Cindy Safety - Time On My Hands

By Steve Bussiere

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I was out recently, when I ran into a few close friends.

They may never admit to being that, but I do, because honesty is the best policy. I know that's true because I read it somewhere.

It was the Annual Champions Kid's Camp Bar-B-Que Cookoff at Papa's.

Sandy was looking for judges for some of the events, and being a shrewd woman, she immediately found me. As I said, she is a wise woman and she knows that if she can find single guys, they will never pass up the opportunity to judge free food.

Well, I honestly wasn't surprised as she approached me to ask if I would help.

I have done the judging thing for the past several years and have judged a few categories which I am totally unqualified to share my opinion on.

But I get to eat free, and the finest part of it all is that I don't have to do any dishes.

Bachelor heaven, so to speak.

"So what are you going to sign up for this year Steve?" she inquired.

For the past few years I have judged Bloody Mary's. The breakfast of Champions perhaps, but I'm down to one liver and my brain is functioning a lot better now.

So I checked the list, in search of new horizons in my dining life.

"Desserts!" I said.

Bachelors, don't get dessert very often,, because very few pizza joints serve dessert, so it sounded like a sweet deal to this boy.

There is a secondary benefit to picking the dessert deal, because they don't do the dessert judging until the Bloody Mary liver sacrifice is over, so I got to sleep in a little later. And besides that, you can make sure that the Bloody Mary judges lived through the ordeal, which gives, in my mind, a firm indication that the cookers know their craft making the second sitting asafer experience.

Thinking about the safety factor, reminded me of Cindy.

She's a Safety person in one of the large facilities in the area, and she kind of cute for a girl too.

Safety people are a conservative breed, and most of them. Unfortunately, look more like Harold the Safety guy than Cindy the Safety Girl, which is an unfortunate situation for most industrial accident victims.

Then I thought to myself that I was very happy I didn't work in her facility, because I think I'd be involved in a whole lot of minor accident situations, of the non life threatening variety.

I sat at the judging table, thinking to myself that it was far too early in the day to be having impure thoughts, so I stopped thinking and started looking at the desserts.

That was when Cindy Safety walked in the door, and started that wrong type thinking thing all over again.

I was there to judge dessert. It was an important job.

A job to be performed safely.

As I opened the first container, I looked at something which appeared to be delicious.

So I looked back over at Cindy Safety, took a deep breath and tasted the first offering.

Cindy was seated with Rich, my Sole Brother. He of the blown out running shoe accident of last year.

I smiled.

Rich needs a safety girl in his life.

He's a bachelor as well, and then I wondered why he wasn't judging the desserts.

Then I looked at Cindy, and I realized that he had made the wiser choice.

I looked at offering number two.

It looked very sweet.

Then I looked at my Sole Brother with Cindy Safety.

He had a smile on his face.

I had a smile on my face.

Offering number two was sweet.

Safety Cindy was sweeter though.

Round Two went to my Sole Brother.

So did all of the other rounds.

I felt cheated, if it is possible to feel cheated after you have just tasted twelve of the best desserts you have ever had.

When it was over, I walked over and sat down with Cindy and my Sole Brother

I never realized that Rich was such a conscientious host.

He had obviously spared no expense in hosting the event. He had even brought in the best looking safety person in Texas to protect me.

I love America! Land of the Free and home of the Safe.

And then I began to wonder, for no important reason, what the heck Cindy was short for.

You should never think like that while you are on a sugar buzz.

My mind was a blank space, a black hole in the Bar-B-Que universe.

And then it came to me!

Cinderella!!!!!

That had to be it. There could be no other explanation in the Bar-B-Que universe.

I was witnessing a transfiguration!

Rich, my Sole Brother was in a safe place now!

He had his very own Safety Angel.

No Christmas Tree to perch her upon, but he had the Safety Angel that belongs on the tree, if he ever finds it!

Rich, the Sole Man, was now, at least in my warped vision, The Cinderella Man!

"Hey! Give me another piece of that Pumpkin Pie. Would ya?"

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Musing, On A Sunny Afternoon - Time On My Hands

By Steve Bussiere

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It's only the beginning of May, and I'm already sick of August. It was 98 degrees in shade yesterday, and I had to fight for a piece of the shade.

Phil and Andy decided that it was a worthwhile pursuit, and decided to join me.

That's when it all began to go downhill.

Sort of the Texas equivalent of "Spring Skiing."

It was, I decided in a moment of lucidity, that it was just too hot to drink beer, so I ordered an ice water. I was overdue to make a wise decision so it shouldn't have come as such a shock.

Andy was in a pensive mood yesterday afternoon. It may have been the heat, but I think it was more likely the humidity. "Have you written anything lately?" he asked.

"No. I haven't felt moved, so I've been dogging it."

"Oh, I suppose that happens from time to time to everyone."

"Well, I never gave it much thought Andy, but you're usually right, so I'll concede that point."

"Hey, have you been getting Googled a lot lately? I remember back when you were getting more Google than anyone in the place."

"No, I don't think so. I guess the magic has left the building or something." I told them.

"Well, you just need to talk to your muse and grab some inspiration." Phil said.

"Muse?" I asked. I studied mythology in high school, but that was a long time ago. Back when the Greeks ruled the world.

I began to think about the word muse right about then.

You should never drink ice water and think. It's a volatile mixture, especially on a hot May afternoon in the heart of Texas.

I know the word muse, means to think deeply, so I began to muse about that.

Andy and Phil are both very well educated, so I should have been on my toes, but it was, quite frankly, just too darned hot to do that.

"Muse means to think deeply, and doing that might ruin my reputation." I told them.

"It's also French for the mouth of an animal." Phil said.

Andy sat back and smiled. It scares me when he does that, so I sat in anticipation of his next comment. "A muse is, in Greek mythology, one of nine goddesses that inspire creativity, like poetry and writing and music."

"I knew that Andy, but nine goddesses? Sounds like a pretty good gig to me."

"Yes Steve, it does. So do you have a muse?"

"Yes I do." I replied.

"What's she like?" Phil wondered.

"She's mean." I told them. "She's really mean and hard on me."

"I didn't realize you were Greek Steve." Andy opined from his seat at the square table.

"I'm not, but I'm a multi cultural kind of guy. But my muse isn't Greek anyway, so it really is of no importance."

"Well is your muse at least a female?" Andy asked, looking a little nervous.

"Of course." I replied, "This isn't that type of bar."

"This from the guy drinking the ice water?"

"Yes guys. Ice water is a good thing. So is a muse." I answered them. "Even if she's a mean muse."

"Why is she a mean muse?"

"I don't know. Maybe she was like the last muse created or something because she inspires me, but if that doesn't work, she threatens me with bodily harm"

"There are Senators who would probably pay big bucks for a muse like that Steve. Maybe you ought to put her on the market and find a new one."

"I can't do that guys. I've grown accustomed to her ways. Better the devil you know and all of that. And besides that, it might be dangerous to have an inspired Senator running around. I've checked the ballot."

"So does she visit you in the swinging bachelor pad or what?"

"The swinging bachelor pad is no place for a muse to be. Muses are female and then she'd be torn between writing inspiration and making me clean the place up. I think muses focus a lot better than that."

"So what does she look like Steve?"

"Heck, I have no idea. Muses are spiritual beings. They aren't of this world. You can't see them. They're invisible."

Andy shook his head sadly. "That's too bad Steve."

"Why do think that Andy?"

"Because she might be the ugliest muse in the spiritual world, and you have no way of knowing if she is. It's just not right in my opinion."

"Andy's right Steve, she might be mean, nasty and ugly too. You may be being mis-mused, and not even realize it."

And he smiled sadistically at me.

"Who cares? I can't see her anyway, so it doesn't really matter."

"So that's why you're drinking ice water, right?"

"Yeah, you can't drink a muse pretty when you can't even see her, and I'm saving a lot of money with the ice water."

"Well that makes perfect sense to me!" Andy smiled.

"Well, I don't think she can be ugly, because she hasn't been around lately, so I figure she must be dating some Greek god guy, and they don't do ugly muses. At least, I don't think they do."

"So you think your muse is out being amused, huh?"

"Yeah, better she's being amused than my being abused. I told you she's mean and nasty,"

"So you stopped writing in hopes that she'd go?"

"No. I'm just recharging my batteries."

"Well maybe your muse is recharging her batteries too, to inspire you."

"Gosh! I sure hope not!! Then she'll really whoop my butt!!!"

"Well then Steve, the answer is really quite elementary. Why don't you just write something about her and maybe she'll go easier on you."

I ordered a refill of my ice water, while considering that option.

I already mentioned that thinking and ice water are a volatile mixture!

I looked at my friends, shook my head and replied, "No way guys. Besides, nobody would ever read such a stupid article."

"Bob? Where are you Bob?"

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Water Bored - Time On My Hands

By Steve Bussiere

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I ran into Butch, a good friend of mine the other day while I was out and about doing my impersonation of someone with something worthwhile to do.

I like Butch for a lot of good reasons, not the least of which is that he may very well be the only man in Texas who is smaller than I am.

He's not from around here originally either, and is a transplant like me. And like me, he's not leaving either.

I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure it's Chuck's fault, because he plies Butch with cold adult beverages on a routine basis.

Butch is a retired fire fighter, with altogether too much leisure time on his hands. He reads the stuff I write and loves it, so I know he's really bored. He thinks I'm nuts, so I know he's in his right mind still.

I asked Butch what was new and exciting in his world. He told me that he is running for the Water Board.

I told him that I had no idea he was a surfer.

He looked at me as though I was the dumbest person on the planet. Sometimes he kind of reminds me of all of me ex girlfriends, except that no amount of beer would make him look that good.

To me, that is, because he's been married to his wife forever, and I'm sure that she has much better taste than I.

"It's not a surf board Steve, it's the water board."

"I've heard about that Butch. I watch CNN and Andy told me all about it. And I know about the Spanish Inquisition too, from history."

Butch's face contorted and he looked at me like I was a numb skull, again.

"I thought you used to be a fire fighter Butch. You just never struck me as the CIA type, but I guess they train you not to look like one anyway. Part of the training I suppose."

"I suppose you're right Steve." Butch said. "But I have no idea where you're coming from on that."

"You're the one who started talking about water boarding Butch. It's a really cruel torture tactic. What else do you do? Break blind people's pencils and kick the cup out of their hands?"

"I never said water boarding Steve. I said I'm running for the Water Board."

My mind began reeling. I had no idea you could build anything with water, and I wondered what you'd nail it with."

"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you Steve?" Hey, I grew up in a francophone area, and the French word for nail is clous, which sounds exactly like clue. So I continued trying to figure out how you could nail water together.

"The Water Board manages the Water District Steve."

"So you want to be, like a water cowboy of sorts, right?" I asked him.

I'm no physics expert, but I know that water follows the path of least resistance, so I thought to myself that it sounded like a pretty fruitless pursuit to try and control something that free and aimless.

Butch shook his head in utter disgust.

"What the heck is a water cowboy Steve?"

"Don't ask me Butch, you're the one who wants to be one."

I was having visions of Butch in the saddle with an immense leaf blower strapped to his side, yelling at the water to turn left. It had to be a gas powered one because water and electricity don't mix very well.

Butch was having visions of me being placed into a padded cell.

"So you think you can control water, right?" I asked him.

"Exactly Steve." He answered.

"Well it's useless to try Butch."

"You don't think I can do it Steve?" Butch looked like a hurt puppy.

"No one can do it Butch. Water goes wherever it feels like. It's like trying to control a seventeen year old kid on a testosterone high. Some things just aren't doable Butch. Well, unless you're God."

Butch didn't look anything like I pictured God. I always pictured him as being a lot bigger than Butch or me.

Butch handed me one of his election flyers.

"Read this Steve. You might learn something."

"I sure hope so Butch."

"I have to go pick my wife up from work Steve. I'll talk to you later, after you read the flyer."

Butch walked out the door.

As I watched him leave, I waved at the waitress and ordered a beer. A beer which is water based.

Now that's what I consider controlling water.

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