Time Flies Like An Arrow

Fruit flies like a banana.  -Groucho Marx

I had a brazillion ideas for posts over the last *cough* weeks, but never wrote them. As you can plainly see. I did get in here and tinker with my llama a little (hey, that’s still legal in North Carolina) but that’s as far as it went. So here’s a glut of things, or a mini-glut. It might not even be enough to plug the pipes of a big man, but I’ve never let that stop me before.

Since I’m out of any sort of rhythm for writing, I will do a thing I shall call Things That Happened. It may or may not be in order of calendar or importance; if you care to know which is what and when I will take your questions following this ramble.

I wound up winning the band gig I mentioned a while back! Whoot! It took a while, as they were trying out other bass players. No problem, of course… but they said they would make a decision in a week or so, and after a month I figured I was out of the running. Turns out their drummer of 12 years was ready to not do the band thing, and was hoping the band would dissolve. The other members didn’t want to quit, so they wound up needing a bassist AND drummer. So they hired my drummer friend Phil and me at the same time. Sweet!

We’ve played together for a couple months now, did a big backyard party last month, and we played downtown Raleigh Saturday night. It was a blast, the place was full, and a fairly tipsy of fan even grabbed the guitarist’s mic and sang one of our songs. He knew all the words, woulda been great if he could have stayed on key…

***

A cuppa two tree weekends ago we took a tiny bacation in New Bern, NC. It was crummy weather, but we had a nice place right on the water (thanks Tiff’s Mom!). Three days of hanging out, practicing music, making Tiffoween costumes, and enjoying the amenities of resort living. Off-season resort living, to be sure, but we didn’t really miss the mini-golf course or the lack of open hours at the store. Except for when I needed a hand-operated needle for sticking some Velcro to my costume, which required a trip into Town to find a store that actually carried such goods. It was only 8 miles, but 25 minutes of driving over bridge and dale each way. We got to know the route since earlier in our trip Tinkerbell’s battery kicked the bucket. The good folks at the Auto Parts Chain hooked us up right speedy.

We extended our trip by a day in order to gain 3 valuable hours of sewing, plus which we couldn’t go on a waterfront vacation without doing something vacationey. So we went sailing. A nice lady with a big sailboat advertised afternoon cruises, and we hopped on it. There were neither wind nor other passengers, so we had a 43-foot sloop all to ourselves for snooping and riding and learning about the local waterways. I got to hoist the mainsail but other’n that we rode around looking at stuff and listening to the Cap’n.

***

I have a couple of teeth that are trying to kill me. As previously reported, my dentist wishes to extract maximum cash from my teeth. I wish to keep both my teeth and my cash (lest you be confused, I have more than two teeth), but I have a pair of upper molars that are so sensitive to cold that simply inhaling wrong causes pain at about 3/10. Last night I crunched a Tostito in the wrong way, which resulted in about 2 hours of 8/10 unrelenting pain. 2 ibuprofen, 4 aspirin, and a nap later, it was back to about 2 – which I can live with. I can’t wait until Tuesday, when they yank the suckers out and pack my jaw full of dead man’s bone powder. Why would they do that? So they can implant about $2k worth of new teeth. I hope Darvocet is as good as they say…

***

Tiffoween was a big success. We had a buncha party people, loads of fun, a photo scavenger hunt, a bounce house, and more food than could be eaten by a family of two. In a month. I just discovered this evening that all the beer in the little beer fridge is frozen solid, so no leftover beer for me. The decorations are mostly down, just have a spiderweb and ghost to exorcise and we’ll be back to normal.

***

If this post is a sailboat, it has entered the Bermuda Triangle of Doom. My arch-nemesis, Save-It-For-Later, has come aboard and is cutting the sails to ribbons, throwing my rum overboard, and pillaging my women. Time to buckle some swashes, back in a bit…

 

I’ll eat anything really, as long as it doesn’t ooze

Last night I woke up after a somewhat solid sleep of 2 hours. It was 1:24 AM or thereabouts, and after some water input and output I lay down to sleep again. Problem was, sleep eluded me. I reviewed the previous work day, the coming work day, and other relational obligations. I settled which things would be done next. I came to the place of thinking about nothing, which usually works to put me to sleep. Not this time, oh no. I heard the gentle, rhythmically inconsistent clicking of the ceiling fan. I felt the sweat on my neck even in the cool night air. I heard the steady deep breathing of my slumbering bride, just inches from me. I was as alert as a deer.

I grabbed up my jammies, my blankie and pillow, and tried the couch. No napping there either, might as well turn on some teevee. I heard from the late Billy Mays about his awesome auger, watched an infomercial on a tool I’ve actually used and would like to own, and another fitness infomercial about confusing my muscles. Half an episode of Cops, half an episode of Airplanes of WW2, a smidgeon of Comedy Central and VH1 Classic, and finally I was getting sleepy – only 3 hours later. I turned off the equipment, snuggled in, and sunk into a deep dreamy sleep.

For about 12 minutes.

That’s when the dog across the street really had to let it be known that there was something to bark at, earnestly.

Dogs sure know how to ruin dreams.

I drifted off again, only to be chased by a jealous husband for a crime I did not commit. He just wanted to be mad at someone, and I was his target. It came to nothing but a dream full of intimidation and defensiveness, and I didn’t much like it.

I awoke at 5:00 to the gentle caress of one I love, who was asking if I was OK. Going back to bed, we snuggled in for another attempt at snoozeville. Suddenly, the alarm rang – time to go jogging?!? Oh hell no. I stayed in bed until the last possible minute, went to work, came home, ate dinner, worked some more, and wrote this post.

I hope tonight’s better.

How’d you sleep last night?

 

That Time of Month

It’s time for my monthly blog post.

I appreciate the gentle and unsubtle reminders that I should write stuff. It’s just when I get done with 9 hours of working in heat and humidity that might rival the inside of the devil’s nutsack, loafing after a shower and cocktail sounds really good.

So why then would I want to become a firefighter? They deal with hot and wet times eleventy. While wearing lots of heavy clothing and carrying several stone of gear. Maybe it’s the cool factor. It may also have something to do with the excitement and indisputable importance. Could be the shiny trucks and fancy equipment. Perhaps the unique schedule contributes (24 hours on/ off/ on/ off/ on/ 4 days off). Doesn’t hurt that it offers a steady salary and good benefits.

A friend suggested I apply, and although I hadn’t considered it to be practical up until now (too old, haven’t had the proper training, etc), I submitted an application. It’s been received, because I got a ‘how to prepare’ packet in the mail. I’m gonna need to be in hella better shape by test time, which fortunately is months away. Some of the events:

• 1 1/2 mile run in 12 minutes
• Climb 5 stories of stairs while wearing a 50 lb vest
• Drag a 165 lb dummy 100 feet (I wonder who they get to volunteer for that?)
• Raise/ extend ladders
• Obstacle courses
• Pull ups (which I haven’t been able to do since 1986)

All of these things are timed, and it had better be like Rocky training to face Mr. T (or was it that commie bastard? I can never remember) around here if I’m to have a chance. Good thing I got a jump on it with my friends at the Shrinking Piggies. However, this morning I tested my 1 1/2 mile time: 21:12 (including 3 walking sections, for my brain thought my lungs could use a rest). Must retrain brain.

*****

Lake Week was fantastic. I wish to have 3 vacations like that annually, thank you. There be a journal of activities, piles of photos, and even a video of the family band playing the theme from Wallace and Gromit. But I’ll make no promises on writing a detailed post, for I am bad at sitting to write. I will say that a week is long enough to get into the rhythm of vacation for a day or two. The Europeans have it right with 5 weeks being the normal holiday (for an entry level position). Put that together with a beautiful setting, fun things to do, plenty of alone and together time, and a family that gets along well, and it’s my version of perfect. What’s your best vacation evar, and howcome?

*****

Today I discovered a new insect: The Industrial Machine Fly. I was using my circular saw in the aformentioned Crotch of Satan that was Raleigh outdoors, and everytime it would get up to speed a flock of great big black flies would swoop in and light on the saw. Or my hand. While I was cutting, they would get as close as possible to the noise and motion. One flew into the blade but was sadly unshredded, and flew back out. They disappeared whenever I stopped the motor, but showed up like magic when the sawdust started flying. Wonder if the sound reminds them of Mother? It’s a question for the entomologists out there.

*****

Auditioned with a band this evening. They play a bunch of cover tunes – danceable fun stuff that everyone knows – and work a couple nights a month. We went to see ‘em last Saturday and enjoyed it. Their previous bass player got too busy with another project and quit after less than a month… I’ll keep you posted on whether you can see me performing in a Venue Near You.

*****

Time to loaf, seeya next time!

 

B’Cation!

OK, I’m a naughty bad slack poster, and there are far too many stories to tell in the time I have. It’s T-minus 7 hours until we hit the road for the Northern Mountains and a week of going nowhere we can’t float.

The highlights:
Our beach trip from months ago was a day trip. Meaning we rode 3 hours to the beach in our bathing suits, frolicked in the water and on the sandy shore, got some sun, got pounded by modest waves, played catch, got some beer, and had seafood at an oceanside crab shack. There was no hotel room, no cabana, no nice place to rinse and change. So, we changed in the icky public outhouse and rode home in whatever found its way into our bathing suits. For 3 hours. The phrase ’sandy vagina’ takes on new significance for me since then.

Our birds have flown the coop. I have pictures to prove they were here, but there is no more contact from the schmumpins. There is evidence they WERE here, in little white splotches on the deck. But little else, and it is sad. I hope they’re still flying (literally, here on earth and not with little angel robes and halos and crap).

We were visiting friends in VA a cuppa weekends ago, and their adorable little girl decided it was her turn for stand-up. She addressed her mom, “Knock knock.” Dutifully, mom said, “Who’s there?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Orange.”

“Orange who?”

“Orange banana split eyeballs!”

And that, my friends, is the best knock-knock joke of the year.

Shrinking Piggies has finished its 6-month challenge! Go show some love and comment on the recent wrap-up stories, mine is coming after b’cation. Unless we find some wiffy up in them thar hills, in which case I might post mine, as I don’t have any unread books in hand. None of us except for the inimitable NCP have reached our stated goal, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t good progress. I’m proud of us Piggies, and for sticking to the program no matter what. I’m partway there, plus I’ve taken up wogging – so far so good still. We’re up to 5-3-2-5-3-3-2-5 for a workout (alternate walking and jogging, walking first), and it’s getting easier the more times we do it. Next week is scheduled to have a 20 minute jog, and there is much trepidation.

There be more stories, but I leave you with the one of the creepy pool guy. We were enjoying our local community pool a cuppa weeks ago. It’s a big pool with a very deep end, a diving board, dinky water slide, and several joyless lifeguards. The little kids and their attendant adults were in the shallow end, and the adventurous kids were doing daring dives into the deep, and we were in the middle playing catch with a frisbee ring. Between us and the deep end, lurking at the rope that marked the 6-to-12-foot point, was a young man in a swim mask. I say young, Tiff says he had grey hair. At any rate, he never took off the mask, was alone, and between occasional swims from side to side of the pool, he would spend great gulps of time underwater. Looking. Looking at my shapely, pasty, hairy legs for all I know. Trying to glimpse some bouyant bits perhaps. It gave us the serious jibblies, for he spent over an hour in this fashion. I contemplated flipping an underwater bird his way just to see what would happen, but I chickened out (get it?).

That’s all the news I have time for, because there’s miles of packing between me & sleep. Take care, talk amongst yourselves, and seeya in a week or so!

 

Stuck in my head

I’m pretty obviously bad at blogging. Must start keeping a notebook and writing in it.

There are a half dozen drafts in the hopper, with outlines to trigger my aging memory. The details get fuzzy, you see. My next post will feature a great many things, such as the best knock-knock joke of the year, the creepy pool guy, sandy vaginas, wogging, high-speed pursuits, working with dumb people, picking buggy corn, a lunchtime roadtrip and history lesson, ruining a perfectly good vacuum, drill sergeants as childcare workers, and the graduation of the schmumpins.

But for today, you get this lovely little tune which has been firmly stuck between my ears for about two weeks. You’re welcome.

 

Is there a non-fancy kind of ketchup?

Howdy from the Great Lake State, where it’s 20 degrees cooler than home, and full of the people and landmarks of my yoot. I’m on a quick visit to see some friends & family, hardly enough time for online shenanigans what with a dozen connections to make in 3 days. But my cousin and computer genius Jason is helping me get some stuff done, and I can wiffy while I wait. He’s for rent if you need yourself a computer genius – let me know and I’ll connect ya.

So why not? So, in no particular order, some nuggets of news:

Thanks to one of my most dearest friends, wordnerd, for new birfday wishes! Calendar schmalendar, eh?

We went to the beach a cuppa weekends ago, and there be some great times to report. Full details forthcoming if there’s popular demand. If anyone asks about sand, I may be forced to share some embarrassing details.

I’m driving a brand new rented Dodge Charger for this trip, since Tinkerbell was making ominous noises and Lurch both has very bad mileage and a problematic lack of cruise control. 13 hours each way calls for at least foot relief. Ass relief is another matter…

My dad invited me to stay with him for the trip, which is nice and generous. It’s no Bellagio, but the company’s good.

It’s graduation season, and I got to attend my niece’s 8th grade matriculation last night. It was fairly typical of the other middle school graduations I’ve experienced, having been through my 2 kids’ and my own. However, there was one enormous difference (besides the family behind me that talked nonstop through the entire event, despite repeated shushes from multiple annoyed neighbors): The assistant principal was the MC, and kept things moving pretty well, introducing the speakers and making good applause moments for staff and students. When it came time to hand out the completion certificates, he asked for people to hold their applause until each row of students completed the processional (about 1/3 of the class per row) – to ‘keep things dignified, and keep it moving.’ However, after certain names were called, clumps of the audience would scream ‘woooo!’ and ‘you go zameeka!’ and ‘you so hot girl!’

After 70 kids made their way across the stage, this was beyond getting old. Of course, some kids’ posses were obediently silent, so obviously the ones who received the whoops and cheers were loved more…

Is it just me, or are these events getting more unruly?

Time to git, I have a baseball game in Charlotte tonight. Tomorrow: Breakfast with dad, a date with my daughter, and a ball game and dinner with my boy, who graduates high school this week. Congratulations N, I’m proud of you!

 

Cracking Up My Shizz

 

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

The circumstances surrounding my birth are cloudy; there was no camera, no video. I didn’t think to bring a notebook, so the details are fuzzy, to say the least. The only evidence that it happened at all is my presence in this world, and a little piece of official-looking paper. Oh, and a handful of witnesses, including Mom and Dad.

This all happened 40 years ago today, in a hospital that is not yet named for me.

Since then, I’ve seen sights, done stuff, eaten things, collected far more friends than enemies, and worked at more jobs than most people twice my age. So far so good!

Forty carries some significance, I’m told. People have mistaken me for being 43 for the last 5 years, so I don’t think anything will change. I feel no different, and have never dreaded any turn of the calendar page. It’s amusing to me that I’m entering my 5th decade in life; I’ve never given aging a whole lot of thought, choosing to deal with stuff as it comes up. I met a non-surgically-modified 57 year old last week who could pass for 41, and I intend to copy her.

My most significant birthdays to date:

0, for Original. All the others depend on this one. I’m told it went smoothly, but I don’t remember a thing.

7: Mom put together a terrific back yard party with friends and activities. I remember it mostly because there’s film evidence. It was great, until I turned into a fantastic douche, throwing a tantrum because other kids were having more fun than I. Somehow, the party (and hopefully my personality) were saved from that burst of narcissism.

13: There was a sleepover party with 5 friends, which featured TPing one kid’s house, a light-smashing and tooth-removing pillow fight, staying up all night hopped up on Orange Crush and Cheetos, and a nasty Tobasco and shaving cream potion for the poor schmuck who fell asleep first. The next day, there was a parking lot amusement park that we visited, and I can tell you spinny rides do not mix well with that diet and sleep deprivation.

16: I was standing in line at the Secretary of State the moment they opened to collect my License to Freedom. I think there was cake too, but it was far behind being able to drive (legally, anyway).

18: Old enough to vote and be drafted.

21 was a bit odd, there was no drinking binge (friends and family of the time were teetotalers) and no big event that I recall. Had just returned from a honeymoon at that point, found out there was a youngster on the way, begun house shopping, and was earning $5.50 per hour.

All my adult birthdays have been spent pretty quietly with family and friends, and all but one have been a great time. I’ve never put a whole lot of big-dealedness into it, and enjoy whatever comes.

Since letting the weeds grow at the ol’ site, I’ve gotten out of the writing habit. I still count my online friends to be some of the best, most genuine and caring folks around, and appreciate the birfday wishes! Thank you!

Thanks also Tiff, Ron, & Mojo for ramping up the party!

Tell me your best birthday story, wouldja? Birthday suit optional.

 

Uncanny

I haven’t darkened the door of my own blog in a while, so I thought I’d pop in and see if the furniture’s where I left it.

So far so good.

I took this test over at Tiff’s, and it’s eerie how accurate it is. I could write a post about the results, but I shan’t; I’m in no mood to analyze myself today. Nonetheless: Friggin’ eerie!

You Are 7: The Enthusiast

You are outgoing and playful – always seeing the happy side to life. You’re enthusiastic and excitable. You love anything new. Multi-talented, you do many things well… and find success easy. You prefer to keep things light with others. Opening up is hard for you. At Your Best: You are deeply involved in each experience. You appreciate life for what it is, and you take the time to enjoy each moment. At Your Worst: You are greedy, self centered, impulsive, and insatiable. Your Fixation: Gluttony Your Primary Fear: Deprivation and pain Your Primary Desire: To be satisfied and content Other Number 7’s: Howard Stern, Cameron Diaz, Robin Williams, Jim Carey, and Jenny McCarthy.

What Number Are You?

*****

In other news, I’ve picked up a new cuss I’m using at every occasion: Fairy Godmother! I like it because it’s an all-ages swear, and just about as satisfying to belch out as any other motherfuckin’ word.

*****

Today we went to the NC Renn Faire, and it was a grand olde hoot. It’s in our veritable back yard, only a 3 mile drive from hither to yon at an olde golfe course. The neighbors were aghast, because they bought expensive condos on a golf course. This golf course went kaput, like they do, so it’s been a fallow field of formerly flossy grass until this weekend. THIS weekend, hordes of trinket-selling, 16th-century bedecked vendors descended upon the place and turned it into a colorful tent city. And they brought sword-fighting knights, wandering minstrels, a beer tent bard (and beer wenches, with the requisite impossibly amplified bustiers), smithies, jugglers, fools, and a giant vat of good humor. And horses. The neighbors neighed mightily about the horses, but alas, the permits went through and there went their neighborhood.

Parking was a breeze, as long as you don’t mind walking a mile in the hot sun and the mud that comes after 3 days of torrential rain.

We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, dressed in our variations on highlander, leper, or American kid themes. A sword cane was purchased, several performances including swordfights and jousts taken in, and traditional faire fare such as funnel cake, sausage onna bun, and lemonade were consumed. The only hiccup was in the gimp department – one of our troupe has suffered a broken foot, and the crutches were torture on the hilly mud. I ran to the nearest Home Depot to get a garden cart for to tow the injured youngster, which extended our stay by 3 hours.

I highly recommend the faire, it’s still going on for another week or so. If you’re passing through, I’d be happy to go again and show you the sights.

*****

And that’s all the news I’m printing for today, as supper is about to be on (hey, it’s only 9:13 PM). Ask me how to make killer hummus, sour cream apple pie, or Chicken Saag if you like, they’re the best recent recipes I have.

*****

PS – Shrinking Piggies keep on truckin’! If I don’t make halfway to goal by next week, I may be sporting some additional baldness!

PPS - Wordsmiths Unlimited has a wee writing challenge for you, go write something! You have until Tuesday!

 

Something To Write About

I’ve been waiting around for something to write about, since my daily life isn’t all that newsworthy most days. Of course, this being a blog means I can blather anytime about anything and nobody will arrest me. But today is extra special, and it displaces the rant I was brewing about douchey people. Which is OK, since I have to see some of these people from time to time and perchance they could stumble by here and become even more douchey toward me, which wouldn’t make me happy and lead to more blog posts and further douchieness until eventually my little corner of the world looks like Palestine after the Palestinians got there, and who wants that? Nobody, that’s who.

This humble reporter is writing from a cozy 56 degree office. Why so chilly on a chill rainy day, you ask? Well, pull up a Snuggie and I’ll tell you the story. We were snug as bugs in a duvet, just beginning to stir from a long winter’s nap (went to bed around 9 last night), and it was still dark outside. Which is as you’d expect at 5 or so during Daylight Savings Time. I shuffled out to turn up the heat a bit, brush my teeth, and brew some coffee. Just then, the lovely Tiff came out, wrinkled her nose, and asked if I smelled smoke. Why, yes I did, now that you mention it – something like a fried circuit, which is an aroma I know pretty well. We pointed our noses into every corner of the house and tried to find the source. I felt around the piles of electronic stuff in the teevee rack and the computer desk, checked lights and fans and cell phone chargers and toasters and everything that plugs in. Nothing was hot or particularly smelly. But the odor wasn’t going away.

Finally, after a half hour of searching, including waving flashlights around the roof and crawlspace, I called the fire department’s non-emergency number and described what was going on. “I don’t think it’s an emergency, but we can smell smoke in the kitchen,” I told the operator. She said she’d have someone check it out. Two minutes (!) later, emergency-types were showing up. The first one on the scene was a cop, who couldn’t seem to locate our address and went to the end of the block looking on the wrong side of the street. He didn’t notice my flashlight waving in his window. Moments later, the fire chief pulled up and I told him we’d called, and repeated my message to the dispatcher. Then a flock of sirens rounded the bend and two fire engines whirred up the street, spilling out fully equipped firefighters as they squeaked to a stop. A dozen large men with helmets and SCBA gear and boots and coats were looking intently at the house, while a captain came inside to investigate. The neighbor across the street stood on his porch to shout/ ask if we were alright, and lights came on in another house down the block. By this time the young men o’ the house had been rustled up and watched with bleary eyes while people trouped in and out of the living room.

The captain said he smelled cinnamon. That’s nicer than some smells you could have in a house, but we hadn’t called the fire department because of potpourri. Failing to locate any smoke or fire, he sent a guy to fetch an infrared camera. It didn’t work, so they fetched another one. I peered over the firefighter’s shoulder as he pointed it around, looking for bright spots – indications of fire behind walls. He was very interested in the alarm clock, which Tiff turned on its face so as not to bother her with unimportant things like the time. It wasn’t the problem, but it was lots warmer than the rest of the room. A complete scan of all the rooms and the electrical panel turned up a whole basket of nothing.

They asked if the heat was working, and it had been all night – although we did have 2 outfits come to quote a replacement unit. The last time we had it serviced, the technician said the heat exchanger was getting thin, and our brand of package unit was known for not lasting very long. It’s 10 years old, so he said we could count on having to replace it in the next year or so. The captain asked us to turn up the heat to see if everything was OK, while a few firefighters were outside to see what it did. The furnace fired up, the exhaust fan whooshed to life, but no air was moving in the house. Then the smell came back. Everyone nodded agreement and wrinkled their noses, because now we had a stunning bouquet of electrical smoke. Apparently the blower fan has jammed, causing the motor to burn up.

I apologized for making everyone get all dressed up for nothing, but all I talked to assured us that it was no problem and this is what they are here for. One guy said he’d rather have busy days and quiet nights, but it doesn’t work out like that – and the problem we had is something they’ve seen about 8 times in the last year. Everyone who showed up was very professional and it was evident they took things seriously. Wake Forest’s Finest were happy to go back to the station, and we were happy they didn’t have to use the axes or hoses they brought along.

We get a new furnace on Tuesday. Good thing we have lots of blankets, as it’s not supposed to be 70 degrees again in the next week…