Mr. Gleck's Five Flavors

Just in case you've forgotten ...

2011-05-19T23:52:00.000-04:00

... it's been a long time since I've dissected an American Top 40 playlist, so here we go with the way the songs stacked up early in May 32 years ago, 1979:

40) * I (WHO HAVE NOTHING) / Sylvester
"I tawt I taw a mirror ball!" Guy's full name was Sylvester James, and had two other singles - the #36 record "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" and his biggest hit, such as it is, "Dance (Disco Heat)." All disco and all throwaway crap. Especially this, one of a number of classic pop standards desecrated with a disco beat. Ben E. King had the hit in 1963 (#29) and Tom Jones went to #14 with it in ‘70. #40 was as high as Thylvethter made it with his cover. Taken from his album Sufferin' Silk Shirts.

39) * OLD TIME ROCK & ROLL / Bob Seger
I could go into a rant about this one, but would much prefer I no—ohhh, never mind. I shall. One reason I no longer wish to DJ dances, something I enjoyed doing back in the late ‘80s and a good part of the ‘90s, is the absolute dumbing down of party attendees. You think terrestrial commercial radio is down to the same 20 moth-eaten, over-researched songs? Try the world of dances, where that 20 is whittled down to maybe half a dozen records, at most ... of which this is one. I've joked that I no longer need to bring a big collection of music; just burn two CDs with those six songs (including "Respect", "At the Hop", and "Rock Around the Clock"), and segue between them.

38) GET USED TO IT / Roger Voudouris
One-song wonder that missed the top 20 (peaked at #21). A good song that got substantial airplay in Cape Girardeau, where I was living at the time of this survey.

37) DON'T YOU WRITE HER OFF / McGuinn, Clark and Hillman
Byrds of a feather make good records together. Roger, Gene and Chris pooled their talents into one song that reached #33. Another forgotten gem, serving as an ongoing reminder that not all of top-40 radio in 1979 resembled Hiroshima circa 1945. Just .... a lot of it.

36) SWEET LUI-LOUISE / Ironhorse
a/k/a Bachman-Turner Overtime. Randy Bachman's third group. Song is pretty good, for sounding like warmed-over BTO. You could even say that I like it. And I will, because I do.

35) * DEEPER THAN THE NIGHT / Olivia Newton-John
Malaria Neutron-Bomb goes disco with this week's highest-debut'er. Why are you so surprised – what part of 1979 don't you understand??!!

34) ROLLER / April Wine
I've always liked much of their stuff, in particular 1981's "Sign of the Gypsy Queen" and their first hit, "You Could Have Been a Lady" from 1972. Frankly, I'm a bit ‘meh' on "Roller." Not too bad, compared with some of the crap on the radio (see #40), but I've heard much better.

33) SUCH A WOMAN / Tycoon
The opening did not ring a bell, but once it got to the hook it took me back. One of those songs that recalls riding my 10-speed all over north Cape, with modified can holder duct-taped to the frame, holding a radio usually blasting KJAS. And remember:"KJAS plays the MOST MUSIC!"

32) ROXANNE / Police
First hit single for a band you've never heard of. One member goes by the name "Sting" ... huh? Never mind, moving right along ......

31) HOT NUMBER / Foxy
I got your number – #21 – now hurry up and "Get Off" the chart, already!!

30) HAPPINESS / The Pointer Sisters
Follow-up to their million-seller "Fire" ... #30 was as high as it got, barely enough to qualify as an ‘afterburner.'

29) CRAZY LOVE / The Allman Brothers
The Allmans regrouped to bring us the first of several memorable singles. Not to be confuzzed with Poco's big one from earlier that year. Same title, different song.

28) SULTANS OF SWING / Dire Straits
Debut single, and their biggest hit until 1985, when they realized that both chicks and currency are complimentary. From one of my favorite bands, it's one of my favorites, even though it flirts with B2AC-dom.

27) TRAGEDY / The Bee Gees
The title says it all.

26) JUST WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST / Randy Vanwarmer
One of 1979's biggest Whiny Wecords®. "If you can't live without me, why aren't you dead?"

25) ROCK ‘N' ROLL FANTASY / Bad Company
So you had the Allmans and Poco both doing "Crazy Love" ... Bad Company can go one better: 1975's "Feel Like Makin' Love" (different song a year earlier by Roberta Flack) and .. "Fantasy", a minor hit the previous year by The Kinks.

24) THE LOGICAL SONG / Supertramp
First single release from Breakfast In America, my favorite album cover, bar none.

23) RENEGADE / Styx
Okay, that's three rock & roll acts in a row. I thought this was 1979. Where's the disco?

Uh-uh-uh-uh, don't touch that dance floor.............

22 DISCO NIGHTS / G.Q.
Now, that's more like it?

21) I GOT MY MIND MADE UP / Instant Funk
Best-remembered for the line, "Sayyyy WHAT??!!" Couldn't have asked it better.

20) HOT STUFF / Donna Summer
Disco Diva Donna, what more need be said? Okay, this: I like the song. Look people, I never said I hated all disco ... just the kind that's poorly done. This is nicely-made, produced under the talented hand of Giorgio Moroder.

19) PRECIOUS LOVE / Bob Welch
Former Fleetwood Mac vocalist (early ‘70s period) had a string of solo records – most of you I'm sure recall "Sentimental Lady" - originally done by Mac - and "Hot Love, Cold World" .... plus he got a big hit out of this ‘un.

18) LOVE BALLAD / George Benson
Generic title. Underrated song. Couldn't stand it 32 years ago, but I rather enjoy it now.

17) LOVE YOU INSIDE OUT / The Bee Gees
My ears wanna turn inside out when I hear it. This, dearfolk, is a big reason disco is a punchline, and not highly respected as a genre.

16) BLOW AWAY / George Harrison
Sweet. A song that can bring back the darkness of my life in 1979, and at the same time just how good it sounded when something like this pierced the wasteland.

15) LOVE TAKES TIME / Orleans
Meh, meh, a thousand times meh.

14) LOVE IS THE ANSWER / England Dan & John Ford Coley
But what is the question??

13) I WILL SURVIVE / Gloria Gaynor
I much prefer the cover version by Cake. That one single F-bomb makes it. Seriously. From a ‘stupid' lock to ....

12) SHAKE YOUR BODY / The Jacksons
Michael was A) male, B) of the African-American persuasion, and C) possessed all his natural body parts. Jacko would make an unforgettable impression later in 1979's Summer with Off the Wall, but here with his siblings he's already minting gold.

11) WHAT A FOOL BELIEVES / The Doobie Brothers
It's a long way from the laid-back rock of Tom Johnston's Doobies ... here, it's the Michael McDonald flavoured soulful pop. Have to say I prefer the former.

10) HE'S THE GREATEST DANCER / Sister Sledge
Another passable disco song. Much better than what was to follow - and had debuted on the Hot 100 the previous week: the B2AC "We Are Family."

9) TAKE ME HOME / Cher
Sickening. Caricature of an artist on the edge of relevancy trying to stay ‘current' by recording a disco song. And people bought this record. After all, it was 1979.

8) GOODNIGHT TONIGHT / Wings
Like a nice shot of Diet Mountain Dew (or the soda of your choice) to wash down that bitter medicine you had to take. Macca and company were still crankin'em out.

7) I WANT YOUR LOVE / Chic
Perhaps my favorite disco act, all around. "Le Freak" aside (too B2AC for me), all their stuff is good. I even have the two-CD best of collection, if that tells you anything.

6) IN THE NAVY / The Village People
Pure, unadulterated, non-filtered, 200-proof shit. I get seasick from having to listen.

5) STUMBLIN' IN / Suzy Quatro and Chris Norman
One that doesn't get played all that often anymore. I never liked it, though. A lame pop hit. Like it for me, please.

4) KNOCK ON WOOD / Amii Stewart
One more classic song folded, spindled and mutilated to fit into platform shoes. Whatever did Eddie Floyd and Steve Cropper do to deserve this treatment? A fine Memphis soul standard gets royally ruint.

3) MUSIC BOX DANCER / Frank Mills
Lessee ... y'got yer disco (lots of it) ...y'got yer rock ‘n' roll .... y'got yer R&B ballads ... and you even got yer muzak. Please take that box outside and smash it on the driveway.

2) HEART OF GLASS / Blondie
What can you say, except that in many ways it was a breath of fresh air. That is, until a couple months later when we'd be introduced to a girl named Sharona.

Aaaaaaaand number one on the chart ...

1) REUNITED / Peaches & Herb
Burnt to beef jerky. A major fire risk due to belly-rubbing on the dance floor – silk garments and enormous amounts of exposed chest hair are not a good mix.

So there you have it. I've missed this, I have to say. Okay, bring on the feedback.....

--Talmadge Coast-To-Coast

Still here, still dreaming

2011-03-26T23:35:00.003-04:00

So, it looks as if it's been more than a year since my last post.

Hmmmm ..... quite a kneejerk from more typeative days back in 2006-2008, eh?

A quick update, for might still be listening to this dead air - in the quixotic hope that I shall rise again like cigarette ashes on the side of Highway 431 in Phenix City:

Seraphim and I have been married for 10 years. Still happily and crazily so.

Tiger is a college freshman ... and now blogs, too.

Puddy is still with us. In two weeks, our dog will be 16 YEARS OLD. Puddy isn't the feisty lovable creature she was in years past. Age has taken its toll. She's blind in both eyes from cataracts (common with Cocker breeds), is deaf and muscle loss has taken her weight from a maximum of 38 pounds to her present 24 and change. But the nose is strong as ever. So far, she still has good health on her side. Still, with 112 human years, we don't have much time left with her.

About 18 months ago we moved from Rincon back into Chatham County. Long story.

I'm still who I am, otherwise. Meanwhile, I'm hoping to dust the bunnies off this blog and get back to it. After all, I have a few American Top 40 programs to review. And it'll behoove you not to miss them.

Okay, that's it. I hope to be back a lot sooner than 18 months from now.

Ciao for niao.....

--Talmadge "Lots of makegoods to schedule" Gleck

Still living, still dreaming

2010-01-17T15:16:00.004-05:00

Greetings and Happy New Year!

The Glecks survived Christmas, and are now seizing 2010 ("Twenty Ten", not "Two Thousand Ten") with verve, gusto and other record labels.

Not much to say right now, I just wanted to put something here as it's been nearly three months since I've last darkened this space.

That's all. Ciao for niao.....

--Talmadge "Back to the Shadows" Gleck

One crow value meal, super-sized, to go.

2009-10-22T16:37:00.008-04:00

Weigh-in this afternoon? Yeah, you could say it was a good one.

I was -2.6 this week (all that walking, worrying and stress ... and no, I don't recommend that as a way to drop weight), putting me back over the top, for a grand total of -75.8

Since there are no "off program" events, like the Birmingham trip, and since this wasn't an off-the-chart oddity (dropping 5 pounds in one week is highly unusual, not to mention a sheer quirk), then I am now officially at the goal I set for myself nearly 18 months ago, when I joined Weight Watchers.

On May 5, 2008, I wrote about the doubts I had as to whether or not I could follow through on this commitment and drop 75 pounds, and went on to say:

I hope I'm wrong, though. If I am, I'll gladly eat crow. (How many points is that?)

I understand crow tastes like chicken. Guess I'm fixin' to find out. :-)

LEFT: My DL picture, 2 February 2008 ... nearly 300 pounds!
RIGHT: Victory picture today outside the WW Center in Savannah.

*********
So what's next?

I have a secondary goal of dropping further, and getting down to a weight beginning with a 1. At this point I lack 19.6 pounds until I get there. HOWEVER: I am finished stressing about my weight, about being anal and meticulous about point values, and getting agitated whenever my awesome bride wants to do something else for supper, after I've eaten more points for lunch in assumption of a lighter evening meal.

Habits have changed. Many talk about this being less about "dieting" and "losing weight" than it is a "lifestyle change." Numerous times in this space during my regular updates on this journey, I have spoken of my severed relationship with Coca-Cola, with Squirt and with 44-oz. Mountain Dews from the Gate station down the street.

Some foods I will have to continue avoiding. Cashews still call my name like Olive Oyl toward Popeye when she's been abducted by Bluto (or Brutus, depending on which set of cartoons are on). That's a food I could very easily get back into snarfing at my desk, inhaling an entire can in less than two days.

Now to the truth, ugly as it may be to some:

1) Weight Watchers works. Dropping pounds at a slow, deliberate rate is the best way to do it. And the chance of the pounds coming back are far more remote than if one takes the quick and dirty route, e.g. Atkins. Couple years back, my friend in Alabama dropped 75+ pounds in less than 9 months via Atkins. Guess what? Much of it is back on him, and then some.

2) But much as I believe how well the WW program works, I also believe it has a long way to go for it to be a truly inclusive company. There is an embedded hostility to men I see -- not in all of the leaders and receptionist, however it's present in more of them I've encountered than those who are welcoming to members who possess a frontal limb.

3) With some events coming up in the next few months, I have made the decision to end my participation in Weight Watchers. I made the commitment for 75 pounds, and I was successful. WW is a for-profit corporation, not a civic club. It is a company with a product to sell, so I feel no guilt in discontinuing membership, nor should they feel betrayal in my doing so.

I shall continue my journey toward BWA1 (Beginning With A "1"), and if my weight shows an uptick, then I'll throttle back on foods. I already know the Points™ values of what I eat - they won't confiscate my Points™ calculator, so in that way I still have their "keys to the kingdom."

*********
Saturday, I'm attending the 10:00 meeting and will ask for my 75-pound stone from Miz Tina, the woman who presides over the meetings in Rincon, and the one who looked at me that Cinco De Mayo 2008 day I joined WW, and thought I was too set in my ways to be successful at losing weight.

Something happened, and stubbornness marinated in male ego took over and played a role in helping me to get here. I'm going to look Miz Tina in the eye, and tell her she was mistaken. Boy, did she call this one wrong.

Credit and thanks go to the following people: my wife Seraphim ... Kate/Susan ... Melissa (thanks to her, I kicked my sugared-soda habit) .... and, most of all, to Nettiemac. Without Nettie, I'd probably still be pushing 300, with sleep apnea, stamina problems and the beginning of a lower back problem.

I love you all. Know that.

*********
We have a good bathroom scale, and my intent is to do a weigh-in each weekend as I step out of the shower. As you know, I've dubbed that my "nekkidweight."

If - heaven forbid!! - I were to backslide and find myself inching back toward, say, 240 ... then Weight Watchers will still be there, I know it works and I'll walk in and rejoin. Simple as that.

I will certainly make a post when the BWA1 day arrives. For now, while I'll continue to occasionally touch on the topic of weight, I am finished with weekly updates, and I am hereby retiring the Pound-O-Meter®, which you've seen on the left-hand column of this blog since May 2008.

And there you are. Time marches on, and the weight marches down.

Ciao for niao.

--Skinny-Ass Tal

A small gain ...

2009-10-15T22:31:00.011-04:00

The wages of Birmingham, Alabama ... and (wonderful) places like The Greenbrier Restaurant in Madison, and the hush puppies, the same recipe I ate when I began my love affair with those fried pieces of delectable edible pulchritude, at such a time as I was able to hold one.

+1.6

Now I'm at -73.2 down. I now lack 1.8 until I get back to 75 pounds. I'm hoping this can be accomplished by Halloween, or at the latest November 5 -- my 18-month anniversary on WW.

Ciao for niao.

--Tal

An all-too brief taste of success

2009-10-01T21:05:00.002-04:00

I knew I'd be up this week. I just knew it. 5 pounds without some kind of 'correction' would have been too much to believe.

But the fates were most cruel ... I was hoping for no more than +2.2, keeping me at 75.0 even.

Try +2.4. I am now just 2/10 of a pound below the 75 level. Well, shit.

One good thing, though: I won't feel the 'pressure' of staying above goal when I head to Alabanana for a few days next week. As usual, I don't count points during those times -- that said, though, it won't be like last year's Birmingham junket. I've come a long way since then. And I sure as hell won't be making a dive for the Thickburgers. 23 points? That's friggin' obscene. A heart attack on a greasy bun. But anyway....

Allrighty, Saturday I'm going over to Alexander City and watch my son's band play in the Lake Martin band tourney. And then over to Birmingham for some fun, frolic, research and roadgeekin'.

When I get back, also as usual, I'll be back on the wagon. And I'll reclaim 75 ... or my name isn't Talmadge.

Ummmm, wait a minute. It isn't. Well, you get what I mean.

Ciao for niao!

--Talmadge "Birmingham Bound" Gleck

Facebook killed the Blogger star?

2009-09-24T18:28:00.004-04:00

Or so it seems. I've been sharing stuff with friends via Facebook and have allowed this blog to grow weeds and become like the many fabulously abandoned and derelict motel and restaurant properties along US-301.

There will be more to say in the coming weeks and months. Quite a few substantial changes in the cards for these Glecks, so you'll want to keep tuned to this flea-powered daytimer AM.

The big news to share right now involves WEIGHT.

Look at the "I'm Melting! Melting!" column to your left to see how I've been doing. As you can see, I went through a phase where - most comically, if not frustrating - I plateaued to the tune of exactly ZERO change, three weeks in a row. I stayed at 223.4 pounds, with a cume drop of -71.8 ... then last week (09/17), I creeped downward by 4/10 of a pound. Yeah, okay. At least it was preceded by a minus sign.

Then came weigh-in late this morning. I didn't know how I'd do, and early this week I'd been stressing in a BIG way over a couple of things (see "substantial changes", above).

Clearly, that was to my benefit.

I stepped on the scale, and the WW receptionist said, "Well, you've lost.", and then reached for the calculator. My heart jumped, thinking maybe - just maybe - I'd dropped 2.8 pounds, enough to get to my big goal of 75.

Since last Thursday, I dropped exactly -5.0 pounds. I HAVE OFFICIALLY MADE 75, passing it by 2.2. -77.2 pounds since May 5, 2008.

So there.

My next goal is to make damned sure I can keep at least 2.2 pounds of that off, so as to stay above 75. And then make my annual trip to Birmingham without worry.

Then I'm going to continue with this journey, without the calendar or obsessive goal-making, hoping to simply be at -100 pounds before May 5, 2010 - my two-year anniversary of leaving 300 pounds in rear-view mirror.

It feels weird, truth be known. A good weird, still weird.

For the first time in nearly three (!) months, I get to say "ciao for niao"!

So, ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Gleck

Catching up.....

2009-07-09T22:48:00.002-04:00

Well, how about that. Nearly a whole month has passed since last I posted in this space.

Guess I orta put some more words up here, lest anyone think (wishfully) that I've fallen off this planet's face.

Weight, weight, don't tell me: I'm pretty much back to where I was about a month ago: -67.0 total (228.2 pounds). This morning's weigh-in had me down -0.6 ... say it with me: "If it starts with a minus, I'm not gonna whine-us." Last week was my first since our visit up to Virginia to spend some time with our friends Kate/Susan & The General, and to see their new daughter Leah for the first time (Both she and Melissa have since blogged about what has gone down in personal lore as - perhaps - the most bizarre roadtrip I've ever made), and with all the cool places to eat up there, I simply 'didn't count points' and took whatever lumps I was dealt.

Such lumpage came in the form of a +2.8 jump just before the Fourth. Not too bad - given that I admit to having 'fudged' a bit Thursday prior to leaving (06/18) ... I weighed in with shorts, which shaved at least a pound off what it would've been otherwise. My reasoning was simple: psychological. I wanted to guarantee a minus sign before going off-program for the week. So you could say I effectively gained a pound out of the deal, something I'll take and run.

The time with the Kosiors was everything time with good friends should be, and then some. I'll have some more things to say about it in the coming days or so, and sum it up with a simple and humble thanks. You're both awesome folk.

In the meanwhile, life goes onward and back downward. 75 pounds by Summer's end ... can Tal do it?? Stay tuned to most of these same blogs to find out.

Ciao for niao.

Another pound bites it

2009-06-11T19:52:00.003-04:00

Nothing much to say except I'm down an even -1.0 ... so I'm satisfied. Total now is -67.0

Oh, and I'm looking forward to our little roadtrip next weekend. Promises to be fun.

That is all.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "228.2" Gleck

Up, then back down

2009-06-04T22:53:00.002-04:00

Last week was not a good number ... I was up +2.6, but tonight I took away -1.8 of it, for an even cume of -66.0 even. Yeah, okay, I can take that.

I must take a minute to gush forth with congratulations to Nettiemac, for she has made her goal weight this evening. -228 down since May 2006. To put that amount into perspective, consider that at weigh-in, my current poundage is 229.2! Annette has dropped ME. How 'bout them fat cells?

She starts maintaining, and I keep going. I lack nine (9) pounds to my big goal of 75, and a sweet 34 pounds shy of The Century Club.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Holy crap!" Gleck

More on "rotospheres"

2009-05-21T22:11:00.005-04:00

So what did those "Sputnik"-like things look like when operational? Glad you asked:

That Rovana Restaurant sign just might be the most incredible thing I've ever seen.

You have reached Talmadge Gleck's breath. It is currently away. Please check back in a few hours.....

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Heart of Neon" Gleck

Crimson and Clover

2009-05-21T20:33:00.014-04:00

First, the "Crimson":

So I thought it convenient to drive into town today (I usually work from home on Thursdays, but often burn the midnight - or later - oil, doing most of my work late on Wednesday) and get Rupert's oil changed and his shoes rotumtated. And, while here, go ahead and weigh-in. The center has 12:30 and 2:30 meetings during the day on Thursdays.

Wrong. No 2:30. Well, crap ... and now I don't want to eat anything, it being some three hours 'till the next chance to weigh in.

So I go down to J.C. Lewis and have The Rupert King Family SUVster serviced. They have wi-fi in the service area, so I brought the laptop.

Did I mention how much I love having wireless access in the waiting area? Gone are the days of watching a fuzzy picture on a hinky old TV, or browsing various old magazines.

The buggy needed new brake pads, so I had 'em go ahead and do that ... that would take another hour, which at that point I didn't mind; besides, what else would I do?

Rupert was finished up just in time to head back toward the WW center. Got there, and stepped on the scale:

-1.4 Good. I'll take that and make a mad dash. Woo-hoo!

Total weight-displacement stands at -66.8 I am now 228.4 pounds, a mere 8.2 away from The Big 7-5.

It's been a dank and rainy day around here ... the temperature has hovered around 70 degrees, but I was hoping to do some walking tonight. Guess that's not gonna happen.

*********
In other news, check out the pleasant surprise a visitor to this blog shared with me:
That, longtime readers of Five Flavors (all 2 of you, myself included) will remember, is the Clover Inn of Santee, South Carolina. Thanks a rotosphere to John Ashlin for offering up a truly rare postcard image of that sign back in its prime.

A couple years ago, I made a post about the old "Santee strip", once one of the largest aggregation of motels along the eastern seaboard. While this property has been cleared out, and that old sign removed, it remained - in a rotting state - until 2008:
Above is a comparison of the Clover sign as it looked circa 1967 ... with a picture I took of the sign early in 2007. I wish I had the means and the room to have saved this piece of vintage roadside beauty before it met a rendezvous with a bulldozer and scrap heap.

It breaks my heart to look at the 2007 picture, as my brain always morphs it into her glory days, when her inert gases cast forth a colorful nighttime herald along US-15/301. My mind then starts thinking back to when I was little, and such sights were commonplace.

The Sputnik-like thing on top of the Clover Inn sign is called a rotosphere. Many of those were made in the late '50s/early '60s timeframe, inspired by the whole 'space-age' feel of the day. Each spike had neon tubing, and the whole thing had three separate rotating mechanisms. That whole sign, with rotosphere, was said to have set back the Clover's owner some $20,000. 1960s dollars, mind you. Many thought him crazy. Obviously he had the last laugh.

One rotosphere specimen is a big part of my childhood memories, and it sat atop the Eastwood Lanes in Birmingham, Ala. from its opening in 1959 or so, until 2006, when it was leveled....
This picture is from September 2005. Talk about space-age elegance ... the architecture of the old Eastwood Lanes just oozed it. Especially the circular motif of the front breezeway. Alas, she is no more.

*********
A "damn you!" shout to Kate/Susan. Because of her crazy idea of going to see Janet Evanovich in New Jersey, so does my wife (seeing as how she missed the chance last time the author was in our neck of the woods). Sera wants to go to New Jersey. And, since I've never ventured into The Garden State's boundaries, I do too. So we've planned a roadtrip for late June.

Besides, we're jonesin' to see our new "niece." So we're going. And, as a nice bonus, that puts me back in the close proximity of the last-surviving Horne's Restaurant (Port Royal). I'll be suspending my Format long enough to enjoy another fine Horne's milkshake. Last one was 2003, and I'm ready for another.

Janet E. is "chick lit", and as such doesn't do much for me. Who cares -- the road is a-callin'!

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Did somebody say ROADTRIP??" Gleck

Take the minus and run

2009-05-14T19:50:00.003-04:00

Nothing much to add, except it was a week of virtual maintenance .... -0.4 on the big scale, which I'll accept because it's a green number. :-) In any case, I stayed in the format, did a lot of walking, and was just an overall Good Weight Watcher. I'll hold out for the fruits bearing themselves at a later time.

Total to date is -65.4 ..... another week, another downhill pitch.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Wasting Away, Ounces At A Time" Gleck

A really good week ... and a question

2009-05-10T16:49:00.006-04:00

So a few more pounds came blasting out of me this week. At Thursday's weigh-in, I was down an even -3.0, which gives me an effective one-year total of -65.0! Effective, as in my last weigh-in was before my first anniversary on WW (May 5). Therefore, my final answer is that I have displaced 65 pounds after one year of doing Weight Watchers.

10 pounds left until I reach the magic 75.

And now a question which maybe Nettiemac can answer. In looking at the "Melting, melting" chart to the left, where I have a running total of each weigh-in, I see no odd numerals past the decimal. Either it's a weird coinky-dink that all of my drops have been of even-numbered fractions, or else the WW scales go only in steps of .0/.2/.4/.6/.8 ..... hmmmmm .....

On that note, ciao for niao. And - if it applies to you - Happy Mother's Day (that means you, too, Kate/Susan!)

--Talmadge "230.2" Gleck

PS to Kate/Susan: when are you going to add "...mother..." to your exhaustive personal vitae??

One year ago ... today!

2009-05-05T21:07:00.012-04:00

(with apologies to Bill Drake, RIP)

On this date last year -- Monday, 5 May 2008 -- I took a leap of faith I'd been fighting for a very long while. I stepped on the Weight Watchers scale for the first time, as I waited for that number. The number I'd allowed myself to reach, after many years of willful neglect and lots and lots of enjoyable food ... and thousands of wasted calories in the form of Coke after Coke after ice cold Coke. That number was 295.2.

Miz Tina was the WW leader at Rincon, and in this space I've several times alluded to the look on her face. A look which said, "Uh-huh. You're doing this only because your wife is dragging you in here, kicking and screaming." The face suggested I was too set in my ways. That I couldn't make the changes necessary to reverse some destructive habits.

That I liked my cashews too damned much. That I was addicted to Coca-Cola. "Atlanta Holy Water" had been a staple of my diet since I was able to hold a 6-1/2 ounce bottle. Well, except for that "New Coke" fiasco - when I made a brief sojourn to Dr. Pepper - Coke Was It for Gleck.

*********
I will be the first to tell you that I am what some would call a "picky eater." Others - such as my own self - prefer to label my culinary habits "basic and spartan." I am the walking embodiment of a 'meat and potatoes' man. Give me steak, but with A-1. Baked potato? Butter and salt. Nothing else. I'll take a salad, provided it's iceburg lettuce with thousand-island dresing. Don't give me the purple and orange confetti, fakon bits, and other crap. Lettuce and dressing. Period.

I can barely tolerate milk. I cannot drink it straight. In a milkshake, yeah. Carnation Instant Breakfast? Doable. I taste the vanilla far more than the milk in those cases.

Breakfast cereal? I've always liked it dry, right out of the box.

Tuna? I'll eat it straight, with salt. Don't give me any mayo or relish or other garnishment. A little NaCl, a/k/a "Talmadge Dust", and I'm happy. Yeah, okay. A lot of "Talmadge Dust."

My "practice wife" and her family live by a sacred creed of adding as many "bells and whistles" to basic food as they can. And my "picky" habits were always getting in the way. My ex-wife, I'm certain, was embarrassed by my particular foodtastes.

Seraphim, on the other hand, said: "It just makes it easy to cook for you."

(She loves me.)

I've come to realize I have tactile issues with some food. Certain textures will make me gag. Honest. Do not feed me peanut butter out of a jar reading "Chunky." Jello? Plain, mister. Mashed potatoes? Lumps trigger a major gag reflex. I kid you not. I've found the only kind of mashed potatoes I can abide are those from Kentucky Fried Chicken. Dependably smooth.

Now I am not one to be a wet-blanket when it comes to gatherings where food is served. I do my best to find out in advance what's on the menu ... and if it's something I do not care for, I am the model of discretion. I'll swing by a convenience store for a pack of peanut-butter 'nab' crackers. Something to put in my stomach, then I can be sociable at the event - lie through my teeth and say "I'm not hungry" - drink water or whatever they have, and after the event, make a hellish beeline for the nearest fast food place. That way, I'm not acting the anti-social arsehole, ruining a good time for everyone else ... while trying my best to avoid what I find to be a tendency of a lot of people to shove food down my throat. I'm not hungry. Can't you understand?

It's funny. Many such "foodphiles" are women. Women who won't bat an eye at listening to the same 30 freakin' songs over and over on the local adult contemporary station.

And they have the golldurned nerve to say I'm picky??!! At least with food, I can close my mouth without interfering with their enjoyment of whatever food they choose. Unfortunately, I cannot close my ears to their Celine Dion crap being played by Miz Three-Times-Married-Yet-Gives-Love-Advice-To-Others, Delilah, should I be a passenger in their Dodge Caravan.

The fact that I do not like lasagna, for example -- something which angered my first wife; we'd been dating maybe six months when one night she made some, and forced it down my throat, despite making it clear that I. DO. NOT. LIKE. LASAGNA. I loathe it. Revile it. No matter WHO makes it. I ate it, and gagged. She took it personally. I could've insulted her mother, for all she took my reaction.

The fight which ensued I wish I could go back in time and videotape.

I hate lasagna. However, that does not mean I want it eradicated from the menus of America and beyond. Just like it for me. And respect my desire not to partake. It's nothing personal. Honest.

I also detest Mexican food. As I've always liked to say, "There's one good thing in a Mexican restaurant, and that's the exit."

Fortunately, in most cases there's always at least one thing on a menu in 90% of restaurants (read: not Mexican or some other fourth-world eatery), and as long as I can have those entrees, I'm happy. Everybody is happy.

Why can't all these kind of events be like, say, the big Fondue blowout during "Blogfest '09"?? My female friends were all excited about making and enjoying Swiss fondue. And while they did that, my friend Michael - "The General" - and I both went 'into town' for some male bonding over Mickey D's. One more time, with feeling: EVERYBODY IS HAPPY.

*********
So with that as a background, let's backtrack to September 2006. Nettiemac started Weight Watchers that previous May. And we had our first real conversation about it one weekend, when she and Bolivar converged upon our household. I knew I needed to do something about what was a serious plumping-out of my exterior facade. Nothing bad happened yet, no physical event to "put the fear of God into me." Just I knew reality, much as I was fighting it within.

The problem was, I was concerned about how I could reconcile my eating habits to conform within what would be some drastically shrunken room.

The bottom line: I didn't want to further narrow what was already a diet worthy of a Bill Drake top-30 playlist.

*********
March 24, 2008 - my wonderful, awesome best friend and bride Seraphim took the WW plunge. I decided I would "mooch" off her points format, and give it a shot that way.

At first glance, my reaction was "f(BLEEP)k this s(BLEEP)t! I enjoy my food too much and do not want to go without it. I do not want to live on salads and Tab. And I know how much of a royal twat I can be when I'm hungry. Do I want to be a royal twat all the time? Would I have any friends left??"

Then, the more I thought about it, and analyzed what I ate, I began to realize just how I could mesh the Weight Watchers "format" with my 'peculiar' eating habits, and still be able to eat much of what I already enjoy.

Plus, I wanted to be "a team" with my wife as she was trying to lose pounds herself. We need to do this together.

Which brought me to Monday, May 5 of Ought-Eight, and 295.2 pounds. I became Weight Watchers' newest member. And no, my wife did NOT force me. This was 110% of my own volition.

The goal I set for myself on that date was 75 pounds.

Oh, and last Thursday's weigh-in wasn't what I'd hoped. Tiny gain on the scale ... +0.2, virtually maintaining. Making for a one-year cume of -62.0. I can take that. Wish it were more, know it could've been far less.

Let's see what this Thursday brings, eh?

*********
I still remember the trip to Kroger we made after the meeting, how the Chris Rea song "Fool (If You Think It's Over)" came on the PA system. I took it as my inner devil cueing up a record with a strong message. "Yeah right, Tal. You can't pull this off."

As I pondered Chris Rea's song-o-mockery, I was fronted with my first big challenge: trading regular cream of chicken soup for the "reduced fat" CofC. For years, my mantra was "low fat = low taste."

We've substituted lots of things over the year.

What habits have I changed? I sit here astonished that I accomplished the following:

Traded regular hamburger buns for the "lite" kind. One point per each. Baby steps; I'm not quiiiite ready for the wheat bun dark side.
No regular cream of chicken soup. Now it's the reduced fat kind. The only difference in my 'chicken and rice' plate is that the soup portion is a bit thinner. Otherwise, there IS no difference.
Exit Kraft Deluxe Mac & Cheese, enter the 'reduced fat' kind. Again, I cannot tell.
My wife no longer fries the fish portions we get at Sam's. Now they're just baked.
Buh-bye, sugar. Hello, Splenda. Unsweet tea or water in restaurants. If the yellow packets aren't available, I'll settle for the blue ones (Aspartame).
"Jolly Time Healthy Pop" 94% fat-free microwave popcorn is surprisingly good. It doesn't taste like styrofoam, as the Kroger brand 94% FF stuff does. And two (2) points for an entire bag. Sweet.
We've traded regular bacon for turkey bacon. Y'know what? I like it.
I gave up cashews, except for the occasional cashew chicken Sera will make. I love cashews, and even to this day I get a wistful feeling when I find myself in the nut aisle. The ugly truth: like potato chips, I cannot eat just one. I used to could go through one entire can of cashews in two days at work. Aye yi yi!
Two other deep, longtime loves were also thrown overboard: candy corn, and - at Halloween time - those sweet, luscious, hubba-hubba Brach's mellocreme pumpkins.
Ryan's and Golden Corral were pink-slipped from the regular rigamarole. Those had to go, for I could eat upwards of 100 points at one sitting - and in all likelihood DID.
No more trips off the island at work. We used to take advantage of the Domino's 5/5/5 deal -- my boss, our news producer and myself would each have one of the $5.00 specials. Sometimes I'd go to the Kroger at Marsh Point for some of their deli chicken nuggets. Today, it's tuna, soup, or - as I discovered I liked a lot - the Lean Cuisine pepperoni pizza. 7 points. I haven't left the island for lunch since before last May!
Subway is good. Very, very good. Their pizza is wonderful. A pepperoni pizza - cooked nice and hot in 90 seconds (not zapped) - is only 15 points. And far less greasier than the Pizza Hut 'personal pans'
I still have fast food. Just that I keep it within the point limits, and reward myself when I've been good the rest of the week. Instead of indulging in french fries 3-4 times a week, now it's usually 1 - maybe 2 - times.
Diet lemonade at Chick-Fil-A. I love it. Plus, I've recently made another big turn: I gave up the classic CFAs in favor of the chargrilled sammiches. A little pricier, but at least they take off 30 cents if one loses 'the garden' (as I do - surprise, surprise!). A regular CFA is 9 points. 8 points without butter. But the chargrilled CFAs clock in at a rip-roarin' 5 points!

But perhaps the biggest change I've made is in the area of drinks:
Originally, I was going to ramp soft drinks down to one per day, and allow for a couple per week of what I used to call BAM-Ds -- that's (B)ig-(A)ss (M)ountain (D)ew, my affectionate name for the 44-ounce 'fountain dew" I used to buy quite often up the road at our local Gate convenience store. I discovered how good they were along about 2006 or so, and I soon got to where I was drinking as many as 10 of those suckers a week. Ten. (a lot of those were freebies, as part of Gate's "bonus beverage club", but I digress)
Initially, I quit Coca-Cola cold turkey. Actually, I was weaning myself off Coke by March ... and what helped there was the availability of Squirt in our area. I always loved that soda, ever since I had my first one in Arkansas.
About a month into my WW regimen, I tried going without carbonation for a week. While I couldn't make it quite the week, it really made me think about throttling a little further on the soda intake.
Then came Melissa's two words, which I believe came in a comment to a blog post early last Summer. The words were "drinking calories." They sank in, as the reality of the situation stared me in the face: why the hell should I waste three (3) points on sugared soda - the 'price' of a 12-ounce can - when I can instead indulge in an ice cream sandwich, for the same point value??
At the same time, I discovered that while I cannot abide the taste of diet 'dark sodas' (i.e. Diet Coke, Coke Zero, Diet Dr. Pepper, etc.), I do love Diet 7-UP. And then came trying Diet Mountain Dew. In the fountain (where I can find it), it's just as good - if not better - than sugared Mountain Dew.
It wasn't intended as such at the time, however my last "BAM-D" was bought Saturday, 19 July 2008. And thus ended my love affair with sugared carbonated beverages.
BAM-D has been replaced by BADD'M-D.
Diet Mountain Dew has become my new Coca-Cola.
Crystal Light decaf tea and lemonade are now good friends of mine.
Most of all, something I never thought I'd ever say in my lifetime, this or any reincarnated afterlife: I never want another Coca-Cola as long as I live!

And there you are. Those habits changed have resulted in 62 fewer pounds of me. I feel better. I don't look all hunched over after I get out of the car (my back, I feel, was showing the signs of giving out). And now I can climb mountains again. Right, Melissa? :-)

Do I miss gorge-outs at Golden Corral? Yup. Will I still have them? Absolutely. We all need occasional vacations from the rigamarole, and that's how I stay on track. One per calendar quarter seems reasonable, just to keep my body guessing ... and stop any temptation toward it going into "famine" mode.

Do I eat at GC on a regular basis? Not on your life. I don't trust myself! Would a recovering alcoholic go into a liquor store? A problem gambler darkening the door of a casino? It's the same thing, people.

I still have a ways to go. More baby steps yet to take. And I'm taking them.

Could I have seen this a year ago? Nope. Honestly, a big fat NO. Doesn't matter, though; I have.

Take that, Chris Rea.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "And the journey continues" Gleck

Two, baby ... two!

2009-04-23T23:50:00.002-04:00

A good result tonight at weigh-in .... I dropped an even -2.0. I do know I've had two good weeks, where I've walked a good two miles at least five days out of each seven.

Cume total is now up to -62.8 pounds, with a weight of 232.4. I'm two weeks away from my one-year anniversary weigh-in (actual date is May 5), and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for hitting 65 by then.

Tomorrow I'm headed for Alabama to see the kid (Friday night he's in his high school's drama production), and possibly engaging in a cool activity on Sunday. I've discovered a place in the middle of the state I'm very eager to check out. More on that after the weekend.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "On a roll again ... we hope" Gleck

Back above 60 ... for good this time, I hope

2009-04-16T20:38:00.007-04:00

Tonight was a good night. For two reasons.

Thursday is going to be our new weigh-in day. Tonight Sera and I went to the meeting at a church in nearby Bloomingdale (west part of Chatham County) ... which just so happened to be presided over by the same leader as does the Monday night meetings in Rincon.

The same one whose face last May 5 said: "I give him one month, tops. Ain't no way he's gonna shake his habits."

And she got to see me officially overtake the 60 pound wall, and passing the number I reached just before our February trip. This week I dropped -1.6 pounds for a total of -60.8!

I wanted to tell Miz Tina just why we defected from the Wednesday night meetings at the Center. That'll have to wait 'till next week, as there were a lot of new members tonight at Bloomingdale -- all in it together, all seven of 'em.

As we walked into the parking lot after the meeting, another woman struck a conversation with us -- she's been doing WW for eight weeks, but started out going to another meeting in town (led by Miss Richard-Simmons-On-Speed) before changing venues herself.

For the same reason we did.

Golly, there's nothing like "independent verification."

But it was something else she said. In fact it was the first thing out of her mouth. She said words to the effect of, "That's great about hitting 60. If you can do it, then I certainly can."

Yeah, that felt good, no two ways about it. Best of all, I cannot remember the last time I felt like I actually got something out of a Weight Watchers meeting. I liked how Miz Tina remembered not just who we were, but also made references to some things I said in meetings last Summer in Rincon. Clearly she showed concern about those in her flock, and not just blowing off everything we say with an "uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh."

At any rate, I'm glad that we can look forward to a meeting again. That we don't have to ask ourselves The Clash Question each time we go for weigh-in. You know: "Should we stay or should we go now?"

Or, as I started putting it, "OOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!! or Noooooooooooh!!????" (referring to the way our former leader will launch into a hyper-applause as she says the former.)

My only hope is that meetings here don't turn into a major chick-fest, as they tended to do in Rincon. (not that WW meetings aren't already, but anyway.....)

So here we are. The game has resumed, and now I'm past 60. With fingers crossed that it also spells the end of a month-long plateau.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "234.4" Gleck

Plateauuuuuuuoooooooh @#$%!!!

2009-04-09T23:00:00.004-04:00

Melissa called it "delay of game."

I call it "a royal pain in the nethers."

Monday, my nekkidweight™ indicated 231.4 ... the first time I've seen it below 232. I figured on it being a decent week, perhaps just enough to get me back above -60.

Nada. The Platform of Nidetch spoketh: +0.2, resetting the cume to -59.2. If there's any consolation, I'm still above 20%.

BUT: the next morning, the nekkidweight™ was even better: 230.3! Oh, and we got our folders from the center, and will start our weigh-ins down in Bloomingdale next Thursday (04/16).

*********
One thing I've begun doing, what with these nippy evenings, is take a late-night walk around our cul-de-sac, and out to the road behind our house. It's quiet, there are no barking dogs and few cars on said "road behind our house." I put on the earbuds, and start a good OTR (old time radio) mystery program, and just get lost in my minds' theater. The programs last 30 minutes, and I time it to where I'm getting near the house again by show's end.

Ramp up the walks, and uptick the water. But what I do not want to resort to is not using my weekly 35 'flex' points. I freely admit using most of them - usually in the neighborhood of 30 - each week. That's what they're for, and I save 'em for the weekend, usually Saturday. That's my 'reward' for being good throughout the week. The weekly points, I can only ass/u/me, are built into the "format" for a successful drop. Right?

Two things I'm afraid of were I not to dip into the 35: 1) this decrepit body will go into "famine" mode, and my metabolism will slam on its brakes; and 2) I'll be tempted to stray from The Format.

Any thoughts? Lay 'em on me. I really want to blast out of this rut.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "236 even" Gleck

Boingy, boingy!

2009-04-01T23:35:00.003-04:00

Maybe it's the barometric pressure. Yeah.

Last week, I took a +2.8 hit to my score. And tonight, every ounce of it came back off. -2.8 ... putting my cume back at -59.4! Back past 20%, but just shy of the 60.4 I reached prior to the road trip in late February.

Now, maybe we can get this train moving forward again.

We skipped the meeting tonight. I just was not in the mood .... and I was relieved to be in the weigh-in line of our regular 'receptionist', and not Simmons-On-Speed who jockeyed a second line. "SMIIIIILE ... TODAY IS A GREAAAAAAAAAAAT DAY!!!! EVERYTHING IS WONDERFUUUUUULLLL!!!

Please pardon me while I barf.

My beef isn't with sunny personalities. Many with that disposition in life are approachable and have at least one toe of one foot on the ground. And I also deal regularly with Simmons-On-Speed's polar opposite, a co-worker who defines the Eeyore character. That grates on me nearly as bad. She's otherwise solid and reliable as a worker, but the words "I'm not all here today" are getting really old.

In a side note, after being iffy about them all these years, I think I've now accepted the Chick-Fil-A chargrill chicken. Enjoy it, even. I don't like that it's more expensive than the regular CFA sammich, even ordering without the 'garden' (which they knock off the price if you order without a tomato and lettuce), but I do love that such an item clocks in at only 5 points.

Another week in the life......

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "235.8 ... AGAIN" Gleck

Roadtrip '09, DAY 8: More globetrotting!

2009-03-27T21:12:00.045-04:00

Tal & Sera's Big 2009 Roadtrip
DAY EIGHT - Friday, 27 February.
Destination: Sikeston, Missouri -- Pear Tree Inn.
Miles traveled: 185.4

Morning in our Harrah's "Veranda" hotel room! It was around 8:30 when we awakened, and the weather was much improved from earlier, the storms having already moved east out of the area. According to WMC-TV 5, we had a nice - if cool - day ahead of us, but the weather would again start going downhill this evening, with a good chance of snow -- especially toward the north! (We also realized just how ugly the weather was in Memphis, as Channel 5 had a news story about a church fire, ignited by lightning hitting its steeple)

We got ourselves showered nice and clean to seize the day before us. Last night, I told Bolivar that I'd give him a call after we woke up, to set a time to meet both him and J-Lo for breakfast. Our agenda had us then going northward to Sikeston, Missouri and eating lunch at Lambert's Cafe. We'd probably make a quick journey to and from Cape Girardeau before having supper at a place called La Villetta with an old friend (okay: old flame), Lynda and her significant other, Mike.

[Now, you might be wondering why we didn't instead go to Sikeston from Cave City, Ky. and then southward to Tunica. After all, that would have been a shorter route. Ahhh, but there was the matter of the cost of hotel rooms in Tunica. Weekend rate at Harrah's (and most of the other casinos in the area) run well into the hundreds, $180 being par. However, the Sunday-Thursday rate at the Tunica casinos are the real bargain: $40-50! So, we did a 'fishtail' path and chose to drive an extra 150 miles instead of spending an extra 150 dollars. I mean, gas isn't $4.00 these days, it was less than two bucks.]

I called Bolivar and thought that 10:30 would be an ideal time for us to meet for breakfast. There was a McDonald's near I-55 in Southaven, and that looked to be roughly 45 minutes from our hotel.

Seraphim bought some Harrah-tastic coffee before checking out. Instead of enlisting the bellhops, we analyzed our luggage situation and determined we could do this ourselves with 1-1/2 trips (2 trips for me, one for Sera). So we loaded ourselves and made it down to the lobby and breezeway, where Sera waited as I went to get Rupert. Driving him under the breezeway, we loaded him up, and then went back to the room to retrieve the remaining stuff -- and my "bonus" Diet Mountain Dew from last night.

South-heaven

It was 9:45 when we left Harrah's and made our way northward to US-61 and over to I-69, then north on I-55. Today was going to be yet another day of world travel, too. Yesterday, as you know, we experienced not just "France" (Paris, Tenn.) and "Italy" (Milan, Tenn.), but also "Egypt" (Memphis, Tenn.). We'll have an encore tour of Egypt, and today we'll see "The Netherlands", and "Spain."

I turned on KXJK-AM 950 out of Forrest City, Ark., still doing a classic hits format and sounding as good as ever. Some of you know I have a fetish for well-engineered AM stations still playing hit music (one might be able to count the whole of them on one hand today). It's good to be able to hear those kinds of stations in 2009. I used to listen to KXJK in the '80s, especially while still in Pine Bluff, always wondering the same thing: Why can't OUR station sound as good as that??? They sound so good, so clean, so tight, that one would logically think they were listening to a Memphis station. Nope, this station comes from St. Francis County, Arkansas, a fairly depressed area economically.

We got to the Mickey D's at around 10:25 and waited for B&J. Ahhh, but what's this next door?? DANVER'S?? Hmmmm, and it IS pushing 10:30. Egg McMuffins be damned, I want me some roast beef!! Sera (who understands her husband's addiction to Danver's roast beef sammiches) agreed that it would be better than yet another meal under the Arches.

It was pushing 11:00 when our friends got there, and they too liked the idea of a change of venue. Sooooooo, Danver's it was.

The great Bolivar and J-Lo, in person.

Hard to believe we go back nearly 23 years. What a long, strange trip it's been.

The best-laid plans of mice and Glecks happily go astray

I knew this wouldn't be a quick visit, and didn't want it to be. And quick it wasn't. We stayed at our table and talked it up until realizing that the day wasn't getting any longer. Goodbyes were said at 1:30 (!), and we zipped through Mempho without any delays or traffic congestion. Plans had to be reconfigured -- we'd be doing well to hit Sikeston by 3:30-4:00, certainly too late to partake of Lambert's and leave enough room for Italian food. A decision had to be made, and it was to forego the Italian for now -- neither of us wanted to pass up the (rare) opportunity for catching Lambert's famous "throwed rolls." I'd call Lynda when we got up there, and lay our reasons on the table, hoping they'd understand and go for Lambert's instead.

You see, things in Sikeston have changed since the days when Lambert's was a simple local cafe with a famous gimmick. Lynda no longer feels enthused about the place, and her sentiment appears to be shared by many of her fellow Sikestonians ... it's a sentiment those of us in Savannah understand with The Lady & Sons. When we first moved there, TL&S was a popular hole-in-the wall restaurant in City Market. Paula Deen was a local celebrity, and that was it. Then came Food Network and national fame, followed by a new location of TL&S and the long lines. It's now a 'tourist place', shunned by the majority of the locals.

And so has become Lambert's in the hearts and minds of Sikeston, Missouri. Lambert's is big and now goes for those traveling through on I-55 and 57. As we figured it, though, "We're tourists, and how often can we get those luscious yeast rolls??"

~~Highway 61~~ INTERSTATE 55 Revisited (or: "It's Flat-tastic!")

Leaving Memphis, we crossed Old Man River into Arkansas on the I-55 "old bridge" (the one that parallels the two railroad bridges ... it's the one Orlando Bloom crosses on his road trip in Elizabethtown).

"BUCKLE UP FOR SAFETY" sure beats hell out of what used to
be at the bottom of this sign: "HOME OF PRESIDENT BILL CLINTON"

Ahhhhh, Arkansas. I-55 doesn't make but a 72-mile trip through the state, every square inch of her concrete and asphalt flat as a pancake, except for the few "mountainous" areas - in the form of artificial hills for overpasses. I was impressed with the now-completed improved US-63 interchange (Exit 23). The road to Jonesboro is being upgraded to freeway status, and when finished, my college home will have itself an interstate connection: I-555.

The signage at Exit 23 never fails to warm my heart.
...even if it's in the new-style "clearview" font.

I love the terrain of east Arkansas nearly as much as the mountains. Seraphim made the remark that it looked like somebody had Photoshopped the mountains out. It did feel a bit strange driving the delta after many days spent in the rugged terrain of Appalachia. I-55 through Arkansas and the Missouri bootheel is a complete study in the whole of Delta culture, from the Mississippi flavor (Greenville, Helena, Tunica, West Memphis, Marion) to the 'northern' half (Jonesboro, Marked Tree, Blytheville, Caruthersville, Sikeston). Both halves seem a world apart. You have to experience it to understand.

As for the terrain in this area ... you have to see it to believe:

Toto, something tells me we're not in West Virginia anymore.....

This is as flat as it gets! However, people who travel between the Midwest and the South via Interstate 55 might get the impression that all of Arkansas is this flat. Nope. Less than 100 miles to the west of this freeway, the terrain makes a dramatic change, and one enters the high foothills of the Ozark Mountains.

Arkansas, like West Virginia, offers some amazing mountain views, especially along US-62/412 traversing the top portion of the state. We traveled that highway early in 2006 during our weeklong Arkansas getaway, including visits to Eureka Springs and Hot Springs.

This ain't mountains, though. But .... what's that in front of us? Holy crap! A hill!

"My word, I can see clear up to Cape Girardeau from atop this mound!"

I've always loved the way high-voltage power lines in the Delta form an awesome perspective in the distance:

The 'power' to mesmerize.

I told you I love it. These flatlands mean one thing:
memories of some great college days. Go A-State!

"Show Me" the world!

"Frothy eloquence neither convinces nor satisfies me.
I am from Missouri. You have got to show me." - Willard D. Vandiver

Just north of Blytheville, we bid fond adieu to Arkansas as I-55 enters Missouri. The interstate crossing isn't much to see ... it's too bad they didn't find a way to re-create for I-55 travelers the state line on 'the old highway', US-61. An archway, built in 1924, portals the Arkansas/Missouri line on 61. It's seen below: (photo credit)
This is on the Arkansas side, looking toward Missouri. Inscribed at the top of the arch is "ENTERING MISSOURI" This is yet another example of what people miss by not exploring the old highways. I first discovered this archway one Sunday in 1987 while driving with Lynda back to Jonesboro from Sikeston, and taking a 'different way' (or, as Mom would say, "Dawdling!"). Back then my roadgeek self might've been 'in remission', but my heart still skipped beats when it appeared before me.

So we are now in the area of Missouri called 'the bootheel', a world of its own - rather detached culturally from 'upstate' parts. It's more kindred with Tennessee than even Arkansas ... or especially Cape Girardeau.

Side note: At college, I learned very quickly when meeting fellow students from the bootheel -- attending under Arkansas State's "75-mile rule", allowing those in other states within that range to pay in-state tuition -- NOT to include as an icebreaker that I used to live in Cape. Most in the bootheel feel about Cape Girardeau the way most rural Georgians feel about Atlanta. Long story, much of it political. We'll leave it at that.

Shortly after crossing into Missouri, we saw the first billboard for Lambert's:

Get yer catcher's mitts ready: just 66 more miles to go!

Ice, ice baby - redux
As terrible as the trees looked in middle Kentucky from the ice storm in January, things were ten times worse in the bootheel of Missouri. I was amazed to see any treetops left at all! Yes, it was that bad. Tree limbs were piled everywhere -- in front of houses, all over the two rest areas in the bootheel, and even along the interstate itself. I was told the area was buried under as many as three inches of solid ice!

One of the first towns in Missouri along 55/61 is our first world stop. We're now tilting at the "windmills" of Holland, Mo.
This image Sera captured, with the disfigured tree, is a sad one. It's looking from the interstate toward the village of Holland. The exit on 55 carries another nearby town name, Cooter:
Yeah, Cooter. Dunno if they have a road named after Ben Jones, though.

Road geek note: "E" is indeed the designation for that roadway. Missouri has a network of minor-grade 'trunk roads' marked with letters instead of the usual numbers. It's usually a single or double-letter arrangement ... and, yes, there are some Route PPs or Route TTs. In Sikeston, Routes AA and H intersect, making for an amusing sign assembly: one direction it's "AA"/"H" and the other "H"/"AA."

Speaking of which, anyone want to 'take on me' in a game of highway Scrabble?

What was that name again??

Anyway, our next town was Hayti (pronounced "hay-tye"). While passing through here, a restaurant was brought to mind from long ago. I could not remember the name of it to save my life. I think it might've been the on-premises restaurant from Drury Inn's earliest days ... "Papa D's" comes to mind, but I'm not sure that was the name. At any rate, "Papa D's" (?) was a Denny's-like family restaurant in the region.

[edit: Very close. It was called Papa D Family Restaurant].

This is where Lynda and I always ate with her parents in Hayti on those weekends in college she 'went home.' Lynda didn't have a car at the time, so I'd meet her folks in Hayti - about halfway between Jonesboro and Sikeston - and they'd always treat me to dinner at this restaurant both the Friday night I brought her, and Sunday afternoon when I picked her up. They graciously did this as 'appreciation' for saving them the trip all the way to Jonesboro ... but I was glad to do it, not just to "be the good boyfriend", but -- yeaaaah, okay -- there were a couple of ulterior motives in the mix: 1) Missouri had lottery and cheaper gas (average of 59.9¢ a gallon in 1986-87, versus 74.9-ish in much of Arkansas), and - most importantly - 2) I was in range of listening to a very cool AM station: KYMO-AM 1080 out of East Prairie, Mo.

Was that a gasp of shock I heard from you, the reader? Talmadge Gleck, drawn to radio stations? Yeah, perish the thought. But it was true. KYMO was a favorite of mine while living in Cape Girardeau, and I've referred to it a few times in this space. Imagine a small town of barely 3,000 people, with a 500-watt daytime only AM station. Typically, such operations are country, with a very 'hick'-sounding presentation. But not KYMO -- big-ticket JAM "Priority One" jingles, '60s-style "wall-of-sound" audio with reverb in the chain, and a hard-leaning top-40 format, at times bordering on pure album rock. It still amazes me today how such a big sound could come from a one-lung station in such a tiny town. Yeah. What's more, KYMO held out with a live rock format until 1991. Since then, when KYMO-FM signed on, they've been satellite oldies. Oh well.....

As I pondered the restaurant's name, I changed the radio from KXJK - beginning to show signs of fading by now - over to AM 1080, which today simulcasts the FM (105.3). While it lacks the uber-compressed 'bite' from its old-school days, KYMO still throws out very clean audio. Great sound for an AM station. And, gawd love 'em, those same great JAM jingles.

The Marston, Mo. exit along I-55 had a Pilot station, and we figured to give the coffee another try. Certainly this couldn't be as bad as back in Tennessee. We stopped and filled up to the tune of $1.75/9. I got me a DMD, Sera got a Pilot-tastic Trucker's Coffee, and both got a one-dollar scratch-off. I busted, but Sera copped two bucks.

The weather was a shade on the nippy side in Southaven. Missouri, though, was another story. A brisk wind was rolling through the bootheel, and it was very, very c-o-l-d. The kind of weather foretelling one mean snowfall in its future.

It's New Madrid's fault!

From Marston, our next world stop was sunny "Spain" -- New Madrid (pronounced "MAD-rid") has notoriety as being the epicenter of one of the most destructive series of earthquakes ever to hit the U.S. in 1811-12. There's a museum in town, with a working seismograph. The "New Madrid Seismic Zone" is highly active, and depending on who you talk to, the area is way overdue for a major quake.

And when it happens this time (as opposed to 1811, when the population was sparse), it's going to be nasty. Unlike California, with its mostly rocky terrain, the bootheel is nothing but soft ground. Ever hear of liquifaction? Yup, if and when The Big One hits again, much of this area is going to literally turn to quicksand.

It's a sobering thought: This entire region sits on nothing less than a geological timebomb.

'Miner' change of plans.....

We pulled into the breezeway at Pear Tree Inn (originally the Drury Inn - built in 1973, first location of the entire chain) in Sikeston at just after 4:00. Well, not really Sikeston -- technically, the area of US-62 and I-55 is in the small community of Miner. ANYhoo, our 'freebie' room was on the third floor, with no elevator. It being zero dollars, I couldn't complain; Seraphim, on the other hand, was feeling a sore knee. Aye yi yi. So we kept her trips up and down at a minimum. I unloaded much of Rupert, and we got ourselves settled into our room.

And, wouldn't you know it, FREE WI-FI in their rooms. Woo hoo! This is Drury-tastic!

Due to our modified schedule, a quick run to and from Cape Girardeau wasn't going to be happening. We'll save that for next time.

I called Lynda, and explained our change in plans (hey, Bolivar and J-Lo were very much worth it, right?). Lynda and Mike had no desire to eat at Lambert's, although she understood where we were coming from. They were going to eat at La Villetta, and after we finished up at Lambert's, we'd meet them all at 7:00 at Villetta for drinks and conversation.

Both of us figured it prudent to go ahead and beat the long lines at Lambert's by hightailing it over there. The restaurant is just down US-62 (E. Malone St.) from the motel, and we got there about 5:15, and a wait time of practically nada.

Tree limbs aside, Sikeston looked good as ever. It's a down-to-earth small city of 17,000-ish in population. Plus - to my knowledge - it's the only city to have three U.S. highways with consecutive numbers: US-60, 61 and 62!

Think fast! Here comes another!

Lambert's food was good and Lambert-tastic as always. The yeast rolls .... they're evil and must be wiped out of our lives and memories. Probably more Points™ than Weight Watchers can even count. But -- say it with me -- "We're on vacation, dammit!" We're going to partake, by gawd.

A little background, for those who are curious. Lambert's Cafe was the epitome of a small town mom-and-pop eatery ... your basic meat-and-three affair. Their specialty were the giant yeast-rolls, served with dinner and sometimes given out to folks waiting in line for a seat, as the original Lambert's location had a very small seating capacity.

One Sunday - late '70s, maybe? - the line queue was longer than usual, and some folks were standing around talking, keeping the guy with the roll cart from getting to those toward the end of the line. One hungry gentleman yelled at the guy, "Just throw me the damned thing!" Which he did. Another in line said, "Throw me one, too." A third said the same thing.

A tradition was born. The employees - all dressed in blue oxford shirts with red suspenders - come around with those two heavenly words: "HOT ROLLS!!" You make eye contact with one of them, and they'll toss one your way. Another blue-shirt usually isn't far behind with a rolling tub of sorghum molasses, but personally I like mine with butter ... which they have in abundance on your table:

Hucares? I do.

Lambert's is still a family-run business, and have since expanded to Ozark, Mo. (outside of Springfield) and Foley, Alabama - north of Gulf Shores. And Seraphim and I have eaten at all three, thank you (Foley = 2001; Ozark = 2006; Sikeston = 1998, 2006, 2009). What I miss is the presence of patriarch Norm Lambert. He also threw rolls and got into the whole game with the rest of the employees. "Ol' Norm" passed away in 1996. He was a true independent spirit ... and I remember eating there in 1992, during the presidential race. Norm made his political leanings clear for all to see:

If only Ross had won.....

I love how that guy thought. I miss him ... but I can always say I caught some rolls from Norm himself. Lambert's is a great legacy from my days with Lynda: my first weekend up there in 1986 - the proverbial "bringing home to meet the parents" - her parents took us out to eat, and Lambert's was the place. From that night forward, I was hooked.

After our meal, Seraphim bought a lime-green Lambert's T-shirt, and I a "Throwed rolls" cap and a 'stress ball' in the shape of a yeast roll. Then we drove west down Malone to where La Villetta sits. It was about 6:30, and we thought to see if they had arrived early. Lynda and Mike were just going inside when we drove in.

A most surreal evening

It was the first time I'd seen Lynda since October 1992. She looked fantastic, and in good spirits (not just the alcohol kind, either!). Yes, Lynda is indeed an "old girlfriend." She was my longest relationship while at ASU, we were together from Fall 1986 until I made the ghastly mistake of 'dumping her' for someone else in May of '88. Again, those close to me know the story and how Old Bitch Karma took up for Lynda's broken heart and soon dealt me my comeuppance, but that's neither here nor there.....

Lynda and I reconnected much the same way Seraphim did with her 'first love' "Jimmy." You see, there's a spooky parallel involving Lynda and Seraphim: Both were unceremoniously ditched in favor of supposedly newer and shinier "trophies." Only difference: in Jimmy's case, Sera got dumped for ... another MAN. Yup, Jimmy crossed the field to play for the American League.

Unlike my own dating years (an earthquake is smooth by comparison), Lynda and Sera never had much of a history ... Jimmy was Sera's first, and I came along a decade later. And I was Lynda's "Jimmy."

ANYhoo, a couple years back Jimmy wrote Sera an e-mail apologizing for what he did to her years ago, and the two 'reconnected' and are now fair-weather friends. Jimmy's now living in Kansas City (want more 'spooky'? The woman I dumped Lynda for ALSO lives in KC!), and has a happy life 'playing for his team.'

It led me to thinking about Lynda, and how I've always carried a heavy burden of guilt for how I did her dirty. I wrote her, apologizing ... and she wrote back, telling me about her new love, and how happy she is today. I'm glad for her.

I told her about my own crazy life since 1988 (and especially 1991-1997!!), about Seraphim and how I wanted 'another chance' at someone with Lynda's qualities. I didn't appreciate what I had when I had it. Of course in Sera I found those qualities, and then some. Lesson learned.

Sitting at the table with Lynda and Sera ... wow. In my line of vision were the two best women I'd ever been romantically involved with. Two bookends separating a bunch of largely unpleasant literature in my life.

Both women got along famously, and Mike was putting 'em away ... making toast after toast after toast. Lynda's boyfriend was getting plenty sloshed (thankfully SHE was going to take him back home!!). We all had good conversation. I even had one (1) beer. The first drop of alcohol I'd had in at least a year. (ref. "We're on vacation, dammit!") All told, this evening was a fun, if highly weeeeird stretch of time.

We left La Villetta about 10:30 to a very cold rain. The temperature was hovering at 33 degrees, and the forecast called for snow by morning. Snow, in fact, would be following us all the way to Georgia, if the folks at the National Weather Service called it right.

After we got in the car, my wife said something which cracks me up just thinking about it now. She poked me in the shoulder as she said, "I like Lynda a lot .... WHY DID YOU DUMP HER??!!"

After we got back to the motel, Sera went to bed and before I did the same, I booted up the laptop and caught up on some e-mail and various Facebook capers.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day of driving. We must be rested up. G'night, all.

To be continued.......

BY THE NUMBERS:
Dead skunks spotted and/or smelled: 0
Bob Evans restaurants passed: 0 (had we gone to Cape, that number would have been "1")
Diet Mountain Dews consumed: 2 (it was a light day!)
Beers uncharacterally consumed by Talmadge: 1
Great-sounding AM stations listened to today: 2
Countries "visited": 4 (Mississippi, Egypt, Netherlands, Spain)
Rolls caught and consumed at Lambert's: 3
Trees still fully intact after the ice storm: 4, maybe?

Three letters.......

2009-03-25T23:39:00.003-04:00

W T F ? ? ! !

I cannot even fathom this puppy. My activity quotient does lack, although it's better than in past weeks. I drank plenty of liquids. I stayed within points, except trying out a system where I 'reset' daily points at suppertime (allowing for any curve-balls at night, figuring it's easier for myself to reconfigure lunch plans the next day, ya know?).

The scale said I went up +2.8. Yowzah, that's not a good prize. Cume resets to -56.6

Ate one (1) Egg McMuffin this morning, with a stop through Chick-Fil-A for a large diet lemonade ... and one (1) can of tuna, and nursing a liter bottle of diet lemonade (forget the brand name; can only find it at Fred's, of all places ... really good, almost as good as CFA's). Last night it was a Subway pepperoni pizza with a DMD.

Dunno. Maybe this'll straighten itself out next week. One thing I do know: I've got to find another night to go to a WW meeting. I have officially had my fill of this leader. First, she was jockeying as receptionist, and her "that's good, that's good", and on top of that getting the math wrong (3 POUNDS ... that's fuzzier than what's-his-W!). I cannot talk to her. She does not listen to a (BLEEP)damned word I say. She's just like my maternal grandmother -- saying "uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh" as a continuous loop while I'm talking ... when a person does that, they're not listening. They couldn't care less what you're saying.

We're skipping meetings because, frankly, I have no desire to take part in the Richard-Simmons-on-speed uber-cheerleading. "Better living through chemistry" about covers it.

I'm debating the merits of a Thursday evening out in the wilds of Bloomingdale. What say you, Seraphim?

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "At least I'm still over 55" Gleck

PS - The rest of the travelogue is coming down the pipe. Give me a few more days.....

Roadtrip '09, DAY 7: The Globetrotting Glecks

2009-03-19T21:10:00.041-04:00

Tal & Sera's Big 2009 Roadtrip
DAY SEVEN - Thursday, 26 February.
Destination: Tunica, Mississippi -- Harrah's Casino.
Miles traveled: 345.1

Sunrise in our Indian teepee. With the full-size beds, we took the retro factor an extra step, and slept in separate beds - just like married couples did in 1955 (at least if one judges by television).

As previously mentioned, the appointments in the wigwam - the radiator, desk and bedframes, among most bathroom fixtures - are the genuine circa-1937 articles. I slept okay, considering the mattress left much to be desired. I joked that the mattress was probably just as old.

The shower had incredibly good water pressure. That's the good news. The bad? The water heater capacity was smaller than a 2-liter soda.

WIDE AWAKE, we got dressed (and wore short-sleeves without a jacket for the first time in many days), packed our stuff back into Rupert, then I went out to take more pictures in better daylight. The motel's owner opened the old office teepee and let us look around in there, and he even gave us a couple of the old '70s-era postcards.
The "big teepee" used to have a restaurant on the main floor, with a full basement that served as the gift shop and the kitchen. The mini-teepees on each side were the restrooms.

The restaurant closed soon after I-65 opened in the mid '60s, causing US-31W to lose its mojo. The gift shop was then moved upstairs. I'm sure he would've let me look around downstairs, were it not time to get going.

Then we received a very nasty surprise.

Seems the water heater isn't the only thing with reduced capacity...

"DECLINED??!!" Seems the credit card we used for the motel was rejected. Ummmmm, that's not good. Ain't no way I'm within shouting distance of the card's limit. This was a card which we kept as a 'zero balance', and put into use for the motel and gas purchases which I'd pay in full from the tax refund (what finances these yearly junkets). The card had a $7,000 limit on it, and the balance was no more than $500. W? T? F?

I used another card for the room, it went through, and we set out. Our next stop was going to be breakfast at Denny's in Bowling Green. Well, that is now our second stop -- the first is the nearest pay phone. I'm calling the card issuer to get some answers.

And boy, did I get an answer.

The card was over the limit. Suddenly my $7,000 credit card morphed itself into one with a $400 credit limit, meaning I was now $100 and change over the top. The charge for gas yesterday in Kentucky went through, as did the cabin in Mt. Nebo. But they weren't about to approve the wampum for the wigwam.

You see, the day we left on the trip, HSBC massacred many of its cardholders. And I was one of them.

I got a supervisor, and explained that we had no way of knowing this went down ... and, I admit, I did make it appear as if we were 'stranded' (we weren't, really), which was good for their raising the limit back.

Back to a whopping $1,100. Bless them.

Well. I had to remember that HSBC is not one of the better card issuers, and the card was opened in 2006, back when I was still in the shadow of my Chapter 7 in 1998 ... back when beggars couldn't be choosers. The card's interest rate, while not "subprime", was higher than our other cards, so it was sock-drawered, used for pay-as-we-go. Funny, I'd never had problems with HSBC .... at least until now.

Well, ain't this a fine and craptastic top-of-the-morning. I am thankful for any blissful ignorance until after we left West Virginia ... any way you look at it, this was a sour start to our day.

Sera and I then hop onto I-65 southbound, destined for Bowling Green and trying to drown our "financial sorrows" with a good, nutritious Denny's Grand Slam breakfast.

Wi-Fi? Do-WHAAAAA???, Part I

Recently, Denny's rolled out internet access at most all of its restaurants. Even in the swamps of the South Carolina Lowcountry one can plug into the 'net at one of their locations.

But not in Bowling Green. There was nothing at this exit except (protected) signals from motels. (At this point, you're just waiting for me to say "craptastic", aren't you?) Other than that, the breakfast was good, the service very pleasant.

Next stop: "Talmadge"-ville

From Bowling Green - home of the GM plant where Corvettes are made - we left the interstate to take four-lane US-68 westward toward Russellville. We were listening to their local AM station (WRUS), which had live announcers and a midday agriculture report and even obituaries (!), truly a quaint idea in this day and age. I hope Russellvillians realize how blessed and fortunate they are ... true live and local "community" radio stations are getting rarer by the year.

We found the WRUS studio building south of town, hoping for a good photo-op (A picture of myself in front of the "WRUS" sign, to go with a pic of Seraphim - real name Amy - standing outside the building of WAMY in Amory, Miss). WRUS' building looked nice and unassuming, but no call letters on the building and just a concrete base out front from which a sign once rested. The only evidence of this being a radio station were the satellite dishes on the premises and the mast in the back with a microwave studio-transmitter link dish.

Well, poot. So much for that opportunity. I thought about going in and looking at their facility -- and I really, really wanted to -- however I wanted us to get to Tunica at a decent hour and to avoid Memphis' rush hour, something we wouldn't be doing with our thumbs up our collective asses in Kentucky. Let's get moving again.

But first, Rupert was fed some Shell petroleum at a station outside downtown Russellville for $1.72/9. We figure that should get us on into Mississippi without trouble. A $1.00 Kentucky scratch-off for each of us yielded a royal bust.

Buhbye, Wildcat Blue ... Hello, Big Orange

From Russellville, four lanes became two as we started out southwest at the eastern terminus of U.S. Highway 79 for the remaining few miles left in Kentucky. The next stop: Clarksville, Tennessee. We figured Krystal - another chain with wi-fi pretty much everywhere - would have a presence in this military town. Or somewhere else, most certainly adjacent to I-24. I recall from our last trip down that highway (December 2006), the US-79/I-24 interchange was a big watering hole.

Indeed, there are plenty of dining options at this intersection. We saw Krystal, and half a block down it was a Starbuck's. Sera was jonesin' for a Star-tastic latte, and Starbuck's also has wi-fi pretty much SOP at its zillions of locations.

Wi-Fi? Do-WHAAAAA???, Part II

And so began a comedy on so many ridiculous levels.

Starbuck's: "Wi-Fi? We don't have that ... I think Krystal has it, though .... "

Sorry, then, no coffee sale.

*sigh* We then double back down to Krystal.

Krystal: "Wi-Fi? Do-WHAAAAAAAA?????"

Good. Gawd.

We were just past lunchtime, and needed a wi-fi connection in order that we may e-mail Bolivar again to let him know that we were going to be in his and J-Lo's neighborhood. We didn't have his phone number handy, so we had to go for e-mail.

On the other side of this highway-o-heartburn was a shopping mall, complete with a Borders. Bookstores have wi-fi, don't they?

Uhhhhh, yes. If it works.

Border's: "It's done by T-mobile and I think it's broke."

I didn't see any open laptops in the coffee shop, so she might be on the level. In any event, even if it weren't "broke", it was a pay-for-play, and that's not an option.

At this point, these Clarksville, Tennessee inbreds were beginning to rub me the wrong way. So much for the Deep South being backwards, eh? I'm serious -- Savannah just swarms with free wi-fi hotspots at gawd knows how many stores. Ditto for many places in Alabama. Even golldurned TROY. These Clarksville people oughta be ashamed.

Thinking about how laughably easy it is to find hot spots -- even here in Rincon -- I was getting very pissed off. I needed an internet connection. This is not 2002, people, so get with the program!!!

I saw a sign pointing toward Clarksville's library. For one thing, we'd already blown through 45 minutes of valuable time; for another, I didn't feel like a wild goose chase to find this city's library; and most of all, using these galoots as a yardstick, I'd probably get the following response from the librarian: "Wi-fi? My granddaddy had one of them things. You stacked them long-playing records on that tall pole and they plopped down and played."

US-79 continued, skirting downtown Clarksville (sound effect: banjo strum) and I knew when we started seeing sleazy "we-tote-the-note" used car lots and title-pawn shops that we must be getting near the entrance of a military installation ... in this case Fort Campbell.

I feel sorry for any military family transferred to this gawd-forsaken place. I hope they bring a wireless card for their laptop. That's assuming they have cellphone service in Clarksville. I don't know. My cellphone was off for this duration.

But I did find something really cool in the middle of all this wasteland:

What a gorgeous thing of beauty! It resembles the old 1952-82 Holiday Inn signage, except for parts of it being turned around.

A postcard I found online has this sign pictured, and it had a postmark of 1965. My question is just how Kemmons Wilson (Holiday Inn's founder and creator/namer of the "Great Sign") felt about this tweak of a trademark. Below are both, side to side. You be the judge:

"One of these things is not like the other"

I can think of a lot of places I'd love to have a "vacation", and it sure the hell ain't here. "Wi-fi? My momma had an Admiral - had a lid on it, too, and the radio dial glowed this green color when we turned it on to hear The Grand Old Opry on WSM. We listened to Daddy's Flatt & Scruggs records on it, too. No, we ain't got no Wi-fi, but we do got black and white Motorola Quasars in every room. They even tune UHF stations, whatever in tarnation them are. No color TV, sorry, except for here in the lobby, but it only gits Channel 5 and not too good."

Every woman deserves a romantic trip to the Eiffel Tower ... even my wife

The next item on our travel agenda found us in the environs of Paris. Do not let it be said that I never took my wife to Paris.
Paris, Tennessee is a pleasant little city, and it marked my second visit to this place. The first time, oddly enough, was 15 years ago this month: February 1994. There's a replica of the Eiffel Tower in Paris' Memorial Park, built there in 1992. A picture of me was taken by my "practice wife", the illustrious Whatzername. I thought it would be an interesting A/B pair:

1994 ... and 2009 (I think I look happier in the right picture, don't you?)

Now wasn't that sweet and idyllic?

Next stop: Italy!

From Paris, we resumed our southwesterly jog down US-79 until we came upon the city of Milan. And that's not pronounced as they do in Italy, in Tennessee it's MI-lun.

Since breakfast was had rather late, we opted to go with a very light 'late lunch', and no better place than a Wendy's in Milan which -- part the clouds, sound the trumpets, cue the chorus of angels -- HAD FREE WI-FI INSIDE. And, wonder of wonders, the woman behind the counter knew what it was.

We sat down with our food, and each had our turn with the laptop. I sent an e-mail to Bolivar, with the subject line in all caps - "URGENT!!!" I left our cellphone numbers and hoped he would see it by tonight.

Nice dogg-----BAD DOG!!!

From Milan, we took US-45E into Jackson and right onto I-40 westbound for the leg into Memphis. It was looking as if we'd just miss the worst of rush hour, yet get into Tunica before it was too late to partake of Paula Deen's buffet at Harrah's, where we had a room waiting. Another consideration was the possibility of severe weather this evening -- we wanted to get settled in before any of that occurred.

The next stop proved an adventure, and not of the good kind. It would go on to be the craptastic pitstop to end all craptastia. The Pilot station showing its signage to us at Exit #42 on I-40 near Stanton, Tenn. lured us off the super slab for gasoline, "truckers' coffee" and - maybe - a DFD, as most Pilots had.

Sera went on inside to prepare her coffee while I put some gasoline into Rupert's 16.5-gallon gastric chamber. They were asking $1.69/9 for the privilege, which turned out to be the cheapest price paid for this entire trip. It was ... shall we say ... Pilotastic.

And that was the only good thing about this stop.

There was a black guy walking his dog - a reddish-colored mutt of medium size. The dog saw me and came toward me. I extended my hand in my usual 'I come in peace' fashion, he sniffed it and I started petting him as I made small talk with the gentleman. I made no quick moves (not a good idea with a dog who doesn't know you), but for whatever reason, this dog turned on me. He snapped and shit near bit my hand clear off. I credit whatever blazin'-fast reflexes on my part at keeping just that from happening.

The guy pulled back on the dog's leash, and started a lame apology, then asked if I smoked. "Ummm, no." "He doesn't like smokers." "Well, I've never smoked and I have never been near a burning cigarette today." Hadn't been since our last Pilot visit (Grayson, Ky.) the day before. I meant to say something about that on the last day's travelogue -- that whole Pilot station smelled like a golldurned ashtray. That's Kentucky for you. They lurve their tobacco.

Well, he took a quick powder from the scene, because he could see I was a bit perticked.

It didn't get any better, either. Inside, the bathrooms were n-a-s-t-y, there was no Diet Fountain Dew -- just Coke products -- and Sera said the coffee here looked gross. I got a DMD bottle, and the guy behind the counter made me abundantly aware that I was in the rimshot of metro Memphis, Tennessee. The man had an attitude which made the bathroom so clean you could eat off the floor.

Let's just say that there are certain people in Memphis who are nothing short of hateful and rude toward certain other folks, and leave it at that. I went to college 70 miles from there, and made frequent trips to Mempho, so I know of what I speak. It hasn't changed.

And evidently, the same goes for some of the dogs. Truly and verily, we were a long way from West Virginia and sweet black dogs inside rural convenience stores.

If you think that was the end of our fun, there's just one more thing. It was past dusk, and I didn't see the dark car coming toward me -- without its lights on!! -- as I turned left to the onramp. I came all too close to hitting it.

Okay, I'm getting the hell back onto this interstate. Note to self (and others): never, EVER stop at the Stanton exit (#42) on I-40. Eschew that part of Tennessee entirely.

After a couple of miles, I got my heart jumpstarted and at this point we were done with pitstops and both ready for some Paula-tastic southern food in Tunica!

Long distance information....

Memphis was uneventful, and the interstates all moving at a good clip. I-40 joined up with I-240, and we took it west around the southern rim of Memphis proper, picking up I-55 south to enter Mississippi. What we also didn't know at the time was that the Bob Evans we passed east of Mempho was the last one we'd see for this entire trip. :-(

And you know, after the craptastic time we had through a lot of Tennessee, I almost rejoiced when I saw the sign reading "Enter DeSoto County Mississippi." I never thought I'd ever find Missi-damn-sippi to be a happy sight.

Our last visit to Tunica was in February 2006, and a link from I-55 to US-61 at the casinos was still being constructed. It was finished now, and carries the designation of Interstate 69 (cue Beavis & Butt-Head laughing). I-69 has long been an interstate going from Indianapolis to the Canadian border at Port Huron, Mich., but is now being expanded into Texas, and given the lovely nickname "NAFTA Freeway", as it will connect Mexico with Canada.

How loverly.

For some reason, Mississippi has signed the little casino spur as I-69. And it took us quickly and easily to US-61, and less than mile from the turnoff to the casinos. We missed the clutter and stop-and-go of Highway 61 out of Memphis, with the countless billboards for the Tunica casinos, all reading like a who's-who of washed-up pop acts. Tunica seems to be reveling in its role as a pop music Branson, where stars of yesterday go to rot away.

LOVERBOY ... EVERY DAY IN APRIL AT GOLD STRIKE!

NOW APPEARING AT GRAND CASINO TUNICA: DEXY'S MIDNIGHT RUNNERS!

LIMITED ENGAGEMENT AT HARRAH'S: PABLO CRUISE!!

Paulafood!

It was roughly 7:45 when we pulled up at Harrah's to check in, only to be told that our room was at the other Harrah's building, about mile away from this one (and there's yet another adjacent, too!). A shuttle goes regularly between the hotels and this one, with the casino and restaurant. Ohhhh fine.

We go back to the other building (the Veranda), get checked in, and - whoops, we have a mandatory bellhop. They don't allow the rolling carts out of their sight (what, are they afraid we'll steal 'em and get the gold plating hocked for more gambling money??). Fine. Whatever. Just get us and our stuff the hell into our room, so we can hop the shuttle and get our damned food. We're starving.

The lady at the desk said the shuttle ran every five minutes. My ass. We just missed the one as we walked outside, and I counted 20 minutes before the next van pulled up.

I'd say it was about 8:20 before we got into the Paula Deen buffet, and they closed up at 9:00. It gave us enough time to get all full of catfish, fried chicken, rice and good tea.

Anyone who lives around Savannah knows what has become of Deen's restaurant The Lady & Sons. You have to get in line tomorrow to get a table in July. It's so long that we can walk outside into our front yard in Rincon, and take our place in line.

In other words, we had to go all the way to cotton-pickin' Tunica, Mississippi just to be able to eat Paula Deen's food!!!

Gamblin' time.....

Filled with Paula-tastic home cookin', it was time for the serious matter at hand: the wagering of our dinero in the various slot machinage on the massive floor of Harrah's Tunica.

We stuck mainly to the 25¢ slots ... and just as I sat down to start blowing my wad of cash, my cellphone (which I turned on after we left Milan) vibrated. It was Bolivar, and I quickly ducked into the bathroom so I could hear myself talk.

He and I spoke for a few minutes, and gave me an update on what's been going down in his life (I'll let him tell it). He had the day pretty much free tomorrow, so we decided to meet up for a late breakfast at McDonald's in Southaven, Miss. (the city immediately south of the Tennessee line, an extended suburb of Memphis). There was no way, if possible, I was going to miss out on at least a meal with the Bolivar Lifeform. Yeah, and Her J-Lo'ness, too.

That arranged, I got back to the slots. First, I went searching for Seraphim to relay to her our plans with Bol and J-Lo, and tell her the news in his life.

I was sidetracked by her machine having spasms. Yeah, she hit a nice payoff, nearly tripling her seed money. Sweet.

Me, I blew it all. It took over two hours to do it, but I eventually ran dry. Which was all for the better, because my right ankle was beginning another round of gout attacks. The (literally) stabbing pain was getting worse.

It was 11:40 or so when we walked -- or SERA walked, and I limped -- out of the casino and out front to grab the shuttle back to our hotel.

Seraphim had roughly double her original money (we had $60 each to gamble with), and I had nada. So this evening of gambling fun was virtually free of charge. Can't bitch.....

Wild Dew Chases and More Wi-Fi Follies

Once back in our fifth-floor Veranda room, Sera got ready for bed while I was going to stay up a little later. I wanted to get me a Diet Mountain Dew (and pop one of my Indocin pills for the gout pain), fire up the trusty laptop and, maybe, upload some webpages to the Birmingham site -- the ones I put together earlier back in Mount Nebo.

First matter was the procuring of the DMD. I limped myself to the vending nook on our floor, only to find a "damn ice machine." Well, crap. Elevator down to Floor #4 -- yes! A Pepsi machine with DMD. Cue losing horns ... the machine was out of order. Shit.

Figuring I'd deciphered the Harrah's 'code' - soda machines every other floor alternating with damn ice machines - I got back into the Otis to go down to the second floor. And, true to theory, there was a Pepsi machine waiting. The sodas were $1.50 for the 20-oz. bottles, which seemed on par with most convenience stores nowadays. I put in the money, and pushed the button corresponding with the object of my carbonated affection.

This MUST be a casino, because I doubled my winnings. Not one, but two (2) Diet Mountain Dews came out of the machine. Woo hoo!

Back in the room, I unpacked the laptop and booted her up. I tapped into the wi-fi signal from Harrah's, only to find out that they charge for the internet. What??

The charge? $11.95 a night. To quote John Belushi when told by Dan Ackroyd that he was going to visit 'The Penguin': "No. F**king. Way." Not when it's 12:30 in the morning, the weather going downhill, and the sandman is gaining on me.

Screw this. I wrote some more text for the travelogues, as I was hearing sheets of rain hitting the building, and some loud thunder. The TV was on the NBC station in Memphis, WMC-TV 5 (cue riverboat whistle), and there were severe thunderstorm watch boxes for much of northwest Mississippi and parts of east Arkansas. Even a TS Warning for Shelby County (Memphis). It was supposed to blow through and clear up by tomorrow. Let's hope.

It was about 1:00 (CST) when I shut everything down and went to sleep.

G'night.

To be continued.............

BY THE NUMBERS:
Dead skunks spotted and/or smelled: 2
Bob Evans restaurants passed: 2
Diet Mountain Dews consumed: 4
Number of surnames in Clarksville, Tenn.: 3
Kisses exchanged in front of the "Eiffel Tower": 2
Brutal auto collisions narrowly avoided: 1
Dollars Talmadge lost gambling: 60
Dollars Seraphim lost gambling: 0
Dollars Seraphim gained gambling: 125
Dollars of available credit vanished: 5,900
Poxes wished on HSBC: 5,900

Roadtrip '09, DAY 6: Travel the Wigwam Way

2009-03-17T21:27:00.046-04:00

Tal & Sera's Big 2009 Roadtrip
DAY SIX - Wednesday, 25 February.
Destination: Cave City, Kentucky -- Wigwam Village #2.
Miles traveled: 409.5

Our last morning in the Wild and Wonderful. The plan was to leave by 9:00, and away we went like a herd of turtles at 9:15. Not too bad.

The first stops this morning were our usual spots: the Hawk's Nest overlook outside of Ansted, and then the "old bridge" at New River Gorge, a/k/a "The Grand Canyon of the East", which offers a breathtaking view of the arch bridge. The West Virginia quarter, many of you know, features a view of the New River Gorge bridge, from the vantage point of the old bridge.

Gleck Greetings from West Virginia - 2009!

And the "old route" rejoins the current-day US-19 at the outskirts of Fayetteville, and one tantalizing block from a West Virginia institution, Tudor's Biscuit World. Breakfast time!!

"One of the coolest small towns in America", huh? I looked that up, and it seems to be an honor doled out by a website called Budget Travel.com. I can't judge yay or nay, as I haven't ventured off the main beaten path of Highway 19 into town. Personally, though, Fayetteville meets my standards as a "cool town" for one reason. It has one of THESE:

Rupert (shown parked to the right) pouts outside while his drivers enjoy the good stuff.

Enough said. And breakfast was, shall we say, delightful. Tudor-tastic, baby! If your travels ever bring you through West Virginia, I highly recommend at least one stop at Tudor's. Suspend any 'diet' or 'program' and indulge. God gave us West Virginia, and West Virginians gave us Tudor's Biscuit World. "Start your day the homemade way."

(Where's my check? Just kidding. I think.)

'Till next year (and you KNOW we'll be back)

Full of such Tudor-tastic biscuitude, it was time to hit the road and get ourselves into Kentucky and our wigwam for the night. We had just one more stop to make in West Virginia, and it was the Morton Travel Plaza, just south of Charleston on the West Virginia Turnpike, for some drinks 'n' drainage. Sera got a Starbucks-tastic latte, and I a bottle of DMD.

The pain of seeing West Virginia's welcome sign in the rear view mirror was tempered by what lay ahead. Wigwam Village ... Tunica ... lots of stuff in front of us.

A few miles down I-64 we had to stop for gas, and it being well past noon, a bite of lunch. There was a Pilot at Exit #172, with a Wendy's on-premises. A Wendy's that offered a 10% discount on food if one bought 8 or more gallons of gas. Dude, we're there.

Gas in Kentucky was far cheaper than West Virginia, but a bit steep by Kentucky standards: $1.75/9. I didn't gripe and filled 'er up. And filled us up at Wendy's.

And, tummies full of a Dave-tastic lunch, we then got back on the interstate.

Craptastic highways!

Our path of travel called for us to get on the Blue Grass Parkway west of Lexington, and at Elizabethtown pick up I-65 south for the 45-ish remaining miles into Cave City.

Simple enough, yes, but for a small hurdle: Lexington, Kentucky. That city has the most seriously retarded highway infrastructure I've ever seen, and I live in Savannah, Georgia - so I know my retarded highway layouts. Here's a snapshot of a Google Maps image of Lexington:

If there's a reason for this joke, I have yet to hear it.
Maybe Kentuckians like it. Perhaps they were drunk on Ale-8-One
while planning all this deranged splendor. Or they lacked basic horse sense.

Horse. Lexington. Good gawd on a combo bet, I amuse myself sometimes.

As you can see above, there is no interstate 'spur' route into Lexington, proper. Both interstate highways -- 64 and 75 -- skirt the city at a distance. Now I-95 does pretty much the same thing in Savannah, but at least there's I-16 which puts a freeway-grade road straight into the heart of downtown.

Lexington doesn't have even that, just what appears to be a part-freeway loop (orange lines are the limited-access "freeway" roads, and yellow lines indicate regular surface-level roadways). And that really isn't a complete expressway, either. From where we got off I-64/75 until we were well out of the congested part of Lexington on US-60 toward Blue Grass Parkway, it was non-stop traffic lights, clutter and sprawl that shames Abercorn Street here in Savannah!

There, simply, is no easy and quick route from I-64 and 75 to the Blue Grass Parkway, a direct link to points west, i.e. Elizabethtown, Paducah, Nashville, Memphis, et al.

The only redeeming factor were the horse farms we saw along US-60 west of town. And this castle-like thing my wife spotted from the highway:
It's called the Martin Castle, and supposedly it's incomplete. The story goes, a man who invested in and did well with the coal boom married this woman, and on their honeymoon to Europe she became enamored with castles. Rich hubby set out to build her a replica of one of those castles. Unfortunately, they divorced during its construction, and the castle was never finished. Decades later it sits, unsold. Read more here.

Just before the entrance to Blue Grass Parkway is a Chevron station. It was time for more drinks and drainage. They had Diet Fountain Dew, and - since there wasn't Coke Zero - the missus had to settle for Diet Coke instead.

While in there, I spotted a cooler decked out with the insignia of Kentucky's Soft Drink (or so they say):
Ale-8-One ("A late one", get it?) is a ginger-ale like soda sold only in parts of Kentucky. Sera and I both tried one the last time we were in east Kentucky (our Fall 2006 trip to Pittsburgh), and found it to be a very weak beverage, tasting like watered down Canada Dry. Oh well, to each their own. Kentuckians can keep it. They can sip on one while navigating their mongoloidal highways.

Ice ice, baby.

Once on the "BG Parkway" (which used to be a toll roadway until the construction bonds were paid off and the tolls lifted), we began encountering sights which became commonplace over the next several days we were in this region: heavily damaged trees, broken tops, and beaucoups piles of tree limbs. I'd heard of the terrible ice storm which ravaged parts of Missouri and Arkansas back in January, yet had no idea it extended this far east. Yikes. I feel for those people.

Damn.......

Going back in time, in more ways than one

At Hart County, we crossed into the Central Time Zone, giving us an extra hour. Whoopie. Joy. Rapture.

At Horse Caves we spotted the cheapest gasoline for the entire trip: $1.59/9. At this point, we started scouting out possible candidates for supper. We didn't think Cave City, being small and relatively close to a larger city (Bowling Green), would have much beyond the usual Mickey D's and Krystal suspects. And by now, the last thing either of us wanted was another golldurned hamburger ... nor to have to drive an additional 25 miles into Bowling Green for 'real' food, even if it were to be Bob Evans.

Then we saw the billboard. Cracker Barrel, next exit at Cave City. Hot bediggety damn, talk about hitting the spot dead-on.

It was just before 5:00 p.m. CST when we got off I-65. Yup, there was the Cracker Barrel in all her full Lebanon glory. But behind it was an abandoned location of what used to be a popular regional chain in these parts, Jerry's Restaurant. Love that sign. Love it, I tell you.
If that place were open, that would've been our eating choice. The Gleck Cardinal Rule of Travel Dining goes thus: "Whenever possible, always opt for those eateries - chain, or otherwise - which one cannot get at home."

Although a dead chain, Jerry's has a legacy in the restaurant world: in the late 1960s, they began a spin-off group of 'fast seafood' restaurants which they named ... Long John Silver's.

Golly, such trivia. Just remember who you're dealing with. When it comes to trivia, I'm full of it.

ANYway ... we drove through downtown Cave City toward US-31W (one of several paths of the old Dixie Highway) north of town, where our teepee for the night was waiting. We got there, and let me tell you, it was ever the sight for roadside-sore eyes.

Wigwam Village was a chain of motels started by Frank A. Redford. The first 'village' opened in nearby Horse Caves, on the other route of 31, US-31E. This is Wigwam Village #2. There were a total of 7 in its heyday ... #5 was near Birmingham, Ala. and in operation from 1940 through 1964. It's long gone. Today, only three remain: Cave City, Holbrook, Ariz., and Rialto, Calif.

The big teepee - which used to serve as the restaurant, office and gift shop - was closed, and guests were to check in at the adjacent "normal"-looking house, which served as the innkeepers' residence.

The Wigwam Village was recently sold, and now a family of Indians own the property. How appropriate, right? Well, not really. A motel with an "Indian" (i.e. Native-American) motif was being run by the other "Indians" (i.e. Asian-Americans). Or, as a friend of mine put it, "Casino Indians versus Convenience Store Indians."

The irony of the whole thing had me laughing.

I checked us in, and were given the key to Wigwam number 6.

As we said to one another, as a reminder: "Low expectations." We didn't want to have our hopes up, just in case it turns out to be a nasty place, where we'd have to sleep standing up. Here's hoping.

The idea wasn't to cop a cozy, luxurious Hampton Inn room, but instead to be able to say we spent the night at a genuine roadside original from the early days of automobile travel, the last remaining Wigwam Village east of the Mississippi. I mean, in this economic meltdown, who knows how long this place will stay in business (and, going by the fact that we were the only ones here that week.....). In any event, here was our once-in-a-lifetime chance. We had to do it. And we are.

We drove the little roadway behind the teepees, and parked next to our tent for the night. With fingers crossed, we opened the 'flap'......

Holding the key to our pointy-roofed concrete bunker.

"Hmmmm, this works."

The rooms are amazingly spacious, considering how tiny they look from the outside. Plenty of room for two fullsize beds, with a shower large enough for two consenting adults.

The desk and bedframes all are from day one. All 1937 vintage. It's a very clean and well-kept room. A pleasant surprise. We're happy.

Photo Pow-Wow

While I still had some daylight, I went out to take pictures. I had to get a good shot of the main signage, which dates back to the motel's opening. As I was doing this, I noticed a young boy, maybe 10 or 11-ish, riding a bicycle approaching the backlit (and faded) Coca-Cola sign in the distance. This was the owners' son. He reached down to a power box and threw a switch, turning it on for the night. He then rode over to the base of the main Wigwam sign, and did the same thing.

And with a loud buzz and flicker, her neon came to life! I damn near wet my pants ... it looked beautiful when it all 'warmed up' and cast its roadside siren call, just as it first did 72 years ago.

May God bless the inert noble gas Ne!

Once my wife mopped up all the yellow puddles, we unloaded Rupert and then left to get ourselves some of that goooood Cracker Barrel food. Though not before trying to find another wi-fi location. After a short period of wardriving, we found a spot across from Cracker Barrel, nearby a motel with an unprotected signal (shame on them, heh heh).

Supper, as we'd hoped, was Cracker-tastic. A stop by a convenience store on 31W yielded Sera a Coke Zero, and I a Diet Fountain Dew ... and then it was back to our merry teepee for some television, and a good night's rest.

Our only concern was that we were the only ones here that night. It's a good thing Cave City looked very clean (I love the name -- it even sounds retro!).

Here are a buttload of pictures we took of this place:

And the best part about Wigwam Village?
That's right ... it has a damn ice machine!! (private joke ... just ask if you're curious)

To be continued............

BY THE NUMBERS:
Dead skunks spotted and/or smelled: 2
Bob Evans restaurants passed: 4
Diet Mountain Dews consumed: 5
Number of Ale-8-Ones consumed: NADA!!!!!!!!!
Traffic lights along our route in Lexington, Ky.: 9
Red lights hit in Lexington, Kentucky: 7
Times I cursed Lexington, Kentucky: 7
Times I changed my underwear in Cave City: 4

Roadtrip '09, DAY 5: Chillin' in the cabin

2009-03-15T23:09:00.017-04:00

Tal & Sera's Big 2009 Roadtrip
DAY FIVE - Tuesday, 24 February.
At Rustic Retreats cabins in Mount Nebo, West Virginia.
Miles traveled: 0.0

Today we planned on staying in the cabin and not going anywhere.

Honest.

The problem is, we had plans on our last two West Virginia trips to have a day of hanging out in the cabin, where the car stayed parked.

2007 = didn't happen. We just had to drive around and explore the landscape after a freak late-season snowstorm we experienced.

2008 = We went into Summersville to have a craptastic Pizza Hut lunch buffet, and poke around in the Salvation Army store downtown.

2009 = We did it. Rupert had his well-earned day of rest, and so did we.

At 10:00, I awakened to ... surprise, surprise ... the sounds of Little House on the Prairie. That opening theme means two things: 1) It's a weekday; 2) My wife is not working, and is instead in front of a television within earshot of my person.

Breakfast - such as it was - consisted of a couple of Pop Tarts, and as Sera watched the first of two LHOTP eps, I pulled out the laptop and got to work on putting together the March update for a website I run on the side, and then upload at a point when I find a good wi-fi connection (read: anywhere but here!). I resized the scanned adverts and arranged them into my various templates (1949, 1959, 1969 and 1979). I wanted to get those finished so I wouldn't have to worry about doing those after we got back home, and committing "Pookatude" - the uber-cardinal sin of being more than 24 hours late with getting the update online. Long story. "Mr. Pooka" is a big pest, and we'll leave it at that.

My awesome wife had chicken & rice ready just in time for finishing up the project. I had that while Sera had her Bob Evans leftovers from last night.

When I finished up that chickeneyrice-tastic lunch, I took a short nap. And my wife had the camera ready.

The massive amounts of caffeine in Diet Mountain Dew are no match for Talmadge.

After Sera finished watching the afternoon batch of Little House (ohhhh what a shock), it was her turn; she went into the bedroom for a nap. While she did just that, I went outside to do a little bit of walking.

First, though, was some unfinished business. Last year, we had pictures taken of us outside. One was of the two of us, and another was of each of us individually. What I've wanted to do since going on Weight Watchers last May is take another picture from the same vantage point. The trouble was, Sera was already into her nap, and it was going to be dark before too much longer. Solution? Use the timer on the camera. That's what we did for the picture of both of us. Since there was too much snow on the rock where I sat last year, I winged it.

And here ya go. I'm even wearing the same sweatshirt, too:

What a difference 60 pounds makes.

It's profoundly disturbing, that's for damn sure. That left picture, much as I wish it to be, is not a sideways distorted image. Good gawd on a snowy mountaintop, was I ever that big? Apparently so.

That picture now out of the way, I went on my walk, where I drank, gulped, and otherwise chug-a-lugged my surroundings, hyperventilating and trying to cram 51 weeks of West Virginia beauty into the space of 51 minutes.

Looking down from the road toward our cabin, and Rupert.

A few scenes of nature from our sweet and peaceful hollow.

I would not have traded the time with our friends eastward for anything. Still, it was now I wished we could stay here for a few more days and just sacrifice the rest of our vacation plans. Two days is not long enough here. I already miss it, and we haven't left yet!

I love West Virginia, and while we still have lots of fun yet to come, I'm going to be very sad to leave the state. That woman at the shop in Helvetia is right — West Virginia has such a richness in spirit. I feel it in abundance. I am soberly in love with this place. And I so want to retire here someday.

Sera woke up about 7:30, and got started on supper. And it was steak-tastic ... she cooked us some New York strips, with a baked potato and corn on the cob. Then it was a soak in the hot tub for dessert (insert Eddie Murphy as James Brown here), and then we called it a day at about midnight. Tomorrow is a long day of driving. Rupert is rested up, so too we should.

To be continued.........

BY THE NUMBERS:
Dead skunks spotted and/or smelled: 0
Bob Evans restaurants passed: 0 (we didn't go anywhere, remember?)
Diet Mountain Dews consumed: 3
Minutes spent taking a walk: 51
Minutes spent in the hot tub: 45
Time spent on website updates: 162

Roadtrip '09, DAY 4: End Blogfest, begin WV-09

2009-03-15T21:01:00.026-04:00

Tal & Sera's Big 2009 Roadtrip
DAY FOUR - Monday, 23 February.
Destination: Mount Nebo, West Virginia.
Miles traveled: 158.3, plus 18.5 miles round trip into Summersville for supper and groceries.
We awakened to a sweet blanket of white, about an inch overall. "Top of the rocks" looked more than amazing with a snowy dusting. I was up by 7:45, and went downstairs to fire up the laptop to check road conditions. Things here were fine, and over in Mount Nebo it looked to be maybe three inches. Nothing there to be worried about. It was just that pesky mountain range to our west that had us concerned.

As of 7:00, US-33 over Allegheny Mountain was still listed as "snow covered." As Nettie sat down to pull up the conditions in Virginia for her drive back home, I started plotting an alternate route, driving north into Maryland, and taking a more gentle traverse through the Allegheny range on I-68, then picking up I-79 south at Morgantown. While a longer trip, it would be less risky were the snow to have been trouble for our two-wheel-drive'd Rupertmobile.

Farewell, Rainbow Trout!

After breakfast and finally (!) getting our clothes dry (the dryer took no fewer than THREE 60+ minute cycles to do the job), it was now time to pack everything in. Our time at Harman's North Fork is officially spent.

Check-out time was 11:00, and the three of us had our stuff cleared out and loaded up before 10:30. We said our goodbyes to Nettie and went across the street to the office and settled up the final balance. While there, I found a nice refrigerator magnet - a wooden cutout of the state, with a West Virginia quarter embedded. I also found a "Cabins, W.V." T-shirt for Sera.

And I bought myself something I'd been looking for both this trip and last year's: a "West Virginia" sweatshirt with just the name and no WVU connections or logo. Nothing against West Virginia University - honest! - it's just that my co-worker, who is from WV (Milton - between Huntington and Charleston), is both a graduate and highly-devout fan of Marshall University. WVU and MU are in-state rivals, and hailing from a state (Alabama) which wrote the book on football rivalry (Alabama v. Auburn) I like to think I have a decent grasp of college football's delicate politics. So I knew better than to alienate friends by wearing the oppo's insignia in their presence.

Anyhoo, I found my WV sweatshirt. And it's now pushing 11:00. We gotta hit the road. A decision was made: we'd give US-33 a try. It was getting near midday, and by now certainly the highway would be mostly clear of ice and slush, and already plowed and treated by the WVDOT. Worse that can happen? We have a slightly longer day of driving and we double back northward for the 'plan-B' Maryland route. We're covered.
With a soundtrack of Chris Isaak, we enjoyed a very peaceful drive down WV 28/55 toward Seneca Rocks, rolling tape on this beautiful scenery. Above is a good view of the Rocks.

And before we knew it, we found ourselves at the heart of the town of Seneca Rocks, West Virginia, and the intersection of 28/55 and 33. Taking a deep breath, we make a right and - like Don Quixote and Spouse - prepare to tilt Rupert toward the windmills of U.S. 33.

Glecks versus Allegheny

There's a pleasant section of highway just before the serious uphill climbs. It looked good so far, and when we got to the base of Allegheny Mountain, the roads - just as I'd hoped - were properly treated, and mostly just wet. I got my 'Gheny game on, and kept plugging.
Before we knew it, the top of Allegheny Mountain was upon us. The snow covered much of the sign, and with two trucks behind us and no shoulder to speak of, we couldn't stop to get some pictures of the amazing view from up here. Below is a picture of the top as taken Saturday by Nettie:
The sign reads "ALLEGHENY MTN. ELEV. 3295 FT. - EASTERN CONTINENTAL DIVIDE."

And here was the view just two days later:
As we crested the top, we encountered lots of blowing snow -- with snow-covered road, to boot -- and even a brief 'whiteout' here at the peak! Exhilirating, incredible ... and very nerve-wracking.

And downhill we went toward the community of Harman. I don't know what was more worrisome -- going uphill or down? Each presented their own challenges. The west side DID have more snow on it, though.

Scenes from US-33 between Harman and Elkins.
Middle right is what appears to be a B&B in Alpena.
Lower left: a cave along the four-lane.
Lower right: a snow plow takes a rest in 33's median.

There was one more mountain climb between Harman and Elkins, and it was here that Rupert made his only slip. It was a brief skid, just long enough to cause my heart to visit my ankles, brain and stomach in a one-second course of time. Seraphim didn't seem to notice (she was busy camcording the trip and enjoying the scenery). And luckily, I regained control in quick order. Phew!

Just past the small town of Alpena, US-33 opened up to four lanes, part of the Appalachian Corridor route that will eventually connect Elkins with Washington, DC ... perhaps just in time for my son's grandchildren to enjoy it.

The worst was over. We conquered Allegheny Mountain.

A Victory Lunch ... hmmm, where to eat ? ? ?

I don't believe Elkins, West Virginia ever looked so good to our eyes. And not just because we were starving, either! We had two options: McDonald's, where we could dine on some cheese fries - a local delicacy, apparently, or a pleasant meal at Bob Evans.

Well. You might as well have given me the choice between boiled peanuts and spinach!

Bob Evans - just as it was Saturday with the group - was Bob-tastic. My only beef would be the lack of wi-fi in their restaurants. I saw a gentleman eating lunch, just him and his laptop. I asked if he was receiving a signal ... but as it turned out he was using his own 'wireless card.'

Our meal finished, we both wanted to poke around the Goodwill store in the strip behind Bob Evans, so we did. Sera found some kitchen containers she liked, and I came across two cassette tapes I found interesting, so they were liberated from the store. Said two tapes were:

1) A "Chrysler-Infinity I Premium Sound Systems" demonstration tape. Your typical "all-over-the-road" demo cassette handed out to those carbuyers who opted for the ($400) tape deck upgrade. This circa-1988 compilation includes everything from Michael Jackson ("The Way You Make Me Feel") to Roseanne Cash ("Runaway Train") to a Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov movement ("Dance of the Tumblers" from The Snow Maiden, performed by the New York Philharmonic under Leonard Bernstein). Everything to make one fan swoon while at the same time making another in the car reach for a bag to barf in. (I previously blogged about similar demo tapes back in 2007 after finding a batch of 'em at a Salvation Army)

and -- Nettie and Bolivar, you're both gonna love this one:

2) The Official NATIONAL LAMPOON Car Stereo Test & Demonstration Tape. Dated 1980. That's the first I'd ever heard of it. And you know that one had to go home with Tal.

"Incredible Illusion! Amaze your friends! Astound multitudes! How is it done? Place in tape player normally and peer into player while tape is playing! Car will magically appear seem to move before your very eyes and go from left to right!"

It's a parody of the "Hi-Fi Demonstration" LP records prevalent in the '60s. It's really funny listening (as you'd expect from a National Lampoon product). I've already made a CD copy of it, so if anyone in "the circle" is interested, e-mail me and I'll see what I can do.

Four lanes, and a sigh of relief

We made our third visit to Kroger's gas pumps, and - since we'd already eaten - we thought Rupert deserved a tank full of chow. And gas was cheaper this time, by two whole pennies. (cue "ooooooooh!" effect) With the Kroger Plus card, that translated to $1.82/9. No gripes.

Downtown Elkins is a very pretty layout. The whole town is quite charming, even by West Virginia standards. And north of the city, we picked up the four-lane US-33 bound for the city of Weston, and I-79 south.

When we approached the interstate just east of the city, we saw a Sheetz store and thought it a good idea for a pit stop. Sera got her a sheetz-tastic coffee, and I a lusciously refreshing DFD.

There isn't much to say about I-79, except that it's in West Virginia and that means more mountain scenery than one can shake a John Denver 8-track at. Plenty of snow-covered hills, and best of all, the roads were all clear, so it was smooth going.

When we got to the town of Sutton, where the four-lane US-19 branches off southward toward Summersville and Beckley, we took an early exit to drive through Sutton itself and take a leisurely joyride down Old Route 19 to see if any surprises await.
Old 19 crosses the Elk River just south of downtown on this spiffy-looking pony/through truss combo span. This visual idyll flirts with Norman Rockwell, no two ways about it.

But did somebody say "surprises await"? Yup, just past the above bridge, Old 19 breaks right, and follows a path around the hill, and just around the second curve we found one very sweet surprise: an abandoned American Motors car dealership!

Get yer Pacers and Gremlins fixed here.
And look, no roof. Just like 1967 Ambassadors!

This, friends, is why I love taking "the old highway." This is everything about why the road less traveled is much more fun.

Eventually Old 19 -- or "Old Turnpike Road" -- wound itself back to all four lanes of the present-day 19, and then we continued on our last leg toward Mount Nebo. The snow began seriously picking up just north of Summersville.

A Bob Two-fer, and more wardriving!

We arrived at Rustic Retreat Cabins in Mt. Nebo right at 4:15. Our cabin, for the second time, was #104. It looked good as ever, and the owner had since built a porch facing the little pond. He finished that last Summer, a pleasant addition to an already cozy cabin.

Visit #2 to our 'second home'

The intial plan was for us to get groceries, then eat in both tonight and tomorrow night, with lunch at our favorite Bob Evans, back north in Summersville. But Seraphim had a counter idea: we'd have supper out tonight, then hit the grocery store ... and spend all of Tuesday in the cabin, and not go anywhere. (yeah, sure)

I did like the idea of a complete breather, so we indeed had two (2) meals at Bob Evans today. But first, we needed to find a hot spot so we could get online and check e-mail. We wanted to know if Nettiemac had made it back home, plus give a Facebook update to our friends that, yes, we made it over the snowy mountain, and lived to tell about it.

Wi-fi access at restaurants has grown exponentially in the last couple of years; as such, we thought even Summersville might offer some options this year that weren't around in 2008.

Wrong.

Okay, so Bob Evans doesn't have wi-fi at its restaurants. Denny's does at most of their locations; thing is, there's no Denny's in Summersville. All of the motels had protected access, which ruled that out. Wendy's? Nope. Kentucky Fried Chicken? Nada. And Arby's was also blind to any internet options.

But what's this we see... McDONALD'S HAS WI-FI! YES! We parked outside, and went in. Figuring the least we could do is buy something, Sera ordered a coffee. We sat down and logged on to do our online stuff.

Ummmmm, talk about a craptastic surprise: this Mickey D's charges for internet access. What? Yet, that's not the stupidest part: you get online by providing your credit card number for the prescribed $2.99 for 10 minutes of use. How do you do that? Uhhhh, via unsecured wireless connection, the one you just connected to.

And the coffee? It was even more craptastic. F(BLEEP)k this. We wardrive some more.

Finally, we managed to tap into an unsecure connection out front of a Mexican restaurant in the strip behind Bob Evans. Whatever.

Our business complete, it was finally time for supper. And Bob Evans ... yes, it was Bob-tastic. The tea was nice and fresh. The service even better.

The next order of business was going to the nearby Supercenter to acquire our foodstuffs for the (too short) cabin stay. That done, we got ourselves back to our happy hollow at about 9:30.

Sera got into the hot tub for awhile, and I started writing the first of these travelogues.

The wife was first to bed, by 11:30, and I followed soon thereafter at 12:15. A relaxing day awaits us tomorrow. We hope. Good night.

To be continued......

BY THE NUMBERS:
Dead skunks spotted and/or smelled: 1
Bob Evans restaurants passed: 3
Bob Evans restaurants patronized: 2
Diet Mountain Dews consumed: 5
Times our SUV slipped on the wintry roads: 1
Dollars spent at "Goodwill": 8, and change
Ghosts of various Ambassadors, Gremlins and Pacers felt: 4,734,132

Roadtrip '09, DAY 3: Sunday on the Rocks

2009-03-14T20:55:00.031-04:00

Tal & Sera's Big 2009 Roadtrip
DAY THREE - Sunday, 22 February.
Destination: Two trips into Petersburg, WV and an attempted joyride into the Dolly Sods
Miles traveled (total for the weekend): 239.6
(Helvetia, 3 trips into Petersburg, and one Dolly Sods)

Sunday morning in our happy cabin. Cabin #1 was a little closer to the main highway than I would've preferred (there are a number of other cabins down the little road, more isolated than this one). The one overriding positive, which made us forget about this lack of apparent coziness, was the view from its picture windows:

"When you have this to look at, who needs television?" --Seraphim

The day began with more fun and conversation. It was VERY cold and blustery, with snow beginning to fall. The coffee was made, and we did our own things for breakfast. Late in the morning, Melissa went out to hike the trail to "top of the rocks" (above right picture). We stood lookout for her to reach the peak, but seeing her walking back across the little bridge told us we missed seeing her.

Tal's Big Challenge: Ascent 2009

I made an offhand mention to Melissa that my last serious mountain hike was Pinnacle Mountain west of Little Rock, Ark. back in 1987 (when I weighed something like 185 pounds, if not less). I went to say how much I missed mountain-climbing, that with my weight-drop project I was looking forward to something like that again. My big concern was that I wasn't yet to a point physically where I could pull it off. Well, leave it to Melissa to be a superb motivator. She thought I could do it. The woman chiseled away at my misgivings, until I gave in. Okay, I'm gonna give this a shot.

Pre-climb ceremonial picture.

Kate/Susan had this idea of us all signing our names to a rock from outside. My mission was to transport said rockage to the top of the mountain, where I'd place it.

All right then, Melissa and I set out for the trail. It was a steep climb, with a couple of nice fallen-tree hurdles. Melissa walked with me, now with her hiking sticks (she didn't take ‘em the first time because the brochure said it was a level trail .... forgetting the word "level" means an entirely different thing in West Virginia!) .

The view looks stunning so far....

If I look short of breath in this picture, it's because I AM.

I took a couple of short rests – by this time my heart was beating faster than a Huey Lewis 45 set to 78 RPM – but I made it to the top. And the view from up there is indescribable!

(LEFT) The roadway in front of our cabin
(RIGHT) Close-up of the cabin itself. We could see Kate/Susan
and Seraphim in the picture window watching us!!

Before conducting the ceremonial rock-planting, we paused for victory pictures:

Melissa.....

...and Talmadge (with rock).

Sera was recording us while we were on the mountain, and below are a few frame-grabs from that tape:

"I'm KING OF THE WORLD!"

The placing of the rock. At this point my wife was about to have a fit.
She thought I was too close.

The wind up there was vicious and cold. And when I went to the edge of the protrusion to place our signed rock – something Melissa wasn't about to do – a gust of wind nearly blew my collectors'-item Sirius hat (if not with the body it was on!) clear up to Maryland.

Mountaintop photo-op.

I cannot start to tell you how it felt to conquer that mountain. It wasn't the 1,000' climb of Pinnacle; this might've been a 400-footer. At any rate, what I do know is that a year and 60 pounds ago, I would not have gotten more than a third of the way up that trail.

Returning, we saw that Sera and Kate/Susan had moved the couch to a full view of the picture window!

Lunchtime for the guyfolks

I rested for a few minutes, and as the ladies got started on their 80-plates Swiss fondue lunch, Mike and I took a little drive into Petersburg and some worldwide eating of our own at Mickey D's. It was good to be able to 'get away' and have some one-on-one convo with The General.

Soon after we got back from town, it was time for the Virginia faction to depart. Kate/Susan, Mike and Melissa left about 2:00. I hated to see them go ... this was a wonderful time, and it was an honor to finally meet the face behind Playtime! Melissa was every bit the good person she came across through the blog, Facebook and e-mails. And, again, I did something very positive because of her -- first, it was cutting all sugared sodas (all because of two words she said last Summer: "drinking calories" -- they sank in and did their job), and now it was climbing a mountain again ... sooner than I myself thought would have been possible.

To read about this weekend from the POV of our blogmates:
Melissa | Kate/Susan | Nettiemac: Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4

Hello, Dolly

(LEFT) You certainly don't see signs like this in coastal Georgia!
(RIGHT) The view in that general area. It's part of why I keep coming back.

And then there were three: Nettiemac, Sera and myself. We relaxed for a bit, then as the snow picked up, we all had the urge to explore down the Dolly Sods "Forest Road." About a mile or so past the "No snow removal" signage, plus the infamous "IMPASSABLE IN WINTER" sign spelled out with those hinky letters one finds at Ace Hardware, the snow was getting thicker, and the road beginning to show signs of hazardous going .... so we turned back. Dolly Sods, I'm told, offers some amazing vistas, so we'll do that another time.

The road looks good so far ... so we continue.

Rut-roh. The temperature is falling, the snow is falling even more ... and the road
is beginning to get a bit covered and slick. With three Deep Southerners in a
4-cylinder SUV with two-wheel drive, it was time to declare Dolly a big folly.

We returned to the cabin, and - like clockwork - Seraphim felt like taking a late-afternoon nap. Nettie and I talked for a bit until the wifely one woke up. This would've been about 8:00 p.m. Hungry, we took off for "the big city." We all had a hankering for Chinese (we had the menu from Sera's Friday night vittles). To my dismay, they were out of cashews. Well, poot. Nothing else on the menu did anything for me, so as Sera and Nettie waited, I went next door to Dairy Queen. Meh. I had my heart set on some cashew chicken, and I had to settle for a cheeseburger and a chicken sammich. Oh well. After a final stop at Sheetz (love that place), and a "Diet Fountain Dew" for me, and some bottle sodas for the ladies, it was ‘home' for the night.

Sera wasn't as comfortable up in the loft, so she moved into the bedroom downstairs vacated by Mike & Susan. Since she went to bed early, plus the fact that I didn't feel like moving my crap downstairs only to have to repack it the next morning, I stayed in the loft for the final night. This despite my knees feeling a bit sore. Hmmmm, wonder why that would be?

The Craptastic Maytag

After my wife retired for the night, I started laundry. Nettiemac and I stayed up awhile and talked (what? Is that a look of surprise on your face?), mostly about Weight Watchers stuff. She has begun training to become a WW leader, and it's the consensus of all this group that it's a perfect fit for somebody like her. She showed us the photo board she takes with her to show WW groups she speaks to (having lost 222 pounds and counting, they frequently tap her to be a motivational figure).

I was less than pleased to see the washing machine (a front-loader) was less than optimal when it came to rinsing clothes. I had to add in another rinse cycle. As if that wasn't bad enough, the dryer was even worse .... the hot-to-the-touch exterior plus the lackluster results (70 minutes and the clothes were still more than damp) told me those folks haven't cleaned the exhaust duct. The lint filter inside the door was fine, however I'm sure the outside pipe was clogged with it. Talk about a fire hazard!

Eventually I got our jeans dry enough that I could hang ‘em on the loft railing overnight to finish the job. And after checking the web for a weather update for tomorrow's drive to Mount Nebo -- while our area was to get no more than an additional inch of snow, areas to the west of Allegheny Mountain were slated to get as much as half a foot. Nettie went to bed around 12:30, and I waited for the "dryer" – or should that be "hot and still wet" – to finish up. I put stuff in for one final round, and called it a night at 2:00 a.m.

To be continued.......

BY THE NUMBERS:
Dead skunks spotted and/or smelled: 0
Bob Evans restaurants passed: 0
Diet Mountain Dews consumed: 5
Times Melissa made a fool out of my doubting self: 1
Times I wanted to take the washer/dryer outside and "Office Space" 'em: at least 20
NBC stations on the Dish Network local package: 2
NBC stations with good production values: 1 (WRC/Washington, DC)
NBC stations like a timewarp to 1985: 1 (WHAG/Hagerstown, Md.)
Messages from 1985 requesting the WHAG anchor's shoulderpads and hairdo back: 8, maybe 9

Roadtrip '09, DAY 2: Partying with Swiss Precision

2009-03-13T22:11:00.047-04:00

Tal & Sera's Big 2009 Roadtrip
DAY TWO - Saturday, 21 February.
Destination: Helvetia, West Virginia and back

It was VERY COLD this morning outside our Potomac-side cabin. We have a fun-filled day ahead of us, and it began with coffee and breakfast (and, for me, a DMD). We ‘hung out' until noon or so, and then we started on the roughly 80-mile journey to Helvetia.

There were six of us, meaning we had to take two vehicles over there. Melissa drove the Old Dominion Delegation, while the Confederate Collective (Nettie, Sera, myself) rode in The Rupert King Family SUV'ster. We got into Elkins, stopping first at Auto Zone to make sure Rupert had enough washer fluid. It wasn't working ... either that, or else that stuff was frozen solid, even after nearly an hour of what I thought would be warming up, it being in the engine compartment and all.

It was nearly full, and fortunately the addition of some warm fluid to the reservoir helped motivate the rest of the liquid to finally spray onto the windshield. Okay, good – because I didn't want to have to deal with problems in that area; Winter mountain driving in West Virginia means salt, dirt and gawd knows what else caking up your windows and rendering everyones' vehicles the same dirty brown color.

That matter resolved, we went to Bob Evans for a most pleasant, Bob-tastic lunch.

Melissa got this pic of us walking into the restaurant.
At least my wife was walking ... me, it looks as if I'm dancing the Bobaloo Boogie.

While there, we had to have a sequel group photo to last year's get-together in Savannah. By the way, I'm calling this year's convention "Blogfest" -- the previous name, Gleckfest, fit because it was held at our house. Hardly fair, right? If anyone has objections, speak up and lay something better on me and I'll change it. :-)

Well, take a look at what can happen in a year's time (click on the image for a better view)...

LEFT: Carey Hilliards in Pooler, Ga., 03/02/2008
RIGHT: Bob Evans in Elkins, WV, 02/21/2009
The difference? 200+ pounds!

Nettiemac spotted this amusing poster in the ladies' room at Bob Evans:

"Ol' Bob Evans had a farm .. E-I-E-I-O ... and on that farm he had a restaurant ... E-I-E-I-O ...
an interstate here, and exit there, here Bob, there Bob, everywhere a Bob Evans ...
EXCEPT IN OUR FREAKIN' PART OF THE COUNTRY, @#$% IT!!!"

But anyway...

All fed and stuffed, we continued southward on 219 destined for the Swiss village of Helvetia. At the community of Mill Creek we turned right onto County Road 46, stopping at a Marathon station – what (correctly) appeared to be the last stop before Helvetia, which has nothing except for a small general store. And I didn't know whether they'd have any Diet Mountain Dew. Plus, I thought it prudent that we all empty our chambers. Ya know?

That Marathon was staffed by an older gentleman behind the counter, who asked if we were headed for the Fasnacht festival in Helvetia. He was very enthusiastic about it, and said we'd have a great time. As we left, he wished us a careful drive over and back home. Really nice guy, typical West Virginian.

County Road 46 on this side of Helvetia wasn't nearly as well-maintained as the stretch leading out to the west toward Buckhannon. Oh well, at least it wasn't a one-lane road without guard rails, eh?

TOP: Seraphim & Talmage ... Kate/Susan & The General.
BOTTOM: Nettiemac ... Melissa.

Second Swiss Sojourn (for us ... for the others it was a maiden voyage)

Today is The Big Day. Fasnacht. Party on, dude.

So where is everybody?? Yeah, there are some, enough to make parking a bit of a challenge. After coming into town (and wondering what happened to our friends in the Blue Vue™ ... oh yeah, that neat welcome sign, they must be taking a picture of it!), we parked our buggies in a couple of spaces we found between the Cheese Haus and Healing Honey store.

How can one overstate the serenity and heart-fluttering beauty of Helvetia??

For what amounts to this city's biggest day, we found it a bit surprising that most of the businesses in town would be closed. Sure, a lot of folks are there for the partying later in the evening at the Helvetia Star Band Hall. That's a given. Ahhh, but what to do in the meanwhile? The Hutte Restaurant doesn't open its doors for the buffet until 5:00. Wouldn't that be a prime opportunity for the merchants to sell their special treats and wares to those in town?

The Cheese Haus and Healing Honey stores were both closed. So was the town library. And, as already stated, The Hutte was a couple hours from being open (we got there about 3:00). While Mike copped himself a power nap in Melissa's car, the five of us set about to walk around, take pictures, and hopefully find a bidness with its doors unlocked.

Lucky for us, two places were open. First we visited Blue House, an antique/knick-knack store across from The Hutte. There, a few of us talked with the shop owner, a lady who truly epitomizes the stripe of humanity in West Virginia: gracious, genuine, salt-of-the-earth. Real people with real hearts. That's what I love most about up there. This is our fourth visit to The Mountain State, and it has yet to disappoint.

This lady (I wish I could remember her name) came "back home" to West Virginia to settle in the Helvetia area, and she and I had a discussion about the whole "West Virginia aura." In last year's travelogue, I lamented how a state with such wonderful people and beautiful surroundings could be downright impoverished in so many places. I like how she put it: "For a poor state, its people are rich in spirit." She went on to comment about a man who visited up there, and also fell in love with the state. He literally cried when he had to leave.

If this is so, I can say with all brute honesty that I understand. Boy, do I understand.

From the shop, I walked up the road past The Hutte, where I noticed Kate/Susan taking pictures of a goat who made its home in a pasture behind the restaurant. This little fellow was almost dog-like in his docile nature and overt friendliness. Matter of fact, I too gave some love and attention to this animal. And he ate it all up.

The goat is all too pleased to strike a pose for Susan.

We noticed the General Store and Post Office -- truly, it's like something out of Sam Drucker's Store of Hooterville (Green Acres, Petticoat Junction) fame. THEY are open. There are still antique P.O. boxes in there, some of which are still in service. In there, I bought myself a Helvetia t-shirt. Then I almost felt like doing cartwheels all over that store: you see, the largest size in most souvenir places is XXL. And now, having lost nearly 60 pounds (as of this writing), I can now fit into that size. For the first time in many years, I can actually buy T-shirts as momentos, and not stick to just the fridge magnets!!

The dinner bell is fixin' to ring
(Or: Whaddaya MEAN 'reservations'??!!)

It's now pushing 5:00. We wanted to be close to The Hutte so we could go ahead and hit the buffet without a whole lot of waiting. The general consensus of the group was that we wouldn't stay for the evening parties. The whole idea was visiting the town -- sharing with our friends what we discovered last year (the ultimate credit goes to Seraphim - it was she who found out about Helvetia, and wanted us to go up there and check it out while on our 2008 visit). We'd start back home after eating, giving us a head start back to the cabin before sundown.

Kate/Susan went back to the car to wake The Mister, and we all sat around and chatted until they opened the eatery's doors.

A lady came out, wearing a Mardi Gras mask for a festive touch, and asked about our reservations. Ummmm, we don't have any. You see, there's nothing outside of the restaurant saying it was by appointment ... and last year when we were in Helvetia, it was a regular walk-in kind of affair. Talk about a craptastic surprise.

Well, she somewhat gruffly asked us how many were in our group. The woman replied that she had a table to seat all of us, but it was reserved for a party at 6:00. "We can serve you, but you have to finished by 6."

Yes, ma'am.

Then no sooner than we all sat down, the "friendly" hostess escorted an older couple to the one other table in our small room, which seated two. "You can eat with these other people who don't have reservations either!"

I blame my wife for this. Seraphim was supposed to have packed the crystal ball! (Seriously, it's their fault for not having any signs to that effect. Oh well, I couldn't stay mad at 'em!)

LEFT: The handwritten menu out front is typical of the whole feel of the place.
RIGHT: I hoped the Taylor family would enjoy their meal as much as we did.

From there, the service was just as friendly, kind and attentive as it was for us last year. And the food was fantastic. I had the "Hutte Chicken" (a kind of baked chicken breast which I cannot describe, except to say I hope they have it on the menu next year!), with the parsley potatoes and green beans (simmered in gobs of big-ass ham chunks), and their homemade bread (mmmmmm!). The tea was good and fresh. Hutte-tastic, even. Best of all, the converstaion was great; the other couple was from nearby Buckhannon -- it was as if we all came in together as a party of eight. Truly a fun meal, the way a good sit-down dinner should be.

"That's IT!!!"

Last year I said The Hutte is the most intimate and cozy dining atmosphere I have ever experienced. Look at the picture above for a good example of what I mean.

We finished our supper with plenty of time to spare. It was 5:45 when we all got up from our tables. Hah. Damn, we're good!

Cabinward bound.....

County Road 46 (Helvetia-Adolph Road) offers a stunningly pretty view as it winds down a mountain.
But wait - this is WEST VIRGINIA we're talking about. That's stating the glaringly obvious.

We had just enough daylight remaining to get us through the hairpin-laden County Road 46 and onto the more 'civilized' and tamed blacktop of US-219 and 250. At the bottom of one drop there's a railroad grade crossing with the rail line terminating at a coal operation in this hollow. It was certainly worth a picture:

Mine, you understand? Mine, mine, allll MINE!

We all felt the need for (in Nettie's words) "drinks and drainage", so another stop was made at that same Marathon on the return trip. A lady was working the counter this time, and they had a beautiful black dog greeting visitors. His name was "Bear", and Nettie and I both took turns giving the dog more than his share of lovin', while we both pondered the phrase "possession is 9/10ths of the law." Yeah, I wish I could've taken that doggy back home with us. Never mind the problems that would've presented (both Puddy and the Marathon shopkeepers being substantially less than happy).

Goodness, even the dogs and goats in West Virginia are sweet and outgoing.

I relieved them of one more of their plentiful stock of 20-ounce DMDs, bought Seraphim a Coke Zero, and then got back on the road. We wound our way into Mill Creek, then left on US-219/250 for the northward leg to Elkins.

Let's Go Krogering.....

We all had some groceries to get for Sunday, and what better place than the Elkins Kroger store. But first, there was the matter of topping off Rupert's tummy (at the Krog-tastic price of $1.84/9). Kate/Susan, General and Melissa finished their shopping first, and instead of having them wait on us, we gave 'em the key to the cabin and said "we'll meet you back there."

(The Kroger in Elkins is a good, well-arranged, well-stocked and well-staffed one, I must say)

Maybe 20-ish minutes later, we took off into the US-33 darkness for that 47 mile wiggly path back to Hopeville. Sera, Nettie and I got back to the cabin just in time for the rest of the crew to be changing into their swimgear for yet another stretch of time in the hot tub.

And after Sera, and the Kosiors went to bed, Melissa, Nettiemac and I stayed up and watched a couple episodes of Robot Chicken I'd brought with me. That made a good nightcap before bedtime for all of us ... I think that would've been about 1:30 or so.

Not a moment too soon, either. The ladies went to sleep, visions of fondue dancing before their eyes (and Quarter Pounders for the guys). Good night, all.

To be continued.........

BY THE NUMBERS:
Dead skunks spotted and/or smelled: 0
Bob Evans restaurants passed: 1
Bob Evans restaurants patronized: 1
Diet Mountain Dews consumed: 4
Dogs almost kidnapped: 1
Goats almost kidnapped: 1
Number of times we both stalked Melissa in the Kroger: 3?

Roadtrip '09, DAY 1: Take Me To The Pilot (If We Can FIND One)

2009-03-12T21:39:00.009-04:00

Tal & Sera's Big 2009 Roadtrip
DAY ONE - Friday, 20 February.
Destination: Harman's North Fork Cottages in Hopeville, West Virginia.
Miles traveled: 647.6

The traveling Gleckfolk hauled out of the driveway in Rincon, Georgia at exactly 4:43 a.m. Our first stop, some 45 minutes later, was the Denny's on I-95 at Exit 33 in South Carolina. We started our day and vacation with a Grand Slam breakfast. The food was good, but the coffee was less than perfect. "Craptastic", as Seraphim called it.

And "craptastic" was our word of the day. My wife was now jonesin' for some good coffee. Sera's favorite coffee is found at Pilot, a chain of ‘travel stores' found along the interstates mainly in the Southeast. "Truckers' Coffee", in her words. We saw the billboard for Pilot along I-26 advertising one just past the I-77 turnoff before Columbia, S.C. (and advertising gas at $1.66/9). Not wanting to burn a lot of time early on with doubling back on I-26 to get back to I-77, we passed it up, saying "There's sure to be at least one Pilot between Columbia and Charlotte."

Guess again. There wasn't a single one. Arriving at the outskirts of Charlotte, just exits from leaving South Carolina, we now were faced with having to stop for gasoline before entering North Carolina, where gas is at least 10-15 cents a gallon higher than in S.C.

We stopped at the Gate station off I-77 in Fort Mill, which didn't have very cheap gas - at least compared to Columbia. Shell and Exxon were asking $1.81/9, but out of interstate earshot Gate was selling for $1.75/9. Well, fine. It beats the $1.89.9 par for the course we found north of the border (apologies to Pedro).

After getting past the muck of Charlotte, we returned to our Craptastic Coffee Crusade. SURELY there had to be a Pilot somewhere along this freeway.

Aaaaand there wasn't. We settled for the Wilco Hess at Exit 42 along I-77, south of Statesville. It seemed to be like a Pilot — maybe their coffee would be good, plus have Diet Mountain Dew in the fountain (heretoforth known as "Diet Fountain Dew", or DFD).

No on both counts. No DFD. And the coffee experience .... let's just say it was a different kind of craptastic. We'll call it "Crappucino." Yeeeesh. Sera didn't finish it. Me, I settled for a Diet Mountain Dew in a standard bottle. I suppose that would get us to Wytheville, Va., where we planned on chowing down on lunch, and filling Rupert's tank with cheap Virginny petrol.

Entering God's Country

It was 34 degrees when we crossed the state line into Virginia, and what I live for each year: the 1,500-foot ascent up Fancy Gap, one of the most dramatic changes in geography along the interstate highway system. Once we reached the top, the temperature dropped well into the 20s, as low as 23 degrees in places. And we started seeing some light snow patches in the shady areas.

Once at the watering hole of Wytheville (where I-77 and 81 meet), we embarked on a search for lunch and gasoline. First, gas. We hit the Go-Mart across from Wendy's (where I saw gas go up as we ate lunch last year). Filled up Rupert to the tune of $1.75/9. Went inside to buy a couple of Virginia scratch-off tickets, and saw that Go-Mart had DFD. Yes!! Exiting the building with our tickets, my wife's Coke Zero and my ‘Dew, we went across the street to Wendy's to get our lunch. This time, we got it to go, as we wanted to get to the cabin before dark.

You can't tell in this picture, but this guy still had his truck running while pumping gas.
But everything is okay. Safety is his goal.

Oh, and I happened to look up at the Go-Mart sign as we left the station. Gas had just gone down – it was now $1.71/9. @#$%!! Let's call that a "craptastic tank of fuel."

Seraphim busted on her ticket, but I won two bucks on mine. I decided against returning to the Go-Mart to cash it in – it wasn't worth it for the measly two-dollar win. We'd just give it to Susan and Mike, since we wouldn't be returning to Virginia - at least long enough to matter - for this trip.

West Virginia!!

This time, Big Walker Mountain had both lanes open, and traffic was running at a regular clip. And then came our beloved East River Mountain tunnel, the portal into our Wild and Wonderful Wonderland.

To me, the vision of West Virginia's welcome sign in the distance is like Christmas Day to a kid.

We turned off I-77 at the Princeton exit (US-421), and went northward to pick up US-219, our route up to Elkins. A quirk in the route put us back into Virginia for a very short time, and now it was back into West Virginia for good. I was looking very forward to this 140-mile stretch of two-lane through The Mountain State. It was everything I wanted and then some.

However, the smell in places was, shall we say, less than fragrant. Or, since our word of the day is "Craptastic", we'll call it that. Loudon Wainwright III put it nicely in his 1973 hit single, "Dead Skunk." We experienced no fewer than five (5) such occurrences along 219. Peeeee-ew.

The next pit stop had us at the Go-Mart in Lewisburg. They also had DFD, and Sera made her some coffee, hoping for the best. And this time it was FANtastic. Or, as I termed it, Go-tastic. Gasoline, as typical in West Virginia, was craptastic. While a few stores went for $1.99/9, the vast majority of WV gas stations' prices began with a 2.

The further north we went on Highway 219, the lower the temperature ... 21, 20, 19, and a low of 18. The coldest we've ever seen Rupert's thermometer (a/k/a The Rupometer). And we started seeing some serious white stuff from a days-earlier winter storm. (The forecast called for some more snow by Sunday). The roads, for the most part, were all clear ... but as we approached Elkins, we did begin to see slushy spots here and there.

AHHHHH ... magnolias??

It was along about Marlinton we came upon a GMC Suburban with a different country's tag — the Nation of Mississippi (you might've heard of it; the state militia's uniform is white, with a conical-shaped headgear, but anyway.....) This guy didn't go any faster than 40 on the straightaways - yes, West Virginia has a few - and didn't push it past 15 on the curves. Yes, I know Mississippi has no real mountains to speak of (its highest point, Woodall "Mountain", offers a craptastic summit of 806 feet), but obviously this galoot was out of his element in The Mountain State. "Oh! My! Gawd! It's HILLLLLLLLS!!!!!!" (Cue horror screams and closet killer music)

We (finally!) managed to pass our Magnolia Meanderer — and, at the same time, the Toyota RAV4 behind us zoomed past us both. Phew, talk about feast or famine. Folks seem either to want to poke along at a speed that would shame any 90-year-old (except my wife's grandmother; but that's another story!), or they're driving as if qualifying for Talladega.

A nice surprise lurked around one curve: the Indian Creek Covered Bridge. The first of two we saw today. Nothing craptastic about covered bridges, either; this, friends, was bridge-tastic.

Indian Creek in Monroe County, WV. Care for a leisurely stroll?

Elk-tastic!

And 5:30 saw us entering the nice village of Elkins. The temperature was hovering around 20, and snow was plentiful. There was a Kroger at the intersection of 219 and 33, with a gas station out front.

[For the benefit of those Kroger-challenged, the grocery chain has a deal whereby for each $100 in groceries you purchase with your "Kroger Plus" loyalty (read: big-brother) card, you get a 15 cent a gallon discount on a tank of gas at any Kroger gas kiosks. In addition, for each two prescriptions filled in a Kroger pharmacy, one also earns a discounted fillup. The totals reset each month, and you have until the end of the following month to use your discounts].

Well, with Sera's Rx cocktail (I think she's taking 12 prescriptions ... no kidding), we rack up a lot of those suckers on a regular basis. And since we had three (3) ‘cheap' fillups to burn before the end of February, we used one right there and now. Kroger had gas for $1.99/9 in Elkins. Correction: $1.84/9. Heh.

After feeding The Rupe', we headed across the way to a Chevron station. There, we got ourselves liquid refreshment for the final 47 mile trek to our cabin. And, as a cool surprise, Chevron had DFD. Yeah, boy. We had a signal on our cellphones, so we took that opportunity to call Annette, Susan and Melissa to let ‘em know (read: warn them – here's your final chance to bail out!) we were about an hour away. Voice mail on all three numbers .... guess that means the cabin is out of cellphone range. Big shocker, there. (Or, as we'd find out, they were eating supper at Pizza Hut)

Just 47 more miles and we're running out of daylight...

Let's hit the road. We're ready to get to the cabin and finally meet our "new friend" in the flesh. US-33 is quite the treacherous roadway, except for a curious 5-mile stretch of four-lane just east of Elkins. 33 was starting to get a little nerve-wracking; there was a lot of slush still on the highway, and with nightfall beginning, it would start refreezing in short order.

Crossing the Allegheny Mountain peak – the "Eastern Continental Divide" – was a sweet experience, ditto for the mean 10% downhill slalom (complete with ominous ALL TRUCKS MUST STOP AND CHECK BRAKES regulatory signage).

Once at Seneca Rocks — with the Drew Carey Show theme music in our heads – we made a left turn from 33 onto WV 28/55 for the final leg toward the town of Cabins. Yes, that's the name of it. But Harman's North Fork is not in Cabins, proper. According to our West Virginia Gazetteer, it's in the settlement of Hopeville. In any case, it's just before the turnoff to Dolly Sods, and roughly two miles away from the famed - and heavily billboarded - Smoke Hole Caverns.

I was aiming for 6:30 to get to our destination (just about dark – although I failed to account for the higher latitude, hence a slightly earlier sunset time), and we pulled in front of Rainbow Trout - Cabin #1 of Harman's North Fork Cabins at exactly 6:36 p.m. Not bad, no?

Did we scare 'em off??

We arrived to an empty cabin ... the key was on the kitchen table, and we saw little else of evidence that our friends had gotten there first. Ummm, there's something in the kitchen, a cardboard box containing some grocery items, some of which came from Wegman's. Yes, Miss Amory was definitely in the building!

All there was to do now is wait for ‘em. We agreed at the onset to be on our own for supper this evening. By 7:45, a blue Saturn Vue pulled into the driveway ... Melissa, Susan and Mike were back. We finally made a ‘live' acquaintance, sat around and talked as we waited for Annette to get there, which she did maybe 30 minutes later.

Suppertime, finally.

With all of us there, and all except the two of us having eaten, we went into Petersburg to procure us some dinner-type morsels. One of the first things we saw upon getting into town was a Chinese place. Sera wanted that, however the Arby's in the distance piqued my palate. We went in to order my wife's stuff, and then in the tee meenet it usually takes, it was down the street to Arby's. Which was closed. WTF?? Arby's closes at 8:00 in this place!! Well, ain't that a craptastic surprise.

Guess it was either Subway or McDonald's. And Mickey D's won out. I got my stuff, then went back to the Chinese place for Sera's food, and finally to get some drinkstuffs next door at a convenience store called Sheetz. That's a really cool place ... they have a Subway-type deli inside which also sells fresh fruit. Yes, at a convenience store. And they had DFD. I like Sheetz.

Then back to our cabin we went, parking our dark red SUV between Nettie's white Taurus and Melissa's blue Vue. Well, ain't that all nice and patriotic. I almost felt like breaking out in Lee Greenwood song.

Which would've been appropriate, given we were driving the RED vehicle. *gag*

We've all arrived. Let "Blogfest 09" begin.

The hot tub called, but since I didn't have a bathing suit to my name (right now, I really don't), I wisely chose not to skinny-dip in front of the rest of our contingent. Would not have been pretty.

BY THE NUMBERS:
Dead skunks spotted and/or smelled: 5
Covered bridges spotted: 2
"Mail Pouch" barns spotted: 5
Bob Evans restaurants passed: 7
Diet Mountain Dews consumed: 6

To be continued........

Back above 20%

2009-03-11T23:22:00.001-04:00

This weigh-in might call for an asterisk, or it might not. Just throwing that out there, in the spirit of full disclosure.

Tonight I "got back" -3.2 of the 4.2 pounds I gained last week. A pound of that, however, would've been the blood I donated about an hour before weigh-in. I figured, why not. What better time to drop some liquid poundage than just before a Weight Watchers meeting??

My cume is now -59.4 .... just 6/10 pound shy of being 60 down again (and when I can actually stick that 5-pound star on the bookmark), however what I'm celebrating is being over 59 again, meaning 20% of my body mass as of 05/05/2008 is gone.

I don't think I'm going to make the 75-in-a-year threshold (that would require more than 2 lbs. removed each week; quite the tall order, even by optimistic standards). I'll be happy for 65 down, and maybe 75 by my wife's 40th birthday late in July. And down below 200 before year's end.

In any case, we press onward.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "235.8" Gleck

The wages of "sin"

2009-03-04T20:08:00.004-05:00

So tonight I stepped on the scale after more than a week's worth of "not counting points."

I expected a + sign, and got one. What I'd hoped for was for the damage to be no more than 2 pounds, but if so, that it at least kept me above 55 pounds.

Fortunately, I'm not below 55. I'm at -56.2 pounds after a gain of +4.2.

Now, why so much? Yes, we ate quite a bit. What I think sunk me were all the Diet Mountain Dews I had, the relative lack of activity (exceptin' for Melissa's Mountain Challenge), and very very little water. And on top of that, catching (and eating) yeast rolls at Lambert's. And eating a couple of heavenly biscuits at Tudor's in Fayetteville, WV.

All I can hope for is that I won't have any more red numbers, that this was both shoes falling. Guess we'll know in the next couple of weeks, eh?

Whookay, back to The Format.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "A little fatter for the experience" Gleck

Get your (furry) game on...

2009-03-02T21:46:00.001-05:00

Let's play "Where's Puddy?"
How long did it take you?

-TG

...and not a single snowflake down here!

2009-03-02T18:58:00.005-05:00

I thought the snow would've followed us from Missouri. In fact, for a couple of days the NWS forecast called for northern parts of the Coastal Empire and Lowcountry getting at least a dusting of white.

Nope, not a thing. The only flake in Meth-ingham County -- as usual -- is me. Just a little rain late last night. (Not counting the hellzapoppin' weather Saturday and Sunday over here; reviewing the EAS box tape at work this afternoon showed we had two tornado warnings. Luckily, nothing came of them).

We're back from our weeklong get-the-hell-away. Lots, and I mean LOTS, to 'travelogue' about. I've written a few days' worth, but bear with me ... this'll take some time.

Meanwhile, I offer a picture of Your Blog Host & Spouse outside of Teepee #6 at Wigwam Village in Cave City, Kentucky:
On that note ... tonight's supposed to be castrated-brass-monkey cold. We'll do our best to keep our wigs warm (to steal an old joke).

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Back in the land of palm trees, pluff mud and sometimes rudeness" Gleck

Another goal clinched!

2009-02-18T19:54:00.004-05:00

On the WW scale tonight, the number indicated -2.0 even! Holy crap, you know what that means? Two things:

1) I made my goal of breaking 60 before The Big Roadtrip of '09. -60.4, to be exact.

2) I also passed 59 pounds, my 20% threshold.

But it means something else, too: back to the fifties for the next weigh-in, because part of our upcoming vacation also entails not counting points. Not to the extent I did during last Fall's Birmingham junket, but I'm not going to sweat a Denny's breakfast, a reasonable fast food lunch and Bob Evan's for supper in the same day. I will have some heavenly Tudor's Biscuits in West Virginia. I will have Lambert's in Sikeston. And I will have the Paula Deen buffet in Tunica. The regular habits will otherwise remain.

To quote the wise and learned Seraphim Gleck: "We're on vacation, dammit!"

My goal for this trip is for the damage to be contained to an even two pounds. In other words, for me to be back to no less than 58.4 in two weeks (Wednesday, 4 March).

*********
Closed-circuit to Kate/Susan: In the middle of my celebration exist some ambivalence of its own. I really, really need a break from the format myself. I'm not going to quit; there's too much at stake here (much of it my own personal ego). Instead, I'm going to allow for a two-week holiday. It won't take me back to 295. It won't undo all I've done so far. And such a thing wouldn't mess things up for you, either.

And that's all I have to say about that, Jen-NAY.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "234.8" Gleck

In memory of a long-departed rocker

2009-02-13T21:18:00.009-05:00

Found this on YouTube. A daytime-only AM station pulls no punches in telling how it feels about having to sign off at sunset......

The station was WTAK-AM 1000 in Huntsville, Alabama. And this sign-off aired each night between roughly 1981 and 1993, when 'TAK finally got itself an FM station. Political correctness be damned!!

*********
'TAK, some of you might know, started life as Big 10, WVOV "The Voice of the Valley." (1968-1979) It was where, for this six-year-old in 1971, the radio bug officially bit, when my grandmother took me by the station and I got to peek into the control room window from the lobby, watching the jock do his thing.

WVOV had such a big sound, and with it Huntsville, Alabama was treated to one of the best-engineered AM stations ever. It signed on in the Fall of 1968, part of a latter-day rush of stations to the AM dial.

Many of us 'radio geeks' practice some form of broadcast idolatry, focusing on one or more stations which, to our ears, represented music radio's perfect mix. For me, it's always been Birmingham's legendary WSGN - The Big 610 (1955-1984) ... but WVOV, in its own way to me, trumps 'SGN. Honestly, if I were to find any 1970-71 era recordings of WVOV, I'd probably melt on the spot. Verily I would.

WVOV as a top-40 beacon didn't make it to see 1980 ... it flipped to a country format beginning in 1979, and a year or so later reemerged as adult contemporary WTAK -- "Take 10." By '83 it was an oldies station, staying true to the old 'VOV sound. Then by 1985 it was to a weird mix of top-40 and urban contemporary. Finally, by the end of 1987 and what appeared to be a freefall, the powers that be threw caution to the wind, and - in the spirit of "what do we have to lose" - rolled the dice and flipped an AM daytimer (!) to ...... album rock! (or, in industry lingo, AOR = Album-Oriented Rock).

Paydirt! WTAK -- I remind you, an AM DAYTIMER -- suddenly found itself flirting with the top of Huntsville's Arbitron. Far and away #1 in 18-34 males. "The Valley's Home of Rock & Roll"

And you wanna know what was the coolest thing about it all? Whomever was engineer at WTAK (and I'm not sure if he was a WVOV holdover) maintained that great, clean, ballsy audio chain. Classic rock sounded great through that signal. The opening notes of Deep Purple's "Space Truckin'" positively shined on that station. Not to mention anything by Hendrix (especially "The Wind Cries Mary").

I visited 'TAK once while up in Huntsville in 1990, when they were at the top of their game as an AM rocker (Radio & Records around this time did a feature article on them), and running such sweepers as "T-A-K .... The best damn music through ONE SPEAKER!" and my favorite: "T-A-K ... We're stuck on AM because we can't get our owners to buy us a REAL station!"

The board was the same ... it was an RCA, the same one installed in 1968. And while looking through some of the cartridge tapes, I came across the 1969 hit "No Time" by The Guess Who. (Go figure - they were still playing a lot of the old carts alongside their CD players)

Well, that cart looked like it'd been there awhile; the label had that 'halo' effect typewritten things get from age. I picked it up and I saw handwritten on the top: "WVOV"

Holy shit. I remember hearing that song on WVOV when I was 4 years old. And there I was, holding the very cart I was listening to years upon years earlier. I learned that day it was possible for goosebumps on top of goosebumps to sprout goosebumps of their own.

*********
In the Summer of 1993, WTAK finally bought a "real" FM signal, and migrated the AOR format over there, where they sacrificed its 10,000-watt powerhouse signal in favor of 24/7 operation. And the thrill was gone. Today, WTAK is a "classic rock" signal, now owned by Clear Channel. (I needn't say anything further).

AM 1000 today? It's a black gospel station. And they haven't maintained their plant as faithfully and meticulously as past engineers did. Last Fall, when I was up there, I heard a terribly overmodulated thin sound coming over my radio on AM 1000. Sad.

*********
I'd wager that my '70s-born friends in the audience never actively listened to AM. My generation, after all, came of age as the dominance of AM was killed by the rise of FM.

And I'll some of you never heard AM the way it really sounds, from a well-maintained and well-designed transmitter through a radio with a well-made not-skimped-on AM tuner section. Yes, FM does have a higher-end threshold than AM ... but not THAT much higher, it just seems that way with the POS afterthought jokes which pass for AM radios made since the '80s.

But to anyone who appreciates the art of bass, it's advantage: AM. The lower ranges have a much fuller-throated "oomph" on that band.

That's it. And now I'm signing off. Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Mechanically Reproduced" Gleck

Quality never goes out of style ... it just falls off my shriveling hiney

2009-02-13T19:45:00.002-05:00

Above is a picture my wife took the other night. Next week I have a "function" I need to attend, necessitating the dusting-off of my suit.

Wait. There are two of 'em to my name. One I bought in 2007 -- after my 1999-vintage suit no longer fit. Then there's the one Sera found on Freecycle last Summer. I tried it on first, but I have a ways to go before I can squeeze into that one without looking like I "play for other team."

So, expecting the worst, I put on the '07 suit. The jacket, ohhhh, has a little more room in it. Baggy, but workable, especially since a lot of folks at this event will not have seen me since pre-WW (last May).

Next, I put on the suit pants. Which brings me to the above picture.

Here's hoping those puppies can be altered.

And now to other news: those size-36 Levi's my Mom got for me last Fall ..... they now fit. Which is good because my 38 jeans are on the verge of causing me to violate various municipal "no-sag" ordinances.

Good gawd, I don't remember the last time I was in 36 jeans.

And the melting continues........

--Talmadge "Denim Drop" Gleck

MISTER BLUTARSKY.......

2009-02-12T00:34:00.003-05:00

.....ZERO POINT ZERO!!!!!

Okay, since drops are in green and gains are in red, I suppose blue makes a nice neutral color. Weigh-in tonight: 0.0 ..... and we stay at -58.4

It beats the hell out of a gain, is all I have to say.

We tread water, meaning I have to hit that 59 or 60 goal by next Wednesday.

C'mon, fates. Pretty please? With a Diet Mountain Dew on top?

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Nine more days 'till the fun begins" Gleck

One more pound of flesh.

2009-02-04T22:04:00.003-05:00

And that's what it was tonight: -1.0 .... bringing the total dropped weight to 58.4 pounds.

How did I do with the "no carb" diet? I didn't quiiiite make it; I gave in to the siren call of Diet Mountain Dew on Monday. Oh well.

Plus, my wife found me a really good used bicycle on Craig's List. I'm looking very forward to getting back on two wheels for some real exercise.

Two more weigh-ins until West Virginia. It's not long now!

That is all. Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "236.8" Gleck

Another week, another negative.

2009-01-28T20:59:00.004-05:00

I was right on target, too. This morning, I figured I'd be down roughly a pound, and that's right at what it was: -1.2 again. Yeah, I'll take that. More than par for meeting the 60-pound goal for West Virginia in 23 more days.

Cume total is now -57.4; I lack 2.6 pounds to hit 60, and 1.6 for the 20% milestone (-59).

And now we begin a great experiment. I'm going on a "no carb" diet. Carb as in "carbonation." I'm going to see if I can go a full week drinking nothing except for decaf tea and just plain water. No sodas, not even Diet 7-UP.

I'm very curious as to whether I have any 'retained' water (gawd, I sound like I should be doing a commercial for, ummmm, one of "those" kind of pills), and if that'll enhance next week's drop.

I suppose there's only one way to find out, eh?

One more good week in the world of Dwinding Tal.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "237.8" Gleck

A deferred pound ... and my 'fats refund'

2009-01-21T20:49:00.005-05:00

I noticed a piece of fuzzy math* tonight on my Weight Watchers chart
* = Farewell, Dubya. And good riddance!

Last week, if you joined us, you'll remember that I was down 1.6 pounds, for an even total of 55.0 .... well, after the lady said I'd dropped -0.2 this week, I looked at the number, and it indicated an even 239.0. Waaaaait a minute. That meant I was actually down -2.6 last week.

Okay, we'll call it -1.2, because that looks a helluvalot better. Plus, that was done with a sweatshirt thicker than my other ones. I forgot my "weigh-in t-shirt", and even had I not, it's colder than a Wiccan's mammary gland. At any rate, the effective drop was in all probability a half pound more.

There you are. Another week of green numerals, and getting closer to my 20% threshold (59.0 even). 2.8 more pounds to go. And 3.8 until I hit -60. Four (4) weeks away from West Virginia, so things still look positive.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Deplumpified" Gleck

Where service WAS state of the art

2009-01-16T22:18:00.006-05:00

Farewell to Circuit City. Today (01/16/2009) it was announced they're calling it a day. Breaking the circuit, as it were.

Both my son and I received CC gift cards for Christmas from my brother. I'm glad I listened to that inner voice which said, "We'd better nuke those puppies five minutes ago." (last month, the chain announced they were closing many stores and pulling out of entire markets, like Atlanta).

I'm mixed about it, truth be known. On one hand, I say - with feeling - GOOD BLOODY RIDDANCE!! You helped dig your own grave when you stabbed your longtime employees in the heart, casting those with high-seniority (read: making too much money that would better go toward further padding the CEO's salary) in favor of work-for-cheap greenies. You killed the American dream there, buddy. Whatever happened to staying in one place, building your reputation, loyalty, worth and stock in your employer? So much for bettering yourself. God Bless The New Amuhr-kuh. Make too much and you're out on your ass.

Attitudes went south. Not that they were any great shakes to begin with, but the one here in Savannah was terrible. The lead players in Slackers couldn't have done a better job.

After Christmas, the Sav'h store was out of an item I'd ordered online for in-store pickup. The CC store down I-95 in Brunswick had it, so I arranged to get it there on the way down to Jacksonville. I presented the confirmation e-mail, and you wanna talk about deer-in-the-headlights........... Ummmm, y'ever hear of something called the internet? In-ter-net. You know, it's a way to communicate via computers.

Uhhhh, a computer is an amazing device used for many, many handy things. You can type letters on it. Listen to music. You can even play games on it. I'm sure you can play Solitaire. It's on there. Then maybe, with practice, you can work yourself up to something profoundly challenging, like Minesweeper.

And, with a simple phone line, you can connect to a great big world that Al Gore invented. If you have the super-dooper modem, you can blaze between webpages at a lightning-fast 56 kbps. That's kilobits per second. Not "Kegs of Beer, Party Size."

You'll need what's called a browser. Netscape Navigator 3.0 is a good place to start. Anything more recent, and your marshy-of-Glynn mind'll be liable to short-circuit city.

(I'll bet they graduated from The Brunswick Center .... Ask my wife about that some time .... "I'm from the Brunswick centerrrrrrrrr......")

Yeah, that's what you get. You pay peanuts, you get monkeys. Simple as that.

BUT ...... now we have a problem. I've long viewed Best Buy as the lesser of the two electronic evils. Between them, they could beat out Wal-Mart in the complacent and arrogant department. Soon in many places Best Buy is going to be a de facto monopoly in this category. And I worry they'll soon start to act the part.

Competition in this country is largely a mirage. A dead relic of a better time in this country. Best Buy couldn't care less if you went across Abercorn Street to Circuit City. I'm sure the managers of both stores coach each others' kids' Little League teams, and met for beer after work.

Well, now the CC manager will soon be out of work. I'm sure he'll land on his feet in a gig at Best Buy. Or as a navy-blue-shirt-and-khaki-pants Wally World "associate" in the electronics department, explaining to the blue-haired lady how her television will literally explode its parts all over her trailer's living room if she doesn't buy a $2,000 plasma screen telly before the digital changeover, a/k/a "The Big Switch."

But cry not for the CC executives. They'll have their bright red gilded parachutes.

Empty big boxes are a sign of things to come. Better start polishin' those apples, bub. The shinier the skin, the easier time you'll have selling 'em on the street corner.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "I take back every bad thing I ever said about Service Merchandise" Gleck

Planned routing for WV '09

2009-01-15T22:49:00.010-05:00

Here's the projected path we'll be taking for Tal & Sera's Excellent West Virginia (And Then Some) Adventure 2009:

View Larger Map

My wife took one look at this, and thought it looked like a whale - including tail and blowhole. And went on to call this upcoming vacation "one whale of a trip."

We chose to extend this roadtrip to take in some other points further westward, milking the relatively cheap gasoline this go 'round (gas was at the $3.00 level last February, and who knows how high it could be in the future!).

The agenda, as it stands now:

FRIDAY, 02/20: Leave home and arrive about suppertime in Harman, WV. The beginning of Gleckfest '09 -- with Kate/Susan, The General, Melissa and - hopefully - Nettiemac. (Okay, since this won't be taking place at our house, maybe we ought to consider another name for the second annual "-Fest") We'll be here until Monday morning.
SATURDAY, 02/21: Fashnacht at Helvetia, WV. This promises to be a very interesting time.
MONDAY, 02/23: Rustic Retreat in our beloved Mount Nebo, WV. We'll be here through Wednesday.
WEDNESDAY, 02/25: Leave West Virginia and drive to Cave City, Kentucky. We'll spend the night in a teepee. How could we not??
THURSDAY, 02/26: Harrah's in Tunica, Miss. The casinos are calling. So is Paula Deen's buffet. It's so crowded at The Lady And Sons that we're having to drive all the way to Mississippi just to have a crack at her cooking.
FRIDAY, 02/27: Sikeston, Mo. Plain ol' motel. Visiting friends in Sikeston and Cape Girardeau. Plan a small detour for the Hickman, Ky. ferry across the Mississippi ... provided it's back in operation by next month (the website currently says it's temporarily closed. Fingers crossed.....)
SATURDAY, 02/28: Long haul from Sikeston down to Albany, Ga. (Sera's parents).
SUNDAY, 03/01: And back home.

Initially, we were going from Cave City to Sikeston, followed by spending Friday night in Tunica. Then we saw the room rates at Harrah's: $35/night weeknights; $185/night on weekends. Phew!! So we reversed the trip ... which explains the "fish tail." If faced with driving an extra 150 miles over spending 150 extra dollars for the same motel room ... well, I'm sure you'd do the same thing.

Plans, as always, subject to change. Any ideas or suggestions for things to do ... well, lay 'em on us.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "The mountains are calling" Gleck

Dark moments in music history

2009-01-15T01:06:00.005-05:00

Not sure where this came from, but it's funny........

September 8, 1949:
In Bavaria, Richard Strauss dies.

September 8, 1949:
In Greece, Milos Muzak is born.

August 15, 1953:
Future songwriter Jimmy Webb forgets his slice of birthday cake outside. Moments later, it begins to rain.

February 16, 1955:
After 15 minutes of sitting in a boat listening to "Go Back Home, You Obnoxious Little Foreign Brats!", humorless Disneyland execs decide to look for another composer for their new attraction.

September 17, 1955:
Young Michael Jagger gets his lips caught in a Coke bottle for several hours.

May 4, 1956:
In Toronto, Neil Young's tonsillectomy causes no damage to his larynx, thereby not robbing him of his voice.

July 23, 1956:
Colonel Tom Parker says to Elvis, "Boy, you're nothin' but skin and bones. You better put on some weight, or people are gonna think you're sick!"

June 3, 1958:
In an attempt to impress his piano teacher, young Barry Manilow changes keys in the middle of his rendition of "Heart & Soul" -- three times.

June 7, 1966:
"Hey, chaps, I'd like you to meet my new girlfriend, Yoko."

July 18, 1966:
"Let's let Ringo sing one. No harm in that, is there?"

March 30, 1968:
An alien craft leaves a baby on the doorstep of the Dion farm just outside of Montreal, Canada.

September 22, 1968:
Baffled by audiences' lack of enthusiasm about a deaf, dumb and blind shuffleboard champ, Pete Townshend heads dejectedly down to the corner pub.

August 16, 1969:
At a party for her 11th birthday, Madonna Louise Ciccone is strangely unfazed when Vinny Martello stuffs two ice cream cones down the front of her dress.

May 21, 1971:
In a meat-deprivation-fueled stupor, Paul McCartney tells Linda "Hey, Luv, why don't you play in the band?"

July 29, 1974:
"Soup or sandwich today, Ms. Cass?"

October 31, 1975:
At a costume party in Greenwich Village, a soldier, an Indian, a biker, a construction worker, a cop and a cowboy all decide, "This is too much fun to do just once a year!"

September 6, 1977:
Due to a misprint on his high school schedule, Kenny G. attends "Sax Education" class.

October 31, 1978:
Michael Jackson takes in Peter Pan on Broadway and thinks how cool it would be to look more like Sandy Duncan.

November 8, 1980:
Mark David Chapman can't quite scrounge up $50 for shooting lessons. A month later, his attempted assassination of Yoko Ono goes horribly awry.

August 12, 1986:
"Congratulations Mr. Hanson -- it's another boy!"

November 3, 1987:
Knowing how much her kids loved Star Wars, a naive Tipper Gore rushes home with a newly-bought "Luke Skywalker and 2-Live Crew" CD.

July 16, 1993:
Shaquille O'Neal skips free-throw drills to record his first rap album.

January 6, 1995:
Art Garfunkel gets three fewer hits than David Crosby on eBay when "celebrity musician sperm" is entered in the search box.

September 2, 1997:
Lou Bega finishes "Mambo #4," decides his symphony needs one more movement.

.

Double nickel!

2009-01-14T20:43:00.003-05:00

Weigh-in tonight. Last week, as you might recall, I went 1.2 pounds in the wrong direction.

This week, however, I got it all back plus a few ounces on the side. Enough ounces to make my cumulative removal a nice, round 55 pounds. This week's drop: -1.6.

Yeah, I'm happy.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "240.2" Gleck

Plum befuddled

2009-01-09T10:53:00.018-05:00

Had a small errand to run yesterday. Here's how it all went down on my end:

My wife, as many of you know, has become a devout fan of author Janet Evanovich. She was to be in Charleston - or, to be anal, Mount Pleasant - at Barnes & Noble for a signing promoting her newest book, Plum Spooky, on Thursday the 8th ("Yesterday" if you're reading the blog on this day. Otherwise, never mind.), and Seraphim really wanted to go up there and meet her, and buy her latest book.

She was a little disappointed when she realized the date conflicted with her weekly Wilton cake classes. I hated it for her, but then a small idea began to sprout: I was 'teleworking' on Thursday, and as my wife pointed out on her blog, I typically do the majority of my editing and post-production agenda Wednesday night, often going to bed as late as 3 or 4 AM. I then just "sleep in" on Thursday.

Thursday presented itself in that way, plus with Sera teaching her class and not getting home until 10 or so, I realized I could swing up to Charleston (a two hour and change drive) and get her that book, nice and autographed by Miz Janet. And, maybe, get home first. The idea of surprising her kinda appealed to me. I honestly think this was the last thing she would've expected.

And, hey, since this is Charleston, South By Damn Carolina we're talking about here, perhaps I could partake of some Bessinger's BBQ (operated by Maurice Bessinger's less-flamboyant brother Thomas). Mustard 'cue, I've said in this space, is God's blessing. I discovered Palmetto-style sauce and my world was forever altered. So, yeah, I could 'reward' myself with a couple of pulled-pork sammiches after I did my deed.

*********
Okay, so I was completely new and virgin to the whole rigamarole of book signings. Never taken part in one in my life. Books are the passion of others, like my wife, Kate/Susan, et al; my passion lays in recorded works. This does not mean I don't like books. Indeed, I love reading. Only that fiction, I have to say, doesn't do a whole lot for me. I prefer reading biographies, true-life stories, and books relating to my areas of interest.

I have time for only so much passion ... I deeply respect books and have quite a few to my name, but I prefer to immerse myself in music, if that makes any sense.

I went in there figuring that I'd be the only male in that line (at least WW prepared me for that!) And I wasn't far off the mark, either; I didn't see more than a dozen - if that many - Y chromosomes in the whole queue. No matter, I'm doing this for my wife. She loves this author, and if she cannot meet her, then I'll be her 'proxy.'

Kudos must be given to how organized and well-thought-out things were at that B&N store. I walked in, and was promptly asked if I was there for the book-signing. The lady gave me a colored slip with a number on it. It was purple (strangely enough!) and on it was handwritten the number 359. They called for people in line in groups of 100 - each with their own distinctive colored slips. (such an original idea!)

Maybe this is how it's done at most book-signings. I don't know. Just that I counted dozens of ways this could have been a nightmare, and this B&N did it right. I've had my fill lately of incompetence and slipshod, piss-poor planning and execution ... so this was a refreshing experience.

*********
Anyway, holding #359, and with group #101-200 yet to be called, I had a little time to kill.

I'm almost as happy in a bookstore as I am in a record store, so I started browsing. I could've gone to get my yellow pork payload, but I thought the wiser and stuck around just in case things went quicker than anticipated. I got there right at 6:00 (fool me, I should've taken I-526 around instead of 17 skirting the 'historical district' -- oh well, at least I got to cross the new Cooper River Bridge, my first time on that span), and as it turned out, our group wasn't called until 7:55.

The good news is, the line started moving quickly. I got to the signing table exactly one hour later, 8:55.

They were giving out balloons to the folks in line. I declined, trying to keep my carry-on baggage as minimal as possible. Bag with book inside, plus digital camera. I could snag a balloon on my way out.

The line snaked through several aisles, however I'd already found my reading material for the wait (more on that at a later time).

They gave out cheesecake and chocolate something-or-other cake samples to those of us in line. Not surpringly, I declined. Now when they were offering cups of water ... well, I happily took 'em up on those.

As I was maybe 2/3 of the way to the table, I struck a conversation with two ladies behind me. Both were teachers in the area, and they didn't bring a camera with 'em. I offered them a few bytes on the memory card, and took their e-mail addresses so I could send them. Very nice women, one of them has family in Bainbridge, Ga., where my FIL's family hails. Dyed-in-the-studded-collar UGA fan, too (her purse was a dead giveaway).

Just as we rounded the last curve into the homestretch, a lady came to all of us, asking one simple question: "Ranger or Morelli?" Evidently, she was giving out "I ♥ (RANGER)(MORELLI)" stickers. I had no Earthly idea just what the hell that meant. You might as well have asked Seraphim, Kate/Susan or Melissa "RCA plugs or XLR?" or even "Phthalocyanine or Cyanine?" (I much prefer the latter myself).

I started turning to my new 'friends', "A little help, please?" (I then realized my pick would probably not have been correct, and the wrong choice among Evanovichphiles would be akin to giving Nettiemac a Clemson sweatshirt, ya know?). I didn't have to. She said, "Ohhh, here's a Man Sticker for you.", as she put a generic "Plum Spooky" decal into my hands. Ha ha. The ladies both got a good laugh ... but none more than me. It struck me as just, uhhh, plum funny. "Man sticker." Gotta remember that line.....

I hadn't planned on having my picture taken with Ms. Evanovich -- my wife is the devotee, after all; I hadn't so much as heard of her prior to Sera starting her books -- but my "queue pals" pushed me to do so. "C'mon, your wife will love it!" Yeeeeah, okay.

Once there, whom I assume was JE's manager took the camera and had me pose with her as she signed the book. I told her the circumstances of my being there, and she smiled really big. Not much else was said, as I didn't want to hold up the line (there were at least another 100 folks behind me).

I sensed nothing but good vibes coming from Janet Evanovich. No arrogance. No ego. And no "Why am I doing this for you little people?" star trip. She was plain nice. Amazing, considering I don't envy the task of signing hundreds upon hundreds of books and posing for pictures (with all the flashes going off all evening, it's a damn wonder Miz Janet was able to friggin' SEE where she was writing!!). What's more, I overheard someone ahead of me in line remarking to the effect that JE has a mean case of carpal-tunnel syndrome. Yeesh.

My "queue pals" then had their photo-ops, and I took their e-mail addresses. They should already have their suitable-for-framing JPEG in their respective computers.

*********
And there you have it. I left the store, then realized I didn't have a balloon to give my wife. I doubled back inside, only to see none available. I went back out, and saw an entire bouquet attached to the portable sign promoting the book-signing. I peeled away the layers of packing tape and liberated the whole batch.

Walking to my car, I understood how Nena must've felt. There had to have been at least 99 of 'em, or so it seemed.

Then, at the crazy hour of 9:10 p.m. I was back on the road. I-526 this time, pal. There was no getting home before Seraphim. I was looking at an 11:30-ish arrival back in Rincon. I pondered just how to frame this, because my wife would no doubt wonder where in hades her husband had gone.

I was pulling into a Circle K on the west side of Charleston when Sera called. She asked me where I was, and I told her "At the Circle K." :-) (I was hoping she wouldn't ask which one!)

At this late hour, and being in a hurry, the barbecue didn't happen. I had to settle for Subway on the way home. Maybe next time.

So there you are. My little traipse into The Literary Dark Side.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "More on that in my book" Gleck

A derelict relic

2009-01-08T11:32:00.009-05:00

....sitting on an old picnic table. (Or, for those who remember Yogi Bear, "pic-a-nick table")

I figured it was time for another thumbnail in the new year, so I pulled it from the above shot. Sera took this at an abandoned roadside park along US-301 north of Folkston, Ga.

30+ years ago, this was likely an attractive, well-manicured rest and lunch spot for all the Florida-bound travelers back when I-95 wasn't complete (the final link - opened in 1978 - was the Savannah River stretch between Hardeeville and I-16).

I've told of my chemical aversion to deviled ham and the reason that is so. It's all of no matter; I'd gladly eat a can straight, no chaser, if I could again experience the idyll of a roadside picnic in a place like this, back in its prime.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "No household garbage in state litter barrels" Gleck

Back in the saddle again......

2009-01-07T23:57:00.006-05:00

First weigh-in tonight since before Christmas. And my second plus sign: +1.2

I knew going in that it wouldn't be a green number .... for one thing, I didn't do a whole lot of counting points during Festivus. Between traveling to and from Alabama, the time spent going and doing while Tiger was over here, the daily point target was by and large ignored. I didn't go overboard, ala Birmingham or pre-WW, but it wasn't my model behavior either.

The other thing complicating the mix was what I first thought was a badly sprained ankle. I was barely able to walk between Tuesday (30th) and Thursday (1st). Seraphim and I had our traditional "Two-Year Kiss" sitting down! (the 2YK is a Tal & Sera tradition -- we start kissing at 11:59:50 and go until about 12:00:05 or so ... ever since 1998-1999, our years begin and end the same way: joined at the lips, in a sweet embrace). Anyhoo, the parallel pain on my big toe was a dead giveaway: this wasn't a sprain, but instead a gout attack all over my right foot.

Today, it's still a tad bit sore and I'm not limping spastically like I was a week ago. That's good. What isn't good is that with a bad foot I wasn't able to do any walking of consequence. Little to no activity.

I went in there hoping for the damage to be contained to no more than two (2) pounds gained, so in that way it was good news.

And now it's back to The Format. A new year, and some new goals (as you can tell, I didn't make 55 by year's end). And they are:

60 pounds removed by Wednesday, 17 February (two days before our planned trip to West Virginia). If I cannot make 60, then I'll settle for 59 even: 20% of my May '08 weight gone. That's six (6) weeks from tonight. All I need is -1.1 pounds per week and I'll have that nailed.

My initial goal ... - 75 pounds removed by May 5 (one year on WW) ... I believe is still workable, even with going off program next month for the Big West Virginia-Kentucky-Missouri-Tennessee Roadtrip. 17 weeks away ... so, assuming a two-pound gain after vacation, that'll give me a par of -1.39 per week. Okay, the pressure is on. There's no longer any room for error. And the 75 goal is what I really want to make.

As 2009 begins, the cume number is readjusted to 53.4 pounds.

Now to get this damned foot de-gouted, so I can get back into a little movement.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "still over 50 pounds, though" Gleck

Till death (or radiation) do us part ...

2009-01-06T00:19:00.006-05:00

None of you should be surprised to find gobs of saccharine, aspartame and whatever the hades is the technical term for "Splenda" cascading out of your monitors, speakers and any other orifice of your computers. It should. Today is The Day.

On this, Day Six of January in Ought-Nine, is the 8th anniversary of the day I said "I do" in front of an audience smaller than the Maytag Repairman's client list (I dare say there were more folks in the wedding party than out in the pews .... long story .... don't want to get started .... will explain on request .... anyway ..... too many ellipses as it is ..... )

For those who joined the network since the old website (with wedding pictures) was taken down, here are my vows to Seraphim as I gave them on 01/06/2001:

(Seraphim), this is our day, a celebration of all we are together, and all we can accomplish together. You and I were tested from the very start ... over two years of a long distance relationship that would've torn apart many. But we passed that trial. And here we stand today.

Our meeting was more than mere chance. I desired a friend who would be honest, not judgmental. A companion who would see my many quirks as part of the whole picture, not something to be ashamed of. A supporter who would inspire me and encourage me to reach my potential. Plus, a woman who would accept and love my son ... an additional mother figure whom my son could love and cherish.

(Sera), you are all those things ... you are truly my best friend. I feel very strongly that God brought you to me at the right time, and helped carry us through a 93-mile separation, and finally last Summer, put both of us in the same city, at the same time. Some would call that the stars lining up just right ... but I know better.

Surviving a failed marriage, as I did, gave me the gift to see from a different angle everything that marriage is. It's not something to rush into without thought. And it's not something that magically gives us security. Marriage is truly a Godly element of life ... and entering into this beautiful union with you is not something I've taken lightly. And marriage will not bring us security — I already feel secure with you, a security that nearly three years of friendship has created. I'm a better person for knowing all that you are.

(Sera), I promise to you, before God, and our family and friends, to love, honor and cherish you. That I will be your safe harbor, and your biggest cheering section.

There's a note you wrote to me last year, and I keep it right next to the computer ... "It takes me only a moment to say ‘I love you', but it will take me a lifetime to show you how very much." I promise to do just that. Every day will be a new opportunity to renew the pact we're making today.

That note, by the way, still hangs within view of this monitor:
It still seems more than surreal that I have been blessed with a woman like Seraphim as my wife for eight years. She seems to be falling apart, with more doctors than Subway locations in a single city block, and so many pills on her daily list that she needs a jumbo-sized smtwtfs* just to hold all of her medications.

Inside, though, her soul and her heart hold strong.

* Smtwtfs (sum-UH-twah-fuss) n. A plastic apparatus, with seven separate compartments, for tracking, allocating and remembering pill dosage. So named because that cryptic word is always on the top, one letter embossed on each lid. (root = latin smtwtum, "pharmaceutical cocktail of obscene proportions")

This day will be celebrated as a husband and wife should never do: not touching one another. We cannot. Doctor's orders. Yesterday, Sera took one pill .... a radioactive pill .... in a hopeful effort to nuke (literally) her Grave's Disease, a recent diagnosis of a malperforming thyroid - one issue piled on many others. Therefore, I cannot share a bed with her, touch her, nor share a "facility" with her. Furthermore, she is to wash her dishes and clothes separately from mine.

But we press on. "In sickness and in health" isn't a faddish expression, after all. I love her unraveling self. Each radioactive ion of her being, I do.

I love you, Seraphim. We'll get to the bottom of the medical mysteries and before long you'll be back to full tilt. Meanwhile, I've got your back.

Happy anniversary, love of my life! Another year to share together and I remain excited about the miles and miles of road ahead for us.

XXXXXXXXX
--Your Couch-dwelling Curmudgeon

Okay, so I was NOT dreaming this place!

2009-01-05T23:25:00.005-05:00

[photo credit: www.flickr.com/photos/theeerin/355251009]

Wayfara. It was the name of a roadside stop which to my early memory seemed to be at every other exit along I-75 in Florida. Ever since first going online in December of '96, I would occasionally Google (or Alta-Vista, Yahoo or Dogpile before that) the name "Wayfara" just to see what pops up. For years the only return seemed to be a convenience store by that name at the Yulee exit along I-95 north of Jacksonville. Today, it's little more than your average gas station/overpriced food store combo.

I figured maybe it was part of this Wayfara chain in an earlier time. Maybe.

That bright orange bow-tie like sign has haunted my subconscious for decades, and as I told my wife over the weekend, while coming back from Jacksonville, that logo has been known to make infrequent cameo appearances in roadtrip dreams I'll have.

(Yes, I do sometimes have dreams where I'm driving somewhere. I know that's shocking to read from me, so just shut up).

Growing up, we'd make Summer trips to Sarasota, Fla. They were islands of idyll in what were fairly turbulent waters. Three things defined the trips down there:
1) Technicolor highway shields. (I'll spare you a further rant .... this time .....)
2) Horne's. That was a Stuckey's spinoff that took on their teal-colored motif with loud yellow rooftops. (Today, there's just one Horne's left: Port Royal, Va. I made a side trip over there during my visit to the DC area in 2003. You know I had to. While Sera had "time with girl family", I broke off on my own and drove to Port Royal. One word: awesome. PS to Kate/Susan and Melissa: if you're in the area, it's worth a stop. The milkshakes were great.)
.... and 3) Wayfara.

Now we didn't stop at either Wayfara or Horne's. Wayfara struck me as another Stuckey's competitor. I didn't know anything about it except the signage.

On a earlier trip to Jacksonville with Tiger, I saw something buried in the trees at the Yulee exit along I-95: a painted-over empty white sign in that four-pointed shape. Holy crap ... that WAS a Wayfara. Maybe this wasn't a figment of a road geek's imagination.

Which leads me to one more search, which yielded the above picture. Indiana - go figure. Maybe Wayfara was a midwestern or northern chain with locations in Florida. That's the way it seems ... a chain will make it big in the nawth, but not the southland; however, once you cross the line into the Sunshine State, all of those "Yankee" icons suddenly make a reappearance.

Bob Evans is a good example. Few, if any, down here; in Florida, they're as plentiful as they are in Pennsylvania. Obviously catering to the snowbirds who like their familiar tastes of home.

I know little to nothing else about Wayfara. Horne's, on the other hand, has one amazing and awesome historical tribute.

So I was not dreaming this place. I could picture that logo above clearly in my mind, although I hadn't seen a single image of one since 1976, our last trip to Sarasota.

Today, the irony doesn't escape me: this Wayfara also has a Stuckey's section. While there, you can partake of "hot eats and cool treats", too. Let's all go to the Stuckfara Queen!

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Greetings From Yesterday's Road" Gleck

Private message

2009-01-03T11:41:00.001-05:00

...to Kate/Susan:

I'M AWAKE.

That is all.

--Talmadge "My Wife Hears the Siren Call of Williams-Sonoma" Gleck

December 1972: Lightning in a bottle .... mostly.

2009-01-01T12:39:00.007-05:00

Hello and happy 2009 to all.

We open the year with a look at American Top 40 for December 16, 1972. Out of all the countdowns I've posted here, this might be one of my favorites. Plenty of magical, underrated hits all over this one. Yes, there are a couple of revolting pieces of vinyl, with a handful of "meh" records. But who or what is perfect?

Here we go..............

*40) ANGEL / Rod Stewart
The Rodster covers Jimi Hendrix. Not a five-star song by any stretch, but holds its own.

39) WHAT AM I CRYING FOR? / Dennis Yost & The Classics IV
Uhhhh, because your best days are long behind you??? They made their biggest hits - "Spooky", "Stormy" and "Traces" - in the late '60s. Two members of this sixsome (shouldn't this group's name have been "Classics VI" ... or was this an unresolved typo?) went on to be part of Atlanta Rhythm Section.

Here's a neat coincidence ... two records debuted the same week, each separately by husband and wife:

*38) DON'T LET ME BE LONELY TONIGHT / James "Stretch Marks on his Mouth" Taylor
A splendid piece of balladry. One of JT's better hits.

*37) YOU'RE SO VAIN / Carly "The Reason" Simon
It's long been a mystery as to whom this record was directed. Mick Jagger? Warren Beatty? Kris Kristofferson? Hell, one name suggested in The Online Encyclopedia Of Sometimes Dubious Credibility is Daffy Duck!

If you think it's about you, then we know the answer. ;-)

36) SUNNY DAYS / Lighthouse
Positively trippy. And positively wonderful. Should've been top 10.

35) I DIDN'T KNOW I LOVED YOU ('TILL I SAW YOU ROCK AND ROLL) / Gary Glitter
Follow-up to the top-10 smash "Rock and Roll, Part 2" ... or, as I saw it listed on my son's high school jazz band concert a couple years back, "The 'Hey' Song."

Uhhhhh, yeah.

34) ALIVE / The Bee Gees
The end of their first (i.e. 'ballad') era. Three years later, they'd be j-j-j-jive talking. It reminds me of the time Seraphim brought some '70s music to work with her for some employee function or other. One CD she pulled from the shelf was Bee Gees Gold., expecting the late '70s disco flavour. Imagine my wife's surprise when she realized the most uptempo song on that disc is probably "I Started a Joke."

33) IF I COULD REACH YOU / The Fifth Dimension
From the same corner of the room as 5D's sweet heartfelt romantic hit "One Less Bell To Answer." Close the window and draw the blinds, the sunshine ain't coming in no more.

32) I WANNA BE WITH YOU / The Raspberries
Eric Carmen wrote this one all by himse...... ummmm, errrr, ahhh, anyway. This was back when EC rocked. This was fantastic power pop.

31) BEEN TO CANAAN / Carole King
Melissa has. And now I want to go, too. At 50 degrees, it's too damned hot down here. I want mountains and snow.

30) I'LL BE AROUND / The Spinners
Soul music still had the magic touch, and there are more than a few R&B treasures. I'd say it's my favorite Spinners record.

29) I'D LOVE YOU TO WANT ME / Lobo
By this time it was clear that mid December of '72 was a wonderful moment of top-40 time. You've heard "Me and You and a Dog Named Boo" so many times you want to rescue Boo from his evil caretakers. ILYTWM shined on late '72 radio. A great pop song.

28) PIECES OF APRIL / Three Dog Night
3DN come down with Ballad Fever. Danny Hutton must've had one beer too many with David Gates.

27) SUPERSTITION / Stevie Wonder
Stevie's Midas touch continued unabated in the '70s with this, one of the biggest hits of late '72 and early '73.

26) LONG DARK ROAD / The Hollies
A singles band most associated with the late '60s, with hits like "Bus Stop", "Carrie Anne" and the Richard Carpenter song "She Ain't Heavy, She's My Sister." Oops, sorry. Well, you know what I mean.

The '70s gave this group two top-10'ers: "Long Cool Woman (In a Black Dress)" earlier in '72 and "Air That I Breathe" in '74. While "Road" didn't get much higher than this on the chart ... it remains my favorite Hollies track. It's dark, but not in a sappy, whiny kind of way.

25) DIALOGUE / Chicago
From one favorite to another. Robert Lamm writes and sings another winner. Peter Cetera's grubby paws hadn't yet destroyed the integrity of a great brass-flavoured rock & roll band.

In its long form (Parts I & II) on Chicago V, it stands as an underrated classic rock song. Here, it's in an edited version taken from both parts, something I hadn't heard since the early '70s.

24) YOUR MAMA DON'T DANCE / Loggins & Messina
Did anyone say "Peter Cetera's Disease"? Jim Messina carried Kenny Loggins' testicles around, and took 'em away when the duo split up in 1978. Like Cetera and a few others, it was ballad city for Kenny Boy. ("Whenever I call you fiend".....)

23) SITTING / Cat Stevens
One more lost classic brought to the forefront. I love the piano hook.

22) OPERATOR / Jim Croce
It was a little disturbing to hear Casey Kasem talking about Croce in the present tense (Like Buddy Holly, Croce had an untimely death just as his star was rising).

21) WALK ON WATER / Neil Diamond
Forgotten gem from the time when ND began to take that first bite from the Cetera Apple. I don't remember it firsthand, just years later through radio airchecks. One doesn't hear this much anymore, which is too bad.

20) LIVING IN THE PAST / Jethro Tull
What do you think I do with these AT40 review posts??!! In the dictionary underneath this entry it says "See also GLECK, TALMADGE" Or some would think. (I like to say I have one of my feet in the past, so I can enjoy the now with Seraphim on the other one)

The song? B2AC classic rock song. I prefer to dig into this group's great album tracks.

19) SUMMER BREEZE / Seals & Crofts
A staple of Light AC stations everywhere. If you're allergic to jasmine, you're pretty much screwed.

18) CORNER OF THE SKY / The Jackson Five
Yes, the J5 had hits well into the '70s. "Corner" is passable ... not bad by any measure, but doesn't peg my "Oh Wow" meter, either. Of course, this didn't test well with the Soccer Moms®, so all you hear from this group is "ABC", "I Want You Back" and "The Love You Save."

17) KEEPER OF THE CASTLE / The Four Tops
When Motown 'sold out' (so to speak) and moved to Hollywood in 1972, the Tops stayed in Detroit and signed with ABC/Dunhill Records. Their sound had evolved away from Berry Gordy's "safe" definition and toward a more edgy breed of soul. Here, Levi Stubbs' vocals are perfect for the sound. What's notable here is that the Four Tops went more than 40 years (!) without a lineup change. It took Lawrence Payton's death in 1997 to force the issue.

16) SWEET SURRENDER / Bread
David Gates somehow escapes the Peter Cetera curse with his over-reliance on ballads. I cannot put my finger on why, just that Bread doesn't cause my nausea level to spike. "Surrender"? I can take it or leave it. (Some of you might not be aware that Bread could rock out. Google "Mother Freedom" or the wonderful "Let Your Love Go" for examples).

15) SUPERFLY / Curtis Mayfield
Yeaaaaaaah. 1972. Blacker-than-black SOUL. Curtis' falsetto. The horns. The sound. Give me an extra helping, please.

14) CRAZY HORSES / The Osmonds
When Donny said he was "a little bit rock and roll", brother did he mean it. I don't recall hearing this record at all -- especially not in Tupelo, but not Birmingham either. It doesn't sound like The Osmonds, who themselves did get uptempo with the likes of "Down By the Lazy River."

Personally, I think this was a cynical effort to infiltrate AOR/"underground" FM radio. Listen for yourself.

13) SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH ME / Austin Roberts
Best-known for a top-10 hit in 1975, "Rocky." Supposedly, Roberts had a side gig as a collaborator on Scooby Doo and Josie & The Pussycats.

A worthy entry for the K-TAL Woe Is Me whiny wecords hall of fame. "Something's Wrong", indeed.

12) FUNNY FACE / Donna Fargo
No doubt, her status as "The Happiest Girl in the Whole USA" caused a case of fatal ego. She was singing this as she looked at herself in the mirror. A revolting C&W crossover. Air sickness bag, please........

11) ROCKIN' PNEUMONIA - BOOGIE WOOGIE FLU / Johnny Rivers
One I fondly remember from second grade. Loved it then, love it now. Sounds best when played on AM radio.

10) I'M STONE IN LOVE WITH YOU / The Stylistics
Thankfully, my barf bag from the Fargo record above still has enough room for one more heaving retch. May I remind you again that this is a MALE singing lead?

9) I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW / Johnny Nash
Yeah, you know it. It's a good song, even with myopic vision. What I remember about the song is how much the wife of a co-worker of Dad's used to love it. They lived down the street from us in Tupelo, and she'd occasionally babysit my brother and me. Looking back, she was borderline hippie. She tried forcefeeding me David Bowie, but my grade-school self wasn't quite ready for The AOR Dark Side. (PS - they'd later divorce ... note to self: ask Dad about it some time)

8) VENTURA HIGHWAY / America
Another B2AC "adult contemporary" mainstay. At least they named the highway. Poor horse...

7) CLAIR / Gilbert O'Sullivan
Is there still enough roo.... Uh, never mind. I'm gonna need a whole new barf bag. From the album Cradle Robber (Naturally). At first you think it's a sick ballad about an older man's lust for a young girl, but then you learn it's actually a paean to his niece. Oh, and there really was a Clair, and she was the infant daughter of Gilbert's producer/manager. It's Clair's giggling you hear at the end.

Doesn't make it right, though. Pass the bag, I feel another song comin' on.

6) PAPA WAS A ROLLIN' STONE / The Temptations
Baby Daddy leaves. Makes one thankful for our own wretched lives. The song? The ever-lovin' temptin' Temps could do no wrong. Personified the dark sound of latter-day Motown.

5) IT NEVER RAINS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA / Albert Hammond
If so, then why do the cars on the dealership lots have windshield wipers? Oh yeah, you'll need them. Because .... say it with me ... "It pours. Man, it pours." (Sorta like my grandparents' old '67 AMC Ambassador.)

4) YOU OUGHTA BE WITH ME / Al Green
There was, and is, no such thing as a bad Al Green record. Period. (And that's REVEREND Al Green to us, buster!)

3) IF YOU DON'T KNOW ME BY NOW / Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes
Original version; some might remember the 1989 remake by Simply Red. As is the case 95% of the time, the original is superior.

2) I AM WOMAN / Helen Reddy
She came a long way, baby. And then blew up any hopes of ever becoming a feminist heroine by retreating into submissive balladry. I think I've ranted about this here before, so we'll just move along to this week's number one hit:

Hi, this is Godly Casem, and we're up to our Number Seven Commandment. Jingle, please....

[cue pipe organ and angelic choir] COMMANDMENT NUMBER SEVEEEEEEENNNN.....

1) ME AND MRS. JONES / Billy Paul
Adultery topped the charts in 1972. Sounds to me like Billy's wife didn't heed the sage words of Jack Jones back in 1963 from his hit song "Wives and Lovers":

Day after day
There are girls at the office
And men will always be men
Don't send him off with your hair still in curlers
You may not see him again

Mrs. Paul, with her hair still in those gaudy curlers and pins (allowing her to pick up radio and TV signals from 200 miles away), had the last laugh.

Think about that next time you pick up a box of frozen fish sticks at the grocery store.

So that's how pop music radio sounded at the end of 1972. I could've lived with such a list. For every "Funny Face" there were several "Sunny Days."

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge Coast To Coast

Going to hell in a Mazda

2008-12-31T07:00:00.016-05:00

Yesterday (December 30), in spite of it being my son's 17th birthday, was one I was more than glad to throw in the dumpster of history. The day before, I'd somehow sprained my right foot -- then again, since I didn't do anything to cause it, I wonder if it's a gout attack. I do have occasional flare-ups on my big toes, yet haven't before experienced it on my ankle. It does happen, though, and either way it hurts like a mo-fo. The more I think about it, the more I think this is gout.

The night before (Monday), Sera put one of those microwavable heating pads on the foot. Big mistake. Heat was the last thing that recalcitrant ankle needed.

How I was able to get out of bed, much less drive to work, is a head-scratcher. No, a head-bumper. As I was trying to get out of the shower yesterday morning without putting too much weight on my foot, I brained my head on the door railing above.

On top of that I had to get Tiger back toward Alabama. Sera had a doctor's appointment, but I was able to leave work early. I would've asked my wife to make this trip, were it not for a wrinkle in the routine. Instead of meeting Whatzername at Fort Valley (halfway spot), she sent her brother, who was buying a truck from a guy in Newnan, about 40 miles southwest of Atlanta. Seems he needs my son's help -- he was taking two vehicles back to Montgomery, and he was tapped to drive "Walt's" old vehicle.

A black Corvette.

Yeah, this trip was an adventure in and of itself. Apart from it taking forever to get to Newnan -- there's no easy way to get there from my direction without venturing into Atlanta Traffic Hell™, which covers a radius of roughly 40 miles from the gold dome. Atlanta is one big parking lot, and those living in suburbia up there practically have to leave at 5 AM just to get to work on time ... and get home at 8 PM. Leaving not a whole helluva lot of time for, ummmm, a LIFE.

Well, taking the backroads through such beautiful burgs as Roberta and Thomaston, it took nearly five (5) hours to get to Newnan. And I did this without a road map. Though not by choice; I'd left all cartography in the other vehicle. One thing I wanted to do is avoid Atlanta's remotest perimeter, and approach Newnan from the south.

In that time I could've driven nearly all the way to Eclectic, Ala., and spared everyone involved the trouble.

And Newnan, true to form, was its usual charming Atlanta self at 5:00. Meaning, traffic traffic everywhere. We met Walt, and the look on Tiger's face when he realized just what car he was going to be driving back home ..... well, let's just say that was a birthday treat he won't soon forget.

Now DAD, on the other hand...... Yeah, I was getting a little queasy at the sight of my son driving off in a Corvette into Atlanta Traffic Hell™. The last sight I had was of him taking a left turn behind his uncle onto the road leading back to I-85. At the same time, I did a U-turn on the side street to get into a nearby gas station ($1.41/9; and, as a bonus, Diet Mountain Dew in the fountain).

With tank filled, I ventured eastward on Georgia 34 through the southern rim of ATH, skirting the wilds of Peachtree City. I called my wife to let her know I was (finally) homeward bound. As I was doing this, another call came in: my former BIL. Yeah, Walt was now on the side of I-85, waiting for Tiger. Seems he didn't make it onto the interstate.

Nice going.

What's more, my parents had gotten Tiger a new cellphone (he has one on their plan), so as of yesterday his existing phone was deactivated. Why didn't they do this AFTER he got back home?? So much for the REASON he was given that cellphone to begin with.

Turning around and going back to Newnan would've been pointless. Needle in a haystack. I would never have found him.

I love my son. Bless his heart*, the kid has no sense when it comes to navigation. He just wants the fun of driving without the responsibility of same. Meaning, paying attention to his surroundings. Meaning, knowing what a bloody INTERSTATE highway is. What the shields look like. What an "onramp" is.

(* = Southern protocol mandates all nasty comments be prefaced with the phrase "Bless (his/her) heart.")

My son, in other words, is identical to his mother. That woman can get lost on a freeway. I kid you not. Clearly, not one speck of roadgeek DNA made it into that kid.

As I was driving south on Ga. 154 toward Senoia, I had the vision of my son, in the middle of suburban Atlanta's traffic hell -- IN A GOLLDURNED CORVETTE, no less -- completely lost and panicking. I honestly don't think he would've thought to find a payphone (people his age don't know what they are), nor find phone numbers on his cellphone's address book, still accessible despite it being dead.

At this point, I remembered the allegedly sage advice I doled out to Kate/Susan earlier this year. "Not my problem", I repeated like a mantra. When my son got into his uncle's Corvette and we all drove our separate ways, I'd officially passed the baton. My direct authority over him ceased. He was now in the jurisdiction of the Republic of Ex-Wife.

Still, I was worried. So I called his mother, who had also spoken with Walt. She assured me Tiger was on I-85 and had just gotten separated.

Okay, fine. So for about 20 minutes I had a sense of security. Long enough to swing through Mickey D's in Senoia for a bite of supper.

No sooner than I put that hamburger toward my mouth, my cellphone rings. It's a 770 area code (metro Atlanta), and it's my son. He didn't make it onto the interstate (nice going, Whatzername!). After losing sight of his uncle's new truck, Tiger backtracked to the Wachovia where we'd met. He needed Uncle Walt's phone number, which I gladly gave to him.

I'm relieved he had enough sense to go back to the starting point.

*********
Driving back home was not one of my more pleasant trips. The only positive thing about it was the American Top 40 from December 1972 I'd loaded onto my new iPod Nano (blue). That was one awesome week in time (yes, a review is forthcoming).

About the time I was driving through Griffin, I felt the dreaded pall of sickness wash over me. That "tired"/"puny" feeling one gets when they have a cold. (At least I waited 'till the end of my son's visit to get sick!)

As Casey might've said, "As the numbers get smaller, the Tal is getting sicker."

I-75 was a welcomed sight. I thought the worst was over, that I could set the cruise and enjoy AT40. Guess again -- my foot, which did fine while driving (it was just the act of getting into and out of the car that was difficult), began hurting along about Dublin, even sitting idle while driving at a nice 73 MPH clip along I-16. I got off the interstate in a quest for a CVS or a Walgreen's. Any place where A) I could "drain the monster", B) I could get something to drink, and C) buy some ibuprofen. I could've accomplished all three at any one of the gas stations at Exit 51. Trouble is, I didn't want to pay out the nose for a small pack of Advil.

Into Dublin I went, trying to find one. Anything. I would've been happy with friggin' Rite Aid (I hate Rite Aid, in case anyone hasn't yet figured that out). And all I saw was a Rite Aid.

Obviously, people in Laurens County, Georgia are of so perfect health that no drug store needs to stay open past 8:00 p.m. It was now 8:08. I got out, and the woman wasted no time turning out the lights to let me know THEY WERE CLOSED.

Did I mention how much I revile Rite Aid?

Across the street was a Southern Foods Market. That is one of the "trailer park food" outfits that took over the bankrupted remnants of the old Bruno's grocery chain (FoodFair, Food Max, Food World). They were open, so I limped in there to find some @#$%ing pain reliever and a bathroom. Of course, as luck would have it, their Necessary Facilities were as far to the back of the store as one could get. I'm sure I looked like a spastic retard trudging my way back there.

All drained, I picked up the Southern Foods "Doublewide Pride™" brand ibuprofen, plus an (overpriced) bottle of Diet Mountain Dew for the road.

Then it was back to I-16. My AT40 finished, I was entertained with the OTR programs I'd brought for the rest of my trip. The foot behaved itself until I got home and my wife was waiting with an icepack, Ace bandage and pillows.

It was 10:12 p.m. when I pulled into our driveway. I was never so happy to get home as I was yesterday. I spent an hour in the living room, my foot on ice and elevated. Then we set me up in our bed the same way. I slept all night that way, and woke up at 4:30 this morning to go into work.

Today the foot is still sore. I still walk like a retard. But it's not as painful as yesterday. The ice, I'm convinced, is what helped. As for the rest of me, I think I'm getting my traditional post-Christmas malaise. *cough*

So there you have it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to limp myself to the microwave to fix me some popcorn.

Ciao for niao.

--Tal the Cripple

It's 'The $1.07 Tree' after taxes.

2008-12-23T00:27:00.026-05:00

Or: "Love - And A Dollar - Will Keep Us Together"

So the missus and I decided to make a post-supper "Dollar Tree" run. We needed a few gift card bags and a few other odds and ends. Rincon has a very nice -- and big -- DT store in our newly renovated strip. It used to be called "Rincon South", but now it has the more semi-haute name Fort Howard Square. But anyway......

Since there's no such thing as going into a Dollar Tree for one item, we did what every red-blooded bumpkin does: we poked around. Truly one never knows what one might find on any one given trip. And you'd better grab it, elsein' you might not find it next time you're there.

Naturally, while Sera browsed the Christmas aisle, I made a beeline for the "electronics" section. And I was greeted by a small bin of CDs.......

Whoookay, we have the soundtrack to Passion of the Christ (a/k/a "You Damned K*kes Killed My Jesus!! Now gimme another drink, Copper!") ... a Shania ~~Twang~~ Twain DVD ("Man, I Feel Like a Tums") ... and, bless her serial-bride heart, a Delilah compilation.

Remind me again why people would take relationship advice from a woman who's had three divorces?

And the one on the lower right corner? Yup.....
"Dr. Drake, please report back to your station. The dream is over."

Yes, Rick Springfield tried a comeback in 1999 with an album cruelly entitled Karma. By this point, my wife found me. And, big-league '80s Rick Fan she is, the disc went home with Seraphim. Curiosity, she said.

You know I had to dig through the pile. Although I don't know if it's some curiosity of my own, or if I'm a big-league glutton for punishment........
Yeah, definitely "glutton."

What we have here just might be the complete study in the recorded works of Captain & Tennille. They were a husband-wife duo in the '70s best known for such hits as "Love Will Keep Us Together", "Do That To Me One More Time", and the stomach-pump "Muskrat Love."

Their poses suggest the following dialogue:

TONI TENNILLE: "I love you, my BIG HANDSOME HUNK OF CAPTAIN FANTASTIC. Take me to your poopdeck and batton down my hatches."
DARYL DRAGON: "Do I know you?"

[Now I cannot completely dis Miz Toni. She's a native of Montgomery, Alabama, and her mother hosted the city's first daytime TV talk program. In fact, a young Toni would sometimes join Mom on the show. I think it was called Guest Room, but that's neither here nor there.]

Next to Mr. Excitement And Toothy Toni, was a selection of new-age'y "music for relaxation" CDs. And corresponding to each disc was a sample. Either the battery is this close to shot, or else one of Claude Debussy's most recognized and acclaimed piano standards is being waterboarded at Rincon's answer to musical Gitmo.......

We'll call this "Clair De Lunatic."

*********
Now, after all that musical reminiscing, I'm sure you could go for a snack.......

Care for a Gummi Rat?

In the next aisle, I found these:
So it only made sense to try and help with this store's rodent problem:

*********
What Dollar Tree would be complete without a "ghetto" section?? In case you want to fit in next time you find yourself in the wilds of Albany, Georgia or Pine Bluff, Arkansas, you might want to pick up a few of these:

Now just because you have some bling for your grille does NOT mean you can neglect your teeth. The Dollar Tree has a great selection of dentrifices:
Colgate and Crest are overrated, pal. WE have classic, time-tested brands like Pepsodent ("You'll wonder where the yellow went....") and, for those who like a little sex appeal for a lousy one-spot:
Crap, I didn't know they still made "Ultra Brite." At this point I was half-expecting to see tubes of "Ipana."

*********
I'm sure by now, you could probably use some wise words from The Good Book:

And, in case you need reassurance as to what this book IS, the title is also imprinted on the box. $1.00 Bibles. Proof that Mr. Yahweh has one mean sense of humor. (Wonder if these are from a run of misprints? "For Gdo so luved the whirled....")

Glory.

I just noticed the Hanna Montana whatever up there in the corner. Talk about a whole new meaning to "best of both worlds."

*********
Back to the health and beauty (relatively speaking) aisle, I was stopped dead in my tracks by what I saw before me. Have you missed your, ummm, punctuation?
"Honey?? I thought this thing was supposed to give me a '+' or a '-' Why does it read '¿∞¶'??"

That kit would probably give my wife a positive, despite having her "parts" removed last year.

Or ME.

*********
Finally, every other store chain has gift cards, so why not your friendly neighborhood everything-a-dollar joint?

I thought about buying a bunch of these and loading $1.00 on each of 'em. What a great gift idea. Then I heard the checkout lady tell the woman in front of me that there's a $5.00 minimum for their gift cards. Well, shucks! Where's the fun in that??

PS - Our damage tonight? $19.06. I felt like we'd made an obscene shopping spree, although not anywhere close to someone else, who made off with more than 38 bucks' worth of merchandise. Phew, no wonder the pickins were slim after he left.

If memory serves, I think he and his wife had three or four kids with 'em. Wonder if they buy those EPTs by the case?

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "How much is that $1.00 item in the window?" Gleck

Island of Misfit Electronics?

2008-12-22T23:24:00.006-05:00

More from the cellphone cache of Glecko. When I feel like making the plunge and going for a high-definition television, where should I go? Best Buy? Sam's Club?

No. The first place I'll consider is Kroger.

Apex. Now there's a brand to make me pine for greater, more prestigious nameplates, like Coby or Broksonic. Seriously. I once had an Apex portable DVD player back when that was pretty much a novelty. It was 2001, and we were feeling a bit flush. We bought DVD players both for my Mom & Dad and Sera's parents, both of who didn't have one. They were also Apex, but the standard model, not intended for travel use.

All three didn't last the year.

And those Sylvania MP3 docking boomboxes are speaking to me. Speaking unprintable things. Sylvania is another one of those "cheap-company-cashing-in-on-a-long-gone-once-proud-name-of-quality" brands. Stick to the blue-dot flashbulbs, Syl.

Why does a grocery store feel the need to sell TVs and DVD players? Kroger needs to rethink this one (although the idea of Best Buy opening a produce department rather amuses....).

So, Mom and Dad, put that Apex DVD player and Apex LCD telly in your shopping cart with the eggs, ketchup, cereal and pork loin. Then you can look at their faces on Christmas morning when they put in the Rudolph disc and ask, with a puzzled expression, "Mom? Dad? Why is Rudolph's nose purple? And why is Burl Ives skipping back and forth and stuttering??"

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "Circuit City: The Beef People!" Gleck

Stragiht Form the Herat

2008-12-22T23:19:00.002-05:00

From the "I bought my first spellchecker, bought it at the five and dime...." department:

Poked, prodded and tagged.

2008-12-22T20:50:00.013-05:00

Kate/Susan tagged me first, and now Melissa has done her post .... so here goes. I think.

Here are the rules:

Link to the person who tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Write 6 random things about yourself.
Tag 6-ish people at the end of your post.
Let each person know he/she has been tagged.
Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

I've already linked to the ones who've tagged me (see the left-hand column). The rules are already posted (see above). So now here are six (6) random things about me (see below):

1) Thanks to XM and Sirius merging, and (finally ! ! ! !) being able to get the XM "decades" channels, I am now recording the lineup of vintage American Top 40 broadcasts on the weekend. Both '70s on 7 and '80s on 8 air a countdown from this week in whatever year they've chosen. This past weekend, it was 1975 and 1983.

And since we have many of the Sirius/XM channels on Dish Network, they're all set up to record on the DVR (PS - while the signal is all band-compressed and "lossy" on our car receivers, the quality through Dish Network is full-band and it shines). From there I go straight digital into my Sony pro CD recorder. Then I rip 'em into the PC and make MP3 files.

What I like the most about them is the first half of the show, the one where the "lower-charting" singles made their appearances. Usually, while a hit music station might've had 30, 40 or more singles in active rotation at any given time, only the cream of the crop - the biggest hits - made the transition into the "gold library" to be played as oldies. The rest pretty much disappeared.

And that's the magic of AT40, hearing these 'forgotten' hits. They always transport me back to whatever I was doing, thinking, or feeling during that week in time. A #1 hit from the day won't 'take me back', but one that peaked at #32 will do so with warp-speed.

I'm hooked on the classic countdowns. And that's saying something, as I've been a fan of AT40 since first discovering it Sunday nights on WSGN/Birmingham along about 1976. I've built up a nice stockpile of listening, with perhaps half a dozen unheard shows in the chute already.

I'm glad Seraphim enjoys 'em, too, because now on trips westward toward Alabanana or Albaninny, I've become conditioned to want to fire up one of the old shows.

Now then, on with the countdown:

NUMBER TWOOOO!!! I have become addicted to Subway's pepperoni pizza. They're good .... and cheap (the one in the Wally-World on Montgomery Cross Rd. has 'em for $3.89!) ... and, best of all, a reasonable 15 points! The 'base' is prefab, however everything else - mozzarella, pepperoni (or whatever topping[s] you choose) - is all fresh. Did I mention "quick"? Subway locations now have a high-speed toaster, and it'll bring a pizza to perfect temperature in barely 90 seconds. It's good, and isn't greasy like Pizza Hut's 'personal pans.' They're filling, too.

3) I'm getting to the point where I'm bursting with excitement about what lays ahead for me with 54.6-and-counting pounds off my frame. West Virginia is just two months away from right now ... in less than nine weeks, we will be in the warm bosom of her mountainous terrain. And something I missed terribly from my in-shape days was hiking. I remember taking the "hard" trail up to the peak of Pinnacle Mountain west of Little Rock, Ark. That would've been July 1987. There was a nice breeze blowing up there, and - cliched as it may be - I did feel on top of the world. I weighed maybe 180-185 pounds then ... and when I reached the top of Pinnacle, I felt less exhausted than I used to feel after just a couple flights of stairs.

Nettiemac's brag-and-gag™ newsletter (which puts our on-the-cheap effort to shame, thank you) made mention of her walking efforts. Savannah recently had its 10K "bridge run", over the Talmadge Bridge -- that's former Jawja guvnuh Eugene Talmadge, not "Gleck, Talmadge." -- and coming up in April is Charleston's Cooper River Bridge Run. Maybe my mind is writing checks my stamina isn't yet ready to cash, but sitting here right now I really want to do it. (PS to Nettie - wanna meet us for a day of fun?)

4) This is the time when I can finally catch myself embracing The Christmas Spirit®. It's when I find REAL Christmas selections sprinkled into our midday programming (usually not before December 15th). Or when I put together the annual Christmas edition of a folk music program I produce. "Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella" or Bach's Christmas Oratorio trumps 2,395 cringe-inducing versions of "Sleigh Ride." Every time. And if rejecting this phony-ass version of Festivus makes me an Ebenezer Whatzisname, then you know what two words I'll gladly say.

5) Cars was on ABC Family over the weekend. I love that movie ... amazing how CGI animation so beautifully captured what we've lost as a country. The people who wrote that screenplay were kindred minds. The scene where "Lightning" and "Sally" take that little joyride out "old 66" is achingly gorgeous. Those writers and animators got it so right. So very right. The part where the road and the town 'morphs' back into its glory days as Sally recalls it never fails to put a lump in my throat.

"Cars didn't drive on it to make great time. They drove on it to have a great time."

I was born 10 years too late. Too many times I've wished I were born in 1955 instead of 1965, so I could've enjoyed real Baby-Boomer Americana while older. So I could've driven US-301 toward Florida, with everything in its prime instead of seeing an old Howard Johnson's Motel - with spire still atop the office building - now serving as quasi-welfare housing ... a decrepit Red Carpet Inn clearly showing architectural parentage of circa-1968 Holiday Inn ... or ruins of what used to be a beautiful, well-manicured roadside park in better days.

Yes, and seeing the black-and-white 301 shield in Georgia become a yellow one after crossing into Florida ... along with a red US-1, a green US-23, and - God love it - the blue US-90! (That's your gratuitous 'colored shield' rant. Now you can enjoy the rest of this post, safe in knowing that it's all behind you.)

Then again, I might've been better off had I been born in the '70s. I can think of only one thing worse than growing up too late to enjoy "real Americana", and that's being old enough to have childhood recollections of the final days of the way it used to be. I remember eating at a Woolworth's lunch counter when I was little. I came of age as the era of the live afternoon TV kiddie show came to a sad end.

I never got to eat at a Howard Johnson's, though. And I feel so cheated.

6) One thing from the past that is stubbornly trying to reassert itself in present-day American life, at least in warmer climes, is the drive-in theater. We have two within reach, one in Beaufort, S.C., and another down in Jesup. The other week we took in a movie at the two-screen plex in Jesup -- a (strangely juxtaposed) double-feature: Four Christmases and Fireproof. "Four", in spite of the negative reviews I've seen, struck me as an amusing entry into the "dysfunctional family holiday movie" hall of fame. Fireproof, though, deserves its own blog post.

Things are different at the drive-in today. Gone are the hinky speakers you hang on your car's half-rolled-up window. Today, most theaters transmit sound via low-powered FM transmitters. The sound quality is amazingly good ... while it's not full 5.1 surround, it is stereo. And any car with a decent audio system will give a pleasant sound experience.

There's nothing like backing the SUV into our spot, popping up the liftgate, and snuggling under quilts in the back, with our sodas and (low-point) munchies, to watch a good movie.

*********
I'm going to tag everybody who reads this blog. So put your shoulder up to the monitor ... c'mon, take your medicine like an adult .... *poit!!* Tag, you're it. Now get to posting.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "One of other, half dozen of the six" Gleck

One down, ounces to go

2008-12-20T14:44:00.006-05:00

Or: "NOW I'm down nearly 55 (and a pint, to boot)."

Due to all the holiday muck, and lots to do this past Wednesday, we put off our weigh-in until this morning. The WW center will be closed this coming Wednesday (12/24) for obvious reasons, so we're doing two 1.5-week stretches, and then getting back on routine the following week. It's probable that we'll end up weighing in Tuesday (30th), since I can only ass/u/me the center will also be closed for New Year's Eve.

Although I cannot imagine WHY. Certainly our Weight Watchers leaders - those whom we expect to set an example - would not be out eating, drinking and other such festive activity. Right?

ANYway. Weight. I'm down -1.0 (wish it were more, but who's gripin'?), putting me just ounces away from my year-end goal of 55. Cume is now -54.6

We stayed for the meeting, because: 1) The leader at the Saturday morning session is the same one in Rincon on Monday nights - the one where we attended before changing to Wednesdays. She saw me to 10%, but I wanted to show this woman - who was beyond skeptical that I would last three months in WW - that I was still in the game and over -50! Take that, Miz Christine! :-D

2) .... well, I don't feel at liberty to say. And that's all I have to say about that, Jen-nay.

The leader said she could really see the change in my face.

Yesterday at work, we had a visitor who was in the station to do an interview with our news person. Very sweet lady, it was good seeing her again (last time was maybe 2-ish years ago), and her eyes bugged out when she saw me. She too mentioned that it was obvious in my face.

Wow. Okay.

Normally I'm not one who likes to have attention drawn to me. I am the polar opposite of Nettiemac, who will not hesitate to get on a stage and perform (even if it's with a falling-down drunk karaoke singing partner aboard a casino boat!). While I'm not an all-out wallflower, I do lean that way on the spectrum. That's the beauty of radio -- being able to create something without people watching you as you do it.

All that a given, I have to say I'm enjoying all the looks from those I haven't seen in awhile. It feels good. And is a good motivator.

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After the meeting, we ballyed up to the Red Cross blood bar, where the vampires were all too willing to relieve me of a pint of my pulmonary fluids. (We'd have done this first, were it not for the blood drive starting at the same time as the meeting!)

My blood pressure was taken, and I was aghast .... 90 over 58 ??!! WTF ??!!

I had the woman do it again (I cannot remember the last time I ever had a two-digit systolic). The second time it was 94 /62. Holy crap.

Let's look back at the Red Cross donor card, which has my BP readings:

Saturday, 05/03/2008: 138 / 90. This was the weekend before I joined WW. I was roughly 295 pounds at this point.

Thursday, 08/28/2008: 126 / 84.

Friday, 10/24/2008: 112 / 78.

Saturday, 12/20/2008: 94 / 62.

While I've never had a systolic above 140 (considered the threshold for textbook hypertension), for years my blood pressure flirted with it. Something tells me I don't have that problem now.

94 over 62? Maaaaan.... I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't have enough oomph in my heart to fill the pint bag. No problems, I filled it. Quickly, as usual.

And that's another afternoon in the life of Tal. Creating new music/radio/road geeks, one pint and transfusion at a time.

Ciao for niao.

--Talmadge "240.6" Gleck

The Messed--er, Best of Gleck: Radio to get me in the holiday spirit!

2008-12-18T20:56:00.002-05:00

[Note: As a radio producer, one of the nice things about this time of year is being able to get away with raiding the program archives and airing a repeat. So, I give you one I originally posted on December 12, 2006. Enjoy!]

I found these stations thriving in the musty crawl space of my radio's dial:

109.2 THE FRUITCAKE: No longer will America take bets as to when Adult Contemporary stations begin playing holiday music. Every day is Christmas at 109.2, so the little soccer moms will be positive orgasmic year-round! Now run along and spend lots of money, Tiffany. (Rod Stewart says, "It's one of my favorite things.")

KNNY-FM "KINNEY 100.0": All "Christmas Shoes", All The Time. (Cannot be picked up in parts of south Alabama, much of Mississippi, or certain mountainous pockets of Arkansas)

WPIC-AM 1750, "In-Your-Face Radio": Our name says it all: (P)olitically (I)n(C)orrect. Hear all your favorite holiday selections from times past, such as Mel Blanc's "The Hat I Got For Christmas Is Too Beeg", "The Dreidl Song" by Cartman, and Shirley Q. Liquor's immortal "12 Days of Kwanzaa."

98.4 KAREN FM: We don't play too much of what we want, or else we'll get too big. When we start playing more than 100 minutes of music between commercials, we'll go purge until we're back to a more managable 90-95 minutes. Our tower is on top of the world, and our signal is close to you. (Wonder why our cume spikes upward in January?)

RALPHIE RADIO: Cleveland's newest radio sensation! Flick & Tongue In The Morning is giving away "leg lamps" by the hundreds -- hear the sound of the Red Rider BB gun shooting an eye out, and be the 9th caller to win! And listen for the Pink Bunny Jackpot Phone Game -- if we call your home, be sure to answer "F-dash-dash-dash", and you win Christmas dinner for your entire family at the Chinese restaurant over there by the Food Lion.

KETL - "KETTLE 86.4": The Salvation Army now owns a chain of low-power FMs like this one, with the sound of a ringing bell 24/7, and an occasional tuba blast. Dong Boy & Belly in the morning, and extra long tolls of your favorite clappers all day.

SUICIDE 1640.5: Our name says it all. Nothing says "Christmas" like people who have nobody or nothing in their lives, and - tragically - decide to off themselves during this joyous time of year (or maybe they've had it up to here with all-holiday formats!). There isn't too much to be heard except for gunshots here and there. But listen real close, because all the dead air drives the audio compressor so high, you can hear the sound of people slitting their wrists. As is typical with the sheep mentality, most of us let the "scan" function on the radio skip past this one as if it doesn't exist. Must these malcontents be so ... negative??? Must they ruin the holidays for the rest of us?

Happy listening ... and ciao for niao!

--Talmadge "Portions of this blog post have been mechanically reproduced" Gleck