Just A Jab Away
24/01/21 07:15
Welcome to Martin Luther King Day! Big fucking deal. Right? I mean, who really gives a hoot besides the sycophantic politicians lining up at the break of dawn at breakfasts across the nation to grovel before their minority constituencies. Get off your damn knees is what I would say to them.
If the black community wants to celebrate their heroes over scrambled eggs and sausages them let them have at it. If you're white and privileged, do the same for your heroes on, say, maybe President's Day. I, for one, will not be spending any time today reflecting on the life and times of MLK. I just won't. I have a dream too and it has zero to do with MLK.
Nancy and I took a walk along Ocean Boulevard yesterday. It was a bit of a hike starting at Wallis Sands beach that took us all the way down to Odiorne Point and back. It was quite windy in one direction but it was otherwise a partially sunny, reasonably warm, and downright pleasant day for the middle of January.
The traffic along Ocean Boulevard was heavy given the long holiday weekend and foot traffic here and there forced us to cross the Boulevard from time to time in order to avoid crossing paths with potential Covid-19 carriers. With a wink and a nod we delighted in caring enough about our fellow travelers to give them a wide berth when passing by. Perhaps of more concern were the bikers and runners whose viral exhalations as they passed us by were less contained and potentially more deadly.
The only saving grace may have been that they passed us by quickly despite being maybe too close and, more often than not, coming up on us fast and unannounced. Parking spots in the seven or so inlets carved out along the ocean-facing side of the roadway were hard to come by and family cells small and large combed the beach taking full advantage as they were of the outgoing tide.
We stopped at a local store on the boulevard after our walk hoping that we might find a quart or so of seafood chowder. The store, for all of its faults, and there are many, carries this particular product for a local restaurant. It was mid morning and they had sold all but one quart of clam chowder.
I decided then and there that it was better than having none at all. I must have hesitated a moment too long at the counter so the clerk asked if I might like some oyster crackers to go with my purchase. That is the kind of inattention to detail that can make the difference between enjoying your chowder and maybe enjoying it somewhat less. Had I not come out of the store with a fistful of crackers, I can hear Nancy now asking incredulously as she sometimes does, "You didn't get any crackers?" Just add it to my list of inadequacies.
I watched a documentary recently about a sailing vessel that was to be the first sailing vessel of its kind to make its way through the Northwest Passage. It was really a ragtag operation staffed not with men of the sea but rather with rank amateur 20-somethings looking for adventure to add to their already flimsy or perhaps even non-existent resumes'.
It was, in all modesty, a ship of fools. The boat itself was barely seaworthy and they were constantly warned by officials along the way who pay attention to such things that even the sturdiest of rigs fit for ice breaking sometimes have difficulty navigating the ice strewn seas. Spending the winter wedged tightly into a massive ice flow was one of many real possibilities for the ship and its crew. Losing their vessel to the ice floes altogether was a very real possibility.
As experienced as he was, the captain of the ship was a bit of left winger. Had circumstances been different I might have envisioned him leading the charge in one of many lightweight inflatable boats that run circles around commercial tuna boats attempting as they might to impede their progress. Mitigating the fishing vessel's impact on the species and the environment was mission numero uno.
So, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to any crew members boarding his vessel for the voyage that not only were there no firearms allowed on board but he also laid down the law about taking fish from the sea to supplement their diets. Put simply, it wasn't allowed. It was all vegan, all the time. And how they expected to protect themselves from polar bears if and when they lost their ship to the ice floes was never fully explained.
To make a long story short, they were surprisingly successful in traversing the Northwest Passage. You wouldn't have seen that coming had you watched and listened to the individual crew members giving their personal accounts about how they thought things were going and how dubious they were about the prospects for completing the trip. But everyone likes a good ending and, if it comes after a prolonged period of hardship, hopelessness, and prayer, all the better.
This is my long-winded way of saying that I enjoyed the story so much so that when the opportunity came once again to living vicariously through the trials and tribulations of other explorers bumping around in the Antarctic, I was in with both feet. As chance would have it, I happened to pick up an audio book about Shackleton and his band of Arctic explorers back in the early 1900's.
The audiobook "Endurance" has been my steady companion on my bike rides as of late and, gone for the moment, by design anyway, are my usual political talk shows and library of music that typically offers up a steady drumbeat that makes the mileage go by more quickly if nothing else.
I'm not sure I've ever listened to a complete audiobook so this could be a first. Whether or not it's the first of many remains too be seen. Now that I know I can do it I will give it another try to see if this isn't just another flash in the pan. This one might have legs.
We finally got Evan's remote car starter squared away. We bought it at a local retailer for him for Christmas and scheduled installation after the holiday. The price of the starter included installation but when I took it to be installed they informed me that they don't do European cars. Well, duh.
They might have informed me of this when I made the purchase. I returned the unit and made arrangements to have the job done elsewhere. Well, it's done now. As I sit here thinking about it, does a robust twenty something really need a remote car starter? When I was his age, yada yada yada.
I think the Ev man was pleased. It's not always easy to tell with him but he gave me a fist bump as he was heading out the door on the way home so that was good enough for me. "Let me know how it works from your fourth floor window", I reminded him. I was assured by the installers that if he can see his car, he can start his car with this particular remote starter.
He sent me a text a little after ten that evening that it worked from his window. Mission accomplished. Oh, and I picked up tuna sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies for dinner from Panera's on the way home from the installers. Damn, they make a good tuna sandwich! Or, maybe it's the black pepper focaccia bread that makes it soooo good.
I always think the worse when it comes to Evan and his inclinations when it comes to food preparation. That being the case, I''m always as mindful as a parent can be that sending him on his way with something wholesome is the least we can do as his parents.
He is likely more often than not to open a can of something or take something out of the freezer to stick in the microwave before sitting down to a meal. He has only himself to look after and that may be part of the problem. That doesn't mean that I, or his mother, can't be looking out for his welfare by seeing to it that he has something more substantial to eat if and when the opportunity presents itself.
You may not think that having a tuna sandwich from Panera's is something "more substantial" but I would disagree. It's pretty darn close to homemade and it beats the frozen and canned foods by a city mile. I even delude myself from time to time by buying one or more frozen "homestyle" dishes for Evan to take home. No matter how you slice it, it's still frozen food. If you were born before 1980, think Swanson.
The contents, once microwaved, more often than not fail to live up to what's advertised on the packaging. I cringe when I think of him sitting down to eat any of it but, he has to eat something. Right? And don't get me started on fast food restaurants. You know what they say about that stuff. It tastes good going down but, boy, it goes from bad to worse thereafter. And I'm not sure that this is just an "Evan" problem. Maybe we should just be thankful that he has some place to stop along the highway of life when he's hungry and needs something to eat.
Mrs G has had some fits and starts as of late when it comes to her vehicle. I know, I know. A woman her age has no business being behind the wheel of a car. I suppose it's not for me to say and anything coming out of my mouth should be taken as a generalization and nothing more. You worry about reaction times and stuff like that. Just sayin'.
If she had to stop on a dime, could she? If she had to swivel her head just so in order to avoid hitting that baby carriage on the walkway, could she? If she had the opportunity to beat an orange traffic light before it turned red, would she? What about the guy behind her who thinks the car ahead of him (Mrs G) has more than enough time and puts the petal to the metal so he can squeeze through right behind her before the light turns red? We know how this movie ends.
Surely there comes a time, or an incident, in the latter stages of a driver's life when the realization hits them that the gig is up. The day you realize there is no upside anymore to doing something that you've been doing day in and day out for the last 70 years or more. Mrs G is not there as yet and that's fine.
That doesn't mean that her children can't keep an eye on things when it comes to her using her vehicle. If an inspection is needed, maybe one or more of her children can arrange to get that done. If she wants to have her car detailed, maybe one or more of her children can arrange to have that done too.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Mrs G is not one to wait around while her children dither. She never expresses irritation or displeasure when things don't happen as quickly as perhaps she might prefer. She's perfectly capable of taking the bull the horns, or getting behind the wheel of her car in this case, and going about the business of getting things done.
So when Nancy offered to take her car recently to help her out with something inspection related, and Nancy dithered as she sometimes does, Mrs G took her car out on the highway instead of waiting for her daughter to show up. Going back and forth to church or the pharmacy in town is one thing. Getting out on the highway at speeds between 65 and 75 is something altogether different. Had we known that is what she had planned, we might have tried to talk her out of it.
She was no worse for wear when all was said and done so that was that. Maybe it was good for her to do something that maybe she thought was out of the question for a woman her age. Nothing says "independence" like a 90-year old barreling down the highway with her foot on the gas and not a care in the world. Maybe the people who created these independent living facilities were on to something. One day at a time. Right?
Lastly, Nancy and I have appointments to get ourselves an inoculation against the dreaded Covid-19. Why do I feel like a sheep being led to slaughter? Some say we're in the queue because we have a republican governor. Blue state gov's are busy seeing to it that the felons, pimps, prostitutes, and party and family members in their state get a jab before the more vulnerable in their populations get their doses. We'll see how it goes. Oh, and not to worry. We'll see if the Ev man qualifies. It never hurts to ask.
If the black community wants to celebrate their heroes over scrambled eggs and sausages them let them have at it. If you're white and privileged, do the same for your heroes on, say, maybe President's Day. I, for one, will not be spending any time today reflecting on the life and times of MLK. I just won't. I have a dream too and it has zero to do with MLK.
Nancy and I took a walk along Ocean Boulevard yesterday. It was a bit of a hike starting at Wallis Sands beach that took us all the way down to Odiorne Point and back. It was quite windy in one direction but it was otherwise a partially sunny, reasonably warm, and downright pleasant day for the middle of January.
The traffic along Ocean Boulevard was heavy given the long holiday weekend and foot traffic here and there forced us to cross the Boulevard from time to time in order to avoid crossing paths with potential Covid-19 carriers. With a wink and a nod we delighted in caring enough about our fellow travelers to give them a wide berth when passing by. Perhaps of more concern were the bikers and runners whose viral exhalations as they passed us by were less contained and potentially more deadly.
The only saving grace may have been that they passed us by quickly despite being maybe too close and, more often than not, coming up on us fast and unannounced. Parking spots in the seven or so inlets carved out along the ocean-facing side of the roadway were hard to come by and family cells small and large combed the beach taking full advantage as they were of the outgoing tide.
We stopped at a local store on the boulevard after our walk hoping that we might find a quart or so of seafood chowder. The store, for all of its faults, and there are many, carries this particular product for a local restaurant. It was mid morning and they had sold all but one quart of clam chowder.
I decided then and there that it was better than having none at all. I must have hesitated a moment too long at the counter so the clerk asked if I might like some oyster crackers to go with my purchase. That is the kind of inattention to detail that can make the difference between enjoying your chowder and maybe enjoying it somewhat less. Had I not come out of the store with a fistful of crackers, I can hear Nancy now asking incredulously as she sometimes does, "You didn't get any crackers?" Just add it to my list of inadequacies.
I watched a documentary recently about a sailing vessel that was to be the first sailing vessel of its kind to make its way through the Northwest Passage. It was really a ragtag operation staffed not with men of the sea but rather with rank amateur 20-somethings looking for adventure to add to their already flimsy or perhaps even non-existent resumes'.
It was, in all modesty, a ship of fools. The boat itself was barely seaworthy and they were constantly warned by officials along the way who pay attention to such things that even the sturdiest of rigs fit for ice breaking sometimes have difficulty navigating the ice strewn seas. Spending the winter wedged tightly into a massive ice flow was one of many real possibilities for the ship and its crew. Losing their vessel to the ice floes altogether was a very real possibility.
As experienced as he was, the captain of the ship was a bit of left winger. Had circumstances been different I might have envisioned him leading the charge in one of many lightweight inflatable boats that run circles around commercial tuna boats attempting as they might to impede their progress. Mitigating the fishing vessel's impact on the species and the environment was mission numero uno.
So, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to any crew members boarding his vessel for the voyage that not only were there no firearms allowed on board but he also laid down the law about taking fish from the sea to supplement their diets. Put simply, it wasn't allowed. It was all vegan, all the time. And how they expected to protect themselves from polar bears if and when they lost their ship to the ice floes was never fully explained.
To make a long story short, they were surprisingly successful in traversing the Northwest Passage. You wouldn't have seen that coming had you watched and listened to the individual crew members giving their personal accounts about how they thought things were going and how dubious they were about the prospects for completing the trip. But everyone likes a good ending and, if it comes after a prolonged period of hardship, hopelessness, and prayer, all the better.
This is my long-winded way of saying that I enjoyed the story so much so that when the opportunity came once again to living vicariously through the trials and tribulations of other explorers bumping around in the Antarctic, I was in with both feet. As chance would have it, I happened to pick up an audio book about Shackleton and his band of Arctic explorers back in the early 1900's.
The audiobook "Endurance" has been my steady companion on my bike rides as of late and, gone for the moment, by design anyway, are my usual political talk shows and library of music that typically offers up a steady drumbeat that makes the mileage go by more quickly if nothing else.
I'm not sure I've ever listened to a complete audiobook so this could be a first. Whether or not it's the first of many remains too be seen. Now that I know I can do it I will give it another try to see if this isn't just another flash in the pan. This one might have legs.
We finally got Evan's remote car starter squared away. We bought it at a local retailer for him for Christmas and scheduled installation after the holiday. The price of the starter included installation but when I took it to be installed they informed me that they don't do European cars. Well, duh.
They might have informed me of this when I made the purchase. I returned the unit and made arrangements to have the job done elsewhere. Well, it's done now. As I sit here thinking about it, does a robust twenty something really need a remote car starter? When I was his age, yada yada yada.
I think the Ev man was pleased. It's not always easy to tell with him but he gave me a fist bump as he was heading out the door on the way home so that was good enough for me. "Let me know how it works from your fourth floor window", I reminded him. I was assured by the installers that if he can see his car, he can start his car with this particular remote starter.
He sent me a text a little after ten that evening that it worked from his window. Mission accomplished. Oh, and I picked up tuna sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies for dinner from Panera's on the way home from the installers. Damn, they make a good tuna sandwich! Or, maybe it's the black pepper focaccia bread that makes it soooo good.
I always think the worse when it comes to Evan and his inclinations when it comes to food preparation. That being the case, I''m always as mindful as a parent can be that sending him on his way with something wholesome is the least we can do as his parents.
He is likely more often than not to open a can of something or take something out of the freezer to stick in the microwave before sitting down to a meal. He has only himself to look after and that may be part of the problem. That doesn't mean that I, or his mother, can't be looking out for his welfare by seeing to it that he has something more substantial to eat if and when the opportunity presents itself.
You may not think that having a tuna sandwich from Panera's is something "more substantial" but I would disagree. It's pretty darn close to homemade and it beats the frozen and canned foods by a city mile. I even delude myself from time to time by buying one or more frozen "homestyle" dishes for Evan to take home. No matter how you slice it, it's still frozen food. If you were born before 1980, think Swanson.
The contents, once microwaved, more often than not fail to live up to what's advertised on the packaging. I cringe when I think of him sitting down to eat any of it but, he has to eat something. Right? And don't get me started on fast food restaurants. You know what they say about that stuff. It tastes good going down but, boy, it goes from bad to worse thereafter. And I'm not sure that this is just an "Evan" problem. Maybe we should just be thankful that he has some place to stop along the highway of life when he's hungry and needs something to eat.
Mrs G has had some fits and starts as of late when it comes to her vehicle. I know, I know. A woman her age has no business being behind the wheel of a car. I suppose it's not for me to say and anything coming out of my mouth should be taken as a generalization and nothing more. You worry about reaction times and stuff like that. Just sayin'.
If she had to stop on a dime, could she? If she had to swivel her head just so in order to avoid hitting that baby carriage on the walkway, could she? If she had the opportunity to beat an orange traffic light before it turned red, would she? What about the guy behind her who thinks the car ahead of him (Mrs G) has more than enough time and puts the petal to the metal so he can squeeze through right behind her before the light turns red? We know how this movie ends.
Surely there comes a time, or an incident, in the latter stages of a driver's life when the realization hits them that the gig is up. The day you realize there is no upside anymore to doing something that you've been doing day in and day out for the last 70 years or more. Mrs G is not there as yet and that's fine.
That doesn't mean that her children can't keep an eye on things when it comes to her using her vehicle. If an inspection is needed, maybe one or more of her children can arrange to get that done. If she wants to have her car detailed, maybe one or more of her children can arrange to have that done too.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Mrs G is not one to wait around while her children dither. She never expresses irritation or displeasure when things don't happen as quickly as perhaps she might prefer. She's perfectly capable of taking the bull the horns, or getting behind the wheel of her car in this case, and going about the business of getting things done.
So when Nancy offered to take her car recently to help her out with something inspection related, and Nancy dithered as she sometimes does, Mrs G took her car out on the highway instead of waiting for her daughter to show up. Going back and forth to church or the pharmacy in town is one thing. Getting out on the highway at speeds between 65 and 75 is something altogether different. Had we known that is what she had planned, we might have tried to talk her out of it.
She was no worse for wear when all was said and done so that was that. Maybe it was good for her to do something that maybe she thought was out of the question for a woman her age. Nothing says "independence" like a 90-year old barreling down the highway with her foot on the gas and not a care in the world. Maybe the people who created these independent living facilities were on to something. One day at a time. Right?
Lastly, Nancy and I have appointments to get ourselves an inoculation against the dreaded Covid-19. Why do I feel like a sheep being led to slaughter? Some say we're in the queue because we have a republican governor. Blue state gov's are busy seeing to it that the felons, pimps, prostitutes, and party and family members in their state get a jab before the more vulnerable in their populations get their doses. We'll see how it goes. Oh, and not to worry. We'll see if the Ev man qualifies. It never hurts to ask.