Woody Cavenaugh

I noticed the other day that my neighbor has a "private property" sign. Not a big deal, these signs are at the edges of many lawns, and many vast tracks of land showing that the land is "owned", and the owner doesn't want people wandering across it. Sometimes you see these signs on chain link fences topped with barbed wire. I am sure that it probably didn't cross your mind, it certainly didn't mine, but isn't the barbed wire topped chain length fence pretty much a dead giveaway that the area in question isn't a public park?

I mean, do prisons need "private property" signs. Its sort of a "Duh!" right?

That neighbor I mentioned, his/her "Private Property" sign is not on the edge of their property but in the window of the house 75 yards from the end of their driveway. What's the message?

"No you may not come into my house and have a picnic in my living room floor"?

I myself have signs at the back edge of my property in the trees that say "no hunting" in the hopes that my house won't be critically wounded during hunting season this fall. Nothing says, "eek" like finding a bullet lodged in the opposite wall from where the bullet entered.

But I have no signs in my window. If anyone comes down my driveway unannounced and knocks on my door, they get a different kind of warning.

I answer the door naked, and holding an ax. I guess my real problem is I find the "private property" sign in the window idea cold and impersonal. It greets strangers just like it greets friends. My way, when friends are coming over, I put on cloths, pick up the place and prepare snacks. To each their own, but I think I like my way better.

Posted by at 1:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Events in my life have made me take a long hard look at life and living. Modern technology makes it possible to make a person live well past the point they can go on living for themselves. There are those who say that a person must go on living until not even the miracles of modern technology can keep you alive. Oddly enough, many of those folks believe in an afterlife. I believe they take the stance that life is a gift and every second must be savored. I worry that they believe in an afterlife and they are afraid of what's next. I've never been to Hawaii, but I hear it is grand. I sometimes worry that they've never been to the afterlife, but they hear it sucks. A bleak way for a person to have to live, but I suppose it explains their fear of dying. I always heard that the afterlife was awesome. My biggest fear is they've heard something I haven't.

One issue is that once your insurance runs out I suppose you might have Medicaid or Medicare, but those run out too, after that you are eking out extra existance at the expense of your loved one's lives and livelihoods. Do you want to be the one remembered for living an extra month at the cost of your families house and home? I don't. I heard a joke once, "I want to go peacefully in my sleep like my uncle, not screaming like the passengers in his car."

I'm not judging other's choices. And it is YOUR choice, you can choose to eek out your last moments more machine than person, or you can choose to go the way nature intended. Just because one can do a thing doesn't necessarily make it right to do so. I don't believe anyone has the right to choose whether I live or die but me. I get truly sick of people day in an day out taking the one thing that is truly not theirs to give or take. But before you start misunderstanding me, I despise the pro-life crowd, as much as I despise a murderer in the street. None of them have the authority or the right to give or take a life. Not yours!

Understand this also, I believe that if you intend to take the life of me and mine, I've got the right to stop you up to and including ending you. It won't be my first option, but it will always be on the table. I don't feel that one should take their own life either, but it isn't necessarily mine to judge. I've never experienced anything so bad that the only way to escape it is to eat the barrel of a gun. I hope I never do. However, when the day comes that I'm not going to get better, I'd rather go easy and on my own power, than go hard via a machine. All bets are off however, if I can live a normal life on a machine. My brain, in a robot body? If that's an option, I'll entertain that too. I guess what I'm saying is, that when I can no longer live a productive life, I might be done with living it. But I get to decide what "productive" is, not you.

Posted by at 3:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Where I come from, when you invite someone some place, you actually want them there and you treat them with respect. From the articles I have been reading Columbia University President Lee Bollinger, must be from someplace else entirely. Perhaps it is my Southern upbringing, perhaps it is because I never belonged to a fraternity, but if someone invited me someplace as a guest and then ripped me a new one in front of all of their friends, I would have to beat someone's ass.

To this end, I guess that makes me a lesser man than Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Of course, I suppose this thing is still developing. My blood is Irish, we strike quickly when insulted. Who knows about the Iranians, later on Mahmoud just might crash a plane into Bollinger's house or something. Different cultures different styles. Who could blame him?

It would be a hoot if he turned the other cheek though. That would kink the "Iran is Evil" crowd's hose for a bit. Well, I suppose just long enough to call him a coward or something. Some people you just can't reach.

Posted by at 8:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I was out in the country Sunday and found myself behind an ultra plush pickup. Black with extra chrome, a matching, black camper top trimmed in chrome and black tinted windows. Someone spared no expense to get 12 miles to the gallon on a truck that will never see a bag of fertilizer or a load of lumber. It was plush.

On the back of the bed cover, were two vinyl window decals. Both in matching silver. Both designed to give you an indication of the mind of the owner. One was a caricature of a 57 Chevy. The other three simple words that held so much meaning.
Bubba Ho-Tep

Posted by at 9:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Do you remember the old days when people were afraid to fly or they weren't. Thanks to our modern lives, we now have reasons to fear the airports themselves. Random terrorist, or artist attacks, losing your car, random strip searches, random strip searches ending in a dinner offer, and now going to the bathroom.

Yes, I am saying it. I was a little wigged out being in the airport yesterday and having to take a wiz. Guys have rules about peeing. But there are some new second edition rules I know nothing about yet and I don't want to get arrested...or propositioned. First edition rules are easy. No peaking, stay to the sides, never use the center urinal if the one to the left and the right of it are being used. You keep an empty urinal between you and the next guy and all is well. But now in the second edition you have to stand a certain way, and I am not sure what those rules are.

I was sort of hoping, being an airport they would have some easy pictographs hanging on the walls, they do for everything else. No guns, no food, no drink, pets must be on a leash, barf bags are on the left and your seat is a flotation device so in the event of accident the recovery crew will know where to dive for bodies. Do not stand with feet more than 18 inches apart. Do not touch the wall with either hand. Putting both hands on the wall is right out. Do not grab your neighbor's ass and comment about ham. But the walls however were bare. The room was packed, there was one open urinal that no one was going to and the only guy not worried about getting arrested for improper peeing was the Asian guy who was afraid of a whole litany of other things.

I wish for the simpler days, when the only thing I feared in the toilet was the dirty seat and the sharks, alligators, snakes, and rabid squirrels that could come out of the bowel and bite you on the butt if you aren't paying attention. Now not only do we have to fear the wildlife, we have to fear camera phones, and pants position while we do our business. Too high you poop on your self, too low you are retarded, off completely and you're just looking for trouble.

I just wanted to pee.

Posted by at 8:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

If you haven't read part one, please do so now or this entry won't mean much.

This is how I define worth. Worth is in the eyes of the beholder. My value is based on the total sum of values assigned to me. I am a beginning fencing coach and I earn value based on the fact that others see me as a descent beginning fencing coach. When I spent two years working as a temp for the state, many saw me as "unemployed" I lost worth due to that. Meanwhile in the temp job I was earning titles like "development whizkid", it was meant as derogatory, but gave me worth because they acknowledged worth. Later when I was told "poof" you are a systems administrator. My worth dropped like a stone because I had no system administration skills period, and I was suddenly in charge of an enterprise application. Over time using my whizkid super powers I am teaching myself sys admin skills and my worth is appreciated along the learning curve.

Every aspect of my life can add worth or take worth away and so my worth is not a static thing written into my DNA to be with me until death. You create the reason for your existance, thus you are in charge of your own worth.

In the Red Dwarf episode called "The Inquisitor" the crew has to justify their own existance proving they are having a worthwhile life or they were to be erased from time so some other sperm can join with the egg and give that person a go at it. For a comedy they really tapped into some deep issues. Like the fact that worth is completely subjective.

My total self worth is the sum total of all worth assigned to me by everyone I know. The more I value them the greater the value of their assessment of my worth. My parents and my wife have a great deal more effect on my worth than the stranger I held the door for at the store the other day.

It has been suggested that my entire worth system is flawed, however I fail to see a better way. It could have been like someone explaining Islam to an Evangelical, the difference being at least I am willing to consider the possibility. This is more like someone telling me that the wall I see as Green is actually yellow. It surely is from their perspective, I just have to find a place to observe it from where it appears yellow to me as well.

Posted by at 8:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

"One man's trash is another man's treasure." Nothing proves that old adage like eBay. A place like that can be used to judge something worth. This week widget "X" is only selling for "Y" dollars. Last month it sold for "Y" + 10%. People are making pretty decent money understanding and reacting to the market's ups and downs.

People have a worth. An employee who has great worth and 20 years experience could lose all value overnight if their specialty is abandoned for the new hotness. Suddenly that person is fired and replaced by two people who have knowledge of the new hotness and have little or no experience because the new hotness is that new. Sometimes the person with 20 years experience can recoup some level of worth by being flexible enough to be retrained on the new hotness. Meanwhile a baby has infinite worth because it has infinite potential for worth. Not only are mom and dad assigning worth to the pooping machine for being a miracle of life and a genetic successor, the baby could be literally anything. Babies are the human equivalent of the stem cell.

But what does the baby think its worth? What does the employee with 20 years experience at something that has no value see of their own value? Does their value change with the market? A rotting log in the woods is home and food for insects, spores, mold and fungus who all value it as a habitat, but how does the log measure its own worth?

Donald Trump has worth, Forbes measures it every year (Congratulations). Presumably the homeless guy on the corner has worth. How do you measure the homeless guy's worth? How does he measure it? Does he value his worth to be the same as Trump's? Is it a mistake or not for him to think this?

How do I measure my own worth? Does "worth" exist in a vacuum? Sorry, I have already foreseen some of you working up smart ass remarks about Hubble and the International Space Station. It won't wash. You don't get off that easy.

How do you measure worth?

Posted by at 4:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Yeah, you heard me. Before you start checking the seas for blood content, you'd better let me explain myself. I've not lost my mind, though of late it feels like it more and more. This has nothing to do with that however.

I have been on an Indian eating jag of late and that means cooking curries at home and occasionally having some Indian "astronaut food" style side dishes in the boil in bag. Many of these side dishes are either vegetarian or vegan. Last night's side was a vegan selection, and I just didn't like it. It simply wasn't good. However, once I stirred it into my nice thick chicken curry the whole thing changed and I just yummed it right up.

The lesson: If it isn't tasty you just need to add what was missing to make it good again. In this case, all it needed was meat. See, even I can eat vegan food. Not as tasty as eating vegan, but when all of the vegans have been eaten, we're going to have to be clever with what's left.

Posted by at 11:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Its been suggested that perhaps I shouldn't ever mention when I screw up. I don't get it. As I have no respect for public office, and would never lower myself to attempt to hold such, I don't have to lie and tell everyone I'm perfect.

Personally, I feeling that being honest about my short comings is the best way to keep people from being disappointed later. An example of this would be our president. How many of you voted for that git thinking he would be good only to discover he's a complete and total git.

You'll never make those mistakes with me.

However, my mother once told me that If I don't have something good to day I should just keep my mouth shut. I'd like to say I'm keeping my mouth shut. However that would be a dirty dirty lie. I simply can't think of anything to say, and to me that's worse.

Posted by at 9:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Some nights are better than others, some are restful, some are just plain bad, and just occasionally they are fundamentally weird. Last night the Weird-O-Meter was getting a reading. The corgi was restless. It may have been the fact that for the past three nights the weather was nice enough that we had opened up all the windows to let some fresh air in. However, he was good the previous two nights, even when we weren't.

At any rate, at 2am I had to get up to let him out, and about every thirty minutes I had to go back to try to get him back in. He would stand near the door and bark when I would go to the door to let him in, he'd charge out into the yard barking more, like my presence gave him courage to go forth. It was about 4:30 when he finally gave up the hunt and came back into the house.

5am he got quiet...real quiet... But something else wasn't being quiet. It woke me up with a start and I layed there listening to it for a while wishing Sara was awake to hear it too. Soon enough she awoke with a start and grabbed me. I responded in a whisper, "Yes, I hear it too." The dog normally busy, wouldn't even draw an audible breath.

What did we hear moving low in the sky from South to North? I have no earthly idea. It defies ready explanation, but since I don't have a recording to share with you, I'll have to do my best to use my words. Take an large owl, make him laugh uproariously at something, then add several somethings laughing shrilly at his joke. Their laughter moved together, like children on a playground chasing a ball. Except the "children' were up in the air, and demonic.

I don't know what we heard, but I hope to find out. Perhaps with a tape recorder. I'd say video camera, but I'm not 100% sure I am ready to see what made that infernal racket. At any rate, Its something I've never heard before.

Posted by at 10:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Sara and I were in Reidsville over the weekend and happened to see that someone had moved into the old Hardies by the (s)mall. The sign said "Latinos Tikal Grill Churasqueria and Antojitos". More important, it was open, and we decided to give it a try. I am very glad we did.

The atmosphere was about as best as it can be when you're working with an old Hardies. You walk into the front door to see the two buffet tables, the waitress took our drink orders and asked us to help ourselves to the buffet and our meat courses would be brought to us as they came off of the grill.

The food on the buffet was a mixture of vegetables, and other dishes that we learned were of Guatemalan origin. It was a Guatemalan family who opened the business only a month before and were working hard to make a go of it in of all places, Reidsville. I enjoyed everything on the all you can eat buffet I had. Then the first course from the grill arrived and I found heaven. Well, if not heaven, as close as you can get to it, on Scales street.

My concern was how they could pull off the food cost. When I think Churasqueria I think of gaucho's with huge skewers of fire grilled meats. The quality of the meat was exactly the same as that, but they defeated the possibility of waste by cooking a serving of each meat one at the time in a rotation, by the time you finished one, the next was delivered to your waiting plate. After the first round you could pick your new order having only those things you wanted more of. I ate a lot. The seasoning on the pork and beef in particular were mouth watering, so much so that I'm having to watch the drool as I type this. Everything was excellent, and there was the variety I crave.

Best part, our all you can eat lunch was only ten dollars. Dinner is twelve dollars. We talked to the owner who told us he wanted to allow people to have the whole Churasqueria experience with the red and green marker, and hot meats and seafoods brought right to your table, seasoned in the Guatamala way at a price that made it possible for the common person to enjoy. My only complaint is that working in Greensboro as I do, I can't have lunch there daily. For those with small appetites, they had a regular menu with regular plate meals for around six dollars each.

If you happen to find yourself in Reidsville, and have a taste for really good food, you've got to give Tikal Grill a taste. This is the best food I've ever had in Reidsville, and I am positive your mouth will thank you for your generosity by going there.

Tikal Grill
1519 Scales St.
Reidsville, NC 27320
(336) 342 3135 (Take out Available!)
Open daily 10am through 10pm.

Posted by at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)