Food Services Is Closed for the Night

Boomer's a beggar. Whenever there's food, he's there with those big, brown eyes, giving me that look, the one he hopes earns him a piece of ... something, anything.

I guess I can't blame my twelve-year-old golden mutt. Aren't all dogs beggars?

Some historians theorize it was young wolf cubs begging around early man's campfires that led to the creation of man's best friend.

Still, you'd think two squares a day, plus treats, would be enough for my best friend.

"Some days, I feel like a treat machine."

Not so. Boomer wants a piece of everything, even though I rarely give him anything. Anything that is, except his food and the occasional bit of people food.

Did I mention the chicken breast treat he gets each and every time we come in the house after he's done his business? Or something good?

Some days, I feel like a treat machine, or a dorm cafeteria worker, which has to explain the phrase I came up with to give myself a respite from my dog's begging.

I say it as I'm tidying up the kitchen before going to bed. Naturally, Boomer joins me with that hungry face that says, pretty please?

That's when I look directly into those big, brown eyes and utter the one thing that puts an end to the begging:

"Food services is closed for the night."

At which point Boomer lowers his head in resignation, exits the kitchen and goes to sleep. At which point I exhale with relief to know the stalking, excuse me, begging, is over, at least for another day.

Keeping Up with Randy Boyd's Blocks

To the millions upon millions of fans of my books--who don't know it yet--did you know that there's a way to keep up with Randy Boyd's Blocks?

That's right, if you love Randy Boyd's Blocks like I do, you'll want to make sure to get every single post.

All you have to do is prescribe yourself a subscription to Randy Boyd's Blocks. There are two ways do get 'er done. You can subscribe by email and get the Blocks via email, or you can subscribe to the Blocks in your favorite news reader.

The choice is yours, but I were you, I'd wouldn't want to miss out on a single Randy Boyd Block. Then again, if I were you, that would mean that you're me and ... I still wouldn't want you to miss out on a single block! So subscribe! Please?

Pacer Crazy

Yes! Yes, Your Honor, I admit it: I’m in love with the Indiana Pacers and I hate everyone and anyone who gets in their way.

The love affair started in childhood (what doesn’t?). Daddy was a perplexing man (whose wasn’t?), but on many occasions, he took my brother Stephen and me to the Fairgrounds Coliseum in Indianapolis to see black men with big Afros and white men with long sideburns, all of them wearing short shorts and playing ball for the Indiana Pacers.

The league was called the American Basketball Association, but they might as well have put Ringling Brothers somewhere on the logo. They used a red, white and blue basketball and came up with kooky innovations like a 3-point shot and a slam dunk contest at the all-star game.

The Pacers squared off against teams like the Virginia Squires, Utah Stars, Miami Floridians, and the dreaded Kentucky Colonels, almost as hated as those dreaded Kentucky Wildcats, who (along with Purdue, who broke Scott May’s arm late in the regular season), cheated the unbeaten Hoosiers outta an NCAA title in 1975.

He's No Fool, No, Siree!

He rides a trike with one K, but clearly, if his wife let him, 103-year old Octavio Orduño would also be carving it up on a Trikke with two K's.

For quite some time, the oldest living cyclist in Long Beach, CA, couldn't keep his eyes off my black Trikke Tribred Pon-e at the grand opening of the new downtown bikeways on Saturday, April 23, 2011.

"He wants to swap," said a pretty lady named Helene. My Trikke for his trike, the three-wheel bike he rides around the city. Saturday, he stood atop the Pon-e like a happy young boy, then asked me to show him how its ridden, looking on with the wonderment of someone a fraction of his age.

The Trikke brings out the kid in all of us, no matter who we are and how old we get. Octavio Orduño is living proof.

Randy Boyd's Trikke Blocks

Trikke Randy was the name of my first column on the Blocks about my amazing journey with the joyride of the 21st century.

Now, the journey continues with Randy Boyd's Trikke Blocks, which also includes my previous posts as Trikke Randy.

But wait, there's more! In addition to my Trikke Blocks on my author blog, you can also find me carving up Long Beach Trikkers, the local hub and club for trikkers in Long Beach, California, and TrikkeWorld Magazine, the chronicle of the carving revolution, both co-creations of myself and my good friend and fellow trikker Jeri Thompson.

What will we think of next? Stick around and find out on Trikke Blocks, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Lucky to Live in Long Beach

When I first moved to California from Indianapolis, where I was born and raised, I never imagined living in Long Beach. Now, some thirty years later, I can't imagine not living in Long Beach.

As a college freshman at USC in 1980, I'd barely heard of Long Beach, let alone dreamt of living in the mid-size burg 25 miles south of downtown Los Angeles. After all, my California dreaming had been fueled by Three's Company, Starsky and Hutch, CHiPs and countless other Hollywood depictions of life in LA. To my knowledge, no shows beamed like sunlight from the golden, star-studded streets of Long Beach (little did I know).