Retired and back to work, all in the same day. Chuck Pace ©2007
Tuesday I got the Madchen back on the road with repairs reimbursed and new tire on the front where there was damage and despair (not da spare) before. So, yesterday Jenni and I had plans to tool to the park with basket of picnic in tow. Jenni had a senior moment and came to Roberts almost an hour early, I couldn't leave then so I got to keep my pic-a-nic basket Ranger Smith, and ate alone in the parking lot at work instead. Later, but still yesterday, at the Chatterbox was the winer shoot-out (we made that on time) with wines from Washington State, Italy and Germany going head to head with Indiana's own Oliver winery. I am sad to admit that I liked them ferner wines on two of the three styles better than the Oliver. For me the sole winning O' face off offering was the first one, their Riesling which recently won a gold medal in a more educated palate playoff. To me I like the wine for how it tastes in my glass, I don't know if having a medal slung around the bottle changes the flavor any but...
Jeff Jeffries made a rare appearance at the Chatterbox, after warning me earlier in the day (at the store) that he had that intention. Travis joined our little party, which also included Mel and Jenni, and we all had to duck a barrage of puns, that luckily ran right off our backs instead of taking flight. Brooks threw a grape at Mr. DiNicola who was not tasting per se' but was Fringe-festing and had popped in before going to see Breathe (he could have stayed I'm sure everyone at the patio continued to breathe the entire evening. Jack Green was there looking more like Jack Dempsey after a title fight loss. We all have a greater respect for Joan, who will be heard. Jack says he had eye surgery, but like the earlier pun foray, I think he should have ducked. Grill master Dave was once again King Kabob and I must say the chicken was wonderful. The cheese, fruit and veggie plate that is to be used for palate cleansing between wines proved to have Travis' return salvo for Mr. Brooks, a lovely cheddar missile that lodged between shades and ocular orbit and made mirth most merry. Had the instrument blinded Bill I think we would have been less amused, and Brooks would have been lactose lachrymose. Fortunately it was cheek cheese. As Jenni and I left I wondered if Travis had been responsible for Jacks surgery?
Maybe Jack had a cheddar-ectomy, goodness knows Bill "The Big Cheesy" Brooks almost got ChrisWested on the patio by flying cheese planks, Sweet Cheeses he got lucky. My last three shout outs go to Ray Huntington and Sarah (Beanblossom)Huntington, who returned out of breath from Breathe with Travis, and to Chris West who gave me what I thought was a rather stiff Melancholy blue wave hello.
Chuck Pace © 2007
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The Majestic B-24 flys over.
The Roberts Indy Airshow Experience at Mt. Comfort was a grand affair and a great event. Bruce says we will be back next year.
With German, British, Chinese, Russian and American vintage military planes on hand the war-birds from before WWII and after, were wonderful in there restored splendor. Among the bomber group there was a B-17, a rare B-24, a B-25 and a Dive Bomber as well as others.

Fighter Group solo photos.

Sean Tucker's Ribbon cutting ceremony,
We were treated to several aerobatic displays throughout the day, I heard I missed a wing walking demonstration, but I saw several biplane stunts each getting more daring than the previous. The cream of the Aerobatic crop was Team Oracle's Sean Tucker in his 1100 lb. 410 hp, Red Oracle Extreme biplane (check out the link).
Blue Angels Nose To Nose at over 450 MPH each.
Sean was talking live to the audience through 7+ G-load climbs and corkscrew spirals, but most impressive was the climb stall and backwards drop like old "Charlie from Texas" used to do it, then there was the ribbons. Suspended handheld just twenty-five feet above the runway were three sets of poles at 750 ft spacings, at 220 mph Sean turned the wings perpendicular to the ground, and sliced the first ribbon, rotated 180° for the next ribbon, then flipped the plane 270° in the opposite direction for the upside down "wheel" cut of the final ribbon. I got one shot (shown above) of the first ribbon just after the cut in front of the Roberts Chalet.
After the Oracle came the Finale show from the Blue Angels. Doing precision stunts and timed maneuvers for over 45 minutes. The time just melted away. Each breath taking moment followed by a more incredible one.
This is one moment where words alone are totally inadequate, mere words can only fail to describe it. Between three cameras Jenni and I brought home over 400 shots. Jeff Penn and Jason Stewart from Nikon loaned me a D200 DSLR with 70-200 AF-S 2.8 VR lens, and 210 of my photos were done with that amazing equipment. Brian Matsumoto and Mark Stephan from Canon were also on hand loaning camera gear to the over 80 Roberts guests and staff at the Chalet. I got one or two amazing shots including the 2 plane 450mph (each) cross directly over the Chalet. The Two plane "dirty" inverted over each other 250mph pass, and the Stacked pass of the primary 4 planes with wingtips 18 inches over canopies. The final farewell shot of the Angels as they headed back to Indianapolis International signaled the end of the day but not the memories.
Chuck Pace © 2007
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Lasterday on my day off, I had to drop off the Bimmer at Downtown Car Care Center because the right front brake was grabbing and shaking unfortunately that meant getting the car downtown. The reason I parked her after the most recent 53 miles of use (see post from 8-20) was the possibly warped rotor (society puts so much credence on "normal" behavior, as I do on brake behavior) and scary braking. Scary does begin to describe the drive in. I took 465 to Brookville, to English to avoid major traffic or lots of stops, which turned out to be a wise decision. Once on Brookville I could pace my driving to keep from having to come to a complete stop through most intersections. I had to stop four times total, and that was after I had already veered left to take English Ave. The first was just before Sherman and I put on the emergency flashers and moved over to the right and stopped a quarter block back. The whole car was shaking and the seizing and jarring was telegraphed through the steering wheel fiercely. The noise from up front was like a giant eating boulders. It was hard to get the car to roll for a few hundred feet, the friction was so great on the right corner. The next two stops tested me to the very limits of my nerve. At Southwestern and English after a similar stop (this time in the left lane as the right lane is required to turn onto S.W'ern). As the light changed I gave the car the gas only to find that the right front tire was now locked up and I was skidding it through the intersection, I had no choice but to clear the intersection, then got over to the parking lane and got out shaking quite as much as the car had been.

I sat there a few minutes. I got out and checked the tire for damage. I got back in thinking that I could not leave it there, nor could I afford a tow truck (hell, I can't even afford the repair but I have to be able to get to work) I backed up about four feet and the wheel rolled freer so I put it in 1st gear and soldiered on. The next stop was far more harrowing. I got to the Six way intersection at East, Virginia and South and once again had to be in the left lane to turn onto Virginia. When the light changed there were about 50 cars oncoming that needed to clear the intersection befor my left turn. The right tire was again locked up. I tried backing to free it to no avail, the light changed finding me there at the same spot, with the emergency blinkers on cars were moving to the right lane to avoid me, and I tried several times to rock back and forth to break the seized wheel free. After missing another green and yellow light opportunity I decided that it was only a block up, and I would force my will on the Madchen at the next opportunity. The light cycled again, and I had to wait for all the oncoming traffic in the northern hemisphere. By the time I could go it was red, but I went. The left hand turn of 145° was nearly impossible without the outside tire turning, I was able to get onto the most outside lane and drag the car past the new high-rise apartments on the corner before mercifully the wheel broke free enough to drive the final 200 feet, and allow me to turn into the repair center. I saw Travis' V-Dub with hula girl on the dash there in the lot, but once I got in there was no Little Buddy. I turned over the key to Bob Hiatt and walked to the Anthem parking lot to sit and read by the truck until Jenni could leave and take my exhausted and emotionally shaken carcass home. As I walked I saw the aftermath of my dragging the tire through the recently paved far right lane near the condo palace. I do not want to ever repeat an experience like this one, but I do know we make our own luck, and I know how I make mine, so next time it will probably be worse.

Chuck Pace © 2007
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Cayennes, Anaheims, Jalapénos, Cherry Tomatoes and one Habenéro.Chuck Pace ©2007

It felt good to sleep in a bit. I got up at 9:30. Was outside gathering peppers and tomatoes an hour later. I've been straightening and washing cloths and most of all taking it easy in the heat. By now my parents should be back in Florida, they took a little vacation from retirement for a couple of weeks and visited with Mom's baby brother Jimmie and his family in West Virginia for a week, then headed up to Indiana and my brother Dennis' for another week. Saturday was the mildest day in a very long time and it couldn't have come at better time (between Friday and Sunday?). I had Saturday off they spent the day here. We all spent most of the time outside in the garden, I grilled and entertained and caught up a bit with the folks. I heard stories and such of Uncle Jim's kids, there are so many of them I don't even think I could name them all, two boy and six or seven girls, that I haven't seen since probably 1973 or 74. Mom was showing me pictures and saying this is so and so, and this is Calvin and this is Missy and Neil and Tammy's kids and I'm like wait. Which one is Neil? Tammy has Kids? Who is Calvin. So I got a very remedial acquaintance with my Uncle's family in the two dimension 4x6 sense. Calvin is Aunt Juanita's brother for all of you out there keeping score.
As I sit here doing this input thing the sky is alive with sound of jets practicing for the Air show this weekend, but every time I go outside to see if I can get a photo its a no show.

At the top under the header photo is a shot of my dad Phil Pace enjoying the climate in the garden. Directly above one of my gardening assistants checks the quality of the Basil I'm growing for cooking and especially Tomato Pies. Yum.

Chuck Pace © 2007
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Triangle Cat says Doodle Do'doh. Chuck Pace ©2007
So when I'm on the phone with breezy customers I often doodle. One day I brought one of the doodles home, and before you knew it I was daydreaming and doodling triangles and lo' from the inkshes arose a phoenix, no wait not a phoenix, ....

...a Saber Toothed Triangle Cat (Obliquess-Obtusses Felis Incisoriuos) a hetrodontic doodle mammal from the geometrician age. A stunning example of natures diverse experimental past. There is speculation that these SabreT-Cats were expert fisher-felines and may have been natures first true anglers. The rarest remains found are the LeSabre T-Cats found in the Buicks and Fiords of Western Europe, but imported only a few years because of the scarcity of fossil fuels, they were dying for fuel it turned out a few million years later. The Saber T-Cats were prevalent at the same time as the Masted-Don's, (Proto-Pachy Brigantinus-Plimsoultus-Mainsalacious) the early pre-pachyderm that sailed in the frigate waters with their sloop-ing foreheads and a unique horn-of-plenty and sail-like tufts made entirely of hair. Their demise came with the deforestation of the woodlands; on the open plains (and interstates) where the wind could course unabated they would often topple into the watering holes tusk-first (displacing galleaons of water later used for recreation) and founder, anchored in the ironclad mire. After millions of years of pressure they evolved into coal haulers (a miner inconvenience), golf bags and circus animals, but they are still among the best swimmers in the realm of quadropedic mammals (to the point that they are banned at many resorts and cliff diving communities due to the scarcity of carpet sized beach towels).
This is all for todays pre-history lesson. Now, everybody get out your trumpets, except you elephants that is.
Chuck Pace © 2007
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50 years is a milestone in any endeavor. Especially when serving the public and making the community a better place to be, not as a volunteer or an elected person or a even man of cloth, but as a retail outlet. Most businesses that maintain for half a century are either small mom and pop shops, or become parts of larger corporations and lose their identity. Yesterday Roberts Distributors stood on the summit, and looked out and back on 50 years of retail, growth, and investment in itself, its employees and a community. I've been there since just after the 31st anniversary, saw the store go from a catalog showroom entity (like Service Merchandise) to Nationally recognized and respected camera store with connections to nearly all the 'big' players, shooters and imaging professionals out there. From a mom and pop where you could get your film, toaster, luggage and a nice wedding band, to a company where you could get the latest amateur, hobbyist or professional camera gear at competitive prices from a real person with more than just a passing knowledge of the operation and function of the product. Happy Birthday to Roberts. Many more happy anniversaries to come (I won't say returns, as that is a retail no-no).
Chuck Pace © 2007
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Forty One. That is the magic number. It looks great next to $389.78. It means about another 170.00. I don't have it. I can get it but it has to come from another part of a budget so full of holes that there will be suffering and added misery. I can't get it soon. But I need to.
Forty One is the number of miles I drove the Bimmer after the radiator and strut replacements before another problem reared its ugly head. I feel like Jason of the Argonauts fighting a four headed hydra, struggle to knock out one head and there are still 3 to fight and the sword is getting so heavy. Someone call Ray Harryhousen and tell him to give me a break. The new problem is in the same corner the brake disc is now rubbing in one spot as though severely warped. To the point that it feels like the whole corner is going to seize up and break. If I do the work myself it is about 119.00 for the rotor. and another 40.00 for new pads, with tax that about 170. Then I'll need to bleed (I am bleeding, I'm hemorrhaging actually, but it's green not red. Add 170 to the 389.00 I've already spent to get the struts and cooling and that is an expensive forty-one miles, well I had to drive another 12 miles with the thing seizing grabbing and shuddering on the right side (this applies equally to Jenni in the passenger seat and the disc brake assembly actually) after the brake started its terrorizing me. About $10.57 per mile (not counting fuel) since I picked up the car from BFM.
I need an economy car, a leather vest and a sword, and a half dozen argonauts, two eclairs and for glazed please. Well, Jenni is ready to give me a ride in in the truck. Work calls duty calls. But Misery won't hang up for me to answer the other calls. Leave a message I'll get back to you.
There may be no golden fleece
but human riches I'll release
oh, my head is spinning like the world
and it's filled with beasts I've seen,
let me put my bag down
and I'll tell you it all right from the start.
like the scarlet woman who would pick on the boys
she thought were green, and the two faced man
who made a hobby of breaking his wife's heart.
seems the more I travel, from the foam to gravel,
as the nets unravel, all exotic fish
I find like jason and the argonauts
there may be no golden fleece
but human riches I'll release.

I was in a land where men force women to hide
their facial features,
and here in the west it's just the same
but they're using make-up veils.
I've seen acts of every shade of terrible crime
from man-like creatures, and I've had the breath
of liars blowing me off course in my sails.
seems the more I travel,
from the foam to gravel, as the nets unravel,
all exotic fish
I find like jason and the argonauts
there may be no golden fleece
but human riches I'll release.
I have watched the manimals go buy---buying shoes,
buying sweets, buying knives.
I have watched the manimals and cried
buying time, buying ends to other peoples lives.

jason and the argonauts
there may be no golden fleece
but human riches I'll release.
Chuck Pace © 2007
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She'll be back "strutting" her stuff soon. Chuck Pace ©2007
Yesterday Happens. So I got the call from Larry. He says, "You were right. That radiator was leaking. So we are going to replace it under warranty, but there is something else we need to talk about." I'm thinking, if it's Amway I'm done with these guys after this repair. But it was just something I needed done, a repair I put in the offing, now getting critical. The right front strut, she is cracked. She needs replacin' before there is a a chance of a failure or accident, which would leave a more expensive bill and a tow truck, if not something far worse. Even though I can hardly afford it I consent. There is $350.00 now or much more soon if I don't.
I don't want to be in an accident, like Christopher West. Chris was on his Honda Scooter, in the 'right of way' when a lady in a big old four wheeled monster ran him down, turned in front of him and bounced him off her hood and windshield. The scooter is easier fixed than the scootee. Five fractures in the right hand and arm, one in the left, and his cute little "Snoopy" Helmet (small brain-bucket as Rich calls it) and Goggles are all scraped up too It was there at the Chatterbox on Monday where we all heard the ghastly and sordid tale. I took pictures (what else) so the images and the consequences of them were still fresh in my mind when I was walking back from Conseco yesterday after lunching with the Missus, and nearly got Chris Wested by an SUV that didn't stop, or even slow much before turning on the red-light two feet from me in the crosswalk. I reprint the e-mail open letter I sent to a few select friends and family on my return to work yesterday.
An open letter to the rectum in the Murano who almost ran over me...

Dear Sir,
I apologize unreservedly for being in the crosswalk during the timed "walk" interval this afternoon by Conseco fieldhouse, causing you and your traveling companion to have to come to an almost complete stop at the red light presented to your lanes of traffic. I further apologize for for the mental anguish you incurred incoming up with the epithet to describe my transgression. I will, at my first convenience implore the Indiana state house and local governing bodies upon your behalf to make your travel path as pedestrian unencumbered as possible in the future. That and the pesky stopping on red lights that is so antiquated as to be barbarous. I wish only that I (the jackass) had known you were traveling that way before you slammed on the brakes entering the apex of your turn from the second lane over, I could have possibly ran the last few meters, or waited for a more appropriate time to cross. I am also truly sorry that I haven't got your name and address to alert my representatives of your far greater importance than mere pedestrian traffic in the grand scheme of things. Unfortunately I failed to record your plate number in my shame and emotional state after inconveniencing you. I have failed you yet again.

Chuck Pace
Pedestrian (or is that equestrian) jackass
I don't think I'd load into the back of a truck as easily as the scooter. Word(s) out, my brothahs and sistah's
Chuck Pace © 2007
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Looking South and close ups of the flowering succulents. Chuck Pace © 2007
Records fall as heat rises. The onslaught of +90° days continues. Safety says stay inside, common sense agrees. Still, I mowed the yard around the garden at 9:40 this morning (one of the areas that gets consistent watering) to avoid some of the heat. Still when I was done I was as damp as an unwrung wash rag. Making the most of the day I do some gardening too, and I spend a little time with John and Abigail Adams through the eye and hand of David McCullough's Pulitzer Prize Winning account. Everything was on time for the Race at Watkins Glen. Everything was going well for me, in fact I should have finished 2nd. I had a super fantasy team put together and at lap 75 was tied with Guy Tucker for 1st place (he had Tony, I had Denny both had 155 points at the time) with 854 points when Martin Truex Jr. got Juan loose going into turn 1. This took the 42 (Juan), the 29 (Happy) and the 31(Jeff Burton) out of contention and caused a 25 minute red flag situation to clean the track of Juan's diffefential/rear end grease. I ended with an unofficial 21st place. That will change when they remove Bill Elliott points and award Boris Said points on the site, yahudiebootie will drop below me. Well that's why they run the races I guesses.
As you can see, I had me wittle camera with me outside yesterday. There is a little more news and no more time. I guess we will have to meet here tomorrow at the same time, or a little earlier. What do ya say?

Chuck Pace © 2007
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How many times did I hit the snooze. Another night without many z's in the sleep bank. I tossed and turned, beat up a pillow, and tormented in a horizontal torture chamber. Finally after two hours I packed it in and went to the couch. The tocks reigned havoc on the ticks and the battle ensued, Somewhere after 2:30, with Charlie laying on my feet I entered the sleep chamber of horrors only to start whacking the snooze button on the alarming cellular mere seconds later, or maybe it was a scant handful of hours, or maybe it never happened. 'Twasn't enough, M'lord, I barely crashed before the somnambulance driver had me on my feet again. I can't say I dreamed, there was no time, more like I schemed, conspired with the alarm for a scant few more seconds, since my first course was so insubstantial. I got my just deserts. But just deserts are not enough to sustain. Is this making any sense? I don't know let me sleep on it. I'm still struggling to crawl to the surface of reality although I'm sitting here typing, most of the moment is draining through a colander of coherence, and it feels like I'm (or my mind is) as much asleep as alive right now. Soon I expect the switch to be thrown, and intelligible thought to follow. In any case I'll need a new switch, I should have never thrown that one, I could have flipped it, but I had no interest in seeing what it looked like from a different perspective, I didn't want to see it at all.
More time, snooze. Snooze time. Damn, that was not ten minutes I barely sat the accursed instrument of my resurrection back on the table. SNOOZE, it must be broken. When I was a youth and I had transgressed a boundary or rule my mother would sometimes begin my punishment with this phrase, "Get a knife out of the kitchen drawer and go cut me a switch, to whip you with." The horror of being the tool of deliverance for your own punishment is often more punishment than the lashes received, this was the case again as I stumbled to the door frame and actuated the switch from light to dark, allowing spark to tungsten filament unabated and illuminating a dwelling outside a still dark and clouded mental landscape, still praying for more time. Give me... , aww I'm awake now time to get ready for a foray into to the world of commerce, perhaps I'll buy a little time and tick it in my sleep bank. I have to go apologize to a pillow. I'll see you in the sleep hazed dream that is your reality, mine's busted.
Do I hear Louis Armstrong playing "Dream A Little Dream of Me" ?
DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME
(W. Schwant / F. Andre / G. Kahn)
Yes, stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"
Birds singin' in the sycamore trees
Dream a little dream of me, yes

Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longin' to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this, yes

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

------ instrumental break ------

Yes, stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this, yes

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me
Yes, dream a little dream of me

Chuck Pace © 2007
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The God-Clouds: from work parking lot at work 8:11 AM. Chuck Pace©2007
First Friday! Gallery Friday. Flux Gallery Opening. I was the first one there, but that was because I got there before it opened. Therefore I stayed in the Bimmer and spent a little time with Harry, Hermione and Ron at the beginning of chapter 11 of the Deathly Hallows, I don't think I'm giving anything away to mention that I am a very slow reader. So anyway I pulled into the lot at about 5:40. At about 5:53 DeAnne opened the door and said, "Hey honey!" I said, "When do you open?" she said, "Right now," I said I'd be in in a couple of minutes, then she said, "O.K., 6 o'clock."
Patrick W. Gillespie: The Body's Half Second Mind Postcard from Flux. DeAnne Roth © 2007
So there I sat reading past 6:00 and sneaky Connie Ziegler got to be the first inside. I still got to be second, and was checking out the photos, concept art and installation when the artist and other gallery goers began arriving. I was talking to Jack Green when I noticed that sneaky Connie was already gone, I bet she'd have stuck around if there were any chairs to sit on. I fired off a couple of quick shots then helped DeAnne move a long bench out front (too late to capture Connie in its seated snare) and had a refill on my white wine. I spoke with the conceptual artist Patrick Gillespie briefly, then headed out pausing only long enough to nod to Brooks, talk to Nicci, Dan Axler and his wife Candy, Jeff Jeffries and his daughter Georgia (but not her little friend) and, since Jack and Joan were already gone was home by 7:15.
The God-Clouds: from I-65/I-70 Northbound 7:01 PM. Chuck Pace©2007
Jenni missed another days employment endeavor due to an enraged sciatic nerve in her back. She headed to the Doctors office for the second time in a week, and this time he decided that instead of stool samples, and kidney and liver function tests that it was her sciatic nerve that was getting on her very last nerve (see it's not always me, or people from Ohio). After a cortisone and Novocain shot for lunch, and a darvoset dinner she was in no shape (o.k. her shape didn't actually change, she looked pretty much the same as when I left for work) to hop galleries, or attend Crambone's inaugural visit to Clancey's. Being a loving and doting husband I let her rest and relax the rest of the evening, by going to the show without her. From the three previous shows I've seen by the band, I expected the unexpected and was not disappointed, in addition the the hyjinx (a T.V. guide word when simple descriptive words fall sorely short),some first timer "boneheads"; Rich Culy, Ed and Pam Sipes, Guy and Maddie Tucker and Nancy Churchill were in attendance. I left at 12:50 AM after the second set with the promise of a third set from the band looming in the early morning.

Chuck Pace © 2007
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If Patrick were wearing his sensory depriving suit yesterday he would have missed the sunrise and sunset God-Clouds. Like Jenni missed a whale of a good Rock show.

Zombies arise! I'm too old for this... I don't know how many times Roger Murtaugh (Danny Glover) says that in the first Lethal Weapon movie, but I think I understand why he says it. I'm still trying to recover from a week old multi-race weekend, and I don't really know when I'm going to get enough sleep to get that done. There is always something keeping me from the oh so needed rest cycle, The Chatterbox, bowling, insomnia, work, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, insomnia, Crambone, insomnia. I've gone to bed by 10:00 the last three nights and still not woken refreshed. I may be like an old nicad battery, the ones that just lose their ability to maintain power, or never recharge fully after so many uses. I'm definitely on the downward side of the bell curve of middle age, I think I'll be o.k. for a while but soon it starts to get really steep. Steep,sleep deep sleep sheep sheep sheep... zzzzz.
The funny thing here is I was talking too Rich at work yesterday and he is struggling as much a I am, and he's ten years younger than I. Jack Green, Bill Brooks and I were talking about this too on Wednesday when I stopped in for a couple at the box, at 88 Jack still gets it done, while Brooks and I were talking about not feeling our age, or accepting that we are our age. Well, we may never grow up, but getting up from bed may become a little more difficult. I fell asleep in 'the chair' watching a 'taped' episode of rescue me on Wednesday night. That is rare for me. Maybe a sign of things to come.
Tonight at Clancey's there is another Crambone show. These are shows. I don't say Crambone is playing, these are shows. The lead singer Jeff is just a little crazy, and you never know what he's going to do next. I tell stories of the things he's done at the three shows I've attended, and I here even more outrageous tales from the ones I've missed. Mercifully I have saturday off and may get to sleep until noon. I hope I get to sleep until at least 10. o.k. 8. Well what ever sleep I get will be welcomed, and will end too soon. I'm done here I've got to take some vitamins.
Sorry there are no pictures, I got too late to work on that. I don't know maybe I'm still a little groggy. What was the post about today?
I don't remember.

Chuck Pace © 2007
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Psst! It's behind you, look behind you. Chuck Pace © 2007
I have nothing on Farmer Rich or Miss Kay in the produce departments, I don't have a market in my little horse shoe shaped garden, but I am experiencing some green thumb success this year. My peppers are starting to look like a bumper crop, Most of my tomato plants are near to bursting with green infant fruits, and (as I sit here typing) Jenni just came in with a small handful of tomato pie volunteers. We have stationed Charlie as a guard to the gardens after an intruder alert, where we found this wicked looking potato bug (or something) on a pepper plant. In the none edible areas of my yarden I was happy to discover that in the second year the Japanese Blood Grass will start seeding. Yea! The moon flower has climbed one side of the massive Trellis D Nikola, and is half way over the top, but she has not produced any bloomin' blooms yet. Our 'Little Tut' Egyptian Papyrus is doing well, our Japanese Silver Grass is happy, but our leopard grass failed to come back from the winter (now I'll never get the leopard I wanted for Christmas, maybe I should plant some pony grass!). So much of the year is gone and we have not had the amount of flowers we had last year because of the heat but the garden has still been a source of comfort, relaxation, and a great unwinding place. I've had the Weber up and smokin' at least once a week for the last month and a half and except for the ripping of the Big Toe incident the outdoors is the place for me when the weather permits
I stopped in at the Chatterbox the last two evenings for a traffic thinning interval only, and talked to DeAnne about my quickly healing toe injury on tuesday, and Brooks and Jack about huge quantities of nothing. John Underwood from Purdue was there last night with Nephew Frank, so we caught up a bit. Then the unthinkable happened. I left before Brooks.

Chuck Pace © 2007
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So that took to long. There are questions. There are problems, there are broken or at least bruised promises. There wounds that are healing, there are memories lost.
That was some Race Weekend. The sum of the experiences has been fatigue. By race day on Sunday the toll of sleeping (poorly) in a strange motor-home, partying with my friends, bumping around in a Jeep and eating mostly meat while staying up until 1:30 or 2 in the morning made me feel like an 89 year old. There was no way I could do a post on Monday, I barely made it out of bed. Tuesday? Trash pick-up day, and I was recovering from my first ever attack by a Cheetah! PBA experience Cheetah that is. Swimming in oils at the front of the lanes, but the shortest pattern down the lane. I took most of my slight arc off the ball, but that leads to a lot of Brooklyn or head-pin hits. I struggled. Rich struggled, we both hobbled and ached from trackitis, lost the first two games, rallied back to take the last two decisively and wound up winning the series too. Today I was able to get up before the sun.

Congratulations to Phil Gibson on his Nascar Fantasy win with team, Juan Pablo's good ole boy bitch slap. I didn't even have a full team, and no way to make one at the track without the mobile Headquarters. Congratulations to Phil Gibson on meeting the new love of his life, His new Triumph SpeedTriple motorcycle which he picked up yesterday at lunch. She's Smooth.
Congratulations to Tony Stewart, for winning his second Brickyard 400, that was some racin' Rocket. We (Travis, Rich and I ) went to Victory lane (or as close as we could get) and chanted with the other fans but only got as close as being under the crosswalk when Tony walked by. I've had a song in my head since Friday at the Truck race when it seemed for a while that it would be rained out as we sat in the stands for 5 and a half hours, Billy Preston's "Will it Go Round in Circles" and I' gonna sing it with my friends.

Tony (not really the Bad Guy) you are way over my head! Chuck Pace © 2007
Will it go round in circles
Will it fly high like a bird up in the sky
Will it go round in circles
Will it fly high like a bird up in the sky

I've got a lil' story ain't got no moral
Let the bad guy win every once in a while
I've got a lil' story ain't got no moral
Let the bad guy win every once in a while
Will it go round in circles
Will it fly high like a bird up in the sky
Will it go round in circles
Will it fly high like a bird up in the sky
Lastly but far from least. Congratulations to DeAnne Roth, for being Nuvo's Pick for Best Bartender in Indianapolis and for owning Flux Gallery, Nuvo's pick for Best Gallery, things most of us Chatterbox regulars already knew. She is in a class all by herself. She is class all by herself, and she has worked incredibly hard for everything she has. I'm a fan, and a friend and am continually awed.

Chuck Pace © 2007
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