The write for ten project withered on the vine, so we should dust this off and use it to announce our new web site Florida Travel Notebook. Check it out. You'll find attractions and things to do that even if you live in Florida, you didn't know that they existed.

Write for ten project, Sunday, May 2

How many of the states have you visited? Which ones have you missed?

I've visited 46 of the 50 states -- I'm missing Alaska and Hawaii off the mainland and the two northern corners, Washington and Maine.

I actually came within 2 miles of the Maine border once, but didn't go past the lobster shack we went to visit.

Of the 46 I have been in, I've been in more than 30 multiple times.

Heck, I've lived in Indiana, Florida, Maryland, Virginia, Michigan, New Mexico, Minnesota and Massachusetts. (Thank heaven for spell checkers, I still can't spell Massachusetts. But I did learn how to spell Albuquerque when I was there. )

My year's stay in Toulouse, France doesn't count as a state. LOL

Write for ten topic, Sunday, April 4

Do you frequent Starbucks? If so, what's your favorite drink; if not, why not?

Do I frequent Starbucks? You betcha! And, if I were to stop going to my local Starbucks, they'd probably close the location because their gross income on "stores open over a year" would fall so dramatically.

You know you go to Starbucks (too?) often when 5 out of the 7 baristas that man (people?) that location during the week know your order and automatically ask, "One, two or three?"

If the answer is "One", they know to ring up a grand caramel frappacino, which is my favorite Starbucks drink.

If the answer is "Two", they know to add a strawberry banana Vivano, with whip cream on top for my wife.

If the answer is "Three", they know to add a grand mocha frappacino with chocolate on top of the whip cream, which I give as a treat to the house-bound old timer across the street at least once or twice a week.

And I know the totals for Two's and Three's before they ring it up. A Two is $8.45 and a Three is $13.33. It is not often that I get a One, but I think it is $4.85.

I don't go daily, but probably average 4 times a week. Which makes it (big gulp!) a $50 a week habit.

Write for ten project for March 28.

Let's start another novel. Begin Chapter 1 with "It was a dark and stormy night and ..."

It was a dark and stormy night and Cash was just beyond the tree line. His black, waterproof windbreaker had the hood up protecting his head, but his jeans and sneakers were soaked. The Sig in his right hand at his side had drops running off its barrel in a constant stream.

The lightning kept illuminating the old farm house like it was an actress on the red carpet at an award show being photographed by the paparazzi. It played hell with his night vision.

His mom had always cautioned him to not stand under a tree during a storm. And the time between seeing the lightning and hearing the boom of thunder kept getting shorter. Then one lightning strike and thunder boom happened as one.

A shaking hand grabbed his arm.

"Damn, Carrie," he whispered, "I told you that you shouldn't come."

"But, Cash, that's my Dad in there being held hostage."

Yet another write for ten project...

Switch genders. What would you be doing with your life?

Switch genders? You got to be crazy. No way. No how.

Do you think I want to go through life having dirty old men (like me) look only at my boobs and ass? Nope.

I can cook, but I don't really like to. Do I want to be the responsible one for every lunch and dinner? Nope.

I know how to do my own laundry. But, again, I don't like to do it. Do the entire family's laundry? No way. I don't know how to sort clothes like a woman and I don't want to learn.

Crying is not my bag. Tearing up over some soap opera, some steamy romantic novel, or some picture of an ugly baby is just not me.

I have a hard enough time surviving on my male's salary. Do I want to do the same job for 75% of the pay as a woman. Nope.

I can currently get up, do my bathroom thing, get dressed and be out the door in 10 minutes. A woman? She takes longer than that to just comb her hair or make up her eyes. No thank you.

I hate shopping. I can't imagine spending 90 minutes in every clothing store at the mall in order to find an outfit that I don't need to put in a closet that has no room left to hang it.

Now, I must admit it would be nice for someone else to take out the trash every night, take the trash to curbside on Monday and Thursday nights, put gas in my car, remember to take my car when it is due an oil change, pay the mortgage, fix things that I break, and give me money so I can shop till I drop. But, change genders? Never.

Ladies, before you get your undies in a knot, remember this:

Stereotypes wouldn't be stereotypes if they weren't stereotypes.

Another Write for Ten project...

Are you a pet person? What pets do you currently have? If none, why? What pet would you like to have?

I like pets, particularly dogs -- although for reason, I am afraid of an unknown large dog.

Never had pets as a kid. Wife and I had a couple of dogs early on. A registered collie "Jolie Lassie" that was a super dog. And, a mutt for a while in Rockledge.

When the kids were small, they had a whole passel of gerbils and hampsters. Keep threatening to give the grandson a hampster and my daughter smiles and shakes her head no. Damn!

My wife is a bird lady. She kept a pair of cockatiels for 15 years. We bird set for a blue and gold macaw for a year and he was such a dream, that we later bought one. Who was noisy and only semi-tame. Not a good combination.

Her latest is a scarlet macaw and her and bird get along famously. She can do anything with him. He'll even play dead in the palm of her hand. BUT... (you knew that was coming, right?) Rocky absolutely is a one-person bird and will attack any and every one any chance he gets.

Which means that the sliding glass doors to the Florida room (aka, the bird room) must be kept closed at all times or else here he comes, using his clipped wings to help propel him across the floor to attack my feet. Hence, I cannot go barefoot in the house. And my every day boots have huge holes and gouges in them from his large beak.

One day, I swear, I'm going to see if that damn bird tastes like chicken.

Write the first five paragraphs of your next novel.

The advantages of being one of the many homeless in St. Petersburg is that people ignore you, they don't make eye contact, you are essentially invisible. Which helps when you are on an important mission.

My street name is Sticky. I'm not homeless, I just like to walk around downtown and help those that are. For my safety, I dress down in an old overcoat that, true to my street name, contains several different instant glue products in the various pockets. Need the sole of your sneakers glued back on? Look for Sticky. If they only knew that I am a chemical engineer who retired from the adhesive business, am quite well off and live in a penthouse condo on the waterfront with its own entrance and elevator.

The Rays baseball team is threatening to move to another location. In my other, retired, life, I move in the business world locally and know that the owner is secretly set to jet to Orlando to sign an agreement to move the team there. He is scheduled to leave the office at 10 a.m. to catch his business jet. Since I believe they should adhere to the contract they have with the city and not stick the taxpayers with any more liabilities than we already stupidly have assumed, I have taken a few steps to insure he misses that flight and his deadline to close the deal.

Overnight, thanks to one of my homeless connections, I worked as a fill-in janitor in the Rays office. I was able to leave the owner a couple little presents. One was a brownie laced with Exlax on his desk. The other? A special pressure sensitive super glue on the toilet seat and on the hand rail alongside the john.

I've been standing on the corner by the office observing. He arrived at 8:30. It is now 9:30 and, oh yes, here comes the fire rescue squad and an ambulance now!

Did I mention that I also put special glue capsules under the toilet seat so it will be firmly fastened to the porcelain base?

Experiences

What is an experience you would like to have, and don’t limit your imagination to reality. Would you like to appear on Survivor? Would you want to be invited to the White House? Would you like to climb a certain mountain? Swim with dolphins? Have a day without obligation to job, family, whatever? Soar like an eagle in a glider? Want me to stop making suggestions? OK, you got it! I'm outta here!

Well, I have had quite a few unique experiences. I have soared like an eagle in a glider. Belonged to a sailplane club back in the early 1960's, in fact.

Have had a couple of interesting helicopter rides. One, the VIP tour of Niagra Falls in a Bell jet helicopter and, two, a ride in a crop duster's Bell 'bubble' helicopter at the Minnesota State Fair. The pilot, of which, liked the way my wife screamed when he made it go up and down and turned on its side like a roller coaster. With me on the passenger side -- no door -- just a skimpy seat belt holding me in.

I've also flown in an ultralight aircraft and lots of private aircraft. Would have loved to attempted hang gliding.

I've cut a couple head of cows in practice while riding the Florida State Cutting Horse Champion. Wow! What a ride.

I've been chased my bulls while taking photos in (not just at) the rodeo arena and also in the woods and swamps of Florida while cow hunting with old Florida crackers.

I can work a bull whip. Want to hold a cigarette in your fingers while I cut it in two? And, I used to be a pretty good shot with a 22 using hand thrown 1 inch cube pieces of wood for targets.

One thing I haven't done that I'd like to: I would like to ride in a limo. Never have. But if I did, I'd probably ask to drive it.

Nicknames.....

What is your favorite pet name for someone, or that someone has for you. How did it get started?

My grandfather always called me "Butch" -- I assume because as a kid, I always had my hair cut short.

Then while I was starting out in the computer biz at RCA in West Palm Beach back in 1965, everyone started calling me "Tex" because I always dressed western. (Never lived in Texas in my life.)

Back then, the compture biz was pretty small, so no matter where I moved to or what employer I had, I'd always run into someone that knew me by "Tex", so it stuck for a long while. Even to KSC in 1980 and all of the time I was in France. In fact, to this day, all of my french wife's relatives and friends all call me "Tex."

My wife, Claudine, often gets called "Clo" by family (including me). The kids ended up with using shortened versions of their names. Brigitte goes by Bri; Catherine goes by Cathy.

About 1980, I started using just the initials "DC" because a) I was tired of Tex and b) no one has ever been able to spell or pronounce my given names of Darhl Caylor Stultz.

Of course, if someone yells loud enough that I can hear and understand them, I'll even respond to "HEY YOU!"

Have a pet peeve? Don't hold back. Tell us about it!

At age 70, I still program computers for a living. I design and code web applications for a defense contractor's local intranet web site. I try hard to not just meet the basic requirements that my in-house customers give me, but to exceed their expectations with their new applications.

And, my users send me gushing "attaboy" emails to thank me for my efforts quite frequently.

One word seems to crop up often: "awesome"

But it seems at least half of those emails say, "Your awesome!"

And, it drives me up a wall. I can't really send back a missive correcting them. I mean, they are being nice and are appreciative of my efforts on their behalf. So, I suffer in silence, well, because I am awesome.

But, please, if you send me an awesome message, try to make it "You're awesome!"

I do have a couple more teeth gnashers that also give me heartburn...

Confusing their with there and confusing affect for effect will normally get a spoken "aaaargh" when I read them.

What is an invention you would like to see become real?

The best one would be an over-the-counter Get Well pill.

Just imagine. You have a nasty cold. Stop at the drug store and pick up a Get Well pill. (Wonder what they will call drug stores when they no longer have pharmacies inside? CVS, I guess, will become an upscale convenience store.)

You have something more serious? No problem. Stop at the any convenience store and pick up a Get Well pill.

Obviously, the side effects of the Get Well pill will be many fold. Hospitals will be empty and converted into condos, no doubt. Doctors will have to retire and live off of their unreasonable gains acquired pre-pill. Health insurance companies will be lining up for government handouts -- keeping their lobbyists employed for years.

A whole industry will learn what it is to be the stuckee versus the stucker. Which makes for a smile inducing visual, eh?

Why no college education

When I graduated from high school (Plant High, Tampa, FL, 1957), I had the grades to go to college, but not the bucks. The only university in the area at the time was Tampa University - an expensive school. Hillsborough Jr College, St Petersburg Jr College and the University of South Florida did not exist at the time.

After high school, I worked for a short time doing photostat work for the Clerk of the Circuit Court, then like any hot headed 18 year old, I quit when I disagreed with the boss. While I was looking for other photo job opportunities, I interviewed with a guy and he asked me, "What what you like to do besides photography?" "Electronics," I replied.

He noted my bad arm from polio and suggested I contact state rehab for counseling. He also saw that I wouldn't follow through and so he picked up the phone and called a friend there and made an appointment for me.

I took their tests and they paid my way to Tampa Technical Institute. It was a glorified radio and TV repair school, but they gave a so-called AA degree and that gave me an entry into electronics.

I spent five years as a technician for a company in Sarasota, before getting laid off and then getting a job testing computers for RCA in West Palm Beach. That was the start of 45 years in the computer industry. It has treated me well -- despite the lack of a degree. In fact, for the last 40 of those years, I typically have been the only non-degreed person in my department.

Over the years, I have investigated getting the "piece of paper" a couple of times. The last time was in Melbourne. I visited with the computer science head at FIT. He looked at my resume and said, "If you had the piece of paper, I'd hire you to teach here. Getting the piece of paper will add nothing to your knowledge or your current pay check."

The secret, I think, is that I have never stopped learning -- it was just not in the classroom. The electronics theory I was taught was vacuum tubes, for Pete's sake! So the transistor theory I needed on my first job was all self-taught. I follow the computer industry closely. First by reading the trade publications and now by the internet. I know what the latest and greatest is and can pretty well figure out fad from must-learns.

Don't ever sell the non-degreed short. At Harris, I always mentored the recent college grads and it was always a hidden pleasure when they asked what college I graduated from. Their look of amazement when I told them "I didn't" was always a sense of satisfaction to me.

First Memories

What is your earliest childhood memory? Is the memory really yours or do you think it comes from photos and family stories?

The first real memories that I recall were in Havre de Grace, MD. My dad was in the Army and was due to ship out soon for Europe. Mom and I were visiting.

And then WWII ended! Oh, the noise of all the car horns blaring. I didn't/couldn't understand at age 5 what the hell was going on, but I sure knew something big was happening.

Dad's mom then got some Congressman she knew to pull strings and he came home shortly thereafter. Like so much of my dad's happenings, I never learned the full, true story.

My mom kept in touch with the family of the little neighbor girl that I played with while we were there. She then set me up with a date with her when I was working in the Washington, DC area in 1961. We had one date: I took her to Atlantic City and we walked the boardwalk -- rather awkwardly, I have to admit. Never saw her again.

Casino Tales

My first visits to casinos was in Las Vegas back in the early 1960's. Both were part off crosscountry treks via auto -- one a vacation, the other chasing employment. Both overnight stays in Vegas were profitable. In fact, on the vacation, after 4 weeks on the road, I came home with $300 more than I started with thanks to Vegas.

Some of that money came courtesy of George Burns. He was sitting next to me, smoking his trademark cigar for about an hour at the blackjack table. He lost, I didn't.

While I was working in Toulouse, France in 1967, I became a charter member of the Playboy Club in London. Since I was working at Sud Aviation and they had frequent flights to the English half of the airplane builder, I thought I'd be able to catch a ride up to London and go. That never happened.

But, when my time ran out in Toulouse, the company sent me to London to install a computer. Claudine, who was my girlfriend at the time, went with me. We ended up going to the Playboy Club for eats and the casino a couple of times. The last time, she was playing roulette and I was playing blackjack. I wasn't having any luck, so I stopped by to see how she was doing and if she was ready to call it quits too. She says, "Yeah, I am ready to leave, but I need to cash in these chips." My reply, "Oh, those chips are small, there's an easy way to get rid of them." With that, I pushed them all on black 13.

Wouldn't you know it. It hit. And there was more money in her chips than I thought. We won close to a month's salary on that one spin of the wheel!

41 Years Ago Today

It was cold and snowy in Minneapolis. A Thursday.

The site: an apartment in Bloomington belonging to a Minneapolis cop and his wife.

The others in attendance: a drunk Minneapolis judge, who was the cop's drinking buddy, and the judge's wife, who was his designated driver.

The occasion: a wedding.

The best quote during the 90 minutes the group was together: The judge's wife saying, "If you want him to say anything coherent, you'd better get the ceremony over quickly."

Quotes that followed: "I do." "I do."

The aftermath: The judge's wife drove him home. Claudine, DC, the cop and the cop's wife went downtown to a hotel to celebrate Claudine and DC getting married.

The song that DC remembers at the hotel lounge: "Up, Up and Away in your beautiful balloon."

The funniest thing: DC dropped Claudine on her butt two feet inside the door when he carried her across the threshold. (Her heavy fake fur coat was slippery as all hell!)

The next day: DC put in his last day at CDC, loaded a u-haul trailer and they set out for the east coast to start his new job with DEC. They stopped in Chicago to pick up his relocation money and then let the new company pick up the tab for their honeymoon in Niagra Falls on their way.

This blog has only been lying dormant for 9 years. Guess it is time to dust off the cobwebs and get a fresh start.

For starters, that last link to a vanity domain is no longer valid. I dropped the domain long ago.

For now, if you have any warm weather, send it to Florida please. It's been one of the coldest winters on record and my electric bill is KILLING ME!