boy?). Well I remembered - and posted something here last September.

Well, for those searchers, I provide you with the recipe.

It's not what you think. But it's good.

The pink stuff. If you're from the South, you know it. Maybe if you're from the far Northwest you know it. Heck, maybe you don't know it.

But I do, and I love it.

The pink stuff. Plenty of sour cream and mayo and nuts. Every family has nuts.

bada bing.

Smiles ensue.

Ring of Fire

Many know by now, I'm compiling a list of 1,000 posts to read before you die. They're not my posts - they're yours. And I'm picky. Read them all here (I don't have a thousand yet, but they are adding up to at least a few dozen, so get some coffee and relax, and of course - read them).

Remember Mt. Redobut? It's quieted the last couple days, making some doubt it's recently hyped imminent eruption. I'm not so sure it's not the quiet before the storm. It will erupt. But, when? It most certainly has done it before (as have its many close neighboring peaks).

Mt. Redoubt and its sister and cousins and grandfathers all live in a very real ring of fire - as fellow blogger, up in Alaska - Laura Merle, points out in an archived 2002 post:

"Shortly before we moved to Homer, the area was dusted with volcanic ash during
an eruption of Mt. Augustine. Several years later, we awoke one morning to find a quarter-inch of gray ash covering the February snow, courtesy of Mt. Redoubt. The folks who lived on Diamond Ridge got a spectacular show."

Interestingly, I also read this article today at the Alaskareport.com recalling the worst earthquake to hit our nation, the 1964 earthquake that demolished Anchorage. You do know that earthquakes and volcanoes are interlinked - and that up in Alaska the Pacific continental plate is diving under the North American plate - yes, quite literally diving underneath it. In 1964, it dove thirty feet. Thirty feet. Thirty. Feet.

Thirty Feet. Incredible amount of moving earth and energy.

" . . . the magnitude 9.2 that occurred on March 27, 1964 at 5:36 p.m. Alaska Standard Time. One hundred fifteen Alaskans died as a result of the earthquake and the tsunamis that followed, as did 16 people in Oregon and California."

and, as a result - shock waves essentially went world wide,

"and shortened the intervals between eruptions of Old Faithful geyser in Yellowstone National Park."

As Laura reminded us,

"The graceful conical shapes that dominate our landscape remind us that we live along the Ring of Fire. The earth is in motion and the tranquility of those snow-capped peaks is an illusion."

Only God Can Make a Tree

photo by my son


Joyce Kilmer - Trees

I THINK that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.


A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;


A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;


A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;


Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.


Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

- - -

Yesterday, opening statements. First plaintiff put up = direct exam, tears. Today, expert witness - then first plaintiff again, hopefully no more tears. This is going to be a long trial - 3 weeks maybe.

At 70 - A Novelist is Born

am I blue, you would be too......, originally uploaded by Maureen F..

You simply must read this - it's a real story about some made up stories. Fantastic.

You know by now, I'm compiling a list of 1,000 posts to read before you die. They're not my posts - they're yours. Read them all here (I don't have a thousand yet, but they are adding up).

The one linked above is found at The Globe and Mail - published in Ontario, Canada.

You watch - retired engineer Alan Bradley, now soon to be famous novelist - is going places, literally.

Some of his words:

"I consciously sat down one day and asked myself if I was going to cave in and become one of them. And I decided that, despite how hard it would be, I would
much rather just stay me.”

and

"I did a story about a man who married a dragon . . . I enjoyed that kind of thing – not sure if people knew what I was up to . . . But in Saskatoon you could do that.”

and then,

"The hardest part of writing,” he confides, “is sitting down. Once I'm there, I'm good – I write about 1,000 words a day . . . After 35 years in the television business,” he says with a smile, “it's really not that much pressure.”

Walk

photo by my son - on a walk.

thoughts are many .. the morning is full .. the day has begun.

Just For Myself

-photo by my son

Today, trial begins. Jury selection - voir dire. Interesting times to come I'm sure. For now, I'll linger here in the solitude and in the quiet, for myself.

Nothing new to me. "Wish I may, wish I might . . . "

Recommended Reading

photo by my son - location: northeast Mississippi ancestral home

I highly recommend you read a post that I read today at the place linked here. It's written by Kyran Pittman at her blog, Notes to Self. She's titled it "Jolt" - and it did jolt me. My guess is, it will jolt you as well. We could all use more jolts.

It's one of at least a thousand to read before you die. I have more thousands (dozens) here.

Spunky Old Broads Month

I read at this linked place - that February is Spunky Old Broads Month. Somebody else said it, not me. But, I like it.

I do.

Go read a great article. It's one of a thousand to read before you die. I kid you not.

The author's article says, "Feisty older women are often life's true characters." That's it. I now know my true destiny.

A Day for Hearts - Walk Slowly

A photo by me from a couple winters ago in northeast Mississippi on a road I've traveled countless times.

- - -

Rainy Day Thoughts today brings a poem for a day for hearts. It is one in a million to read before you die, especially before you die.

Rain writes - "There are many [poems] that make me catch my breath. I thought of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's 'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.' That's very romantic but it doesn't make me cry.

My criteria for what is romantic apparently is does it make me tear up? This one does it:

Walk Slowly

If you should go before me, dear, walk slowly

Down the ways of death, well-worn and wide,

For I would want to overtake you quickly

And seek the journey's ending by your side.

-

I would be so forlorn not to descry you

Down some shining highroad when I came;

Walk slowly dear, and often look behind you

And pause to hear if someone calls your name.

- Adelaide Love

Where Men Win Glory

Pat Tilman was a hero. He was a football star and a U.S. Army Ranger, killed in Afghanistan.

I read this morning (here at The Oregonian) that one of my very favorite authors, Jon Krakauer, has written his newest book on Pat Tillman. It is set for publishing in late September 2009, and will be titled Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman.

Krakauer wrote Into the Wild, Into Thin Air, and Under the Banner of Heaven (all of which I've read). He has other books as well - books that I haven't had time to read yet.

I've oftentimes thought, especially since reading Into the Wild, and then seeing interviews by Krakauer, and reading about his writing - that, if anyone were to ever write about a tragic, yet beautiful story in my family - that I'd want Krakauer to be the one to write it.

He has a real integrity about him. It shows in his writing. He treats delicate issues with such care. He is concerned with painting a true picture, yet seems intensely protective of matters which could easily be exploited. For example, in Into The Wild, he seemed truly emotionally connected with the McCandless family, and he wanted desperately to protect them and shield them from any further unnecessary emotional harm. He wanted their approval of the story's depiction.

He balances the true grit of a story (the good, bad and the ugly) without being ugly. I sense in him a great respecter of persons - not of all things (who does that? or, who needs to do that?), but of things needing respect.

It's the story he's after - and he gets it. He makes a real life event into a story - a story that has nothing to do really with many (most people), but he writes it in a way that shows it has everything to do with those same people. He connects people with himself, with other people in comparable situations (whether emotionally, or historically or other ways) and with the reader.

That is the gift of a great story teller.

He draws you in. The story becomes your story.

Even if you've never been to Alaska, never desired to reach the summit of Everest, never thought much about the Morman fundamentalists who actually live a cult life with once innocent child brides, and who enslave countless children in our own United States, you can relate to the story behind the story.

I read the news of his new book on my laptop while sitting in my bed just after waking this morning about 5:30 . . . my husband was scurrying around choosing his tie, getting me coffee (heavenly gift), back and forth from the closet, the kitchen, the bathroom, my bedside table, the t.v. (he watches news as opposed to reading news like I do) . . . so, when my husband was close enough to hear my morning voice (I'm raspy, quiet and oh so untalkative in the morning), I said, "Jon Krakauer has a new book."

He said, "Oh?"

I said, "Yeah."

He said, "What is it?"

I said, "Pat Tilman."

Husband's eyes lit up. He stopped mid-scurry. He came over to see what it was that was on my screen.

Husband is one of those guys that lives, eats and breathes all things sports, especially football (and track and field). Husband is also one of those guys that is deeply affected by heroes. Who isn't, really. But, Pat Tilman had been a very special man, and Husband had followed his story closely - from beginning to end.

Husband said, "I'll be."

Husband said, "That'll be good, that - will - be - good (pausing and emphasizing each word)."

Then off to work he went. A happy man.

I hope he remembered to take his tie.

(I should also mention that Krakauer is from Corvallis, Oregon - my self appointed and adopted home town - I mention that just because I love that it is true - also, the editor of National Geographic, Chris Johns, is a fellow alumni of mine at Oregon State, also in Corvallis. He spoke at my graduation! I'm so proud of my school and the town that surrounds it).

Affection for Books

I have such an affection for books and cleverly and beautifully written sentences in a tale. Perhaps it is my inborn sense of tragedy or foreboding that recognizes the oftentimes healing relationship between mere words and everyday situations (and not so everyday) - the weaving of the two - painting a scene that somehow helps to resolve a situation unrelated of mine or yours or some stranger.

Perhaps it is my artistic expectations yet unfulfilled. Witty I am, despite being serious minded mostly. Complex creature I am. All of us are though really. All of us are.

Human.

The written word. It is what makes us unique.

Dogs communicate.

But they don't share their memoirs with their little dog friends. They bark, they wag their tales, they love us unconditionally - but they cannot express their thoughts fully, nor can they share written words on paper with each other. Dogs do share, don't get me wrong - they mean much, to me personally, but they do not have what we have - the power to create, to express in words our thoughts, to write them down, to leave for eternity.

Just my thoughts this morning, an ordinary Thursday morning.

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet

Found a link to this interview of the background of the fascinating book set in Seattle by Jamie Ford. It's called Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet.

Sounds so intriguing. Here, too, is a link to Jamie Ford's blog post on feeding your inner voyeur. I liked it very much.

An Answer of Sorts

A post back, I posed the question what is common with the grouping: Grange Hotel, Brampton, England - and Karel Pravoslav Sádlo, a Czech cellist - and Trevor Exton, a rugby player.

I'm still working on an answer of sorts, so do stay tuned, and feel free to interject.

I will tell you this - I've recently begun reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, A Novel .. and it has inspired my thoughts.

Fantastic book by the way. Really fantastic.

A Hotel, a Cellist and a Rugby Player

*Grange Hotel, Brampton - England.

*Karel Pravoslav Sádlo, a Czech cellist.

*Trevor Exton, a rugby player.

What DO these all have in common?

Happened upon Just a Girl, Balou's blog in central Wisconsin - found a good playlist here. Take a listen. Mix it up.

She's playing Jack Johnson, a song from Snow White, and Make U Move by Daniella. More too.

I ain't gonna preach to you 'cause I ain't your motha . . Uhn mmm mmm . . Gonna make you move . . feel the beat baby . .

Turn it up. Mop the floor.

Snap your fingers. Sway. Roll the windows down when you're in your car. Feel the wind in your hair.

Yeah baby.

A Meanderings Post

flickr photo by jamesganderson1979

First, the funny.

Pamela's Auntie Fern is nearing 100, and recently has needed some help to and from the doctor. So, Pamela stepped in to help - and instead was helped by her Auntie Fern. Funny how that works usually.

(You may recall Pamela and her Auntie Fern and the other sweet ladies who aren't done yet from this post.)

So, on the way to the clinic, Pamela and Auntie Fern shared a moment discussing the finer points of the phrase, "PTA". Here.

You shouldn't miss it. It's a keeper in my list of one thousand posts to read . . . you know the drill. Here's the rest of the thousand (dozen).

Here's some of Pamela's moment . . . seems Auntie Fern had been to weak to shower before the clinic visit . . . and Pamela told her she can, of course, help with that . . . But, Auntie Fern says,

"I did the PTA this morning, so I’m good to go."

I thought 'what the heck is the PTA and then raised my voice so she could hear my query. (She seems to have gone nearly deaf in the past few months, too.)

“Oh?”

She seemed surprised that I wasn’t party to the information she was about to share.

“That’s when you are only able to wash your Pits, Tits, and A-double-s.”

Now from the Volcano front.

Mt. Redoubt, in Alaska's Cook Inlet region, has not erupted yet. Alaska has many earthquakes every day, and has had them - not withstanding Redoubt. However, since Redoubt is so intriguingly a ticking time bomb that I would be interested in seeing "explode", I follow the recent earthquakes there a few times a day here (since earthquakes and volcanoes there are quite linked).

The latest earthquake near Redoubt was at 02:05 AM AKST. Magnitude: 0.58 ML Latitude:
60.4998 Longitude: -152.7340

That's 1 mile (2 km) NNE of Redoubt Volcano.

Stay tuned for more updates.

LSAT news.

Here's the story of the young man who reaped benefits of perfect preparation - from University News - Appalachian State University:

Christian Kucab of Raleigh has always wanted to be a lawyer.

His meticulous approach to reaching that goal is paying off. Kucab scored a perfect 180 on the law school admissions test (LSAT).

That accomplishment, one achieved only by about 25 out of 125,000 LSAT test takers nationally, was the result of hours of practice preparing for the rigorous exam, he said. Kucub graduated in May 2008 with a BS degree in political science with a concentration in pre-professional legal studies from Appalachian State University’s Department of Political Science/Criminal Justice, now the Department of Government and Justice Studies. “Many people practice a lot before taking the test,” Kucab said. Practice and his ability to do well on tests served him well.

“It’s really stressful. You have to remain calm and get in a zone,” he said about the timed test. Kucub spent weeks studying and taking practice tests before taking the LSAT in December. “It takes a lot of discipline and self study to prepare for the test,” he said.

My long journey

Today across America, many law school hopefuls are taking this important LST test. I have taken it before. And I'll take it again.

But not today.

I was registered for the test today - and until late yesterday, had plans to take it. However, given my tough last week, unexpected schedules, and a bit of hesitation on my part - knowing I could do better - knowing this could be my last shot - knowing sometimes I rush into things through sheer emotion - knowing I need to do this right, this has to be right. It must be right.

Yesterday it wasn't right. I had read a few days ago of a young man who scored a perfect score on his LSAT. He didn't score that perfect score because he rushed into it. He didn't score that perfect score because he lucked in on a good test day. He didn't score that perfect score because he didn't have last minute circumstances.

He worked and had worked and then had worked even harder. He practiced for that test. He practiced like nobody's business. He wanted what he wanted and he worked damn hard for it.

He prepared despite circumstances - over a long period of time.

That is what I must do. What I had done up to yesterday was good, don't get me wrong - and I had been quite steadfast (really up until this past week) in my studies and practice. But I hadn't had time (nor energy) to pull it all together this week to be as focused and "zoned in" as I wanted to be for today.

I knew yesterday driving home it simply wasn't going to happen.

I really needed it to happen today. I wanted it to happen today. If I'm to re-enroll this Fall in law school, the test today needed to be the day -- the next test is in June, and probably is too late "in the season" to be considered for Fall admission.

Taking the June test means another year.

Another year of waiting for law school. I'll be 45 in a few days. The years are piling up.

See - that's my problem though at times. I make decisions based on years, how much time I think is left, how much time has passed . . . hurry hurry hurry - instead of making those decisions on logic. The tension between my extremely logical brain and my very passionate soul gets me in a fix.

I can really prepare. Take my time. Do it right. Then, it will happen.

I'll be ready. What's another year?

I chose to wait. I did that. Nobody told me to. Circumstances are not dictating this delay. Circumtances helped me figure out I'm in charge - not the ABA, not the LSAT folks, not any law school, not any rules or my own past failures.

I may not have taken the LSAT today, but I washed my pits, tits and a double s .. and I smell good.

Let Them Eat Cake

Mom's coming today. To work I go this morning. Home I'll come this afternoon and clean house some more and cook - something.

Maybe a cake. I didn't make this cake - but I did shoot it. It's a Starbucks treat from a couple weeks ago. I was practicing with my camera, and my fork.

I'm good with a fork.

Natural Products of Time

Rushing around this week trying to accomplish more than usual, so the posted photo is my gift for the eyes this Wednesday. I shot this a few days ago near my office on a quaint little street.

Ever had goat's milk? Maybe I have, but if and when - it was when I was little.

News on the work front - one of our upcoming trials was continued yesterday. Now we have one trial this month - and one next month. And a mediation next week. Much to do.

Mom still coming later this week. LSAT still happening on Saturday. Left my study materials at work yesterday, so I didn't get to study last night (yes, that's right - that means I study "a bit" at work).

Getting over the hump of Wednesday.

Smile

Tough week. Work. Two trials, both starting Feb. 23. No word from either Judge on continuances. So, much to do .. trial prep meetings to schedule .. calls to client .. calls to expert witnesses (doctors).. do you know how easy it is to get a doctor to call you back? As you can imagine, doctors don't like to block off big blocks of time for a trial.

Copies of records to compile, label, check, re-check, scan. Where are the radiology films? Do we have them? They're from 2006 - didn't somebody check already? Co-defense has them? Great. We made copies for everyone.

Mom's coming to visit this week.

LSAT Saturday.

The end.

--- except for the lovely smile of only daughter. Lovely.

Groundhogs Just Wanna Hook Up

Groundhog Day isn't about the weather and Spring and six weeks of cold or warmth . . . those dogs come up out of their holes in February - where they've been hibernating - and look around for love.

Their real love season tho is in March apparently, so . . . if they don't find it, they go back down for "six" weeks, or that's the gist of it - it seems.

Well, read all about it here at the Morning Call Dot Com.

She Went Down That Road

the place had character, originally uploaded by m.a.x.

A New York newspaper ran a story (I found it this morning) on a Queens mother of five who had chronicled her improbable journey from a high school dropout to a law student.

She's now a lawyer, working for Legal Aid, helping children in family court.

Her name is Angela Hines - perhaps a true Angel sent to inspire and encourage dream building. She certainly has been an example of overcoming adversity.

From the New York Daily News article:

"A lot of preparation goes into each case," said Hines, 39, who also cares for a stepson. "I try to learn about my clients and their struggles.

I went down that road, and I can deal with people."

- - -

The linked article is one of thousands I recommend. Read it. Read other great pieces here (from my one thousand posts to read before you die).