Random Hockey Thoughts

I play hockey year round and sometimes go right to picking up the grand kids and hanging out with them. Someday they will walk into a stinky, rancid locker room, inhale deeply and exclaim fondly, "Hey!  This smell reminds me of...Nana!!!"

My hockey shot is pathetically off course.  I told a pacifist friend of mine that I was going to take some shooting lessons. "You have a GUN?!!" she asked incredulously.  No, just a hockey stick.

"I forgot my hockey stick at the airport!" I cried out while we were being driven away to Scottsdale, Arizona from Minnesota in early October.  (This was during my 6 week online shooting course, so naturally I needed the stick to practice while I was gone.)  The limo driver turned around abruptly and said, "YOU play hockey? I played for the Detroit Red Wings back in the 70's and 80's."  How cool is that? ( As he laments, "the guys now make more in one week than I made in a year...") Yeah, but you got to play in THE NHL!!!
I used to usher at the North Star games back when he was playing against them.  I only got $1.65 an hour, (and , okay, FREE North Star games)--Quit your whining, dude!
©10/2012  Jana B Patrick

Random Hiking Thoughts

I hiked Pinnacle Peak in Arizona last week, and, as I do with any physical activity I am not in shape for, I allowed my mind to wander so as to ignore the death rattle that my breathing had become.

I decided to notice the other hikers.  One had on some ladies sensible dress shoe pumps--not so sensible on a rocky, gravelly mountain, but much more sensible than the rhinestone studded high heal sandals one of my sisters sported on the same trail some years back.

I noticed an 80 year old guy wearing a "BEAT ARMY" T-shirt racing up and down the five mile mountain trail. When I commented on seeing him again, he said it was his third lap that morning.  Show off.  Probably told his great-grandkids about passing up all of us losers...

I also noticed one out-of-shape laggard that stopped every 25 yards or so to supposedly 'check her I-Pod.' Sure.  I noticed this because I was keeping pace just behind the slacker.  Since I don't have an I-Pod, I merely would stop and check my moles to see if any had suddenly turned cancerous.

Now I am back in flat Minnesota treading the monotonous elliptical and wondering how in the world that lady ahead of me got into the spray-on camo spandex...and why the over-the-hill guy over there thinks short shorts are remotely attractive.  I really have to get an I-Pod.
©10/2012  Jana B. Patrick,  janasrandomwriting.blogspot.com

Friendly Fire

Intestinal bacteria, referred to as probiotics, are microscopic critters creating your very own private universe--a microbiome--in your gut. (I suspect my personal parasites have been partying lately and abusing their curfew.) 

According to the journal, "Science", "(Intestinal) bacteria are organized into socially cohesive units (gangs) in which antagonism occurs between, rather than within...defined populations (rival gangs)"  Whoa.  I see a Spielberg movie. Casting the bacterial warriors could be interesting...

Dr. Joseph Mercola says, "...certain bacteria have the ability to produce chemical compounds that inhibit growth of other bacteria, while not harming their own kind or "close relatives."  These...natural antibiotics act as a type of chemical warfare, (in your stomach!!!) allowing the bacteria in question to gain a competitive edge by killing off the competition.  Meanwhile, other "allies" are spared, as they are resistant to the antibiotic chemicals produced."  Interesting, huh?  World War Three going on in every living gut.  The Allies versus Bacterial Terrorists.  May the good guys win.

Eating probiotic, fermented foods such as sauerkraut, kefir, pickles etc. makes for happy bacterial campers.

Now for casting the movie: Arnold?--Good guy or bad boy?  For SURE a bad guy part for JERRY SANDUSKY.  Especially since he is now introducing bacteria at both ends...  (Same for Minnesota creeper, Curt Wehmeyer)
©10/2012  Jana B Patrick

Sir Schmuck

(This is Part 1 (of 5 parts) of a 9th grade paper explaining feudalism written by my daughter a several years ago.  It cracked me up, so I am sharing)

By Lauren Patrick ©2005  

            My name is Sir Schmuck.  I am a knight living in France.  We are in the year 1234; four years after I acquired my beautiful manor and manor house which I like to call “Schmuck’s Shack.” 

            I can see the muddy hills rolling on endlessly, until they fade into haze.  The land is not all mine, though I wish it were.  Baron Birdbrain gave me this fief, all eleven soggy fields, and now I am his vassal. 

When we made this deal, we had an investiture, a ceremony when Birdbrain gave me my land, and in return I pledged him my loyalty. King Charlemagne started this system of government, which we call feudalism, about 400 years ago. It is based upon landholding in exchange for military service.  Here and everywhere, local government is more important than national.  Let me explain…    

It is my duty to answer any of Monsieur Birdbrain’s calls for help.  I have fought along side him, defending his manor, too many times to count.  Two years ago, dear Birdbrain was captured by Barney “Buff” Baron and none but yours truly was there to pay the ransom.  I admit, sometimes I get burned out on all the fighting, and I just want to take a nap in the “Shack.”   But I know that I am obligated to give the Brain my loyalty, because of what he gives me in return.

My land is my most important and valuable possession.  Some days however, even though I know I shouldn't  I feel a little sorry for myself.  My mud hole is minuscule compared to the Brain’s.  But when I stop to think, I know that I am luckier than most.  Baron Birdbrain protects me from invaders and gave me the land I am building my life on.  Because of this land, I am able to profit. 

I have about 50 serfs.  They farm the sludge and pay me taxes, and I give them permission to stay on my land.  Pretty good deal, if you ask me.  In the future, I hope to become vassal to more barons, earning more land.  Once I have enough land, maybe I can even become a baron myself, and have my own vassals.  I can hope, at least.