Translators: A Game or a Tool?

Vrolijk Kerstfeest en Gelukkig Vakanties naar al mijn toegewijde lezers! Het was een leuk jaar posting op mijn "literaire" plaats, Fuzzy, Black Dogs. Ik heb posting diepe gedachten, literaire stukken en kleine stukjes van de poëzie voor bijna een jaar nu. Ik hoop te blijven onderhouden en het maken van glimlacht nog minstens een jaar.

Счастливого Рождества и праздники для всех моих преданных читателей! Это было весело год размещения на мои "литературные" места, нечеткие, черные собаки. Я отправлял глубокие мысли, литературной части и кусочки поэзии почти год. Я надеюсь продолжить развлекательного и сделать улыбки, по крайней мере еще ​​на год.

God Jul och Gott Semester till alla mina hängivna läsare! Det har varit ett roligt år att publicera på min "litterär" plats, Fuzzy, svarta hundar. Jag har varit posta djupa tankar, litterära bitar och små bitar av poesi i nästan ett år nu. Jag hoppas kunna fortsätta underhållande och göra ler i minst ett år till.

Hopefully, that little message I wrote in Dutch, Russian and Swedish translates properly into the following:

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all my devoted readers! It's been a fun year posting fun things on my "literary" venue, Fuzzy, Black Dogs. I've been posting deep thoughts, literary pieces and little bits of poetry for nearly a year now. I hope to continue entertaining and making smiles for at least another year.

There's just something fun about translators. I've been playing with them since my son first started taking Spanish. The only Spanish I know I learned from a Mexican fast-food chain's mascot dog from their commercials! So it stands to reason that I would end up utilizing an online translator in order to offer useful help to my son struggling with a foreign language.

However, I don't get to help him as much these days. So now I just pop onto the translators from time to time and translate whatever comes to mind. Sure translators are a great tool, but if someone turns them into a game, I'm sure to be one of the highest scorers!

Perhaps it's time for me to get serious and quit goofing off on the translators...

My Christmas Wish List

Here we are nearing the end of our second week in December. I've had a number of people ask me what I want for Christmas. Tell me, what does anybody really want for Christmas? However, I've thought long and hard about it and have come up with a Santa list... Well, kind of. Some of the items on my list may be unattainable without some secret Santa magic, or just plain priceless. Regardless, here's a small sample of my list:

I want a diet suppressor. Not for me, but for fuzzy, black dog (fbd for short) number three! He's trying to eat the house down, Santa. For real.

I want a dog grooming box. The dog goes in and, presto, comes back out clean and groomed!

I want fbd number two to not be afraid to poop in the yard when it rains.

I want the (big) brown trout back that I nearly caught on my guided fly-fishing trip. I really wanted a picture of THAT fish.

A clue. I want a clue so everybody will stop telling me to get one.

I want the 300 pound tuna I caught back too. Out of season my hiney!! That captain should still be on your naughty list, Santa.

I want some vertebrae for my lower back. The ones there now aren't working so well, Santa.

How about a self-cleaning house. I want one of those, or the kit to install to convert my current house into
 a self-cleaner.

I want an endless supply of rawhide bones. When fbd number one doesn't have any, he gets bored and goes for the blankets on my bed.

I want more books. The million or so I have are simply not enough.

And a chainsaw. I've wanted one since I was 10 years old, Santa. You should know that. A real gas-powered chainsaw. You're my only hope, Santa, since no one in my family seems to think it's a good idea for me to own one. Go figure. I'll leave a spot open for it for you.

Groeten ann Alle/Greetings to All

Gegroet, mijn Nederland vrienden! Ik wil u bedanken voor het bezoeken van mijn blog, Fuzzy, Black Dogs. Afhankelijk van het aantal pageviews die ik heb ontvangen van uw grote land, het lijkt erop heb ik wel een volgende ontwikkeld. Ik hoop dat u mijn schrijven te fris, schoon en verkiwikkend te lezen. Zo niet, ik hoop dat je in ieder geval vind ik gek tirades te vermaken!

At the risk of chancing any further offense, I'm switching to English. It's my native language and, obviously, the only language I really know. With the previous paragraph, I've taken a great leap of faith with an online translator.

I don't know Dutch. Period. I really don't know any foreign language. I took three years of French in high school and, shortly after graduating, found myself in Mexico. As part of a program, I taught first aid in several small villages, as well as hiked two volcanoes there. Needless to say, my language skills didn't do me much good while in Mexico. The most foreign language I know I learned from a Mexican fast-food chain's mascot dog from their commercials.

All this having been said, I hope I haven't said something stupid in my opening paragraph. I hope my faith in my translator program hasn't been misplaced. And, in case I did say something outlandish, the opening paragraph should be translated to say the following:

Greetings, my Netherland friends! I want to thank you for visiting my blog, Fuzzy, Black Dogs. According to the number of pageviews I have received from your great country, it seems that I have developed quite a following. I hope you find my writing to be crisp, clean and invigorating to read. If not, I hope you at least find my crazy rantings to be entertaining!

Christmas By Numbers

Don't look now, but Christmas is practically upon us once again. You know what that means... Getting out all the decorations, knick-knacks, untangling lights, moving furniture, re-arranging spaces and putting the Christmas tree together. It's a process in my household. It began several days ago and will end, well, sometime prior to Christmas itself.

I have a process for everything from loading the dishwasher to putting up tree lights after the holidays. I call it extreme attention to detail. My wife and son call it... Never mind what they call it. However, she has admitted that my tree light system is clean, neat and efficient and makes stringing it on the tree much easier. I've even gone so far as to custom design the insides of three plastic tubs, compartmentalizing them to make for easier ornament putting away, storage and so forth.

One of the biggest challenges came when we switched from real to fake trees for Christmas. It seems my son is allergic to Evergreen trees. My parents gave us a nice one one year, and we used it for several years. About five years ago my wife's mother gave us her old tree which is nearly eight feet tall and as big around as a VW Beetle.

Don't get me wrong, I like the tree. I wouldn't have used it for the past five or six years if I didn't. However, the first Christmas I put the tree up was one to remember. It wasn't the gifts or the music or the great holiday cheer that made it memorable. It was the tree.

My wife decided what day the tree would be put up. Coincidentally, she was out shopping on said day. All day. This phone conversation took place approximately 45 minutes after her departure.

"Hi honey," I said. "Where are the directions on the tree your mom gave us? There are none? Okay... Well, is it color coded or something? Umm... No, I don't see any colors on the branch bases. You're right. How do you know what goes where? Ha ha... (Jokingly)Perhaps I'll just get out my handy-dandy tape measure and measure each branch as I put them on largest to smallest from the bottom to the top."

Half an hour later, I had four branches on one tier and was crawling on the floor measuring out branches with my handy-dandy tape measure. Flash forward past some of the colorful comments I made during the assemblage process and, voila! One 10 hour tree! Please don't ask how long it took to put nearly 20 strands of light onto that Christmas tree.

Regardless, after that holiday season, I announced to my wife and young child that I, Phillip H. Haworth, would not assemble that tree ever again. After some sage advice from my wife, young child and mother-in-law, I announced that I, Phillip H. Haworth, would devise a system to make assembling that crazy tree easier.

Now, each branch has its own special numbering system. Once I get the base of the tree up, it's simply a matter of locating the number at the base of the branch that corresponds to the correct tier. With the remnants of Thanksgiving dinner put away let Christmas by numbers begin!

It's Good to be Thankful

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. It followed on the heels of an awesome performance (by everybody, not just me) of  "Miracle on 34th Street, the Musical." After the excitement of the show died down and Thanksgiving dinner was stashed in the fridge, I sat and quietly contemplated my life and those things that I am thankful for.

Here is a small sampling of those things that I am truly thankful for:

That I have only three fuzzy, black dogs and not four or more.
My family, which consists of my wonderful wife and weird, but sweet, teenage son and three dogs.
My really cool sister-in-law, Kat, who gave me her iPod touch.
My good set of golf clubs that remind me each time I see them that I really can't afford to play golf these days!
The large, mossy patch of ground in front of my house that never requires mowing.
My in-laws who live around the corner from me. No, really, I am thankful for that!
My family, who just happen to live around the corner in the exact opposite direction. That, incidentally, was not planned. It was merely a lucky happenstance.
The small amount of weight I've lost and kept off, despite overeating for Thanksgiving.
My sisters for teaching me the value of ALWAYS lowering the toilet seat before exiting the restroom!
My job, because not working sucks.
My nearly thirty fishing rods that I currently own.
Did I mention my wonderful, sweet wife?

I'm thankful for many, many more things that are much to numerous to all be listed in one simple blog posting. I do want to mention one more thing I'm thankful for -- the readers of this blog! I hope you enjoyed reading this (and continue to enjoy reading it!) as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

The Elusive Windshield Scraper

I actually love this time of the year. The leaves change colors, decorating the world in brilliant yellows, reds and oranges. The air becomes cooler and crisper. And windshield scrapers go into hiding as car windshields begin frosting over. Ultimately, the impatient car owner must turn to more creative means to clear the vehicle's viewing screen. I've discovered that cd cases work pretty well.

Three years ago, it was The B-52's "Cosmic Thing." I made excellent use of that pearl case. It held up the entire winter season. Then, last year, it was John Prine's "Lost Dogs and Mixed Blessings." It should have been Mixed Dogs and Lost Blessings for all the good it did me. I still have the cd case. I'm not sure why I kept the bits and pieces of plastic that fall apart when you open it, but I did.

I have many, many Beatles cd's and, therefore, the numerous cases that go with them. However, The Beatles have a special place in my heart and I've still not forgiven myself for using "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" one time when I was in dire need of scraping my windshield and I had, once again, lost my roaming window scraper.

I have one in my Volvo currently. At least, I think I have one in my car. I should probably go check. Anyway, it's a fancy one with a long handle and the little bristles for cleaning off soft debris from the vehicle. I earnestly await the day that soft debris rains upon my car and I can use the bristles for just that purpose.

I start each fall with a window scraper in my vehicle. I had one in my VW Dasher, my truck (second truck, since the first had a broken plastic trowel I called a scraper), one in my Land Rover, in my Beetle, my Cabrio, my other Volvo (wait, both my other Volvos!) and one in my Scirocco. Yet, by the time the first frost comes, that tricky little device is no where to be seen!

So I'll spend all winter looking in the glove compartment, under the seats, all the floorboards and in the spare wheel well. During that time, I will utilize a cd case to clean my windshield. If I'm lucky, the case will last long enough until I find the scraper, or until spring comes. Those two events, unfortunately usually occur at the same time.

Welcome to Doggy Daycare

I have neglected my poor blog site and my awesome fans! In the frenzy of rehearsals for the upcoming play, "Miracle on 34th Street," I have nearly forgotten to offer any literary tidbits or philosophical conundrums, or even any just plain funny non-sensicals about my dogs!

And, speaking of my dogs, the dog count has risen. It seems we have become the doggy daycare for our family. Kay, my sister-in-law, has brought her dog to stay with us while she goes... She is going... Well, someplace out of town that won't allow her to bring her dog, Bear, along. We now have Ace, Lilly, Bob Barker and Bear.

I'm not sure what kind of dog Bear is. I do know that Bear is not a fuzzy, black dog. He is more of a gray, somewhat fluffy dog with a severe underbite that makes you think he's part piranha. His fur is curly, like a poodle. He's got a whispy tail, like a schnauzer. He's got a toy terrier-like face and sometimes smells like a month old coffee cup that hasn't been cleaned. And his body seems to secrete some odd protective oil that gets on everything.

I once asked Kay what kind of dog Bear is. "Your guess is as good as mine," was her simple answer. Despite all this, he's actually an adorable, cute little dog. Somehow, Bear manages to make all this work for him. We haven't yet had him a full day and, already, he's getting along with the psychotic, fuzzy, black quadrupeds I call my pets. Let's hope it stays that way.