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Olympic Bedwetting
Well I didn't come down here to NC to sit around and watch the Japanese women take on the Vietnamese in field hockey or the Bulgarians to beat up on the Sri Lankans in badminton or to lose Internet connection while trying to see a round of men's water polo. The Iran v. Russian men's basketball was part of my reason for coming here though, scouting is a sideline, and while in the background the US men's soccer team goes up 2-1 on the Netherlands I write this certainly not waiting for the 10 a.m. start of China v. US, or Kobe and Co. v. that big Chinese guy that plays American basketball but whose name I cannot look up for spelling because often while streaming these Olympics I lose all other Internet connection beyond the sport I can hear playing in the background. I accept this trade off. There is no announcing for these streaming Olympics, just the crowd and player noise and the stadium announcer, which is an interesting model. So while I know just from watching for a few minutes that there is some fancy footwork going on, I don't know who's doing it while I watch nor certainly while I write with it playing in the background, uh oh, crowd is cheering (can't tell if they are cheering in Dutch or English), let me check that...looks like the Netherlands just tied it up 2-2. And now, a minute later, the game is over. Personally, I am against games that end in ties.

There is a wet spot on my bed. Which gets to my real reason for being here. To work on my adult bed wetting problem? To consider the pros and cons of nocturnal emission? Good guesses but no, I am here--to borrow the words of Bill Macy--for a Fence Post resurrection, and towards that goal I have located another roof leak. During the heavy rain of this morning there came a dripping from above and I now feel, just by the effort of that diagnosis (a diagnosis because it did require that I rule out bedwetting and nocturnal emission as culprits) vindicated against any guilt I might have experienced for not ripping apart the bathroom right away, which at some point eons ago, was my primary reason for being here. I'm going to go out on a limb and spell it Xaio Ming.
- jimlouis 8-10-2008 3:00 pm [link]
Is He Kidding, Or What?
I would like to thank everyone who took me literally regarding the post, The Preacher and the Piano Player. I have been almost exclusively about the verite on my blogs, except for those highly unlikely things like me having dates with boxes of chicken (The Pill, email from NOLA) and other posts of that nature. For the record, I have never dated a box of chicken. Also, Bernadette and I did not actually attend that church. The preacher and the church are real, however, and excluding that post, and allowing for the changes of place and people's names, everything from Fence Post up to this date has been actual. I have for awhile been wanting to blur truth and fiction so there could be more of that in the future. When in doubt, believe what you read. Or at the very least, read more about those things you would doubt. Again, thanks to everyone for taking me at my word, and believing that Bernadette would not put me out on the road after she got made to wear a dress by the preacher's wife. I am not getting in as much time as I would like out in Fence Post, but the Jeep is packed and I wait on arriving guests so I can say high and bye before hitting the road for that very real place to the south of here. And don't think Bernadette wouldn't look good in a flower print dress, because she would, or does, although I have not yet seen it, unless I did once, briefly, before she changed out of it. If anyone is thinking that I too would look good in a flower print dress, well thank you for that as well. I will however probably just stick to the paisley shirts. And shorts with suspenders and a wide belt and cowboy boots with white knee highs and a bolo tie and a bowler hat and a fake bushy mustache.
- jimlouis 8-09-2008 6:04 pm [link]