The night before last’s photo run through something called underpainting1 on BeFunky.com, an online photo editor with effects.
Some more (and hopefully the last) Red Sox Beard updates:
After dining out this evening we stopped into Kroger to pick a couple of items we needed. Donna had a coupon to get a dollar off if we bought 3 bottles of Suave body wash, so those were among our 10 or so items. There was a speedy lane open, but I prefer the DIY approach of the self-checkout.
When I got most of the way done scanning, Donna headed over to get the attendant to scan the coupon. The attendant who wrangles the 6 self-checkouts was not inside the self-checkout area near her console. When she was interrupted from visiting with another Kroger employee, she leaned into the area and asked had we purchased the required 3 items to satisfy the coupon (had she been near her station it would have been self evident that we had.)
As she made her way around the counter to get to the screen, she paused to chat with a customer in the speedy 10 items or less line briefly. Then once she got towards her screen at the station she started helping another customer who asked for help after we did, because that customer was closer to her station. After she helped that other customer she finally started to scan our coupon.
She tried at least a half dozen times, pausing between scans to tilt her head in wonderment that her wand wouldn’t do its magic, because the coupon just wouldn’t register. By this time we felt we had waited a little too long to make it worth it for saving a dollar on our order, so we abandoned our bagged items and headed for the door. As we walked by the attendant’s station, on the other side of the counter, I heard her apologize about it taking so long as she looked in the direction we should have been. It was too late, we kept on going right out the door, but not before I snatched the coupon back out of her hand.
If we recall correctly, this isn’t the first time we have had trouble redeeming a coupon at the self-checkout, so when we go back tomorrow to get the things we need we’ll probably use the 10 items or less aisle.
The FRS have announced that Wednesday, Sept. 18 will be “Dollar Beard Night” at Fenway Park. Any fan who shows up with a beard — real or fake — will receive one $1 ticket to that night’s game against the Baltimore Orioles.
Also, as you can tell from the above image, they have a added a site where you can add a virtual beard to an uploaded photo or one from your Facebook page – redsox.com/beards
I have been wearing a beard since 1978, before then I only sported a mustache because that is all the facial hair I could have as a Naval Air Crewman. Beards prevented full sealing of the oxygen mask.
Nearly every guy on this year’s FRS team is sporting a beard and they come in a large variety styles and lengths. It started with a couple of the off season’s free agent signees in Spring Training and over the season has spread through the clubhouse like a zombie virus.
I’ve always kept my beard trimmed, but I want to help the guys in their quest to go from worst to first and hopefully beyond this year, so until the Red Sox season ends, be it being swept in the division series or winning the World Series in seven games, I won’t trim my beard (sideburns and mustache excluded.)
Lucky for Donna my beard isn’t very thick and doesn’t grow very fast, so I won’t end up looking like a member of the Duck Dynasty or ZZ Top.
Here’s A recent NY Times story on the bearded Bosox: Bonding With Beards, the Red Sox Repair Their Clubhouse Chemistry and the team also features many winners in Grantland’s Base-Beards (The 2013 MLB Beard Awards)
A whole bunch of years back, after I related the story of the bird that committed suicide by throwing itself into the grill of the Miata, my good buddy Mark asked if I’d ever seen a dead crow on the side of the road. When I said I hadn’t, he asked, “Do you want to know why?”
Now Mark is an avid outdoors man and the go-to-guy for any wildlife related questions (he was the one to identify the dead bird in the grill), so I knew if anyone knew why I hadn’t ever seen a dead crow on the side of the road it would be him.
“Because,” he said, “crows always travel in groups and there is always one crow designated as a lookout and when it sees a car coming it sounds off: caw, caw.” Now, I knew that crows are social birds and very smart, smart enough that they use tools, so it sounded reasonable.
Mark is also our go-to-guy for quick witted retorts and pranks, so when a couple years later I did actually see a crow as road kill, I got to thinking about his explanation…
Mark didn’t say, “caw, caw.” He said, “cahr, cahr.”
I’d been had.
Hendersonville is always painting and creating art bears to display along Main Street in downtown. I’ve been taking pictures of them since way back in 2003, but I’ve seen this phenomenon so many times now on our visits there that I stopped even paying attention to them anymore, but yesterday I found this one fascinating.
You can’t really see it from this angle, but along with the pointy ears they even have him doing the Vulcan salute.
The Purple Whale ticked past the 35,000 mile mark on one of the many trips up to the SMH.*
We are in western North Carolina visiting my sister and her husband this weekend. This morning we went into downtown Hendersonville to visit the Mast General Store where you can buy all sorts of candy by the pound and spend lots of time looking at spendy outdoorsy clothing. I bought cheap knock-off of a sort of Tilley Hat. It is a distressed wide brim cotton hat that sort of looks cowboy-ish to keep the sun out of my eyes and off the back of my neck at the same time. We promptly removed the leather strap that loops under your chin to keep the hat from flying off your head as you hunt rhinos from the open back of a Land Rover or while galloping across the north 40. Probably have to put it back on when I wear it while driving the Miata.
This afternoon for entertainment we went to the North Carolina Mountain State Fair. We were going to go see the pig races at Hogway Speedway at 3 o’clock but, we were too early, so we headed over to the Got To Be NC Stage to watch clogging. There were several hundred seats under the awning, but no real place to sit because all the chairs were taken by cloggers, their support staff and families. Diane and Allen managed to talk one lady into allowing them to sit in some empty seats as long as they promised to vacate them when her kids came back.
*I want to say it was Donna and I that nicknamed Diane and Allen’s southern retirement place the Stricker Mountain Home, but they have made it official with a carved wood sign to that effect next to the sidewalk leading up to their front porch.
