USMB Coffee Shop IV

[Foxfyre]

View attachment 129913

Hooray ! the landlords mowed the lawn, and the fox family came out in daylight to inspect it. I got some good pictures.

Oh that is a good one, sharp, good color, good composition. Way to go.

 

[gallantwarrior]

View attachment 129913

Hooray ! the landlords mowed the lawn, and the fox family came out in daylight to inspect it. I got some good pictures.

Way cool! They are beautiful critters, and babies are always so kyute!

 

[gallantwarrior]

Beautiful weekend here. Temps in the 50's, even going up to 60, or so, today. The partner and I managed to get some of the fence line set up and will finish next week, I hope. It takes a longer time for two 60+ two-leggers to do such chores as it did 20 years ago. It's been interesting watching my latest lap puppy, Penny, become a "country" dog. She loves the freedom but stayed on the driveway the first few weeks. This past weekend, she's ventured into the woods, but only at the edge. I suspect before too long, she'll be following me out into the deep, dark forest. She does seem to have an animosity for squirrels, too.
The daughter and granddaughters are in Fairbanks right now. They caught a military "hop" in a refueling aircraft and she sent me some cool photos of the operation. Of course, accommodations are somewhat less accommodating than commercial flights, but the price was right. They'll be flying to Sachenda's tonight to help out with Sachenda and her hubby when he gets his back surgery. I kinda wish they had been able to catch a hop through Anchorage, alas...
The partner has finally managed to set up the batteries so that he can have TV. Too bad reception is total crap when he's here. When I'm alone, TV reception is great, too bad I could care less.
Well, I need to load up another bunch of trash to take to the dump. I try not to run empty either direction.

 

[Montrovant]

*Sigh*
Now I not only have to worry about being able to remember enough relevant information in my Algebra and A&P classes, I have to worry that my ridiculous Communications class is so poorly designed I am unable to pass it.

Students have to record themselves giving speeches in the Communications class. We had to make a post in the first week which said, among other things, that we understand we will fail the class if we don't submit all of the assigned speeches. Well, there is a introductory speech due tomorrow, the instructions for which weren't available until Monday. According to the instructions, we create a PowerPoint and submit it on the school site, then we also have to record a speech on a website we access through the school site. I went to that other website, but there is no option to record. I went through the help section and, from what I can tell, only moderators have the option to record. If I'm not a moderator (and I apparently am not) I can't record; if I don't record and submit my speech, I fail.

There is no option to create a video using my own software and submit it; there is no area to submit such a video file. The only option appears to be using the provided website, but I can't record a video on the provided website. I've posted about it in the discussion area of the school site, and I sent the instructor an email, but so far I haven't had a response.

My only hope, at the moment, is that the due date is actually the date the instructor plans to turn on the recording function of the website. Other than that, I'm currently stuck worrying that I might fail a bullshit class because it has been set up like shit.

I actually feel pretty good about the second of the three chapters I have to know for my first A&P exam, so that's good. I still have a couple of algebra homeworks to get done in the next couple of days, we'll see how those go. I'm still quite worried about that exam; I can understand how to use the formulas fine, but remembering them is an issue.

My last class seems like it will be easy so far.

The house is full of people, with my employer's parents, her sister, her sister's husband, their four children, and two of my employer's other sister's children here for the little one's birthday. It's going to be harder than usual to study. :/

 

[Foxfyre]

*Sigh*
Now I not only have to worry about being able to remember enough relevant information in my Algebra and A&P classes, I have to worry that my ridiculous Communications class is so poorly designed I am unable to pass it.

Students have to record themselves giving speeches in the Communications class. We had to make a post in the first week which said, among other things, that we understand we will fail the class if we don't submit all of the assigned speeches. Well, there is a introductory speech due tomorrow, the instructions for which weren't available until Monday. According to the instructions, we create a PowerPoint and submit it on the school site, then we also have to record a speech on a website we access through the school site. I went to that other website, but there is no option to record. I went through the help section and, from what I can tell, only moderators have the option to record. If I'm not a moderator (and I apparently am not) I can't record; if I don't record and submit my speech, I fail.

There is no option to create a video using my own software and submit it; there is no area to submit such a video file. The only option appears to be using the provided website, but I can't record a video on the provided website. I've posted about it in the discussion area of the school site, and I sent the instructor an email, but so far I haven't had a response.

My only hope, at the moment, is that the due date is actually the date the instructor plans to turn on the recording function of the website. Other than that, I'm currently stuck worrying that I might fail a bullshit class because it has been set up like shit.

I actually feel pretty good about the second of the three chapters I have to know for my first A&P exam, so that's good. I still have a couple of algebra homeworks to get done in the next couple of days, we'll see how those go. I'm still quite worried about that exam; I can understand how to use the formulas fine, but remembering them is an issue.

My last class seems like it will be easy so far.

The house is full of people, with my employer's parents, her sister, her sister's husband, their four children, and two of my employer's other sister's children here for the little one's birthday. It's going to be harder than usual to study. :/

Just keep punching Montro. Sometimes that's all we can do.

 

[Montrovant]

*Sigh*
Now I not only have to worry about being able to remember enough relevant information in my Algebra and A&P classes, I have to worry that my ridiculous Communications class is so poorly designed I am unable to pass it.

Students have to record themselves giving speeches in the Communications class. We had to make a post in the first week which said, among other things, that we understand we will fail the class if we don't submit all of the assigned speeches. Well, there is a introductory speech due tomorrow, the instructions for which weren't available until Monday. According to the instructions, we create a PowerPoint and submit it on the school site, then we also have to record a speech on a website we access through the school site. I went to that other website, but there is no option to record. I went through the help section and, from what I can tell, only moderators have the option to record. If I'm not a moderator (and I apparently am not) I can't record; if I don't record and submit my speech, I fail.

There is no option to create a video using my own software and submit it; there is no area to submit such a video file. The only option appears to be using the provided website, but I can't record a video on the provided website. I've posted about it in the discussion area of the school site, and I sent the instructor an email, but so far I haven't had a response.

My only hope, at the moment, is that the due date is actually the date the instructor plans to turn on the recording function of the website. Other than that, I'm currently stuck worrying that I might fail a bullshit class because it has been set up like shit.

I actually feel pretty good about the second of the three chapters I have to know for my first A&P exam, so that's good. I still have a couple of algebra homeworks to get done in the next couple of days, we'll see how those go. I'm still quite worried about that exam; I can understand how to use the formulas fine, but remembering them is an issue.

My last class seems like it will be easy so far.

The house is full of people, with my employer's parents, her sister, her sister's husband, their four children, and two of my employer's other sister's children here for the little one's birthday. It's going to be harder than usual to study. :/

Just keep punching Montro. Sometimes that's all we can do.

The teacher for the Communications class posted and emailed to explain that the recording can't begin until tomorrow. It would have been nice to know that earlier, considering the due date is listed as tomorrow.

I wasn't expecting this to be anything more than a BS class to fill a requirement, but I would have preferred it to be a BS class that was put together more professionally.

 

[Foxfyre]

Good night darlinks. I really do love you guys.

And we continue to pray and/or send good vibes and/or positive thoughts and/or keep vigil for:

Harper (Save's granddaughter),
Pogo’s friend Pat and special comfort for Pogo,
Nosmo's mom,
Rod, GW's partner,
Foxfyre's friend Dana and Aunt Betty,
Kat's sister,
GW's daughter, her friend Sachendra, and Sachendra's husband Bob and son Gary in what is probably Sachendra's last days.
Mrs. Saveliberty with her knee surgery.
The Gracies just because,
Special prayers and/or positive thoughts for Mr. Peach and Peach143 in the coming days and wellness for them both.
Ernie!!!
Boedicca, her dad, brother, and family,
Kat & Mr. Kat in transition,
Hossfly's knee surgery,
Sherry's Mom for treatment to be successful,
The Ringels in difficult transition and wellness for Ringel,
Foxfyre & Hombre's foster dog Carly for wellness,
All of us and those we care about who are looking for work,

And the light is left on for Noomi, Freedombecki, Oddball, Spoonman, SFC Ollie, AgainSheila, 007, and all others we hope will return.

Through perseverance even the lowly snail made it to the Ark.

 

[Dajjal]

Ah ! the ups and downs of fox spotting. I have been up since 5.30 am and there is not a fox in sight.
I used to suffer for my art, now I am suffering for photography.

 

[Foxfyre]

We all have our crosses to bear Dajjal.

 

[Ringel05]

The movers were back today, filled the 29 ft tractor trailer and most of the 6 x 12 uhaul tow behind. The carpet guy took care of the small amount of carpeting we had to do and I have a couple coming by tomorrow to help finish the left over packing and clean the house. I'm wasted........... Everything hurts........ We were hoping to get out tomorrow but it looks like we won't be able to leave until Wednesday.

A day's rest would probably be better for you than speed in this case.

Had power nap yesterday, worked wonders. Have the last little bit of items to pack into the vehicles and uhaul trailer today, turn in the keys and head north (hopefully by 10 am this morning). The city trash guys just came by asked them if they could take our trash (normal pick up is Tuesday which was done) they did and it cost me two Gatorades.

Safe travels and uneventful process please.

We were shooting for a 10 am departure time didn't hit the road until 1:30 pm. had to switch out the electrical connector cable from the truck to the trailer when we made it to TorC. It's a Uhaul part that provides electrical to the trailer for the running lights, turn signals and brakes to work, when the Uhaul guy hooked me up he neglected to properly secure the cable up high so it was dragging on the pavement until one of the wires wore completely through. Two minutes and the TorC guy had the new cable on and we were back on the road. Finally got to Alb at 7ish, in a rain storm however the rain had stopped by the time we reached the house where the property manager left the house key hidden for us. We unloaded what we could while we were able to still move, took showers then went to bed.

 

[Ringel05]

Right now we are trying to unload the Uhaul........ I'm already beat.........

 

[Nosmo King]

After I remodeled my bedroom I found a bunch of clothes I haven't seen let alone worn in years. Styles now passé, redundant articles long since replaced, unaccounted for stains all meant I was headed to Goodwill with Hefty bags stuffed with clothes.

I did keep a few t shirts. I underwent some drastic weight loss due to my diabetic condition. So now, some of those shirts from years gone by now fit like a glove. My new old favorite is from a place called Ralph. Ralph, if this t shirt is to be believed, is the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaners. His prices cannot be beat and he offers free delivery.

I patronized Ralph when I had a project in sunny Naples, Italy. The U.S. Navy maintains a base there. On this base is a high school for the service men and women's children. When they designed this high school, they put the cafeteria/gymnasium underground with a playground, painted concrete with a soccer pitch, was built on the surface out in the Neopolitan sun. Then, in order to keep the noise of the cafeteria somewhat muffled, they sprayed asbestos containing insulation on the concrete ceiling and walls.

This, as it turns out, was a very bad idea and by 1990 they decided to correct it. That's why I was in sunny Naples getting my laundry done at Ralph, the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaning.

Civilians like me are given a military designation something like a fake rank. This is so any materials or personnel can be transported with less effort on military flights servicing the base. My designation was G5. My understanding was that it is equivalent to a Naval Commander. Plus, I got privileges at the Navy Exchange.

The crew doing the actual work of removing the asbestos came from Milan. My job was to conduct air monitoring to make sure the asbestos dust was properly contained. I also kept records of the work completed, met with base officials, kept the school staff calm and take in as much of the local culture as I could.

I made a point of lunching with the crew everyday. I was as interested in them and their culture as they were with me and America. Two of the crew spoke passable English and served as translators between me and the other Italian crew members. They plied me with questions about family life in America. Family is the top priority among the Italians I met.

The other priority was rock and roll music and how to make it louder from their Fiats and Opels. Opel, by the way, marketed a compact car they called the T-Shirt. Knowing I had some sway and NEX privledges, they began to ask me to buy them car stereos and speakers at the Navy Exchange. They sold American products used by American servicemen and therefore, prized among the Italians.

I realized that if I bought four car stereos and six sets of Jansen speakers, my exchange privledges might come into question. So, I started buying them popular American rock and roll groups on cassette tape. To this day I can't hear The Black Crowes without thinking about the same music disrupting the peace and quiet of Milanese neighborhoods.

One weekend I decided to drive back up to Rome and do some sight seeing. All I saw of Rome my first day in Italy was the airport, some roadside prostitutes, confusing highway signs and the exit ramp. Rome, just a few hours drive north, laced there tempting me. Me. A guy who took three years of high school Latin. Me. A guy who owned every film by Fredrick Fellini.

So I got into the car at 7:00 Saturday morning and drove passed Monte Casino where the Germans held up the advance of our troops in 1944. I saw the Appian Way and aqueduct. I saw olive groves and fishermen casting nets for anchovies. Finally, four hours later, I arrived at the outskirts of Rome.

The first place I wanted to see was Vatican City. I'm not Roman Catholic, but I wanted to see the Sistine Chapel which had recently been completely restored. I found a parking spot, no easy task, and strode into St. Peter's square. Magnificent! That's the best word for that experience. A. Agnificent space bathed in magnificent light and surrounded by a magnificent colonnade.

And there stood the basilica. I shouldered my backpack and climbed the steps from the square to the front portico of the basilica. As I approached the massive bronze doors I was stopped by a Swiss Guard. The Swiss Guard is a bit of serendipity. They are actually Swiss. Their uniforms were designed by Michaelangelo no less. They actually hold piles as weapons.

"No!" He said as he put his pike between me and the door.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked with a mixture of incredulity and trepidation.

"American?" He further asked.

"Si, American." I answered.

"No shorts in the Vatican."

I looked around. Into the Vatican went a lovely young woman in a dress so short that her butt cheeks were 'prominent'. With her was a little Scandinavian looking Pop squeak wearing a net wife beater and tie died spandex pants so tight I could tell that he was not Jewish.

At the time, I carried about fifty extra pounds. I gestured toward the less than discretelydressed couple and asked the Swiss Guard "if I get a pair of pants like that, can I then get inside the basilica?"

"Yeah, sure" came hi answer.

"Look, pal. The last thing you want is someone like me wrapped in spandex waddling around inside St. Peter's."

He shrugged. So I walked about three blocks away and found a souvenir shop. I bought a pair of sweatpants with "ROMA!" Stenciled down the leg. In spite of the Roman heat that August day, I donned the new long pants and confidently walked passed by Swiss adversary and into St. Peter's.

My breath was taken away. I stood inside and actually muttered to myself "Jesus Christ!" And then I thought "Well, yeah."

I don't know how many of you are golfers. I measured the distance from the front door to the high altar as a hard seven iron, an easy six if the wind was with me. To my right stood Michaelangelo's Pieta. Marble honed to the texture and suppleness of human skin. I was transfixed, I was gobsmacked. Little confessionals lined the nave each with a little sign designating the language spoken by the priest waiting inside with absolution. Nuns and monks clad in medieval habits and robes silently walked the polishe marble floor. Light from the windows surrounding the famous dome flooded the interior in golds and bright white.

And I sweated with "ROMA!" along my left leg.

 

[Foxfyre]

After I remodeled my bedroom I found a bunch of clothes I haven't seen let alone worn in years. Styles now passé, redundant articles long since replaced, unaccounted for stains all meant I was headed to Goodwill with Hefty bags stuffed with clothes.

I did keep a few t shirts. I underwent some drastic weight loss due to my diabetic condition. So now, some of those shirts from years gone by now fit like a glove. My new old favorite is from a place called Ralph. Ralph, if this t shirt is to be believed, is the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaners. His prices cannot be beat and he offers free delivery.

I patronized Ralph when I had a project in sunny Naples, Italy. The U.S. Navy maintains a base there. On this base is a high school for the service men and women's children. When they designed this high school, they put the cafeteria/gymnasium underground with a playground, painted concrete with a soccer pitch, was built on the surface out in the Neopolitan sun. Then, in order to keep the noise of the cafeteria somewhat muffled, they sprayed asbestos containing insulation on the concrete ceiling and walls.

This, as it turns out, was a very bad idea and by 1990 they decided to correct it. That's why I was in sunny Naples getting my laundry done at Ralph, the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaning.

Civilians like me are given a military designation something like a fake rank. This is so any materials or personnel can be transported with less effort on military flights servicing the base. My designation was G5. My understanding was that it is equivalent to a Naval Commander. Plus, I got privileges at the Navy Exchange.

The crew doing the actual work of removing the asbestos came from Milan. My job was to conduct air monitoring to make sure the asbestos dust was properly contained. I also kept records of the work completed, met with base officials, kept the school staff calm and take in as much of the local culture as I could.

I made a point of lunching with the crew everyday. I was as interested in them and their culture as they were with me and America. Two of the crew spoke passable English and served as translators between me and the other Italian crew members. They plied me with questions about family life in America. Family is the top priority among the Italians I met.

The other priority was rock and roll music and how to make it louder from their Fiats and Opels. Opel, by the way, marketed a compact car they called the T-Shirt. Knowing I had some sway and NEX privledges, they began to ask me to buy them car stereos and speakers at the Navy Exchange. They sold American products used by American servicemen and therefore, prized among the Italians.

I realized that if I bought four car stereos and six sets of Jansen speakers, my exchange privledges might come into question. So, I started buying them popular American rock and roll groups on cassette tape. To this day I can't hear The Black Crowes without thinking about the same music disrupting the peace and quiet of Milanese neighborhoods.

One weekend I decided to drive back up to Rome and do some sight seeing. All I saw of Rome my first day in Italy was the airport, some roadside prostitutes, confusing highway signs and the exit ramp. Rome, just a few hours drive north, laced there tempting me. Me. A guy who took three years of high school Latin. Me. A guy who owned every film by Fredrick Fellini.

So I got into the car at 7:00 Saturday morning and drove passed Monte Casino where the Germans held up the advance of our troops in 1944. I saw the Appian Way and aqueduct. I saw olive groves and fishermen casting nets for anchovies. Finally, four hours later, I arrived at the outskirts of Rome.

The first place I wanted to see was Vatican City. I'm not Roman Catholic, but I wanted to see the Sistine Chapel which had recently been completely restored. I found a parking spot, no easy task, and strode into St. Peter's square. Magnificent! That's the best word for that experience. A. Agnificent space bathed in magnificent light and surrounded by a magnificent colonnade.

And there stood the basilica. I shouldered my backpack and climbed the steps from the square to the front portico of the basilica. As I approached the massive bronze doors I was stopped by a Swiss Guard. The Swiss Guard is a bit of serendipity. They are actually Swiss. Their uniforms were designed by Michaelangelo no less. They actually hold piles as weapons.

"No!" He said as he put his pike between me and the door.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked with a mixture of incredulity and trepidation.

"American?" He further asked.

"Si, American." I answered.

"No shorts in the Vatican."

I looked around. Into the Vatican went a lovely young woman in a dress so short that her butt cheeks were 'prominent'. With her was a little Scandinavian looking Pop squeak wearing a net wife beater and tie died spandex pants so tight I could tell that he was not Jewish.

At the time, I carried about fifty extra pounds. I gestured toward the less than discretelydressed couple and asked the Swiss Guard "if I get a pair of pants like that, can I then get inside the basilica?"

"Yeah, sure" came hi answer.

"Look, pal. The last thing you want is someone like me wrapped in spandex waddling around inside St. Peter's."

He shrugged. So I walked about three blocks away and found a souvenir shop. I bought a pair of sweatpants with "ROMA!" Stenciled down the leg. In spite of the Roman heat that August day, I donned the new long pants and confidently walked passed by Swiss adversary and into St. Peter's.

My breath was taken away. I stood inside and actually muttered to myself "Jesus Christ!" And then I thought "Well, yeah."

I don't know how many of you are golfers. I measured the distance from the front door to the high altar as a hard seven iron, an easy six if the wind was with me. To my right stood Michaelangelo's Pieta. Marble honed to the texture and suppleness of human skin. I was transfixed, I was gobsmacked. Little confessionals lined the nave each with a little sign designating the language spoken by the priest waiting inside with absolution. Nuns and monks clad in medieval habits and robes silently walked the polishe marble floor. Light from the windows surrounding the famous dome flooded the interior in golds and bright white.

And I sweated with "ROMA!" along my left leg.

You did what I have always wanted to do but probably never will now--visit St. Peters and see the Sistine Chapel up close and personal.

 

[Nosmo King]

After I remodeled my bedroom I found a bunch of clothes I haven't seen let alone worn in years. Styles now passé, redundant articles long since replaced, unaccounted for stains all meant I was headed to Goodwill with Hefty bags stuffed with clothes.

I did keep a few t shirts. I underwent some drastic weight loss due to my diabetic condition. So now, some of those shirts from years gone by now fit like a glove. My new old favorite is from a place called Ralph. Ralph, if this t shirt is to be believed, is the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaners. His prices cannot be beat and he offers free delivery.

I patronized Ralph when I had a project in sunny Naples, Italy. The U.S. Navy maintains a base there. On this base is a high school for the service men and women's children. When they designed this high school, they put the cafeteria/gymnasium underground with a playground, painted concrete with a soccer pitch, was built on the surface out in the Neopolitan sun. Then, in order to keep the noise of the cafeteria somewhat muffled, they sprayed asbestos containing insulation on the concrete ceiling and walls.

This, as it turns out, was a very bad idea and by 1990 they decided to correct it. That's why I was in sunny Naples getting my laundry done at Ralph, the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaning.

Civilians like me are given a military designation something like a fake rank. This is so any materials or personnel can be transported with less effort on military flights servicing the base. My designation was G5. My understanding was that it is equivalent to a Naval Commander. Plus, I got privileges at the Navy Exchange.

The crew doing the actual work of removing the asbestos came from Milan. My job was to conduct air monitoring to make sure the asbestos dust was properly contained. I also kept records of the work completed, met with base officials, kept the school staff calm and take in as much of the local culture as I could.

I made a point of lunching with the crew everyday. I was as interested in them and their culture as they were with me and America. Two of the crew spoke passable English and served as translators between me and the other Italian crew members. They plied me with questions about family life in America. Family is the top priority among the Italians I met.

The other priority was rock and roll music and how to make it louder from their Fiats and Opels. Opel, by the way, marketed a compact car they called the T-Shirt. Knowing I had some sway and NEX privledges, they began to ask me to buy them car stereos and speakers at the Navy Exchange. They sold American products used by American servicemen and therefore, prized among the Italians.

I realized that if I bought four car stereos and six sets of Jansen speakers, my exchange privledges might come into question. So, I started buying them popular American rock and roll groups on cassette tape. To this day I can't hear The Black Crowes without thinking about the same music disrupting the peace and quiet of Milanese neighborhoods.

One weekend I decided to drive back up to Rome and do some sight seeing. All I saw of Rome my first day in Italy was the airport, some roadside prostitutes, confusing highway signs and the exit ramp. Rome, just a few hours drive north, laced there tempting me. Me. A guy who took three years of high school Latin. Me. A guy who owned every film by Fredrick Fellini.

So I got into the car at 7:00 Saturday morning and drove passed Monte Casino where the Germans held up the advance of our troops in 1944. I saw the Appian Way and aqueduct. I saw olive groves and fishermen casting nets for anchovies. Finally, four hours later, I arrived at the outskirts of Rome.

The first place I wanted to see was Vatican City. I'm not Roman Catholic, but I wanted to see the Sistine Chapel which had recently been completely restored. I found a parking spot, no easy task, and strode into St. Peter's square. Magnificent! That's the best word for that experience. A. Agnificent space bathed in magnificent light and surrounded by a magnificent colonnade.

And there stood the basilica. I shouldered my backpack and climbed the steps from the square to the front portico of the basilica. As I approached the massive bronze doors I was stopped by a Swiss Guard. The Swiss Guard is a bit of serendipity. They are actually Swiss. Their uniforms were designed by Michaelangelo no less. They actually hold piles as weapons.

"No!" He said as he put his pike between me and the door.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked with a mixture of incredulity and trepidation.

"American?" He further asked.

"Si, American." I answered.

"No shorts in the Vatican."

I looked around. Into the Vatican went a lovely young woman in a dress so short that her butt cheeks were 'prominent'. With her was a little Scandinavian looking Pop squeak wearing a net wife beater and tie died spandex pants so tight I could tell that he was not Jewish.

At the time, I carried about fifty extra pounds. I gestured toward the less than discretelydressed couple and asked the Swiss Guard "if I get a pair of pants like that, can I then get inside the basilica?"

"Yeah, sure" came hi answer.

"Look, pal. The last thing you want is someone like me wrapped in spandex waddling around inside St. Peter's."

He shrugged. So I walked about three blocks away and found a souvenir shop. I bought a pair of sweatpants with "ROMA!" Stenciled down the leg. In spite of the Roman heat that August day, I donned the new long pants and confidently walked passed by Swiss adversary and into St. Peter's.

My breath was taken away. I stood inside and actually muttered to myself "Jesus Christ!" And then I thought "Well, yeah."

I don't know how many of you are golfers. I measured the distance from the front door to the high altar as a hard seven iron, an easy six if the wind was with me. To my right stood Michaelangelo's Pieta. Marble honed to the texture and suppleness of human skin. I was transfixed, I was gobsmacked. Little confessionals lined the nave each with a little sign designating the language spoken by the priest waiting inside with absolution. Nuns and monks clad in medieval habits and robes silently walked the polishe marble floor. Light from the windows surrounding the famous dome flooded the interior in golds and bright white.

And I sweated with "ROMA!" along my left leg.

You did what I have always wanted to do but probably never will now--visit St. Peters and see the Sistine Chapel up close and personal.

Rome is still open Foxy! Get there!

 

[Dajjal]

After I remodeled my bedroom I found a bunch of clothes I haven't seen let alone worn in years. Styles now passé, redundant articles long since replaced, unaccounted for stains all meant I was headed to Goodwill with Hefty bags stuffed with clothes.

I did keep a few t shirts. I underwent some drastic weight loss due to my diabetic condition. So now, some of those shirts from years gone by now fit like a glove. My new old favorite is from a place called Ralph. Ralph, if this t shirt is to be believed, is the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaners. His prices cannot be beat and he offers free delivery.

I patronized Ralph when I had a project in sunny Naples, Italy. The U.S. Navy maintains a base there. On this base is a high school for the service men and women's children. When they designed this high school, they put the cafeteria/gymnasium underground with a playground, painted concrete with a soccer pitch, was built on the surface out in the Neopolitan sun. Then, in order to keep the noise of the cafeteria somewhat muffled, they sprayed asbestos containing insulation on the concrete ceiling and walls.

This, as it turns out, was a very bad idea and by 1990 they decided to correct it. That's why I was in sunny Naples getting my laundry done at Ralph, the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaning.

Civilians like me are given a military designation something like a fake rank. This is so any materials or personnel can be transported with less effort on military flights servicing the base. My designation was G5. My understanding was that it is equivalent to a Naval Commander. Plus, I got privileges at the Navy Exchange.

The crew doing the actual work of removing the asbestos came from Milan. My job was to conduct air monitoring to make sure the asbestos dust was properly contained. I also kept records of the work completed, met with base officials, kept the school staff calm and take in as much of the local culture as I could.

I made a point of lunching with the crew everyday. I was as interested in them and their culture as they were with me and America. Two of the crew spoke passable English and served as translators between me and the other Italian crew members. They plied me with questions about family life in America. Family is the top priority among the Italians I met.

The other priority was rock and roll music and how to make it louder from their Fiats and Opels. Opel, by the way, marketed a compact car they called the T-Shirt. Knowing I had some sway and NEX privledges, they began to ask me to buy them car stereos and speakers at the Navy Exchange. They sold American products used by American servicemen and therefore, prized among the Italians.

I realized that if I bought four car stereos and six sets of Jansen speakers, my exchange privledges might come into question. So, I started buying them popular American rock and roll groups on cassette tape. To this day I can't hear The Black Crowes without thinking about the same music disrupting the peace and quiet of Milanese neighborhoods.

One weekend I decided to drive back up to Rome and do some sight seeing. All I saw of Rome my first day in Italy was the airport, some roadside prostitutes, confusing highway signs and the exit ramp. Rome, just a few hours drive north, laced there tempting me. Me. A guy who took three years of high school Latin. Me. A guy who owned every film by Fredrick Fellini.

So I got into the car at 7:00 Saturday morning and drove passed Monte Casino where the Germans held up the advance of our troops in 1944. I saw the Appian Way and aqueduct. I saw olive groves and fishermen casting nets for anchovies. Finally, four hours later, I arrived at the outskirts of Rome.

The first place I wanted to see was Vatican City. I'm not Roman Catholic, but I wanted to see the Sistine Chapel which had recently been completely restored. I found a parking spot, no easy task, and strode into St. Peter's square. Magnificent! That's the best word for that experience. A. Agnificent space bathed in magnificent light and surrounded by a magnificent colonnade.

And there stood the basilica. I shouldered my backpack and climbed the steps from the square to the front portico of the basilica. As I approached the massive bronze doors I was stopped by a Swiss Guard. The Swiss Guard is a bit of serendipity. They are actually Swiss. Their uniforms were designed by Michaelangelo no less. They actually hold piles as weapons.

"No!" He said as he put his pike between me and the door.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked with a mixture of incredulity and trepidation.

"American?" He further asked.

"Si, American." I answered.

"No shorts in the Vatican."

I looked around. Into the Vatican went a lovely young woman in a dress so short that her butt cheeks were 'prominent'. With her was a little Scandinavian looking Pop squeak wearing a net wife beater and tie died spandex pants so tight I could tell that he was not Jewish.

At the time, I carried about fifty extra pounds. I gestured toward the less than discretelydressed couple and asked the Swiss Guard "if I get a pair of pants like that, can I then get inside the basilica?"

"Yeah, sure" came hi answer.

"Look, pal. The last thing you want is someone like me wrapped in spandex waddling around inside St. Peter's."

He shrugged. So I walked about three blocks away and found a souvenir shop. I bought a pair of sweatpants with "ROMA!" Stenciled down the leg. In spite of the Roman heat that August day, I donned the new long pants and confidently walked passed by Swiss adversary and into St. Peter's.

My breath was taken away. I stood inside and actually muttered to myself "Jesus Christ!" And then I thought "Well, yeah."

I don't know how many of you are golfers. I measured the distance from the front door to the high altar as a hard seven iron, an easy six if the wind was with me. To my right stood Michaelangelo's Pieta. Marble honed to the texture and suppleness of human skin. I was transfixed, I was gobsmacked. Little confessionals lined the nave each with a little sign designating the language spoken by the priest waiting inside with absolution. Nuns and monks clad in medieval habits and robes silently walked the polishe marble floor. Light from the windows surrounding the famous dome flooded the interior in golds and bright white.

And I sweated with "ROMA!" along my left leg.

You did what I have always wanted to do but probably never will now--visit St. Peters and see the Sistine Chapel up close and personal.

You can take a virtual tour at the following link. I went there about thirty years ago.

Sistine Chapel - Virtual Tour

 

[Ringel05]

Okay, everyone can come by now and help us unload..........

 

[Dajjal]

What I want to know is, are they allowed to bark in heaven? Not that I am likely to go there.

 

[Ringel05]

Do a little, rest for a while, do a little, rest for a while. Much of it is being out of shape but some of it is we're now 1500 feet higher up than we were in El Paso. The wife just went in to lay down, feeling a little light headed.

 

[Foxfyre]

After I remodeled my bedroom I found a bunch of clothes I haven't seen let alone worn in years. Styles now passé, redundant articles long since replaced, unaccounted for stains all meant I was headed to Goodwill with Hefty bags stuffed with clothes.

I did keep a few t shirts. I underwent some drastic weight loss due to my diabetic condition. So now, some of those shirts from years gone by now fit like a glove. My new old favorite is from a place called Ralph. Ralph, if this t shirt is to be believed, is the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaners. His prices cannot be beat and he offers free delivery.

I patronized Ralph when I had a project in sunny Naples, Italy. The U.S. Navy maintains a base there. On this base is a high school for the service men and women's children. When they designed this high school, they put the cafeteria/gymnasium underground with a playground, painted concrete with a soccer pitch, was built on the surface out in the Neopolitan sun. Then, in order to keep the noise of the cafeteria somewhat muffled, they sprayed asbestos containing insulation on the concrete ceiling and walls.

This, as it turns out, was a very bad idea and by 1990 they decided to correct it. That's why I was in sunny Naples getting my laundry done at Ralph, the King of the Laundry and Dry Cleaning.

Civilians like me are given a military designation something like a fake rank. This is so any materials or personnel can be transported with less effort on military flights servicing the base. My designation was G5. My understanding was that it is equivalent to a Naval Commander. Plus, I got privileges at the Navy Exchange.

The crew doing the actual work of removing the asbestos came from Milan. My job was to conduct air monitoring to make sure the asbestos dust was properly contained. I also kept records of the work completed, met with base officials, kept the school staff calm and take in as much of the local culture as I could.

I made a point of lunching with the crew everyday. I was as interested in them and their culture as they were with me and America. Two of the crew spoke passable English and served as translators between me and the other Italian crew members. They plied me with questions about family life in America. Family is the top priority among the Italians I met.

The other priority was rock and roll music and how to make it louder from their Fiats and Opels. Opel, by the way, marketed a compact car they called the T-Shirt. Knowing I had some sway and NEX privledges, they began to ask me to buy them car stereos and speakers at the Navy Exchange. They sold American products used by American servicemen and therefore, prized among the Italians.

I realized that if I bought four car stereos and six sets of Jansen speakers, my exchange privledges might come into question. So, I started buying them popular American rock and roll groups on cassette tape. To this day I can't hear The Black Crowes without thinking about the same music disrupting the peace and quiet of Milanese neighborhoods.

One weekend I decided to drive back up to Rome and do some sight seeing. All I saw of Rome my first day in Italy was the airport, some roadside prostitutes, confusing highway signs and the exit ramp. Rome, just a few hours drive north, laced there tempting me. Me. A guy who took three years of high school Latin. Me. A guy who owned every film by Fredrick Fellini.

So I got into the car at 7:00 Saturday morning and drove passed Monte Casino where the Germans held up the advance of our troops in 1944. I saw the Appian Way and aqueduct. I saw olive groves and fishermen casting nets for anchovies. Finally, four hours later, I arrived at the outskirts of Rome.

The first place I wanted to see was Vatican City. I'm not Roman Catholic, but I wanted to see the Sistine Chapel which had recently been completely restored. I found a parking spot, no easy task, and strode into St. Peter's square. Magnificent! That's the best word for that experience. A. Agnificent space bathed in magnificent light and surrounded by a magnificent colonnade.

And there stood the basilica. I shouldered my backpack and climbed the steps from the square to the front portico of the basilica. As I approached the massive bronze doors I was stopped by a Swiss Guard. The Swiss Guard is a bit of serendipity. They are actually Swiss. Their uniforms were designed by Michaelangelo no less. They actually hold piles as weapons.

"No!" He said as he put his pike between me and the door.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked with a mixture of incredulity and trepidation.

"American?" He further asked.

"Si, American." I answered.

"No shorts in the Vatican."

I looked around. Into the Vatican went a lovely young woman in a dress so short that her butt cheeks were 'prominent'. With her was a little Scandinavian looking Pop squeak wearing a net wife beater and tie died spandex pants so tight I could tell that he was not Jewish.

At the time, I carried about fifty extra pounds. I gestured toward the less than discretelydressed couple and asked the Swiss Guard "if I get a pair of pants like that, can I then get inside the basilica?"

"Yeah, sure" came hi answer.

"Look, pal. The last thing you want is someone like me wrapped in spandex waddling around inside St. Peter's."

He shrugged. So I walked about three blocks away and found a souvenir shop. I bought a pair of sweatpants with "ROMA!" Stenciled down the leg. In spite of the Roman heat that August day, I donned the new long pants and confidently walked passed by Swiss adversary and into St. Peter's.

My breath was taken away. I stood inside and actually muttered to myself "Jesus Christ!" And then I thought "Well, yeah."

I don't know how many of you are golfers. I measured the distance from the front door to the high altar as a hard seven iron, an easy six if the wind was with me. To my right stood Michaelangelo's Pieta. Marble honed to the texture and suppleness of human skin. I was transfixed, I was gobsmacked. Little confessionals lined the nave each with a little sign designating the language spoken by the priest waiting inside with absolution. Nuns and monks clad in medieval habits and robes silently walked the polishe marble floor. Light from the windows surrounding the famous dome flooded the interior in golds and bright white.

And I sweated with "ROMA!" along my left leg.

You did what I have always wanted to do but probably never will now--visit St. Peters and see the Sistine Chapel up close and personal.

You can take a virtual tour at the following link. I went there about thirty years ago.

Sistine Chapel - Virtual Tour

Yes, I've taken the virtual tour. But I want to BE there you know? But as the years tick by it looks less and less likely that I ever will.

 

[Foxfyre]

Do a little, rest for a while, do a little, rest for a while. Much of it is being out of shape but some of it is we're now 1500 feet higher up than we were in El Paso. The wife just went in to lay down, feeling a little light headed.

Roughly the same or just a little lower elevation than Colorado Springs though. You'll acclimate very quickly. Be sure you guys are staying hydrated though. Sometimes you don't notice you're dehydrated until you start feeling bad.