A Weekend Away. Tales of Yankee Power.

Last weekend we had one of our little adventures. It was a trip in a time machine/space ship traveling at right angles to reality. Food, fun, fire and a bottle of bubbly from plastic tumblers at a picnic table right next to a wooded hill. Three days of escape, chilly hikes through thick trees and a foray into the retail, fashion exposition, food emporium known as Yellow Springs street fair. 

Yellow Springs almost seems like its own country. A liberal, congenial, aging, poor community in southwestern Ohio, crowded with old buildings filled with progressive ideals. Street Fair amplifies, intensifies the values of the little village. It is the best place to find tie died t-shirts, Baja shirts and leather bracelets that we have found.

I remember a trip to Tennessee, when we walked through a small shop advertising itself as a different time and place. It was filled with incense, Frisbees, Dead head stuff, knit caps, army jackets, all at premium prices. All trying to appeal to a sense of better days left behind for a price. Simon and Garfunkel played silently, softly, comfortably in the back ground. I enjoyed the stroll, but didn’t buy anything. Everything was packaged and prepared and folded and presented as if it were a museum. It was too sterile, too orderly to ever represent the chaos of real life.

Yellow Springs and Street Fair don’t have that problem. It is a medieval market with Puerto Rican food, Cajun delicacies, bourbon chicken, jazz on one corner, blues on the other. Cigar box guitars, jugglers, and people packed into narrow paths, filled with a dizzying variety of products. If you want something you have to earn it. Fight your way to the front and claw it off the pile. Retail as a combat sport. Exhilarating, and you really appreciate your purchase.

We stayed at Buck Creek State Park, a wonderful area just north of Springfield. We have come to relish state parks. And Buck Creek was no exception, wrapped around CJ Brown Reservoir it is a treasure of trees snuggled into farms and pastures. You have to love the contrast.

Buck Creek is delightful. The cabins were everything we have come to expect. It is hard to describe the feeling of seclusion even though there are cabins so close you could hit them with a poorly thrown tennis ball. Whoever devised the layout had a flair for the use of natural barriers to provide a sense of distance. We sat around our fire pit and it was as if we were the only people in the park, even though it seems most of the cabins were in use.

There is one difference between Buck Creek and the other state parks we have tried. The level of courtesy was drastically inferior. We arrived a little early, it is hard to time it exactly, sometimes you are a little later than check in and occasionally you are a little early.  It wasn’t a lot, and we had already driven past the cabins, just to see where we should be. Since it was Friday, and Thursday in the fall is probably pretty slow in most parks, the place was almost abandoned. It was obvious that housekeeping was finished, nobody was anywhere near the area. It was quiet, empty.

“You can’t check in until 4:00.” She looked at me, and there was no “customer service” in that look. It was hard to say if she was angry or just indifferent, sometimes those feelings are too much alike. I worried we might stand there for forty minutes. With silence crashing around the small room, it was Catholic school all over again, a steely, apathetic glare and me with no place to hide. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to leave and come back at a “more appropriate time.”

Eventually, she lowered herself to allow me to check in. But not before she warned me about the danger of trying to get into the cabin ahead of time. We took her seriously, and walked around the Lake View Trail until 4:00 precisely. Then we went in, unloaded our car, and made ourselves at home. It is so easy to make yourself at home at a state park.

We will go back to Yellow Springs, and we will definitely go back to Street Fair, and we will probably go back to Buck Creek, it was too nice, and had too many things we want to see. But, we won’t show up until 4:00 and we won’t expect to be treated as a guest.

Summer, Old and New, the Battle Rages On.

Weekend in the summer, the yard versus me. An ancient battle, the clash of the titans, one blade of grass at a time. An epic struggle, crab grass lies just beneath the surface, waiting to pounce, and devour the neighborhood, dandelions pop up, almost too quick to notice, forget watching grass grow, try turning around after mowing and seeing the yellow, smiling faces spring from the leafy base, and laugh at you.

But, this year there is something more ominous, something odd, almost eerie. A bare patch, about 8 feet long and three feet wide where nothing grows. Grass, dandelions, clover crawl right to the edge and stop. It taunts me, defying explanation, it is unnatural, unreal, and odd. If I sat up a game camera I’m convinced it would prove animals won’t walk over the ground. Domesticated cats and dogs that prowl the neighborhood, and the wildlife, from squirrels, skunks, raccoons, even deer that travel from the park on the north side to the streambed and small farms that lie just to the south all would give the narrow patch of dead ground a wide birth. But, I’m not sure what else it would capture. Do wildlife cameras record an evil malevolence that is slowly awakening?

The Past

Maybe this neighborhood was built on an ancient Indian mound. Maybe it was a battle site, or hunting ground, maybe it was a miscarriage of justice in the name of progress.

There were rumors that the Memorial Tournament in Northwestern Columbus was cursed because Muirfield Golf Course was built too near the tomb of Leatherlips and the traffic and noise bothered him. Every year, like clockwork it would rain on the final round. To placate the ghost, end the curse, and finish the tournament on time they moved the tournament to the weekend following Memorial Day. This change seemed to work, because the tournament hardly ever gets rained out, Memorial Day weekend is much more meteorologically  pleasant and they didn’t even have to change the name to the “Weekend After Memorial Tournament.” Who knew a Wyandot Chief would be such a stickler for a government created holidays?

Southwestern Ohio and West Virginia are filled with tales of curses, hauntings and ghostly retribution from abuses of settlers, and the violence of local tribes spilling into the afterlife (I will have a full report with video after Our Amazing Vacation). Ohio is built on ancient forests, filled with dark spirits, whenever my wife and I get off the freeway, and take a state route I am reminded of the words of Marlow in Heart of Darkness “this, also, has been one of the dark places on Earth.” 

Meets The Present

When we walk through the old forests, and the rolling hills you can almost feel the old world trying to break through. Ancient powers straining just below the vale of modern civilizaztion. If you are lucky you can catch a glimpse of an old building, or power line or telegraph pole, slowly being consumed, torn down by the old world. We are only visitors here, and you see it in the casual disregard nature has for our powers of construction. 

I look at that bare patch and I see the power of history coming to reclaim its heritage. My wife, who is not as atuned to the old ways, the old worlds, sees a low spot that has been drowned too often (the curse of Leatherlips all over). Today, I will spread some topsoil, grass seed, fertilizer and water faithfully. Maybe it will work, maybe not. I will let you know. In fact, I might take pictures, kind of work in progress mixed with before and after, and then combine them into a blockbuster movie (actually more of a slide show) with music, special effects and a dancing skeleton (our newest travel mascot).

Saturday, a road trip, and some boots.

Tomorrow is kind of big day. Besides being Saturday (Hands up for Saturday (hooray) I hear you)* we are going to venture south along US Highway 33 to the wonderful little village of Nelsonville. Nelsonville is not normally a destination, it is more of a minor, almost annoying distraction from all the trees, hills and natural beauty of Southern Ohio as you zoom past on the recently finished bypass.

Nelsonville has a lot of charm, it just isn't very big, and there are not a lot of attractions. The rustic buildings of the business district are a block east of the old highway and a mile west of the new, smooth superhighway that speeds you by the east side of town. Unless you are willing to venture off the beaten path you'll never see the wonderful, ornate brick buildings with the detailed masonry work, the flowing arches and elaborate lintels. We wouldn't have known about it had we not attended a small festival there last fall, and stumbled on the area. And, one of my nieces used to live only blocks from the area.

But, the Rocky Boot Outlet Store is there. And that is worth the drive.

I am not a young man, some people might say I am an old man. It doesn't really matter, though.  What is important is my feet, which are sore most of the time.

For years my wife said "you need to buy some boots."

"You're right," I said. But, I thought, 'I'm not dragging those heavy things around all day. It will wear me out. My legs will hurt, my feet will broil inside them, and wearing socks that far up my ankles will make me all itchy and may suffocate me.' Then I added, "you're always right, and gorgeous, too, can I make you a sandwich?"**

Last fall we went to the Moonlight At Moonville Festival by Lake Hope. Lake Hope is one of those places you are rushing toward when you hurry past Nelsonville. We decided to cruise into town and check out what was going on. A lot, actually. Nelsonville was humming with a street festival, food, people, music, everywhere. Which is when we discovered the wonderful architecture of the the business district. Walking around eating barbecue and southern comfort food.

But, we cruised through the outlet store, and I bought a pair of boots. It was amazing. All of the support, I could work all day and the pain was lessened significantly. I was in love with my new boots.

Unfortunately, my youngest son fell in love with them, too. And since I really owe both sons, and my wife, a debt I can never truly pay, it is not easy being my family, I let him wear them.

Tomorrow, though, he gets his own boots, I reclaim my boots, and possibly pickup a new pair, maybe something for summer, something that will not look so odd with jean shorts, my summer uniform.

And, there is the adventure, a road trip, a day out, all of the excitement... Man, I need to get a life, probably too late for that now. But, I do have several new and promising video apps, so look for a movie in the near future.


*Thanks to the Clash, who were ahead of their time, for "letting" me misquote them.

** Not really, I didn't really say that. But, I should have.

Marketplace, Memories, and Madness.

Yesterday my wife and I went to the Columbus Marketplace. She gets free tickets from one of her coworkers, a gentlemanly, polite man with one of the most perfectly groomed mustaches I have seen in years. He works there with his wife, son and granddaughter.

The building was huge. Still, though, it was crowded, every inch, except the narrow, crowded aisles, filled with vendor booths. Each booth stuffed with art, crafts, trinkets, gift items, almost everything. Clothing, rugs, pillows, everywhere. It was a world apart from what the average person experiences. And it was fantastic.

Colors ran from bright and gaudy, to tan, subdued, and cream in one step. People hurried from display to fixture to shelf, pulling 2 wheeled carts, the attached baskets filled with coffee cups, shot glasses, gloves, jewelry, candles, handbags, sundries only to be guessed. Treasures were everywhere, depending on how you define treasure. People were buying, people were shopping, it was a celebration of commerce and capitalism.

There was a peaceful feeling in the midst of the madness. A pleasant solace in the joyful noise. In the midst of this terrible campaign, filled with division, slander, and venom here was a sound of normalcy. From the bustling, inconsiderate shoppers, to the apathetic callous vendors I saw America.

In what was just a short trip, a spur of the moment decision, really just one of those things we do because it is new and different, w e were delighted to find our country was alive, and kicking. Despite the wailing and lamentations of political cadres this country, and its citizens, are moving forward, and the election is not really going to make much of a difference.

Our country is a machine unto itself, and it will churn on, turning out Marketplaces, craft shows, street fairs, all sorts of community festivals, bringing people together, selling products (many of them made somewhere else), food, and generating conversations, right in the middle of the cramped aisles. Causing other shoppers to rush through one of the claustrophobic booths, in a mad dash to the next knot of glorious merchandise.

One thing apparent, in every aisle, and almost every booth, patriotism and Christianity are alive and well. People were lining up to buy the symbols so dear to both beliefs. You could not miss the immense on display, rows and rows of Christmas trees, angel necklaces, bracelets, Crucifixes made from, and into, almost every imaginable medium, shirts, and signs adorned with the flag, sometimes the original flag, showing a star for each of the 13 colonies. People find comfort in symbolism, and I find comfort in that. As long as we can find something to rally around, and some common message to share there is still hope, and that is a scarce commodity.

We left there with a few gifts, sore feet, a new wristband sporting the skull and crossbones, for only $2.00. Plus, a small belief that there is a future. And that didn’t cost anything.

And now a word from our sponsors.

And now for today's weather here in lovely downtown Piqua Ohio.

Spring has finally sprung in our small corner of the world. With temperatures in the low 50s and rain passing through it is time to think about prepping the garden spot for tomatoes.

Don't plant just yet. A cold front is moving through, and temperatures toward the end of the week will dip below freezing at night on Thursday and Friday.

But, next week it will rebound to highs in the sixties and lows in the fifties.

After a brutal winter it is time to move forward with a smile on our faces...

Wait, breaking news. This just in, it is only December, WTF???

Are you sure?

Friends, sources, well placed sources, speaking on the condition of anonymity, have assured me that it is only December, and putting away the snow shovels and tuning up the mower might be a little premature.

Over to Dan at the sports desk to talk about the Indians and the Reds, No, make that the Browns and the Bengals.

Dammit, why didn't somebody stop me? What do you mean my mic is still live....

And the Winner Is? Who knows?

In six days one of the biggest shows of the year is taking place in Cleveland, OH. It is the first of what appears to be eleven Republican debates. Of course the first debate in either party is always the most exciting, because of the size of the field, and the wide open nature of the forum. At this point nobody has really established a loyal following, all of the voters are just walking down the buffet line, trying a little of this, in the past it might have been a little taste of Gingrich on a Balanced Budget roll, or perhaps a little Kerry on an Increased Educational Opportunity wafer. Normally, nobody has really picked a main course yet.

"The Donald" has thrown a monkey wrench into the works. He has taken a commanding lead in the polls, mostly by not really answering questions. Always a good tactic this early, but "the Donald" has taken this to new heights. Sometimes he doesn't answer the question while it is still being asked, talking right over the top of the press person.

It is not too difficult to imagine Donald Trump talking from the beginning of the debate to the end, without stopping. Moderators fidgeting nervously with microphones, pens and note cards. Other candidates watching in helpless terror as the debate is turned into the latest installment of reality television.

How would this play in America. Probably pretty well if the current slate of programming is any
indication. It could turn into Presidential Survivor, or Presidential Professional Wrestling. A weekly display of brutality, subterfuge, and oversized egos and personalities. All vying for the love, or despisement of the American television audience. Or, if it should be a little lighter it could be more like the Harlem Globetrotters barnstorming across the country, winning game after game against a determined but over matched foe.

Of course, the politicians who are not practiced reality television stars are not in favor of the transition. Across Iowa and New Hampshire they are meeting with advisers, and coaches, and strategists about the best way to combat the Trump menace.

Rob Portman, from Ohio, who seems to be a pretty decent guy, considering he is a politician, said the best tactic in this situation would probably be "one liners, and humor." Avoid getting drawn into the rhetoric, and anger. It could draw attention to a candidate and become a clip shown again and again. He stopped short of suggesting a "Last Comic Standing" approach, but it might work.

Anyway, things are warming up. I am stocking up on snacks, something healthy, and drinks, probably carbonated water, and getting ready for the first show down of the year. It could be epic. I hope the good guy wins.

It's potty time

It was a great idea, and one that should have been further developed. Nobody has really gone to the trouble of rating Interstate Rest Areas. These expensive, vital links to interstate travel and commerce are unreported, and frankly vary widely in quality, and amenities. It seemed time that someone begin the toil, and labor that would be involved in such a worthwhile endeavor.  I never planned on reviewing them all, just get the ball rolling.  And, then anyone who travels anywhere could submit a review of the rest areas they used.  Sort of a Yelp or Trip Adviser, for bathroom breaks.

But, as with so many revolutionary ideas this one died on the vine when my wife and son refused to stop unless someone needed to stop.  And then it was kind of rushed without time to fully evaluate the offerings.  So, we only have a small sampling, and there is no real organization. Honestly organization is not really a strength, though, so it probably is not all her fault.

So, here goes.  There is a rest area just east of Rapid City, sitting right on a river, though I don't really know which river, that is very nice, and clean.  The attendant was pleasant and polite, but the vending area was a little skimpy.  And the river was in danger of flooding out the entire area, but I don't suppose you can blame the rest area for that.  If you are traveling on Interstate 90, and happen to be slightly east of Rapid City, west of Wall, stop in (unless it is flooded) with confidence.

West of Kearney, outside vending machines.
What are we, animals?

Nebraska, along Interstate 80, had a variety of quality in the rest stop offering.  If you can wait, I would.  Don't stop anywhere west of Grand Island.  The areas in the eastern third are much newer, with vending areas that are inside, which is much nicer when deciding between cookies and a candy bar, or chips and crackers.

Iowa seems to be upgrading, so you are kind of safe anywhere, but only on Interstate 80, don't use the old ones on I29.

Illinois, the Rest Stop State

Illinois is a safe place to use any facility.  They have trails, and attractions, like a Metro Park, with elaborate vending areas, right inside the sumptuous main buildings.  Indiana and Ohio, well just don't bother.  Just wait until the next state.

Here is the first installment of the Rest Areas of America.  We will continue this during our next trip, we are dedicated Interstate travelers.  If you would like to submit a review, just send it along.

An adventure in mediocrity.

Driving down the freeways of America is a great way to find out a little about yourself.  Without all of the life and civilization intruding into a trip you have time to look inward.  

This unique opportunity for introspection, this chance to examine what is important is so hard to find in today's hyperconnected, constantly plugged in world. Each of us carries ideas, thoughts, dreams, constantly bubbling subcutaneously.  Percolating, flowing, ebbing and waning, waiting to break through. Aching to be discovered. On this trip, for example, an idea came bounding through. Popping out, demanding action. 

I sprang from a packing stupor and downloaded an ecard app (appygraph, if you are interested, and for a free app it is remarkably flexible). I am going to use it to document the trip through the heartland.  I am going to post a progress report on Facebook.

I am not an artistic photographer, my hands shake too much, and my impatience, and haste force me to rush the shot, so I am going to pass the beauty and take pictures of the more ordinary. Figuring it is best to leave the beautiful, spectacular vistas, and gorgeous scenes filled with color, contrast, and all of those important artistic elements to those steady handed, rock solid, keen eyed photo geeks with their expensive cameras and multiple lenses, apertures and focal lengths walking around with bags, and straps, and light meters, acting as though they have some sort of spiritual attachment to the simple practice of pointing a machine at an object and pushing a button, like that takes some divine, instinctive talent… Oops.

Anyway, I will focus on the more average, more typical snapshots of Americana. It will be Postcards From the Mundane.  A series, by Life Explained.

At some point it will become an award winning documentary with musical accompaniment by an artist to be named later.  But, you will not to wait that long, get on the band wagon while there is still room, and the ticket price is still reasonable.

Please join us on our travels here, Our Home on Facebook.

Healthy Living, it Ain't for Everyone

Ohio ranks 47th in the effectiveness of health care spending, according to the nonpartisan Health Policy Institute of Ohio.  Which is bad, but could be worse, because they rank all 50 states, and the District of Columbia separately, so it is not 47 out of 50, but 47 out of 51.  It has led to a rally on the lawn of the statehouse, with people chanting "we're not the worst, we're not the worst."

Apparently, despite my best efforts to become healthier, thinner, more fit, by quitting smoking, exercising, eating smarter, eschewing the elevator at work, and walking often is not enough.  According to an article in the Columbus Dispatch Ohio ranks 44th in adult smoking, 46th in adult diabetes, 48th in child immunizations, the list goes on and on, without varying much.

Not all the news was bad, though.  Ohio does rank 11th in accreditation of local health departments, and in employee sponsored health insurance, and 12th in fluoridated water.  So, it is not without hope. There are highly accredited local health departments with great teeth.

According to the report only Maine, Wyoming Indiana and West Virginia are less healthy than Ohio. Here is the bad bit, though, they spend far less than Ohio on health care.  It costs far less to be unhealthy in those places. In Ohio we have the privilege of being one of the most expensive, least healthy places.  In  fact, Ohio ranked last, bottom of the barrel, absolutely abysmal, in value for the health care costs.

This leaves two obvious choices, either provide better health care, or charge less.  Both of these are difficult, and require sacrifice. Obviously, prevention is much less expensive than cure, but it requires cooperation between doctor and patient.

Yes, a doctor can say "you should quit smoking, and lose some weight, you disgusting, overweight slob, before it kills you.  That will $230.00." Unless the patient is willing to take this sound medical advice to heart, it will do no good.

Conversely, a doctor can say "you have to start eating at least a few vegetables every week, and changing the channel at every commercial is not really aerobics.  That will be $75.00."  Charging less, or making people healthier, or both, which is going to work?  Probably neither.

But, we here at Life Explained, have a third option.  Embrace the slovenliness, welcome the weight, advertise the sloth.  Nobody likes to be told how they need to diet, nobody wants to hear they need to exercise more, people know they need to quit smoking. Everybody gets sick of the constant lecturing, brow beating, criticism. Ohio can make that a claim to fame.

"Fat, lazy, and proud, come to Ohio, you will be welcome."  Let other states give big tax breaks, and abatement's to attract businesses, selling future revenue for a brief bout of popularity, (kind of like life).  Ohio can boldly proclaim, "bring your business here, we won't tell you how to live your life, we like you just the way you are. Plus, we have donuts."

Businesses will flock to the state, the restaurant industry will flourish, tax revenues will rocket, and the state will be fat, and happy, and everybody will be grateful.  We can annex Indiana and West Virginia, we might need the extra room.  Ah, the future is bright, ah life smells sweet, like fresh caramel corn, or a fried Snickers bar.

Fitness, Fun, and Food.

Now that I am working out (a lifter) it seemed only natural that I would attend the Arnold Fitness Festival. An extravagant, hectic, crowded assembly, packing the Columbus Convention Center from one end to the other. Attendees run the gamut from extremely fit to fitness challenged (I like to think of myself as fitness challenged Plus, working to physically fit light). Having never been there before I was not sure what I would see. What I did see was a little amazing, a little frightening, and a lot of entertaining.

Convention centers share several characteristics. Most are designed around a long central hall, with large rooms, with big exhibition rooms branching off at more or less regular intervals. Often these rooms have pocket style walls allowing for adjustable sizes, and numerous configurations. But, if you want to take the pulse of an event you want the long central hall. That is where everybody congregates, where all of the meetings take place.

When viewed from the proper perspective the central hall is like a combination of a parade, and a an airport terminal, mixed with a little bit of reunion, maybe family, maybe school, possibly even neighborhood. Hugs, handshakes, smiles, and laughter ring through the hall, repeated down the length of the hall, and echoing, inviting and warm, it can give you hope. This perspective is from above the fray. Climb the stairs to the upper hall, look down on the masses, and it looks happy and joyous.

Of course, the view from the main floor is a little different. Down there it is competition, survival of the fittest, a mad dash to an imaginary finish line. Competitors weaving in and out of the slow moving traffic. Down here the happiness, and pleasantries are few, fleeting, and on the fringes where nothing is moving. Soon, the flow will even grab the celebrants, sweeping them along in flood of humanity, toward the next available eddy.

Oddly enough, both views are correct. And when you go to these things you have to enjoy both. There is a sense of omnipotence looking down on the masses from an elevated position, safe and sound, but the real feel of the festival is among the throng feeling the energy of the crowd.

If you are looking for insight, and exercise tips, though, you are probably in the wrong place. The body builders are doing a job, and performing a routine, the vendors want to sell their supplements or equipment, which is fine, because that is why they came. So, don't expect any revelations. If that sounds unreasonable ask yourself what advice you expect. Work very hard, and push yourself to the very edge, and then push yourself some more. Make lifting and exercising a life style, sacrifice, toil, slave, and work, work, work, and you can be muscular beyond belief. We all know that fitness requires effort, would that it didn't, but it does. There are no shortcuts, that's why people admire body builders, not because it is easy.

If you have the opportunity go to the Fitness Expo, or anything similar, it is fun, and there are crowds, and a herd like solidarity, and all of the colors of life. People like you, and people who are nothing like you, and all of the types in between. There are exhibits, and displays and the energy of all that life crammed in such a small place.  But, if you go to the Arnold Festival in Columbus, walk 3 blocks west and hit the North Market for some hot dogs and potato chips at the "Best Wurst," you will need the protein.

Presidential Campaign Preseason, Where Winners Are Made.

Today, in the Columbus Dispatch it was reported that Senator Rob Portman has announced that he would not run as a candidate for President.  He chose, instead, to seek reelection to the Senate.  According to the article Senator Portman claimed he was not interested in being Vice President either.  He feels, apparently, that he has a lot of work to do in the Senate.  Admirable, to be sure.  Senator Portman does seem to be a decent person, moderate, and reasonable, characteristics that are in short supply in the Capitol.

But, none of that matters, too much, because we, here at the Life Explained (#lifeexplained) Political Campaign Headquarters (#politicalcampaignheadquarters) are not at all interested in people who are not running for office, and people who are not even willing to campaign for Vice President are particularly uninteresting.  We want to know who is running.

Since Ohio is a battleground state (we like to think of ourselves as Kingmakers (#kingmakers)) we get to spend a lot of time being catered to, and wooed by candidates.  And, they spend a lot of time and money briefing us on the shortcomings of other candidates. Information desperately needed to choose the least awful candidate, the person least likely to completely ruin everything.  We really get to see the seamy, despicable side of candidates, thanks to other candidates.  We, here at the Life Explained (#lifeexplained) Presidential Campaign Headquarters, (#presidentialcampaignheadquarters) are very grateful.  Imagine the time Ohioans would have to waste looking up all of the terrible things about prospective presidents themselves, it would destroy the state economy.

Right now there are potential presidential candidates assembling armies on the frontiers of Ohio, massing volunteers, raising funds, building war chests, getting ready to invade the state.  All of them just waiting for the right   It is always a calculated risk to be the first one to announce.  Sure you get the best seats in Iowa caucuses, an important early feast for candidates, but you open yourself to numerous attacks from other presidential would be's.  All roads to Ottumwa start in Ohio.  And you know what state is between Iowa and New Hampshire, you guessed it, Ohio.

Obviously, there are a great many benefits to Presidential campaigns, here in Ohio.  Monetary rewards for sure, but more important, a sense of importance, and fulfillment.  Ohio is still recovering from the collapse of the steel industry, and was hit hard by the problems of the auto industry, and we can't forget the Drive in 1987, when John Elway cut the heart out of Ohio, or the Shot, in 1989, when Micheal Jordan stomped all over that heart.  Clearly, we need a little something to make us feel good.

There is no better cure for a poor self image than hearing about the awful shortcomings, and terrible habits of another.  If that person is a famous politician, with a ridiculous amount of money, powerful backers, a Super PAC, a tour bus, a manager, and possibly a political Juggernaut to call his own, then so much the better.

In the interest of our fine state, the slowly recovering economy, and the sluggish job outlook we, here at the Life Explained (#lifeexplained) State Recovery Ministry (#staterecoveryministry) would like to recommend a more robust Presidential Campaign Season, something along the lines of the NBA, or the NHL, or MLB, or for that matter the NFL, or thinking reasonably, it that is still a possibility, any professional sport.  One that seems to never end, with a championship leading right to preseason, right into the regular season.  It is growth industry, and the country needs some good news.

A desperate plea for help.

Today we are going to discuss commuting, in general, and early morning commuting, before rush hour, in particular, 6:00 AM to 6:30 AM commuting on a three lane freeway in Central Ohio, specifically.  This commute should be painless, for the most part.  There are three lanes, and these are divided by the speed at which the driver feels comfortable.

In the right hand lane are two types of driver.  Right Lane Driver type #1 - those who enjoy the slow life, don't mind slowing, or hurrying to allow vehicles entering from the ramp, and have plenty of time to get to work.   These drivers never have high blood pressure, and eat a lot of salads.  Right Lane Driver Type #2 - those who are about to exit.

The middle lane is for drivers who have audio books and like to spend a little time relaxing with their favorite author before beginning their day.  It would be so inconvenient to have to adjust your speed at every ramp for merging traffic, and the middle lane is slow enough to provide plenty of time to enjoy almost a whole chapter.  If traffic is heavy it might be a chapter and a half.  Their day begins with a latte, a biscotti, sensible loafers, and something fashionable, and comfortable.  Occasionally, someone will provide a short irritant into their drive by slamming across all three lanes to exit, or reach the left hand lane, but their commute is a literary picnic, and they are happy about that.

"Hey, move it, I am barely staying ahead of the ambulance!"

In the left hand lane are people trying to get off the freeway, out of their car, and into what passes for life these days.  It is for people who hate driving, and just want to get it over with quickly.  They curse at people who force the use of brakes, "#*#@*!)*( you, can't you seem I am trying to get somewhere."  A smile crosses their face as the shift lever goes into park, and they are done with the potentially lethal practice of hurtling down the highway, hoping nobody crashes into them.

It is imperative that the left lane be respected, these are people on the edge, and this traffic should go approximately 7 to 12 miles an hour faster than the middle lane.  Differences in speed are calculated using a complex formula (that is way to difficult to explain in one blog post) considering such variables as weather, light conditions, congestion, and day of the week (Mondays are faster than Wednesdays, for example).  But, traffic flow permitting the left lane drivers should always be able to pass the middle lane driver in a manner that allows a feeling of superiority, and a smug satisfaction.  Is that asking too much?

It is a good idea to know what type of driver you are, and get in your lane, and stay there.  We, here at Life Explained are developing a test, and will post it soon.  You can thank us later.

You will thank me later.

According to an article in the Los Angeles Times Australian scientists (Those Crazy Australians) compared the size of spiders who live in the city against spiders who live in the country, and found that the urban spiders were larger.

There are several potential reasons for this, the additional warmth generated by the concrete, and asphalt provides an ideal temperature for spider growth, or perhaps the condensed habitat has increases the availability of prey.  Further, they found that spiders living in wealthier neighborhoods were larger than the spiders living in less affluent areas.  Urban spiders are bigger, and socioeconomic factors can increase the effect.  

In fairness, the study was conducted on one species (the Golden Orb Weaver) sincethey are less nomadic, widespread, and they are much less intimidating, venomous, and hostile than the Sydney Funnel Web Spider. A fearsome beast many claim has the worlds most toxic venom, a nasty temperament (legend says it will cross the street against the light just to bite a person), and according to some reports has a bite that can pierce a toenail.  Dang, that would sting.  Who can blame them for avoiding that monster.

To sum, country spiders are big, city spiders are bigger, and snobby, upper-crust spiders bigger still.

In related news, as reported by the Huntington Herald Dispatch, (Dang, that is so big it could be from Australia) a Carolina Wolf Spider was found in the forests of southern Ohio.  According to the report this is the first reported sighting of the species in Ohio in six decades.  Also, according to the report, this spider is (and the words are quoted verbatim) "palm sized."  It does not specify whose palm is being used as reference, but the the potential is staggering.

Located in the center of Ohio is Columbus, a city with over 809,000 people, if you don't count the surrounding areas.  A city of some size, and with many areas, and suburbs with some wealth.  Since Columbus is conveniently located in the center of the state southern Ohio is not far at all.  Southern Ohio is much closer to Columbus than any point in either Carolina.  And, this is only a guess, but that may be the origin of the Great Carolina Wolf Spider Invasion, though this issue needs more research.  

Imagine what will happen if these palm sized spiders find their way up Route 33, using the Lancaster Bypass, and end up in Columbus, as previously noted a city of some size.  Or worse still, what if the take the exit onto 104, and merge onto I71 North, which turns into 315 North just west of downtown and use the Lane Avenue exit, and turn west, ending up in Upper Arlington (motto; We have a lot of money).  That spells catastrophe, my friend.

There is only one sane thing to do.  We need to blow up the bridges, and build a wall to separate the southern and central portions of the state.  It is for the best.

Can I See Your Insurance Card and I.D., Please?

Recently, according to a report in the Columbus Dispatch, the Ohio Historical Society (working at the request of a Canadian researcher who is compiling a global data base of mummy x-rays and scans) sent their Egyptian mummy to a local hospital for a CT scan.

It turned into quite a procedure. The doctors jumped at the chance to use "Lamborghini of scanners," yes, it was THE "Siemens SOMATOM Definition Flash dual energy slice CT scanner." Which, according to reports, looks like a "big, white donut." Reports were not clear whether it was powder sugar or coconut glazed donut.

In less than two hours they captured over 8,400 images. Which is a significant number of pictures, so it was no surprise that they noticed an abnormality in some of the images. Being seasoned health care professionals they jumped into action.

Recognizing that time was of the essence for the 2500 year old mummy, they decided to order a a battery of thorough, expensive tests. An ambulance was summoned and the mummy was rushed across the street to the emergency room, where her priority status, due to the lack of heartbeat, and "greatly reduced brain activity" got her a place in line, to show her insurance card and I.D. to a surly counter attendant, dressed in medical garb.

After looking at her chart a doctor said, with firm, and confident authority "we need an MRI and a battery of blood tests, STAT!" As he headed to the Starbucks nestled conveniently between the ATM and the portable defibrillator.

At the time of this report the mummy was still waiting to see a doctor, or even a nurse, and was reported to say, "right now, I would be happy to see the custodian."

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

A small favor, please.

In what can only be viewed as a very pleasant surprise, many people who have looked at this important and historically significant blog are from the wonderfully progressive and delightfully joyful Country of Germany.  By what can only be viewed as one of the most fortuitous coincidences of all time 2 very good friends of mine are traveling to your scenic, beautiful, historically significant, and fiscally responsible Nation.  I would be very grateful if you could meet them at the airport, and buy them a nice meal.  Maybe bring them a cake, here is one idea, feel free to use your own.

 

 

Since one of my friends is from Ohio she may, at random times, shout the letter O, and then quickly follow that by shouting the letter H.  It is considered good manners to respond by shouting the letter I and then the letter O.  This will make her feel right at home, it is very similar to the way wildlife uses unique sounds to signal safety.  My other friend is from Scotland, and may be playing Angry Birds on her iPad, so feel free to move around her if you are waiting in line, people from the UK are used to long lines, so she may not even notice, particularly if you say something nice about her Angry Bird tossing ability, or her shoes.

Thank you, in advance for the kindness, if I can ever do anything for you please let me know.