Gibby

Each morning, after walking and feeding the mut, I sit down to a bowl of oatmeal and watch Morning Joe. Today, a clip that Willy showed really struck me. It was a shot of Kirk Gibson, former Detroit Tiger god, and presently manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks, walking out to dispute a call with the umpire. My picture of Gibson is always of a long haired stallion; a hard nosed slugger who could out run a horse. Unbridled passion. Vigor. Perpetual youth. To use an overused cliche, he always leaves it all on the field.

It was hard marrying that picture with the older gentleman limping stiff-legged onto and off the field. It hurt to watch the aging hero. I sensed my mortality, and rubbed my sore knee.

Lastimado,

P. Suave

El Viejo Cojo

Hay Pero Que Calor

Dear Readers,

Pepinoville received its first hot spell today - a high of 70- plus degrees. I pulled my shorts from the back of the closet, and bared my stilts to the world. The afternoon was spent out back putzing around with La Hija de Pastora, and my ladies. And the dog.

Now it is time to get back to school...

Sudando,

Peps

Estacionamento

There is no such thing as an extra-wide drive way, nor a two-car driveway. Just a driveway. You see, a driveway is like Chinese food; no matter how big the order, you still could eat more. My dear child bride and I have had a two-plus car driveway, a one-car driveway, and our present two car driveway. We drive compact cars. Still, we run out of room. You have a good twenty feed of smooth, dry cement, and then that sloppy strip of mud and gnarly grass chewed up by a compact car driven by a spatially impaired chofer. For this driver, the concrete slab is just a suggestion, a general target, a place to set a few of the vehicle's tires when parked.

Desaquilibrado,

P. Suave

1984

We moved last fall. La Casa Pepino sold quickly and cheaply mid-summer, and we moved to Hogar Pepino just before the school doors open. It is an 80 year old house, tastefully updated over the years, and offers plenty of room for family and the accompaning livestock (Angel gets the upstairs, Luna downstairs and a portion of the backyard for her thing).

It being spring break and all, I aim to tear through the basement and garage. School and cold began before I could fully unpack and organize these last two portions of the estate. This morning I was pulling apart some anceint shelving in the basement. I grabbed some old newspaper lining the top shelf and read the dateline: August 12, 1984. It was on the masthead for a page of advertising ("Meijer Thrifty Acre 50th Anniversary"). As I continued busting up boards and prying nails, I reminisced about that period in my life. Here is what I remember about the year 1984:

1. I was a sophmore at college with an undeclared major and mounting student debt.

2. I worked summers in the maintainance department at an apartment complex, and midnights as a security guard during the school year.

3. The Detroit Tiger won the World Series against the San Diego Padres. Joe, Pete, and I watched the post-series celebration/inferno from the rooftop of the apartment complex on Jefferson avenue.

4. I rented a $200 a month upper flat in Hamtramck and drove a 76' Malibu (silver/red cloth interior).

5. One semester of full-time tuition at the University of Detroit was roughly $1,500

6. "Owner of a Lonely Heart" Yes

7. "Dancing in the Dark" Bruce Springsteen

8. "Jump" Van Halen

9. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

10. Miami Vice

11. Hair, hair brush, and shampoo

Mucha nostalgia,

Peps

El Maestro Vergonzado

I bring shame to my name. While others have worked an entire calendar year, year after year, I sop up gobs of vacation time around holidays and summertime. While the Average Joe could lose his employment at whim, apparently it is harder to can me than it is to grow grass in a desert. I receive guaranteed pay raises, no matter if I produce or not, and I get free donuts each time one of my clients has a birthday. Although I have enough college credit to fulfill two PhD programs, I am an expert at zilch. Although both my customers and supervisors would rather have their jobs than mine, they offer unsolicited advice about how I could do mine better, cheaper, and longer. By virtue of my certification and academic major I am an underachiever, suspect of laziness, pedophilia, and ignorance. Were I to debate the above, add whining, too.

Here's the rub: I don't care. Sure, it is annoying and disheartening when the bashing hits a critical mass; when one cannot open a newspaper, scan the Internet, talk to a friend or relative, or overhear a restaurant conversation without absorbing the mass critique of the job (I would hazard to call it "the profession", only to illicit a smirk from Average Joe). I don't care. If I were to leave it behind tomorrow, I know I would miss it. Not miss it nostalgically, but miss it like an amputee misses an arm or a leg. The zillion irritating, mind-numbingly stupid, ourtrageously incompetent things that happen weekly on the job are only bearable because I know I'd miss it. I'd miss the potential of proving Average Joe wrong, whether he ever knows it or not. I'd miss the potential of actually teaching something, which has the same odds as a batter actually hitting a ball - only to leave me feeling most days like I've struck out. I'd miss a captive audience of people at their most precious stage of life - well before they become Average Joes. I'd miss the euphoria of walking the line between having the power to make or break a person's day, while at the same time having no real power at all. I'd miss the perverse daily dichotomy of the huge responsibility I have without any accompanying authority whatsoever.

I should be ashamed.

Con orgullo,

Profesor P. Suave

The Good Rabbi

The Good Rabbi

And it so happened that a tenured teacher approached the conference leader who was speaking to members in the crowd and asked, "Good Rabbi, what must I do in order to teach and be heard and even appreciated like you are?"
"Why do you call me good?" The Rabbi replied. "For it has been said that no one is good but God alone."
After a brief pause, the Rabbi cleared his voice and continued his response,
"You already have The Standards which are spelled out clearly by the County on tablets for you to follow: design interesting, challenging, understandable lessons, have measurable and attainable goals, and forget not to post your teaching objectives clearly in the sand."
The Good Sheppard went on to say,
"Create meaningful assessments and remember always that results reflect as much on you as teacher as they do about even the slowest of `special needs' sheep. Grade them carefully, looking for gaps in their understanding. Don't forget to return graded work promptly, while students still remember and recognize it as their own. Use the feedback to re-teach that which is necessary - although, if they didn't learn it, you didn't really teach it the first time, did you? So try again, coming from a different angle, involving all of their senses and learning styles, until even the `least of these' has that special sparkle in their eyes along with a wide grin of recognition that goes along with that `lit oil lamp moment' and perhaps even a shy look of appreciation on his face. This will be your clue that it is time to press on, traveling cautiously down the sandy and slippery slope ahead,"
The persistent, "all-knowing" teacher replied, "But what if they are too slow? Tending sheep can be frustrating, you know. There is always at least one who gets caught up in the thorny brambles along the way. Should I hold up the entire flock to wake up the one who did not sleep well last night and cannot see straight this morning? He was probably just playing and getting into mischief of one kind or another. Who knows? Maybe he was grazing on alfalfa sprouts or something."
The kind and patient Rabbi kindly replied, "Don't you remember the parable about the shepherd who left his entire flock in order to go look for the one who had strayed off path.?"
Oh yeah, those silly stories. I always remember them," the teacher reminisced. "I remember the songs, the chants, the rhythms and raps… They're hard to get out of my head!"
The Rabbi continued undeterred by the teacher's stubborn demeanor, and continued lovingly trying to teach. "Be proficient in your teaching in order to be worthy of expecting proficiency in return. For what you do unto the least of these is as if you had done it unto me." The teacher beamed and replied confidently, "I have done these things since my first day of teaching. Some sheep just don't seem to want to progress!"
The Rabbi shook his head sadly, and eyeing the teacher with dark, loving eyes, replied, "There is one thing further you must do."
"What is that?" he asked excitedly, hoping to finally hear the true secret to success,
The Rabbi looked deeply into his bright and beautiful hazel eyes and responded,
"Take the student who is most annoying and troublesome to you and treat him as you would your only son."
The teacher walked away sadly, for he was a busy man.

(Adapted by Laura Lytle, March 14, 2011)

Ski 2010

Pepinita bajando la loma.

We returned from our three day ski-fest in upper-lower Michigan this afternoon. We were gifted both sunshine and steady snow, perilous crashes into snow-caked trees, tumbles on turns and straight-aways, bruises, scratches, tongues scalded by hot chocolate, and toes raw from the cold.

Luna the Dumb Dog (still undiagnosed, but commonly assumed to be somewhere on the autistic spectrum) socialized with dumpsters, snow drifts, and fence posts, but otherwise avoided any wildlife, fellow canine, or humans.

Pepinita and dear friend Pegamata spent hours enjoying gravity and snow, chatting at high speeds, eating, talking about eating, arguing, laughing, arguing more, and laughing even more.

My esposada, Pepina, and I had it the best; we enjoyed skiing, and enjoyed watching the kids enjoy skiing.

We return feeling like the most fortunate people on earth.

Resbalando,

P. Suave

Vuelvo

Hola Fanaticos de Todos Asuntos Pepinos,

Para que sepan, I have returned to ink my rants on this blog. Stay tuned for more Things Pepino.

Para servirles,

P. Suave

Lamby Agotado

Pepinita's little charge, Lamby, is very active for his age - 11, something like 111 in lamb years. Here you see him reclining after a day of being a stuffed animal.

Atentamente,

Pepino de Peluche

In Another Time; In Another Place

Fresh snow makes the winter bearable. Snow muffles and cleanses. The harsh months are grittier, meaner, if left grey. Give me snow. And a snow rake. And an occasional melt. And snow pants. Oh, and a car defroster that works. But let it snow.

Hace frio,

Pepino Congelado

Vaya Azul

Gracias Joe!

Ganamos,

P. "Azul" Suave

Play Ball/Euchre

Dad's 70th Birthday

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Flarp Cup Championship Summer 09

It's official: Cocinero and Pepina are the 2009 Summer Flarp Cup Champions. They won something like 10 games to 7. Hope they're happy. They sure look happy. That's Pete with the Flarp Cup Cap Kit and Dear Pepina with a Pepsi (a stand in for the Flarp Cup - we left it home on the kitchen table). You can see the stadium of ecstatic fan cheering in the background.

Congrats to Cocinero and Pepina. See you in a few months for the Winter Flarp Cup Tournament.

Dulce venganza,

P. "What's Trump?" Suave

Caca de Luna

Above is an overhead shot of Luna sniffing out an ideal in-house spot to empty her bowels. To the immediate left of the pooch is the leg of the author of these words. Below the dog and the leg is beautiful tile and an earth-toned grout that blends nicely with the hue of a healthy dog feces.

Tomorrow night is our fourth (4th - Cuarto) dog obedience session with the renown dog trainer, Entrenador Magnifico. If Luna's obedience classes were similar to traditional schooling, she would be on a prescription by now. She really needs to be medicated in order to be social with the rest of the dogs in her class. She has been labeled since session 1 (ADD Dog). We got a lot of stink eye from fellow dog owners at our sessions. They are doggy judgemental. I might not be the most enthusiastic dog owner, but I do get defensive.

No ofenda me perra,

Pepino S.

Luna Llega

The family Suave has a new member. Four month old Luna "Lunatic" Fournier, a Brittney, arrived in early June. It has taken me most of the summer to acknowledge her residency in our home. I'm not a dog guy. I've even bought a rat for Pepinita in order to distract her desire for a canine. The rat died. I lost.
Above you see dear Pepinita rubbing Luna's tummy, a common sight here in Pepinoville these days.
Luna is fond of chewing, running frantically with no destination in mind, peeing, pooing, belly rubs, head scratches, treats, answering commands for treats, and prompting our diabolical cat, Angel, to hiss.
Luna is relegated to the west wing of our estate, as the east is devoted to the cat and furniture we really care about.

Luna es loca,

P. Suave

Pepinita

My dear Pepinita, pickled fruit of our loins, has a new blog! Click on "Pepinita's Spot" under Pepino's Picks to your right on this page to see what our eye's apple is up to these dog days of summer (hint, hint..).
The 2009, tenth annual Flarp Championship is scheduled for the weekend of August 30th, as is the 70th birthday celebration of Bompa Suave at the Pepinoville ball park. Be there! Pickled family and friends will be in town for these two exciting events.

More entries to follow,

P. Suave

Face Book

Dear Neglected Readers,
It has been a queer year. The ol' Pepino has graced this fare blog with few entries; and even those were lame snap shots and cut-and-pastes (save the latest entry informing pepino fans of the recent Flarp Cup championship upset. Truly newsworthy, that). It is as if a mailaise has swept Pepinoville. A pickled funk.
I finally feel compelled to address the issue in public, on this very blog (cherished and reknow, as it is, by countless millions). The catalyst for this entry is the fact that Pepino Suave, the author of these words, finds himself on FACEBOOK.

[Appropriate stunned silence.]

Let's face it, Pepinophiles, we knew something was up for awhile: lame entries, pictures of sunsets. Yuck. That is stuff of mortal bloggers. What finally drove my to a searching and fearless self-assessment (thank you to my friends at Pepinos Anonymous) was when I hit cyber-bottom and registered for my own FACE BOOK PAGE.
It happened so quickly, I hardly new what I had done, until I discovered myself reading what my teenage cousin was going to do after her shift at Walgreens. Initially, this naive pickle intended to register for the diabolical site merely to peruse some offerings of a national association of left-handed actuaries, a pet interest of mine, whose site I was directed to by well meaning fans of southpaw risk investigators. Before you know it, shazam!, I'm reading about cousin Gabe's puppy love. It was a meaningless-data-lined trap, set for this curious, but mis-directed pickle.
[Sigh of resignation]

My dimming self respect aside, there is a disturbing thrill to know that, right now, Uncle Russ is "doing errands and then din-din", and brother Ciego just got "the starter motor out, and am heading up to Wall marts", and old neighbor Ruth is "going to Pattersville for the wedding hope to see you there", and that my sweet little nieces, still in my memory dressed in their white communion dresses, use saucy language to say things that would win them a mouth full of Irish Spring if they tried that at Grandma's website. Face book has made me the pickled voyeur of behavior that keeps family and friend reunions a, mercifully, annual affair. Now I can access it daily from my laptop.

Amigos,

Peppy

2009 Flarp Cup Champions

Pictured above are the 2009 Flarp Cup Champions. Holding the cup at right is El Banquero. At left, holding the Flarp Tournament Cap and the Flarp Tournament Kit is Yours Truly, the author of these words. The tournament losers, my beloved Pepina and the loyal Cocinero, rode off in the Losers Wagon pulled by the Flarp Tournament Blatzdale Horses, a Flarp Tournament tradition.
The win was especially poignent, as the winners were still bruised from an upsetting loss in a still contested, obviously rigged, 2008 Flarp Cup Championship.
This year's score was 17 wins to 6 losses, a Flarp Cup record.
Hearts are trump,
P. "I pass" Suave

The Boss Sold Out

Springsteen sold out again, and I'm not talking about one of his concerts. He disappointed me once back in the nineties; while going folk, he licensed his t-shirt sales to a non-union shop. Today I read his new CD is only sold in Walmarts.
What happened to The Boss?
He married Patty, and then went the Arlo Guthrie route with his music. That I don't just understand, I celebrate. But Walmart?
I guess, if they existed in real life, Walmart is where most of the characters in his many songs would have to shop. Or work.

DARLINGTON COUNTY

By Bruce Springsteen

Driving in to Darlington County Me and Wayne on the Fourth of JulyDriving in to Darlington CountyLooking for some work on the county lineWe drove down from New York CityWhere the girls are pretty but they just want to know your nameDriving in to Darlington CityGot a union connection with an uncle of Wayne'sWe drove eight hundred miles without seeing a copWe got rock and roll music blasting off the T-top singingSha la la la la la la la la, Sha la la la la la laHey little girl standing on the cornerToday's your lucky day for sure all rightMe and my buddy we're from New York CityWe got two hundred dollars we want to rock all nightGirl you're looking at two big spendersWhy the world don't know what me and Wayne might doOur pa's each own one of the World Trade CentersFor a kiss and a smile I'll give mine all to youCome on baby take a seat on my fenderIt's a long night and tell me what else were you gonna doJust me and you we couldSha la la...Little girl sitting in the windowAin't seen my buddy in seven daysCounty man tells me the same thingHe don't work and he don't get paidLittle girl you're so young and prettyWalk with me and you can have your wayAnd we'll leave this Darlington CityFor a ride down that Dixie HighwayDriving out of Darlington CountyMy eyes seen the glory of the coming of the LordDriving out of Darlington CountySeen Wayne handcuffed to the bumper of a state trooper's FordSha la la...

You live long enough, your heroes trip on their kyptonite.

Growing old,
P. Suave