Oktoberfest, American Style

I've not been blogging as frequently as I had originally intended but am going to let myself be okay with it. "Less is more" someone once said, and I believe this to be true. Especially in the realm of blogs. But of course, there is always an exception.

One such exception is Oktoberfest at the Funk Haus Art Garten (FHAG) in Middlebury, VT. The underground social club originated as an homage to my Bohemian ancestors (pretty kick-ass coat of arms, don't you think?) who, like me, believed that less was more in most cases, with the exception of a few things. Oktoberfest was one of them.

The Bavarian celebration typically lasts between 16 - 20 days beginning the last week in September but being the Bohemians that my ancestors were, decided to "Funk the Germans!" and drank beer daily for three months while cooking up huge portions of Schweinsbraten and grilled hendl to sustain them through the cold and bitter winter season.

The Oktoberfest celebration to honor my Bohemian heritage began yesterday and will conclude when the hendl and schweinsbraten have all been eaten and the keg of beer runs out. Until then, I'll be doing what I can to share a little more joy in the world and funk things up just enough to keep life interesting.

I hope you will do the same.

The Six-million Dollar Bridge to Nowhere

Hello my dear and literate readers! I've missed you terribly and wish I had something really fantastic to write about to welcome you back but alas, life has been a bit of a suck-fest lately and I just haven't felt joyful enough to engage in writing.

Today, however, is Friday and for this I am truly thankful.

I, like so many other Middlebury residents, eagerly await the opening of the $6 million bridge in the middle of our town and fabulous round-a-bout that has, thus far, done nothing more than cause another traffic jam during peak travel times in this town. I especially have enjoyed watching the big semi-trucks and agricultural machinery trying to negotiate the narrow lanes of the design and look forward to the winter plow truck snafus that will surely ensue. I can almost hear them cursing from behind the steering wheel as they drive over the fancy cobblestone curbs to avoid tipping their trailer over.
A brilliant design indeed!

Even more entertaining has been the constant parade of people who now come to gaze at the marvel that is the bridge. (I live in the gray house you see in the photo which affords a great vantage point to watch the huge amount of money being spent on a daily basis by the town and tax payers.) "Oh look, Martha! A bridge! Take a picture and be sure to get the port-a-let and debris in the background."

"Okay, Earl", says the guy who thinks he is the crew's boss, "park the front loader so that it blocks as much of the road surface as possible and then stretch that orange plastic fencing across the entrance. Be sure to secure it to the flimsy stick and make shift hand-rail." The next day, Earl comes back and finds the plastic fencing has been shifted to allow pedestrian traffic to flow more easily. "What the???" he says. "Don't these people get it?"

No, Earl. We don't.

Until next time, Funk out and do it like you mean it.

Stoplights at a Round-a-bout?

It has been a long while since I've posted anything to my blog, and for this, I am a little sorry. I've been distracted since summer began and can't seem to shake the hold that sun, warmth, and greenery has on my ability to sit inside for too long a period of time, like when you get caught behind the red light at the "rotary" located in downtown Middlebury.

For those of us who understand the concept of a rotary, we know that a rotary is designed to keep traffic moving in a consistent flow. Merging is a brilliant idea and quite effective when used properly, a concept that whomever is responsible for having traffic lights placed there, does not understand. I should have posted a photo so that you can better see how funked up it is but just looking at it is too much for my impatience with the matter.

If you ever happen to be driving on Rte. 7 through Middlebury, do it at the height of traffic so that you can fully appreciate the mess it creates. As for me, I have decided to get myself a faux traffic vest and start directing the southbound traffic to disregard the red light that is responsible for creating a 1/4 mile traffic jam each day at 8:00 a.m., 3:00 p.m., and 5:00 p.m. Drivers may then begin to understand that common sense should rule the road, especially a really badly designed one.

Until the next time I feel inclined to post something here and you opt to read it, Funk out and laugh like you mean it.

Radioactive Fish in the Connecticut River Not Linked to Vermont Yankee? Really?

I've been extremely slack in posting things to my blog lately, mainly because of endless meetings at work coupled with the season we call summer (a fleeting thing in Vermont), and because I've just been plain lazy. Today, however, I feel inspired to write and express my disdain with Vermont Yankee and the Vermont State Department of Health's recent report that fish found in the Connecticut River carrying "trace amounts" of strontium 90 have nothing to do with the radioactive materials being leaked into the waterway by Vernon's toxic teapot.

Excuse me but WHAT THE FUNK? Do you really expect me to believe that? If so, I fart in your general direction.

The Vermont Department of Health announced late last Friday that testing of fish in the Connecticut River has again turned up traces of strontium-90, a radioactive isotope linked to leukemia and other cancers.

In a press release last Friday, Health officials said the concentrations of the isotope are within "background levels" and are not linked to the nuclear power plant, which uses water from the river to run through its condenser. "Concentrations of Sr-90 detected in the inedible portions of these fish are in the range of what would be expected as a result of fallout from nuclear weapons testing in the 1950s, and the Chernobyl release in 1986," the Health Department said in a prepared statement.

Entergy Nuclear has now admitted that the bone-seeking radioisotope Stontium90 has been discovered near underground leaking pipes at its Vermont Yankee atomic reactor on the bank of the Connecticut River. Arnie Gundersen of Fairewinds Associates warns that Sr-90, which is highly soluble in water, can concentrate in bones and cause leukemia, and thus is the most hazardous radioisotope yet discovered leaking into the environment at the 38 year old reactor just across the Connecticut River from New Hampshire, and just several miles upstream from Massachusetts. Other leaking elements discovered into the site's groundwater and soil include tritium, cobalt-60, cesium-137, manganese-54 and zinc-65.

I suppose we should be happy that the radioactive materials hasn't spewed 140 million gallons of their shit into the river. Yet.

Stay cheerful, my kind and literate readers. Anyone up for a fishing trip?

Funk, out!

Never Underestimate the Power of Duct Tape

My blogging efforts have been substandard at best and inconsistent to boot, and for this I am not sorry. Summer's near arrival has me spending most of my days out of doors and away from my computer and quite frankly, is becoming a bit addictive. I remind myself that there are worse things to be addicted to and so will get on with this post so I can leave the building.

Duct Tape is fast becoming my favorite repair tool. After learning that my dad safely arrived back in Ola, Idaho last week from his cross country excursion in the '89 Pontiac Grand Prix that was literally held together with the stuff, I have new found respect for the material. It was invented the same year Walter was born and may be one of the reasons why he is so fond of the polyethylene's powerful magic.

Things repaired in the past week include a back pack, door hinge, camp chair, book cover, shoe, and leaking tire valve. I'm thinking that there are some architectural issues with our back porch that could probably be fixed with Panzerband but that is a project for another day.

Maybe BP should consider using the stuff to fix the well that continues to spew oil into the Gulf of Mexico. It would take a few rolls to do the job, but it just might be worth a try.

As always, I hope you are able to enjoy this day and funk things up just enough to spread a little more joy and love in the world.

Walter Nels Funk and his Joy Ride to Vermont

I've been a complete slacker when it comes to writing on my blog and am sort of sorry about that. A very unexpected and amazing thing happened to me last week that I am still in the process of processing but think that sharing the experience here will be good for me and of interest to you, especially if you believe that miracles do happen everyday and that our thoughts are powerful in making things happen.

It all started two weekends ago when a friend who I had been canoeing with asked "You never speak of your father much. What's the story?". Before I began to give my friend the abbreviated history of my father, at least what I know, I uttered his name and proceeded to tell the story. His story.

Walter Nels Funk was born on Halloween in 1942, enlisted in the Navy from 1960 to 1968 as a sonar tech and communications specialist. He served on a few different destroyers during the Vietnam War. At 20 years of age, he had already met and married my wild at heart mother who gave birth to me in 1963. They divorced three years later and the father - daughter relationship was severed. I think his spirit and heart were wounded and never fully recovered which is why he now lives in the small community of Ola Idaho, population 100.

And that was that, or so I thought, until I arrived at work last Tuesday and had a message from my dad indicating that he would be arriving in town in less than an hour and was looking forward to seeing me. WTF?

The last time I spoke with my dad was about 8 months ago and he didn't mention anything about a plan to come visit. Unexpected visits in general, is not a wise idea and ill advised, especially if you are driving all the way across the U.S. in an '89 Pontiac Grand Prix with valves made of duct tape to visit your first born child because you feel compelled to do so. More amazing is that had Walter been delayed and arrived a day later, I would have already been gone for three days and the connection would have been missed.

I'm thankful that I had the chance to see him and am certain that he is too. So with that, Funk out and enjoy the upcoming Memorial Day weekend. I intend to fully engage is perpetuating some joy and love into the world and hope you do the same.

Peace.

Words for the Music

Today's five minute creative writing exercise is actually song lyrics to one of my original tunes that I sometimes opt to share with complete strangers at open mic or coffee house gatherings. I am far more comfortable playing the tunes for my plants and furniture but need feedback on occasion to determine whether the song is a keeper.

I understand the importance of hearing a song in order to fully appreciate the potential, but for now, the lyrics will be all that I can offer you here. So without further adieu, a T Funk original for your consideration. I hope you have an opportunity to funk things up just enough to spread a little more joy in the world today. Have a great weekend and as always, Funk out!

The Flame

Where you are going will be where you've been
it's all the same place in the end
Words spoken are ideas uttered
sometimes in vain and then forgotten

But sometimes,
they make a connection and need no clarification

If one small push can put you over
then one good turn surely leads to another
One chance is all life requires
for one dream to be inspired

One spark catches another
and that spark feeds the fire's flame.

You probably haven't noticed that I've not blogged very regularly these past weeks, and if that disappoints you, I apologize. There has been a major construction project going on in my front yard that has managed to drain most of my patience right out of me and sadly, has also compromised my sense of humor. I fear that cynicism will soon kick optimism's ass and leave this Funk in a permanent funk, the likes I've never known before.

To counter the bad attitude that is trying to take over my emotional well being, I decided to review some inspirational quotes with hopes that my spirits would be magically lifted and I would succeed in turning my surly outlook on things into something positive. Instead, I found myself uttering negative responses to each quote which only made me feel worst!

For example: "When one door of happiness closes, another opens, but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one that has been opened for us." ~ Helen Keller
Of course you couldn't see the door that had been opened for you, Helen. You were blind.

Happiness does not consist in pastimes and amusements but in virtuous activities. ~ Aristotle
Pastimes and amusements probably didn't even exist during your day, Ari, so of course you would say that.

"Happiness is not achieved by the conscious pursuit of happiness; it is generally the by-product of other activities." Aldous Huxley
Right, Aldo. Did you come up with this one as a result of the 'other activities' you pursued, like taking psychedelics or growing that alternative tobacco product in your father's botanical laboratory?

I'll stop there, dear reader, because I think I've made my point. The Funk is in a funk and needs to get out of it. Suggestions?

Be well, stay happy, and as always

Funk, out!

Where the Funk I've Been, What I Said, and Why You Don't Care

Okay, so I've been slacking on the public display of my innermost thoughts via this blog and am sorry to the few, but impressively cool, readers that have discovered my digital diary and want me to write more. I haven't forgotten about the 5 minute daily commitment to the creative writing exercise that is the source of inspiration for this blog, I've just been preoccupied with spring, planting my garden, and snapping photos of wild creatures. I thought it would be better to give my next entry some thought so that I might come up with something to pique your interest enough to keep you reading.

Last week was an interesting mix of weather, neighborhood drama, and high adventure and in the course of those seven days, I managed to offend a some people with the language I used and refuse to give up because they are not "politically correct", will make people uncomfortable, and will give people the impression that I am insensitive and un-diplomatic. That may be true but I say "Funk that!" There is a civil right called free speech and I intend to use it. Freely, and with conviction.

The offensive words and language that I am no longer supposed to use but do from time to time are as follows:

"I'm feeling quite gay today!"
"Whew! That mountainous hike really fagged me out."
"Don't be so niggardly with that (insert item name here) and give me some."

I'm sorry if people think I am being malicious when I use words that make some feel uncomfortable because I'm not. I'm only exercising my right to speak my mind in words that, for me, help express the way I feel or think about something. To take language away from me infringes on my civil rights and that, my kind and literate reader, is offensive.

Until the next time,

Funk out!

Slow Down! What's the Russia?

Hello dear, kind reader! Thank you for taking time to stop by to see if my five minute creative writing workout produces something that will elevate the level of joy you might, or might not, be feeling today. Whatever the mood you find yourself in, I assure you it will get better if you take a few minutes (along with some deep, cleansing breathes) and remind yourself that there is always someone in the world whose life sucks way more than yours does. I was reminded of this during my recent transcendental trip to Siberia.

I posted Vlad's picture to (with his permission of course) remind myself of how fortunate I am to live in a 900 sq. ft, riverfront apartment, and get to watch the huge bridge construction project that is underway just yards from my front door. I also wanted to post his picture to prove that transcendental travel is possible, regardless of what the naysayers say.

So before you start whining about whatever it is that has you in a funk, think of Vlad and his cardboard condo. You might also find inspiration in the words Vlad shared just before I snapped his photo: "The only difference between champ and chump is 'U'."

Have a great weekend and as always,

Funk, out!

Every Picture Tells a Story, Don't it?

In the interest of time, efficiency, and your preference to see an occasional image posted to my blog, I am foregoing my five minutes of writing today so that you, my dear and literate reader, can write your own comment (if you choose) about the image that was taken this morning, April 27, 2010.

Yeah, Vermont is a great place to live. Especially if you like winter for at least six months out of every year. The upside is that I'm sure there are a good number of people that are going to bust out the ski's today and funk things up just enough to spread a little more joy in the world and that, my friends, I can absolutely let myself be okay with.

Funk, out!

Meeting Shmeeting

Good, glorious morning to you, my kind and literate friends! I'm sure that you are anxious, as am I, to finish the tasks that we must complete before dismissing ourselves for home to celebrate Fryday's arrival. It's been a long week for some of us, and based on the number of meetings I've been required to attend this week, am amazed that I was able to accomplish as much as I did. My busy-ness prevented me from blogging yesterday and I'm feeling bad about that so today, I'll blog for ten to compensate.

What the funk was I doing, you ask? I was meeting and in fact, met multiple times this week. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely see the benefit of the weekly two hour meeting to give an oral report on the work you've been doing and the work that may not get done as a result of losing two hours of productivity for the sake of team building and interpersonal communication. At a time when we are being asked by our employers to do more with less, the time deduction factor of the weekly meeting gives the phrase "doing more with less" new meaning for me. I'm doing more with less because the mandatory meeting is taking the time I need more of to get the work done.

My beef that will later be fried today in swine lard?

I recently participated in a two hour meeting (in addition to the two hour weekly meeting) thinking that the session would result in a concrete, actionable proposal so that the need for a follow up meeting would be eliminated. I could scarcely contain my joy as I began thinking about all of the work I could accomplish! So, dear reader, you can imagine my reaction when I learned that another meeting has been requested so that we can review, again, everything that we accomplished in the previous meeting but this time, a four hour time allotment would be preferred. Are you funking kidding me?

I'm going to submit my presence at this next meeting by proxy so that I might preserve more time to spread a little more joy in the world while doing less of the work I so love doing. Does anyone second the motion? Meeting adjourned.

Have a cheerful weekend!

Funk, out.

Happy Earth Day! $452 million in Recovery Act funding to go toward energy-efficient building retrofits

Good day, my literate friends and fellow Earthlings. In celebration of today, Earth Day, The White House is gearing up for five days of events to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Earth Day, and boy, what a big kick-off! Vice President Joe Biden announced today a plan to invest $452 million in Recovery Act funding to go toward energy-efficient building retrofits in 25 communities.

According to Joe, this year, because of the historic clean energy investments in the Recovery Act, the U.S.A is poised to make greater strides than ever in building a nationwide clean energy economy, "This investment in some of the most innovative energy-efficiency projects across the country will not only help homeowners and businesses make cost-cutting retrofit improvements, but also create jobs right here in America." The proposed projects are expected to gain nearly $3 billion from other sources over the next three years and will, supposedly, go toward retrofitting hundreds of thousands more homes and business in the U.S.

You can imagine my dismay to see that Vermont, my current state of residency, is not on the docket for any retrofitting projects, especially since my experience with long winters in the Northeast makes my hair grow just thinking about it. Here's a list of the cities that will be getting funds for retrofitting, with the final dollar amount subject to negotiation:


Austin, Texas - $10 million
Boulder County, Colorado - $25 million
Camden, New Jersey - $5 million
Chicago Metropolitan Agency for Planning - $25 million
Greater Cincinnati Energy Alliance, Ohio - $17 million
Greensboro, North Carolina - $5 million
Indianapolis, Indiana - $10 million
Kansas City, Missouri - $20 million
Los Angeles County, California - $30 million
Lowell, Massachusetts - $5 million
State of Maine - $30 million
State of Maryland - $20 million
State of Michigan - $30 million
State of Missouri - $5 million
Omaha, Nebraska - $10 million
State of New Hampshire - $10 million
New York State Research and Development Authority - $40 million
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania - $25 million
Phoenix, Arizona - $25 million
Portland, Oregon - $20 million
San Antonio, Texas - $10 million
Seattle, Washington - $20 million
Southeast Energy Efficiency Alliance - $20 million
Toledo-Lucas County Port Authority, Ohio - $15 million
Wisconsin Energy Conservation Corporation - $20 million

What the funk?

Without having done more in depth research, it is hard to say how authentic any of these "projects" are and how exactly these big ticket items are going to benefit us, the taxpayers who are coughing up the money to help fund it all to begin with. Perhaps if I could recoup all the dollars I was forced to cough up to help bail out Wall Street, I could afford to personally retrofit my humble but beautiful abode and wouldn't be such a whiner about it.
Good thing my five minutes are up.

Funk, out.

Monday = Funday: Get me the Funk out of here!

Good day, my good readers! I hope you had a very special weekend doing whatever it is that you kind and literate folks took time to do with yourself over the course of the last 52 hours. Most importantly, I hope that you had a lot of fun doing it!

Because I did NOT have as much fun as I had hoped I would this weekend, have decided to take today, Monday, and turn it into my own personal fun day, in hopes that this becomes a permanent change to published calendars everywhere. Think of how much better people might feel if instead of waking to an early Monday (which sounds a lot like the word mundane) alarm, arose thinking "Finally, Funday has arrived!" Elation would be so high that they probably wouldn't just think it, there would be singing and dancing involved also.

So if you were thinking of calling or e-mailing me today, I won't be in. I'll be out doing what I like to do best: Funking things up just enough to bring a little more joy into the world. I hope you have a chance to do the same, my thoughtful and literate friends. Especially my super cool 3 followers. I hope you, more than any others, funk it up hard today and you do it with conviction.

Until soon,

Funk out.

Fryday

If I were a Banshee, I would say in my most enthusiastic, high pitched voice possible "AIEEE-HA-HA-HA-AIEE-AY!" to help usher in the weekend and celebrate Fryday, one of my favorite days of the week. Many of you are accustomed to the incorrect spelling of the day's name and will insist that it is spelled 'Friday' but after considering the information I am about to share with you, my kind and literate friends, may wish to reconsider your position.

In the interest of time and since I am committed to do my part in accommodating the many among us that suffer from ADD and write for only 5 minutes each blog, will give you the concise historical version regarding the day's name. In ancient Germanic times, Frigg and Freyja, celebrity frau's and mothers of half the Germanic tribes at the time, cooked everything edible in a huge vat of sizzling hot swine lard each fifth day of a seven day cycle to celebrate the return of their brave hunters. Some preferred to call it Frigg's day to honor Frigg's innovative menus while others preferred Freyja's day to commemorate her ability to fry large quantities of food in the most efficient manner. After many years of divisive debate, a compromise between the two factions was reached and the day became known as Fryday.

We could get into the reason why the 'y' was replaced with an 'i' but my five minutes are up. So happy Fryday, my friends!

Until next time,

Funk out!

Taxing Taxes

If I were Irish, I would say "Top o the morning to ye because the rest of the day is mine!" But I will joyously share the next 5 minutes of this fine but taxing day, with you, my friendly reader, because you've taken the time to stop by and I sincerely appreciate that. I understand how valuable your time and tax dollars are, unlike some entities we all know and have probably come to hate. Yes, Internal Revenue Service, I am speaking about you.

I keep saying that I'm going to stop paying taxes and swear that one day, I will. I'm reserving that freedom for the day that I lease a Winnebago, pack up my minimalist belongings, and find me a nice little patch of land down by a river somewhere in the vast greatness that is America the beautiful, land of the freaks. But until then, I've decided to make the lackeys working at the IRS earn every dollar of the money they are taking from me this year by completing my tax returns using the metric system. I derive just the right amount of joy to alleviate the pain when visualizing the agent's WTF? face reviewing my return. That's right, you money grubbing minion, YOU do the math.

Until next time,

Funk out!

To blog or not to blog? That is the funking question.

Hello, and welcome to what I hope will be a daily source of entertainment for you, should you decide to read What the Funk? It is only the bazillion-and-two-hunderedth blog from which you can choose to participate in so my chances of getting readers is, well, pathetic.

My name is Theresa Mae Funk, and considering that my mother gave me permission to Funk, intend to do so. Hence, the creation of this Blog. I am committed to blogging daily, but only for five minutes at a time. The average person isn't able to fully focus on anything for more than three minutes at a time so I'm willing to go the extra two to try and share a bit of joy with the rest of you literate folks who are fortunate enough to live on my planet.
I hope you stop by again to see WTF I think is important enough to spend five minutes writing about.

Until then,

Funk out!