All posts by Mustang.Koji

I have found that "family" around you is a product of twists of fate, world events and personal decisions made long ago. Anguish, happiness, despair and harmony. The effect of war on families and the resulting peace from the untold sacrifices made by the Greatest Generation. While I am not a writer, I hope to be able to bring to light the spontaneity of life. As I wish to be historically accurate, some quotes will be as I heard them...but there was no malice coming from those that spoke those words. They were reliving the past horrors of war - a war that you nor I fought in. They did.

Iwo Jima Flag Raising(s) – the MOVIE (Part 1)


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The more immortalized flag was just hoisted in the background, with a few of the seven famous Marines still trying to secure it. The group of Marines in front have just lowered the first smaller flag that had been raised a bit earlier. February 23, 1945. USMC photo.

I assume you know of the iconic flag raising atop Mt. Suribachi by our courageous US Marines on Iwo Jima?¹  It was immortalized, in my opinion, by the most iconic photo of WWII.

But did you know there were TWO flags?  And that THREE cameramen were involved with capturing the two flag raisings?

And did you ever wonder where the movie of the flag being raised came from…or who shot it?

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You have seen the above color footage of the US flag being raised on Iwo Jima (above) during WWII countless of times.  On TV.  In movies (that’s important – the link to irony later).  Now the internet and YouTube.

And whether you know it or not, it is the ONLY movie – in color, even – ever taken of that proud moment.  A time when the flag was the symbol of the United States.  Flown proudly everywhere without question – unlike the incredibly sad state of affairs today.

But the photographer who took this B&W picture below became famous beyond imagination.  He even won the Pulitzer Prize.

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Iconic photo by Joe Rosenthal.

But in sadness, the Marine who filmed the historic movie footage never even got to see it let alone become famous.

He is still on that stinking island… He was cut down by a Japanese machine gun in a cave while holding a flashlight.  His body was never recovered…  just like my Uncle Suetaro.

He is also a soul lost in a faraway place.

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This series is not being written for military historians like my good friend, blogger and Marine, Mustang_USMC (and from whom I beg forgiveness for writing about his beloved Marine Corps).

It is written for everyday folks… American civilians like you and me.  Or kids who are not taught about the battles or patriotism or the heroism that abounded during World War II (WWII)… but instead, are largely taught of the racism and discrimination that took place during the war.

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Sgt. Bill Genaust at right, standing in front of the flag raised on Mt. Suribachi on Iwo Jima.

The man who filmed this historic movie footage was Sergeant Bill Genaust (pronounced Jeh-noust), USMC.  William Homer Genaust.  His last Primary MOS was 4671 – Combat Photographer/Motion Media.  And although he was on Iwo Jima as a combat cameraman, he was a Marine rifleman, first and foremost.  He was like any other Marine.

And like all of the many young Marines who heard the call of duty at that time, he enlisted.  But he was not young.  Far from it.  He was 37 years old by that time and was well established in his hometown of Minneapolis, MN.

He was married; his wife’s name was Adelaide.

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Sgt. Bill Genaust’s wife, Mrs. Adelaide Genaust.

And they lived in this quaint brick house.

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Their little brick home in Minneapolis.

People that knew him say he had an air about him; that he was confident and people around him sensed that.

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On a fateful night after Pearl Harbor, Bill Genaust was listening to the radio one evening when an advertisement came over the air with the Marine Hymm playing in the background.

The United States Marine Corps were looking for cameramen.  He enlisted the next day.  After training like every other recruit, he earned his Eagle, Globe and Anchor (commonly referred to as EGA) and earned the right to be called a Marine.  He was ready to fight.

By the summer of 1943, Bill Genaust was in Quantico, VA, learning cinematography.  Concurrently, SSgt. Norm Hatch was ordered to undergo motion picture camera training.  At that time, organized, large scale filming in combat was new to the Marine Corps as well as for the rest of our armed forces.  It was learning on the fly for all intents and purposes.

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Norm Hatch today on left and earlier as a major. USMC photo.

At the time of Pearl Harbor, motion picture filming was largely done by heavy and cumbersome to use 35mm motion picture cameras.  These were the old movie cameras that had what I call Mickey Mouse ears for film storage.

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Typical 35mm motion picture camera. US Army.

Understanding the horrible conditions in which the Marines would be fighting (jungle, swamps, sand, humidity, etc.), Hatch realized using 35mm equipment was not realistic.  Further, such movie cameras needed their spools threaded by hand when putting in new film.  Imagine doing that while enemy bullets are zinging by and about you.  (Believe me, I know what loading one is like.  Yes, I used a 16mm Bealieu movie camera when I was in high school.  I also loaded my grandfather’s 8mm Nikon movie camera when I was twelve a number of times.)

Also, an exposed spool could be dropped after removal or unwind.  In either case, it would be ruined.  Or, an explosion can rain down sand into the camera’s exposed innards making it inoperable.

Hatch proposed using the lighter and more compact B&H 16mm cameras.  The US Marine Corps went about acquiring every B&H 16mm camera available.  Specifically, the B&H Autoload motion picture camera.

But most of all, the B&H movie camera was loaded via a preloaded magazine – a magazine that had COLOR film.

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A 16mm B&H Autoload motion picture camera, likely similar to that used by Sgt. Genaust on Iwo Jima. It’s preloaded magazines – but with only 50′ of Kodacolor movie film – are to its left. The combat version of the Autoload likely had a front turret with three lenses of differing focal lengths.

When the film is used up, the magazine is simply popped out then swapped with a new one, carried around like magazines would have been for a BAR.

Finally, the Marines had some “new” equipment for a change (i.e., not obsolete) and fitted their style of combat.  But Sgt. Genaust would not only be shooting film.  He will also be shooting bullets.

More to come in Part 2.

June 29, 2010
My two youngest kids at the Marine Corps War Memorial, June 2010.

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Notes

1.  Iwo Jima is now officially referred to by the Japanese government as “Iwo Tou” but for the purposes of this post, I will use Iwo Jima.  A piece of trivia: the name “Iwo Jima” had come from the Japanese themselves but in actuality, the island’s name was “Iwo Tou”.  In Japanese characters, the name is written as 硫黄島.  The third character can be read “shima”, “jima” or “tou”.  Long story short, the Japanese military, in referring to the island many years earlier, misread it as Iwo Jima.  It was really pronounced Iwo Tou.

Just Some Snapshots #14


I have been distracted for this and that, more so as of recent; life does get in the way as they say.

But just some recent snapshots to perhaps brighten your morning…

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Graptopetalum rusbyi, a Sedum.
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My Little Cake Boss’ shoes.
Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, June 28, 2010
Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, June 28, 2010, part of the Smithsonian.
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Graptopetalum rusbyi, a Sedum.
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Echeveria pulidonis bloom.
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The Endeavor.
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Graptopetalum rusbyi, a Sedum.
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A kalanchoe’s new branch dazzles you in pink and orange hues.
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A WWII P-51 Mustang presented in sepia. A P-47 Razorback is in the background.
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A Scaevola – Bondi White
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Our flag and the glory days of backyard aviation.
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An English daisy.

c-10-191Have a great day!

Homemade Meatballs and Spaghetti Sauce


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I wanted to take a better picture but this was all the spaghetti that was left after we ate.

You must all be wondering.

What is a third generation Japanese-American doing trying to make Italian meatballs?

It’s as if you saw John Wayne behind the sushi counter asking if you want yellow tail or halibut.

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Well, the schedule has my kids staying this week for Spring Break…and they are bored.  They are so bored, they again asked, “What are we having for dinner tonight?  The same stuff, Papa?”

Egads.

Made them my killer (but now boring) Fettucine Alfredo with prosciutto and green peas Monday night and beef stroganoff yesterday night (with Jack removing every last mushroom from his plate).

From scratch.  None of this sauce out of a bottle or Hamburger Helper stuff.

So….  My son Jack seems to like meatballs for some reason.  He gets it at Subway and at this Italian restaurant in Belmont Shores.  The last time he did, I told him I’d make it.

So I did.

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Just wanted to throw in a random photo… but that pot does have the basil I keep growing for cooking use. When it’s growing good, I use it as a backdrop for my macro pics. BTW, its a picture of a picture of a picture…of chalk. 🙂

I had heard many horror stories about making meatballs.

They were hard like golf balls.

They were just round hamburgers.

So I went to my trusted cooking bible: Cook’s Illustrated.

Their recipes are the Triple T’s: tasty, tried and true and only (old) male buffoons like me can mess them up.  I’ve proven that.

But it turns out their secret ingredient was… buttermilk.  Crazy.  But it worked out wonderfully.  And you used only the egg yolk; using the whole egg does something to the texture, Cook’s Illustrated said.

The ingredients for the meatballs were:

  • 3/4 pound ground chuck (85/15 ground beef can be substituted)
  • 1/4 pound ground pork
  • 1/4 cup buttermilk
  • Two slices white bread (with the crusts cut off) cut into small cubes
  • 1/4 cup grated Parmesan Reggiano (my preference)
  • One minced garlic clove
  • Two tbsp minced parsley (I used the broad leaf Italian parsley to make up for my being Japanese-American)
  • One egg yolk
  • 3/4 tsp table salt
  • Pepper to taste

The ingredients for the spaghetti sauce were:

  • 28 oz can crushed tomatoes
  • One minced garlic
  • Olive oil
  • Salt, pepper
  • 2 tbsp minced basil
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My rolled meatballs. In hindsight, they should have been a bit bigger… and if you’re wondering what the cardboard egg carton is for, it’s a great (disposable) way to drain your fried foods.

For the meatballs:

  1. Soak the bread in the buttermilk for 10 minutes, crushing the bread occasionally to break it down.  Do not drain.
  2. Combine all the meatball ingredients in large bowl.  (I slice through the mixture using a fork to bring it all together rather than using my hand to mix it.  Keeps the mixture loose.)
  3. Form meatballs (without compressing) about 1-1/2 inches in diameter, rolling mixture in hands.  Set aside.  Complete for remaining mixture.
  4. Heat 1/4″ vegetable oil in 10″ skillet.  (I don’t recommend non-stick.)
  5. Carefully drop meatballs one by one into oil; they should sizzle.  If your skillet is big enough, you may be able to do them in one batch.
  6. Adjusting the flame, keep them sizzling while making sure ALL sides are browned.  Perhaps ten minutes. (I made the mistake of having the heat too high and the meatballs too small.)
  7. Drain.

For the spaghetti sauce:

  1. Drain the oil from the skillet.  Return to range.  Pat away most of the oil BUT leave all the yummy crusty stuff on the bottom.
  2. Heat then pour in about a couple tablespoons olive oil and garlic.  Scrape up all the crusties on the bottom as best you can. Do not burn garlic; no more than 30 seconds.
  3. Carefully pour in the crushed tomatoes.  Continue to scrape up remaining crusties then bring to boil.
  4. Turn down heat then simmer for about ten minutes, stirring occasionally.
  5. Add basil and meatballs then simmer for five more minutes.
  6. Adjust seasoning.

They suggested reserving a 1/4 cup of the pasta water.  After draining the al dente spaghetti¹ and returning it to the pot, add back the pasta water and a couple of ladles of the sauce.

Coat then portion out your spaghetti from the still warm pot onto dishes.  Pour a bit more sauce onto pasta, top with three meatballs.  Your kiddies can add Parmesan Reggiano to their liking.

Bon Appetit!

(No, I am not Julia Child.  You are sadly mistaken.)

Note 1: Use ample water; I use more than a gallon for a pound of pasta.  Also add one tablespoon salt immediately before adding pasta.  Stir to make sure they don’t stick together then cover to bring back to boil as soon as you can.  Uncover then rigorously boil for recommended time for al dente.

Good Friday, a Rattlesnake and Game Boy


At times, I feel uncomfortable being of the Buddhist faith.  Perhaps I am not as devout as my grandfather was reported to be but my family is Buddhist.  I guess I feel uncomfortable because so many of you – my friends – are of the Christian faith and cherish it grandly.

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My bud Don during the dedication of the new “ambo” (?) at his church. He is participating in a Good Friday play as I type.

Because I am Buddhist, it is difficult to fathom the importance religiously of today, Good Friday.  One of my most trusted friends of old, Don, partakes in a play each Good Friday at his Catholic church of which he is a most faithful member.  I feel some sadness as I am unable to grasp the deepness of his love for his God or the significance of this day.

But each Good Friday, my mind races back to the Good Friday of 1992.

My oldest daughter was home as there was no school.  She was nine at that time

Playing in her bare feet, she was bitten by a rattler in the front yard of my home.

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My first daughter about six hours after the anti-venom was administered, with her intensely pained left foot resting on a pillow.

Yes, my memory is not all that accurate, Robyn, but it was late morning.  I was working in Downtown LA that day when a call came into my office.

When I picked up the phone, it was her mom.  You have to understand her to appreciate this but she said pretty calmly, “I think Robyn got bit on her foot by a snake.”

“Huh?  Whaaat?  Where?  Are there puncture marks?”

“Ummm…  Let me go see,” she calmly says.  Yes, she did.  OMG!  Didn’t she check already?

After a minute, she comes back and matter-of-factly says, “Umm, yes, there’s two little holes on her toe…”  It was as if she was telling me Robyn got straight A’s again.  Very routine for Robyn.

“Call 911!” I said quite loudly then hung up.  I ran to my boss’ office and said yelled, “I think my daughter got bit by a rattlesnake!  Bye!”

Did I mention I was the opposite of my ex-wife?  I got pretty “animated”.  It was different than being told she got straight A’s again.

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Remembering this was before inexpensive cell phones, I raced home.  It took about an hour to drive the 25 miles, even back then.  When I got there, no one was there.  But a neighbor told me the paramedics took her to Brea Community Hospital.  “Huh?  Brea Community?  Where’s that?!”  No Google Maps, either.

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After the anti-venom drip is started, the waiting begins. Her mom brought along her favorite yellow blankie.

If I recall correctly, I got to the hospital about two hours after the call.  Apparently, the paramedics were going to medivac her when they located this hospital with anti-venom in the neighboring county.

It was the darnedest sight.  Here were these two pretty rugged-looking paramedics in Emergency, rubbing their huge hands together like if they were outside in the snow.  Briefly, her mom explained yes, it was a rattler.  The doctor wasn’t sure what anti-venom to administer at first but after calling a specialist in Arizona, they decided on the anti-venom.  However, the anti-venom coagulates at the top of a suspension liquid in these tiny glass tubes.  The paramedics were rolling these tubes in their hands to warm and melt/dissolve the anti-venom into the liquid.

My daughter, a pretty tough kid, was just laying on the gurney quite bravely.  She didn’t whimper, complain or show fear.  She would be that way for the rest of the night – well, except for a split second.  In fact, the only time she would show emotion was when she pummeled her younger brother – frequently.  He apparently deserved it.

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I believe this was taken nearing midnight. Those faint lines going up her ankle were drawn by the nurse at certain times to mark the spread of the toxins and swelling. You can see the effects of the snake bite; it was really purple.

There was cause for alarm, however.  The first responders were able to locate the snake in the strawberry plants then lopped off its head with a shovel.  But it was a baby rattler.  For those of you who don’t know, baby rattlers are unpredictable in how much venom they would inject for a kill.  Luckily, it had killed Mickey Mouse a bit earlier (or maybe it was Minnie), thereby somewhat depleting its venom supply; you could see the bulge in its body from the mouse (Yes, they put it into a glass jar to show the doctor.  Yes, we kept in the freezer for awhile as a souvenir.  I even took it to show my boss.  Who would believe a nutsy story like this?).  Plus, Robyn was a small girl.  Smart, but small.

They began the drip as soon as possible… but by around 11 pm, you could clearly see the toxins marching its way up her leg, discoloring her skin as it spread.  The swelling got real bad, too.

Then, the news.  The nurse said if the swelling doesn’t subside by around midnight, the doctor will have to make an incision in her calf to relieve the swelling.  Further, they did not know if there would be any permanent tissue or nerve damage.

Talk about feeling helpless…  All we could do was wait.  By this time, her skin began to turn an ugly shade of grey.

Then for the first time that day, Robyn understandably let out a tear or two.

So did I.

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Fortunately, about an hour afterwards, the toxins stopped its march up her leg.  The anti-venom was finally taking effect.  Soon thereafter, the swelling began to subside, slowly but surely.

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Robyn in the morning chowing down on one of her favorite foods at that time – bacon. Mine are much better, of course, fried up perfectly.

By late morning – and while the skin was still an ugly shade of grey – a physical therapist came in.  Oddly, she was the owner of an interior decorating store at the base of our hill; she had sold us all our new furniture and interior stuff like wallpaper and window treatments five years earlier.

She had Robyn get out of bed then try to walk.  Although she had a bad limp from the pain and tenderness, the therapist said there was no nerve or tissue damage to her foot or leg.  Whew.

And the Game Boy?

I thought she earned it for being a tough kid so I got her one.  She got pretty good at it, too.

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The new Game Boy… the start of endless fighting between her and her younger brother who she beat up all the time… and who now benches 400 pounds.

Oh…  Although Robyn’s name wasn’t mentioned, her mom told me later that she made the news on KFWB news radio.

They didn’t mention her new Game Boy, though, or how brave she was.

Darned media.

Photo Challenge – Ephemeral


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This week’s photo challenge – Ephemeral.

For this week’s Photo Challenge – Ephemeral.

A clematis bloom’s life is so brief.  It can be seen like this for but a second; it shall never repeat.

Just Have To…


Obama-Deal-copy

I just have to…  Sorry.

It is beyond me as to why Obama would make such an effort to “come to an agreement” with Iran..?

That piece of paper equals the folly of Chamberlain’s Munich Agreement of 1938.  Redux.

However, as to why, consider some of his past umgwalla-gwalla decisions and actions:

  1. He is the only president who would celebrate in the Rose Garden with the parents of a deserter – a deserter that cost the lives of six additional young American soldiers that were sent out to “rescue” him.  (Mark my words: Obama will ensure Bergdahl gets off.)
  2. Help spark civil unrest by describing a young thug who was killed as “he could have been my son”…then doing nothing to quell the unrest.
  3. Legalizing illegal immigrants via Executive Order whose first act of being in the US was criminal.
  4. The “IRS” and Lerner.
  5. Afghanistan – he ended the war, right?
  6. Obamacare
  7. Putin
  8. Downgrading terror attacks on our own soil.
  9. Allowing Hillary to use “private email”.
  10. Treatment of our glorious veterans and the VA cover-ups.
  11. BENGHAZI
  12. ISIS

Well, I do have an reply:

What difference, at this point, does it make?

She’s Killing Me #5


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My Little Cake Boss on the right as her friend snaps a selfie. They’re looking into a mirror in the Lancome cosmetics section in Macy’s.

She’s killing me, I tell ya.

Big time.

This time, my Little Cake Boss literally left me holding the bag(s)… for over an hour.

My knees crumbled under the weight.

Two vertebrae were crushed.

But I persevered.  I mentally made myself to be one of our heroic Marines, carrying a wounded buddy to safety… while on the receiving end of an enemy barrage.

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I had the kids for ten days this time; I’m guessing their mother got another invitation to travel with a certain “somebody”.  The fact she didn’t take my son to piano tells me it must’ve been some trip.  She didn’t even tell her own kids where she would be going.  Unbelievable.

Maybe it was court ordered community service.

Nah.  Wishful thinking.

But the Little Cake Boss had been asking me for over a couple of weeks if I could take her shopping with her friends.  She said she was loaded with greenbacks and gift cards.  She even remembered how much she got from whom.

See.  Women never forget.

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So I often asked her during those ten days, “When?  Saturday or Sunday?”

Forget even asking what time.  She uses an hour glass that she forgets to turnover.

Or even the logistics.  “How many of you are going?” “When am I to pick them up…and from where?” LOL

And when I ask again, she gets mad…again.

Well, I guess I should be happy she asked me and not her mom.

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So Friday evening comes…and OMG.  She has a plan…kinda.

“Can you take us on Sunday, Papa?” she asks.

“Sure, Bu-chan (my nickname for her).  Who and at what time?”

“I don’t know yet,” she says.

Double OMG.

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The Three Musketeers soon after arrival.  Notice their hands are empty…

Long story short, I end up picking up one of her BFF’s, “N”, at her house on Sunday at 10:45 am…  and this is after the plans changed once again that morning.  Her other BFF, “A”, is now having her mother drop her off at the mall at 11:00 “in front of Nordstrom’s”.  She tells me this as we near the mall.  (Never mind I was forced to clean the WHOLE house Saturday as “A’s” mother was supposed to be dropping her off at my house… Grrr…)

“In front of Nordstrom’s, Bu-chan?” I ask.

“Yessssss,” she annoying answers as I apparently interrupted the two girls I am chapperoning.  They are the paying customers, you know.

“Bu-chan…  I think there are five entrances to Nordstrom’s…” says I.

She doesn’t answer.  Cha-ching.  Got her.  Finally.  “Have her meet us in front of Lazy Dog Cafe then,” I say.

She still doesn’t really answer because her old man got her.  She hates that because she’s the Boss.  I can see her hurriedly texting “A”.  She’s a text queen, you know.

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Anyways, I can’t remember how many stores they hit… Translation: how many HOURS… and while she knew I would have to tag along, she “hinted” I didn’t have to stand “close” to them.  Sheesh.

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They were in there for a month, you know…  Well, actually, about five minutes.  How can three girls spend five minutes in there taking a selfie???
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…and she wouldn’t let me see the pictures. Hmmpph.
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Reaching for her first Rolex at Tiffany’s.
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Their hands are filling up.
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Can’t run low on sugar.
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Still whippin’ out that cash. Aren’t they tired yet? Isn’t it time to call it a day???

Then, the 1-1/2 hour nightmare…   It’s the equivalent of a woman having to stand for hours on end in the Craftsman Tool section at Sears while the man drools…

They hit the cosmetics section.

Lancome, even.  Criminy.

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Lancome?? I didn’t deserve this.

I didn’t know twelve year old girls could get so giddy.

They were crazed.  I think their brains stopped working.  They went from “thing” to another “thing” in there.  I have no frickin’ idea what the stuff they slathered on their faces were called.  There were just a bazillion colors.  They would put it on then wipe it off.  They used a bazillion black or white sticks with stiff little bristles at the end that they took to their eyes while standing millimeters away from the mirror…all whilst contorting their faces.  They stood so close, they blocked out the sun standing in front of those full-length mirrors.

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If a girl is confused, imagine how her dad felt.

Oh…and don’t forget…  I indeed got stuck holding the bag(s)…

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They were so heavy, my fingers went numb.

But I persevered… for over six hours.

Think about it.  I could have flown from JFK to LAX on the Spirit of St. Louis in less time…and stopped to refuel.

Oh…  They went back to the opposite end of the mall afterwards… to hit Sephora.

That’s another makeup place for you guys.

Ewww.

Just Some Snapshots #12


It appears Spring has come a couple of weeks early to Southern California…  Some photos of blooms from around my home.

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Tiny buggers invade this succulent bloom.
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Clematis
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Cineraria
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Red bud blooms.
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Aloe bloom
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Shrimp plant
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An early Portulaca grandiflora blooms from my cutting
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Clematis
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Cineraria in B&W
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A real bad hair day
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Cineraria begins to bloom
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Aloe blooms
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Cineraria
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My cigar…but not my yard.

Celebration Of Service Friday (#6)


Excellence in appreciation.

Doctor Lynn's avatarLife In The Gym

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“Sitting in front of my fireplace, basking in it’s warm glow gives me time to reflect upon the sacrifices that it has taken for me to enjoy the security of a good home, in a safe environment. I can hear the soft whisper of the snow as it caresses my window and covers the ground outside in a scintillating display of sparkling lights under the full moon. How many times have our service men and women watched this same scene from a foxhole, or camped in some remote part of the world. Thankful for the silence of that moment, knowing it won’t last long. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He/she dresses in fatigues and patrols the world restlessly, ensuring that we can have this peaceful night. Every day they give us the gift of this lifestyle that we enjoy, and every night they watch over us. They are…

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Jimmy Stewart’s Dog, Beau


One of my favorites from Johnny Carson… Jimmy Stewart’s dog named Beau.

Colorado Cowboy's avatarShootin' the Breeze

I have written many posts about our dog named Beau.  Jimmy Stewart, the actor, had a similar dog with the same name.  He wrote a poem that he read on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show back in 1981.  It is funny and more.  Click on the link below.  I expect that you will be glad to have the experience.

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